A/N: I'm all for some yaoi in some occasions, but these Gundam boys need some hetero love every once in a while! There is so little of it on the web! So, here comes this little one-shot of my favorite Arabian blonde and my OC, Lista. Quatre apparently knows best when it comes to curing a cold.*winkcough* I know it's hard to tell, but I actually had no intention of this story becoming a lemon. But I guess Quatre and Lista have minds of their own, the pervs. Enjoy!

She hated when this happened. She found herself slowly lulled out of a pleasant dream with her husband and six-month-old son sitting in the middle of a lush field of wildflowers. But as quick as the euphoria was upon her, it was gone. She moaned softly and turned on her side, hoping to curl into the warmth of her husband's body and find sleep once more, but found nothing but the remains of his body weight molded into the mattress.

She pushed herself up against the headboard, threading her fingers through her disheveled ebony hair, pushing it back behind her shoulders. She slid out of bed, hoping to discover the whereabouts of her lost husband. Before doing so, however, she checked upon her sleeping son on the other side of the room. He was gingerly tucked beneath a cotton periwinkle blanket, his small fists rested above his head. She stroked a finger across his face and smiled happily at the nearly identical nose on her son's face. It was the same as Quatre's.

Speaking of, she wished to know where he was so early in the morning. She pulled away from the crib and walked softly out of the bedroom, quickly taking note to the blinking lights from the television in the den. She sped up her pace and came to the end of the hallway, finding her beloved Arabian pilot sitting in the middle of the sofa with a quilt draped over his shoulders.

"Quatre? Are you all right?"

The Winner Corporation CEO snapped his head in her direction in surprise. The rim of his nostrils were red as a cherry, his eyes half-lidded in exhaustion. "Sweetheart, what are you doing up?" His voice was croaky and forced.

Lista folded her arms over her barely-clad chest and smiled as she walked up to him. "You're not supposed to answer a question with a question. That's cheating."

Quatre chuckled weakly. "Forgive me, love. I seem to have caught a cold. My secretary has been sick for the past two days. I thought I would be lucky enough to avoid it, but it looks as if luck plays no part in such things." He coughed and grabbed a tissue from a half-used box on the coffee table, blowing his nose as softly as possible. "I've been up for nearly two hours. I took a dosage of medicine, but it doesn't seem to be working as well as I'd hoped."

"Quatre," Lista began warningly, "why didn't you wake me?" She sat down next to him, resting her hands on his lap. "Having a cold is unpleasant. I want to help take care of you."

Quatre frowned. "I would never think to trouble you in such trivial matters, Lista. Besides, you need sleep. We have Xander to think about, and I hardly wish for either of you to get sick because of me."

Lista's brow rose. "I can handle a little cold. What I can't handle is you trying to take care of yourself. That's what I'm here for." She flashed a smile and leaned in to kiss him, but Quatre dodged her. She appeared hurt as she pulled away.

"You'll get sick, love," Quatre reminded her. He dabbed his nose with his tissue before throwing it into the garbage next to him. He shook his head. "I don't want you to get sick."

"Yes, you've established that already. Don't worry about that. I'll make you a cup of tea. That ought to help a bit," Lista replied. She pushed stray locks of hair from his eyes before pushing herself up. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

Quatre opened his mouth to rebuke, but the look on her face stopped him. He adjusted the blanket over his shoulders and nodded with a sigh. "I suppose I can't convince you otherwise."

Lista shook her head firmly and chuckled. "Certainly not. I thought you'd learned that in all the time we've been together." She turned on her heel and walked into the kitchen, quickly heating up some water while she found a packet of tea. She pulled the cup of hot water from the microwave, careful not to burn herself as she dropped the teabag in the water and added two scoops of sugar. She pulled a clean spoon from the drawer and stirred it as she walked back into the living room. Quatre was still seated on the sofa, now flipping through the channels.

"I suppose I can't expect anything good to ever be on television at three in the morning," Quatre groused before clearing his throat. "All the good programs are on when all the sane and healthy people are awake."

Lista sat down next to him once more and blew the tea several times in an effort to cool it down a little before handing it over to him. "Well, that's just fine. I'm awake now. We can talk." She pulled her legs up under her and pulled the falling blanket back over his shoulders as he took a careful sip of the hot tea. "You'll be feeling better in no time. Besides, it won't be long until Xander gets to the age where he'll be waking us up in the middle of the night sick like this. It's good practice."

Quatre smiled wide. "He's looking more and more like you everyday, love."

"He has black hair like me. That's about it," Lista replied with a knowing smile. "He has your eyes and your nose. It's like a little button, just like yours." She poked the tip of his nose with her finger and chuckled.

