Carpe Diem: Part 3 of 3

Dentelle noir

Warnings: Fluff, Get-together. PG-13 this chapter--may change.

Summary AU. 3x4. They say it's fate when you meet the same person three times in one day. Trowa Barton, though, just can't seem to get the timing right when it comes to the beautiful blonde he keeps bumping into. Will it ever work out right?

I sat on the stool, my arms rested on the bar, not believing that I was there and stooping to that level. Quatre had tied me up in so many knots that now I was desperate. The man behind the bar lifted a brow at me in question.

"Hit me with your best shot, and make it a double," I said.

The man behind the bar, Duo was his name I finally remembered, lifted his brow even more, "I just serve coffee, dude."

"I know. Make it a double espresso, straight up," I said back, smiling a little this time. His good humour was contagious, really, and I already felt myself relaxing a little and getting a little more optimistic.

"You're gonna be as hyper as a chipmunk, dude, how about a single cappuccino and you tell me what's on your mind?" He asked with all the skill of a seasoned veteran. I wondered if he moonlighted as a therapist or something.

"Quatre," I responded miserably. It was true. He was all that was on my mind, and getting more preoccupying as the day went on. "And I met Dan. He made Quatre cry…I give up pretending I don't care….What's up with them. Why?" I finally broke. I knew it was considered being an ass to find this out through a third person, but someone like Quatre was making me question everything I had believed in. And it was thrilling. And scary. But wonderful at the same time, and I was hoping he'd walk into the coffee shop and I could just sweep him up into my arms and—

Thankfully Duo cut me off before my mind planned out the elaborate wooing I just was not at yet, "Quatre and Dan? Match made in GOD knows where," Duo sighed, "I honestly don't know why Quatre's so hung on him. The guy wasn't that bad to him at first. I never liked him, but Quatre did, so I shut my mouth and watched. He never treated Quatre good, but ever since that Freederick medal, it's been going down hill. Dan didn't invite him to the medal-awarding party, you know."

Ouch! No one really enjoyed those parties, but, for him not to invite his boyfriend? That had to have hurt. "Quatre was crying at lunch, and I'm pretty sure it was because of Dan," I said, remembering how heartbreaking just hearing it had been.

"Yeah," Duo said, sipping his coffee—no wonder he was always so perky. I bet he got free coffee all day, working at a coffee shop and all! I just sipped my cappuccino and waited for him to continue, "Dan's hiding something from Quatre. Something big. Quat knows it, and Dan's been hot and cold with him all week. Quat thinks he's having an affair, but he doesn't want to admit that. He was interviewed by this super-hot reporter from the Monthly Lit Mag and Quatre thinks a lot more went on, since suddenly Dan was being a total asshole. He can't prove it, of course, and, in typical Quatre style, he's giving Dan the benefit of the doubt."

And just knowing that Quatre was doing that, thinking on the positive side and waiting it out, it made me want him even more, "Dan's a pompous asshole, and he doesn't even know what he's got." I sighed, wanting so much to pull Dan from the picture so that I could just have a chance! All I wanted was a chance.

Duo smiled and a little glint of mischief sparked, "You know, I could always…" And he cut off abruptly.

The phone in the back of the coffee shop went off like mad, just when I was sure Duo was about to offer to set us up together. DAMN IT. I just couldn't catch a break today! Duo began to toy with the phone cord, leaning into the wall with his back to me, talking low and flirtingly with whomever was on the other end of the line, and I knew it was a hopeless wait now. I sighed and got up. I had to go. Wufei would already kill me for having a coffee instead of picking up that sub tray from the Deli for the party. Now the place would be closing!

Thankfully I caught the workers just before they turned the lights off in their department, and I thanked fate for at least giving me that much!

Not surprisingly, Wufei was pissed I was running late, and as soon as I got to the party he shooed me into a closet to change into the look he wanted me to pull off that night. It was an all black suit. I remembered expressly telling him that I did not want a suit.

I blamed Quatre for what I was about to do, I really did, I blamed him for the spark of rebellion that welled up in me. I left the suit right where it was, walking into the party with the plain black trousers and black turtleneck I'd been wearing since that afternoon. Bad things happened when I tried to wear dress shirts, really, as this morning's coffee incident should have told me. I just wasn't a 'dressy' sort of person, and the most jewellery I wore was a slim silver hoop in my right ear and my rather expensive watch, which Wufei had paid for (not picked, thank God) as a gift for selling a million copies. I had to laugh at some of the looks I got, but I felt so much more comfortable and confident that I knew I was making a better impression then what a suit would have gotten me.

And I just kept hoping someone would turn around, and Quatre would be standing there. But he never was. Everyone I met kept reminding me of him. I wanted him to show up so badly, I could taste it. And it tasted somewhat like the third tic-tac I chewed just to settle my anxious energy. If he would just show up…just for a minute? Just long enough to tell me he was interested.