"I thought getting older would change that, but I suppose not," he groaned as he took another sip of his tea, this time a more generous one as the beverage had cooled down. "But if it amuses you, then it is not quite so bad."

Lista mockingly pouted. "It doesn't amuse me, per say. It's a nice little feature you have. Don't think of it as a flaw. I think you're cute with it."

Quatre placed his half-empty mug of tea on the coffee table just in time to hurriedly snatch a tissue from the box as he caught a flurry of sneezes. Lista watched sympathetically as he sneezed four times in a row, leaving him moaning afterwards. "By Allah. I don't think I have ever had a cold like this before." He blew his nose of the loosened congestion filling his nostrils.

"Oh Quatre, I'm sorry. You must feel miserable," Lista said, rubbing his blanket-covered arm with her palm. "Why don't you lie down? I'll get you some menthol cough drops and rub some vapor ointment on your chest. It will help you breathe. Perhaps I'll make you some chicken soup as well."

Quatre quickly shook his head. "No, that is all right, sweetheart. I'll be fine. You don't have to do any of that."

Lista frowned. "You're not inconveniencing me, Quatre. Do you think I would have married if you did?" She stood up and hovered above him, pushing on his shoulders until he adjusted himself on the sofa and laid back against the armrest. She grabbed a pillow from one of the chairs, situating it behind his head. "Now don't move an inch, Quatre Raberba Winner, or you're going to regret it. I'll be right back."

Quatre watched her go with tired but grateful eyes, unable to help himself as he admired her bottom against the flimsy fabric of her lingerie. The skirt of her nightie barely reached halfway down her legs, for which he was silently thankful. She was beautiful, and even that description paled in comparison to how he truly thought about her. She was the light of his life.

His inward praise of her halted when he suddenly suffered another round of sneezing, barely snatching another tissue in time. He hunched over and groaned when the sneezing finally stopped. He closed his eyes and gathered his equilibrium, the congestion in his head starting to take its toll.

"Sweetheart? You all right?" Lista's voice ringing around him was like a healing melody. He lifted his head and sniffled as he stared at her longingly. She was holding a small towel in one hand and a jar of vapor rub in the other. "Good lord, Quatre. You look awful."

He cracked a weak smile. "Thank you, love."

Lista quickly shook her head and knelt down next to him, placing the towel and jar on the coffee table next to his mug of tea. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way." She pushed him back against the pillow and cupped his face in her palms. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his forehead. She snapped back quickly. "You're burning up, sweetheart. Why didn't you tell me you were running a fever?"

"Not my fault," he moaned, closing his eyes. "I hadn't really realized it. I keep having chills. I don't feel hot."

Lista's shoulders slumped and she pulled her hands away from his face. "Well, don't worry. I'll take care of you until you're better, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

He sniffled and cleared his throat with a firm shake of his head. "I don't want to, love. Take care of me."

Lista smiled warmly and nodded once, reaching forward to unbutton his shirt. Her fingers were cool against his blazing flesh as they trailed down his chest. "Xander was moving around a little in his sleep. I thought perhaps he was going to wake up, but he put his thumb in his mouth and he stopped. It was adorable."

Quatre laughed weakly, which brought on a fit of coughing. Lista rubbed his chest with her palm, hoping to relax him. He wheezed to catch his breath and dropped his head against the pillow, groaning and grumbling incoherently. "I wish I could have seen him do it."

"You'll have plenty of chances to. For now, I'm going to make you feel better," Lista replied soothingly. She placed a kiss on the side of his mouth and pushed the fabric of his shirt away from his chest. "Just relax." She opened the jar of vapor rub and dipped two of her fingers inside, pulling out the thick gel. She massaged it into his chest, stretching it up onto the base of his neck. "This will work in no time. Hopefully it will help clear you up a bit. Then you can try to sleep, and I'll make sure you're okay."

"You don't need to sit here and watch me all night, love. You have to go to work in the morning," Quatre mumbled. "I'd hate to see you so exhausted on my account."

Lista shook her head and cracked a small smile. "Don't you worry about that. I left a message on my secretary's phone, as well as yours. I'm taking a personal day off, and so are you."

Quatre stared at her in surprise. "What?"

Lista grabbed the towel and wiped her hands off, her smile widening knowingly. "You heard me, Mister Winner. I told you I would take care of you. You and I both deserve a day off. And if you haven't figured it out yet, you and Xander come first. You're not well, and you won't get any better if you don't rest. Besides, it will be nice to stay in for once. We don't have to send Xander to my mother's. He can stay here with us." She put one hand behind his neck, lifting his head up a little so she could slide the towel around his shoulders. She stuffed the towel under his shirt and flattened it over his gel-coated chest.