I thought I saw him! I ran up to the guy, touching his shoulder to catch his attention, then realised with a start how obviously not Quatre he was. The man wasn't even a real blonde, I realised as the dark fronts and roots of his hair became obvious. And while he was short and slight and, well, pretty, like Quatre was, the black-plastic framed glasses and superior look in his eyes completely turned me off. It wasn't Quatre's body I liked, it was Quatre's…way.

The man I had mistook for Quatre for a rather delusional moment, though, lit up seeing me, and pulled out a recorder, "Hello! I just sent your agent to find you. I'm from the Monthly Literary Review…" And with a shock, I realised this was the guy Quatre thought Dan was sleeping with. He was smiling at me, and I smiled back tightly, politely, but all I could think of was how phoney his smile looked in comparison to Quatre's.

Wufei found us a moment later, and directed us over to a small alcove off the side of the main party-goers with two close-set chairs and a table. The reporter set up, while Wufei fixed my collar, "We'll get you on Literary Monthly's cover yet" Wufei said, nodding to himself.

"Well, my cover story this month is Dan Wetherstaf winning the Freederick Medal." The man said, "and it was a rather interesting interview too. Have you ever met Mr. Wetherstaff?" the reported asked just in the name of conversation. Little did he know what he just hit on.

Wufei did, though, and begged me with his eyes not to say, "I've met him. He's an asshole." Yet that's iexactly/i what I said, then I followed up with, "And I don't say that lightly. You really have to get on my bad side for me to say that. And Dan has."

"Reeaaaaally?" How so?" He said excitedly, flicking the recorder on and pulling out a notepad, scribbling furiously.

"He treats his boyfriend terribly. He made him cry."

"…The twit?"

And something about that response seemed terribly, horribly wrong. "Excuse me?"

The reporter blinked, then rummaged in his messenger-style bag, pulling out this month's Lit Review with a smiling picture of Dan holding the Frederick Medal (it came out to subscribers this afternoon, and was probably sitting in my mail box right now), then he flicked through to a two page spread about it, showing me quickly before reading it to me, "Well, I had been saying how he won for being able to craft such a deeply metaphorical book and I asked him 'Do you feel it hard to convey your thoughts and feelings to others around you? Your partner and family?' and then Dan said back to me: 'I can talk to my family, yes, we're all Ivy league graduates...My partner? Well...I'll say it frankly: He's a twit. He works in food-service and wouldn't understand a metaphor if it hit him on the head, and I'd be surprised if he could SPELL sophistication. He's very good looking, though, but your typical blonde in just about everything else.' So...Is this the one you mean?" The reporter asked, looking up at my horrified expression under the rims of his pompous eye glasses.

I completely saw red. I usually think before I speak, weigh my words carefully, but it all just came out in a rush of words, "That pompous ASSHOLE! Quatre is NO twit! He's a brilliant, optimistic, beautiful PERSON, Who has more sophistication in his pinkie finger then Dan could ever understand! Quatre never hits you over the head with his intellect, but he can argue Dan's feeble mind into the ground! Quatre's brilliant, with a keen eye for seeing the best in all the people he meets, showing kindness to complete strangers! He literally—and I mean it's in my car right now!-- Gave me the shirt off his back when I was knocked into him by the rude, uncaring people of this city! Quatre is the kind of person who single-handedly redeems humanity in my eyes! He's the kind of person I want to star in my next novel!" And as soon as I said that, I knew how true it was. I wanted to write my next model about Quatre...

"I see…so he's a wonderful attribute to the human race and not a twit. And you're head over heels for him. Planning to try and take him from the Freederick medal-winning author?" The reported asked so casually, as if it hardly mattered to him one whit. And I know that it really wouldn't, but cheapening Quatre like that just…pissed me off even more.

"He is a wonderful person! And I wouldn't try to "steal" him, because Quatre would NEVER go behind Dan's back! He's not here, is he! I invited him and he never came! Because Quatre is the kind of person who's loyal, and always gives people, even people like DAN, the benefit of the doubt, even though he thinks Dan slept with you!"

The reporter lifted a brow, "…and what if he did? It takes two to tango," he said so dryly that I knew he wasn't joking. And I could tell that he didn't care, either. He was certainly right that it took two (as much as I hated that turn of phrase, it was right), and Dan was an asshole to begin with. I just now knew he was a cheating asshole. It wasn't going to help me get Quatre, so the information really was useless. I wished I had gotten his cell phone number…maybe left mine with his coffee-shop friend? But no, I hadn't. And Quatre hadn't shown up. I had to gracefully admit defeat, as much as I did NOT want to. The pompous reporter (what a match! He and Dan would be good together, really, and look down upon everyone else together) finally got his interview, and I was even able to pull it together and crack a few jokes, talking with him a little easier.