"That feels good," he moaned agreeably. "I can actually smell the vapor rub. It's not the most charming scent, but it's nice to know something is working."

"Of course it is. I know best," Lista said teasingly as she buttoned his shirt over the towel. She pulled his blanket up to his chin. "Now, I'm going to get you some cough drops." She picked up the television remote and shut it off. "Why don't you try resting your eyes? You might get lucky and catch some sleep. Rest will be the best thing for you." She pushed herself to her feet and turned to walk away, but Quatre snapped up and grabbed her hand, nearly jerking her out of balance. She turned around and looked at him questioningly.

"I don't want you to go," he croaked. "Stay here. Xander won't be up for several more hours. I just… don't want you to leave."

Lista's face fell. "Quatre, I'll be right back. I'm just going to get you some cough drops from the medicine cabinet."

He shook his head. "I don't want them. I want you."

Lista stared at him and hesitated, contemplating the context of his words. "Umm, sweetheart, you have me. You're my husband." She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. "Maybe I should check your temperature. I think you might be a little delusional."

Quatre chuckled lightly. "I'm fine, love. I'm not delusional." He reached for her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I'm so thankful to have you as my wife. I can't wait to be able to take care of you."

Lista molded her hand over his and removed it from her face, pressing her lips in the middle of his palm with a wide smile. "I can't say I'm too thrilled that you just may be wishing a sickness on me, but I am glad that you would be there for me when that time comes."

Quatre shook his head, his smile not moving. "No, sweetheart, that's not what I meant. I would never wish for you to be sick." He covered his mouth with the back of his free hand and coughed once. "I was referring to taking care of you in a more… intimate way."

Lista's eyes widened and she leaned back, looking at him in disbelief. She knew she was blushing by the way her face suddenly heated up. She released his hand and cleared her throat. "Quatre, you more than take care of me in that regard. You have nothing to worry about." She pushed wayward bangs from his face. "Why don't you try to rest and I'll get you those cough drops?"

"Nuh uh," Quatre said under his breath. "Don't leave me."

Lista frowned. "Quatre Raberba Winner, my stubbornness has rubbed off on you, and I don't think I like it very much." She rested her hands on her hips. "Now you need to rest." She picked up the tissue box and rested it on his stomach. "I'm getting your cough drops, mister. Now blow your nose. It'll help you breathe. I can hear your congestion."

Quatre pouted. "All right."

Lista watched him pull a tissue from the box and he blew his nose loudly. She turned around and walked into their bedroom, catching a quick glimpse of Xander in his crib. He was still sucking on his thumb soundlessly. She strode into the adjoining bathroom, snapping the light switch on before pulling a small bag of menthol cough drops from the medicine cabinet. When she shut it and looked into the mirror, a set of familiar blue eyes were staring at her from behind. She spun around and gasped loudly, nearly dropping the bag in the sink. Quatre was standing there in his pajamas, the blanket clutched tight around his shoulders. "Quatre! What are you doing up? You need to lay back down."

"No, I don't," Quatre replied, his voice sounding remarkably clear. He took a step closer to her. "I need to take care of you."

Lista leaned against the back of the sink even though the cool marble caused a shiver to climb up her spine. However, she was rather confident it was Quatre's words rather than the cold granite biting through the thin fabric of her nightie that caused such a tremble in her body. "Quatre, this is not a good idea for you. You need rest. You have a cold and a fever."

Quatre shook his head and released the blanket draped around him, the material pooling at her bare feet. "Just a cold. I am not fairly certain the fever is related."

Lista's eyes widened at his zealous words. She'd never heard him talk that way. True, his shy boundaries were broken long ago, and passion was never lax in their marriage, but this was a new boundary they had yet to cross. "Umm, Quatre, you shouldn't…" Her voice trailed off when Quatre smiled and closed the distance between them. He buried his face in the nook of her shoulder and neck, nuzzling his nose against the tender flesh there. Lista instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I will be better once I take care of you," he mumbled against her. The vibration from his voice against her flesh gave her a chill that seemed to rile her. She couldn't believe she was being turned on at a time like this. It would be far harder now to resist him. She hardly remembered that he was sick. "I hope you forgive me now if I get you sick. I promise to take care of you just as you've been taking care of me if that does happen."

"Quatre, this is… unnecessary," Lista stammered, her grip long loosened over the bag of cough drops. She didn't even realize they were scattered at her bare feet. "The least of my concerns is getting sick. I'm more worried about you getting worse. You have a cold and a fever. That hardly warrants for such…overactive behavior. I want you to get better."