I stayed until the very last minute just to make sure Quatre wasn't coming. I told Wufei it was to make sure everything was finished and away, but I think he knew that I was holding out on that last string of hope. But he never did come. Wallowing in self-defeat I dragged my feet to my car and drove home. And I kept thinking to myself…I never even gave him my phone number. What if he decided, after seeing what Dan had said about him and broke up with him, that he would like to go out with me? Nothing. Because in my hurry to Carpe the damn Diem I had NEVER given him my number, or even a "if you change your mind later, I'd love to take you to dinner" and I couldn't help but feel like a failure. The whole day from this morning to right now had been one huge farce. Lady luck was fucking with me, tempting me, then yanking it away at the last minute because the timing had just never been right!

Fate hated me. She did. She wasn't a fan at all, apparently. And just to rub it in, when I parked in my usual spot at the back of my apartment building and went to get into the small security door…it wouldn't budge. And just to tell me that resistance was futile, there was a little sign visible only when I got there, saying, "Please use Front Door." There had to be a fancy catch-all saying about this, right? Everything that can go wrong will go wrong, or some such nonsense?

I trudged around the entire circumference of my apartment, cursing my choice of the largest, tallest apartment building in an area. I was quite happy with my apartment actually, with the mostly-retired occupants and a no-pet rule-it was much quieter then the rowdy buildings across the street. I swung my keys on my finger, trying to make myself look forward to relaxing on the couch and reading the paper, which I hadn't had time to even crack open today, when I heard the cursing and grunting.

It was nearly midnight, and someone was moving into one of the buildings across the street from me? Or out. A midnight move wouldn't have surprised me in that neighbourhood. The human urge to stare at things took over, and I started moving a little closer to the street to get a better look at who was moving in and where the curses were coming from. It was hard to see anything, because it was pitch black and the only street lamp was on the other side of the building, but from behind the truck I saw a tiny someone tugging at a huge box that just wouldn't budge. Normally I would have walked away. I would have just went home and opened my newspaper…but one more saying I knew was "pay it forward" and since Quatre had helped me this morning, I figured I could manage a few minutes out of my oh-so-busy schedule to help this guy for a minute. And he was almost done, really, he was tugging at the last box I could see.

I pocketed my keys and walked over. By the time I got close enough to see him, he had turned his back to me to wrench pathetically at the unmoving box.

"Packed the kitchen sink, did you?" I said as an introduction and grabbed the side of the box.

"Trowa?!" The guy squeaked in shock…and I nearly had a heart attack. There was no way. No FUCKING way….

Quatre brushed sweaty bangs away from his face, blushing hotly, staring at me as if trying to gather if I was a stalker or if we just had the craziest luck in the world.

I grabbed the box again, and hauled it a bit, feeling the sheer weight of it nearly bowl me over! I looked into the box….and saw the smiling face of Dan Wetherstaff smiling up at me in glossy print, holding the Freederick Medal. "You uh…saw the article, eh?" I said.

Quatre's little blush turned angry, "YES, I saw it! I packed as soon as I finished. I…I'm sorry I missed your party. I wanted to come, but…Dan came home and… we fought and… I'm moving in with Duo and his boyfriend… Who is probably the only person who can lift this box! It's all my books…"

I reached into the box to pull out the magazine and as many books as I could carry, when I stopped again….Right underneath the magazine was my book… The first one, looking dog-eared and well-read. A bookmark-tassel was poking out near the end showing he was almost through, even though it was obvious it had been read many times before… "My…Book?" I said, blinking in confusion.

Quatre blushed hotly, "Um…yes. I wanted to read it again before I got the new one… Dan was going to get it for me, but…I'll pick it up tomorrow…"

Carpe Diem. Carpe Diem. Carpe Diem! "I, uh, I have one….here." I said, and I reached into my bag. I had one or two in there from the launch that I was supposed to use as promotional copies. This was more important!

I opened up the front, pulling out my signing pen, and wrote as I spoke. "I…I live right there," I said, pointing to the apartment building across the street, "If you get bored and wanna…have coffee some time or something…"

Duo walked out of the patio door a moment later and saw me, eyes widening in surprise as he heard me, "You've lived across from me this whole time and I never knew?" And he grabbed the box Quatre couldn't manage and hefted it into his arms while he looked at me, trying to figure out what I was going to try and force Quatre into so soon.

I shrugged, smiling softly, "I…guess it was fate. They say third time's a charm."

Quatre blushed, realising that this qualified for that third surprise meeting in one day. But I didn't want to put him on the spot right now. He'd just moved out of Dan's apparently, and, while the rules said it was fate Quatre and I were destined to be together, if I learned anything today it was to have patience. Seizing the day didn't help if you expected immediate results. I handed him the book, and walked away, waving behind me and making a graceful exit, walking into my apartment building.

And through the glass, I saw Quatre….staring awestruck for a moment, then opening the book he held, and reading what I had written:

"To Quatre, the man who gave me the shirt off his back, and stole my heart. Let's make the next meeting happen on purpose," And then I had scrawled my phone number and apartment, and I let the day end the same way it had begun: with a book, and a chance meeting I knew would result with something much more.

End.

AN: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Please leave me a nice review, even an 'i was here' works for me. We all like to be appreciated for out work, and reviews are the only way to really thank your author.