Quatre inadvertently grazed his lips against her chin when he spoke. "And I want you to feel good, love."

Lista gathered a deep breath and clutched the fabric of his shirt, craning her neck back. "You need to rest, sweetheart," she croaked. Her control was wavering against her better judgment. "You're not going to get better unless you get some rest."

"Why are you fighting with me?" he asked weakly. He pulled away to look up at her, and if he weren't sick, Lista could have sworn there was passion blazing in his lidded eyes. "Let me do this for you."

Lista frowned. The vapor rub on his chest was intoxicating her. "You're in no condition. I won't have you putting your health in jeopardy for such behavior. Your fever is making you delusional whether you wish to see it or not." Quatre buckled against her, causing her to gasp and grab a tight hold on his waist, halting her gentle scolds. "Quatre! Are you all right?"

"Fine, love," he answered in a moan. "Just a bit dizzy." He shook his head. "I'm all right."

"No, you're not," Lista reprimanded. "You're ill. Can you agree that it would be in your best interest to lie down?"

He nodded once in response. "I suppose that would be a wise choice. But in the living room. I still don't want to disturb Xander."

Lista shrugged in defeat and lovingly clung to him as she led him from the bathroom, leaving the spilled cough drops on the floor to clean up later. Lista watched Quatre catch a glimpse of their sleeping son in his crib, and felt sympathy wash over her at the pained look in his eyes.

Quatre always insisted that he not miss a single waking moment in their son's life. Quatre would merely stare at their son for hours on end, and enjoyed every second of it. With Quatre's cold and his insistence that he not get their son sick, he was missing a small part of Xander's life, and Lista could tell it was tearing him apart. In the short time it took for her to lead him onto the sofa, she'd come to a decision that the logical part of her would probably regret later.

She eased him back against the pillow but did not cover him with the blanket. "Close your eyes. I'll be right here." She knelt down next to him, watching carefully as he shut his eyes and released a heavy sigh.

Quatre could feel Lista's body heat slamming into him, especially after feeling her hand caress his cheek affectionately. She hummed a random tune to him, which he hoped would lull him into a hazy state of rest.

But apparently Lista did not have such a thing in mind, as her hand began lightly trailing down his clothed chest, lingering a little at his stomach. He groaned deep in his throat and clenched his eyes, hoping to keep them shut as he concentrated on relieving himself of the aftermath of dizziness that had plagued him just minutes before.

"You're such a selfless man," Lista whispered to him, her fingers splaying back and forth on the lower part of his stomach. Was she trying to test him? Her hand moved lower, and he snapped his eyes open, staring at her. She wasn't looking at him. No, her eyes were fixated on the middle part of his body that had suddenly sparked to life under her teasing touches.

He cleared his throat. "Sweetheart, what are you doing?"

She suddenly stood up, but kept her eyes averted from him. His eyes widened when he watched her fingers slide up under her skirt, and in a matter of seconds, she was candidly sliding down her panties, tossing them to the floor. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she whispered more to herself. She finally looked at him, and her face was heated, her cheeks puffed as she smiled. She knelt down in front of his face and cupped his cheeks in her palms. "I don't know if it's the fever or the medicine talking, but if this is what you want, then I'll make sure you get it." Quatre opened his mouth to say something, but she covered his lips with her finger, instantly shushing him. She shook her head. "Close your eyes."

He hesitated, but did as he was told. He could hardly control himself as he felt Lista's hands curl under the top of his pants, gently jerking them and his boxers down his hips until his erection sprang free. She took him in her hand and stroked him gently, rousing a moan from in between his lips. His eyes fluttered, but he fought to keep them shut as Lista instructed.

He forgot about the scratch in his throat, the tightness in his chest, the weight in his head from his cold. His thoughts clouded around with dreamed-up visions of his wife suckling him, making love with him like tomorrow would never come.

Quatre could feel her shuffling next to him, and in a fit of curiosity, he cracked open his eyes just in time to see Lista stop her ministrations so she could climb atop him. She rested her hands on his towel-padded chest and made eye contact with him. "You're supposed to keep your eyes closed for this, sweetheart."

"Forgive me, love, but I fear my imagination will not be up to par," Quatre apologized with a smile. "I would rather not miss this."

She leaned down, resting her chest against his so she could graze her lips against his. "You're forgiven," she whispered. She pushed herself up and hiked her skirt up to her hips, mischievously rubbing her bare center against his erection. She was wet, which brought him to the conclusion that perhaps this decision of hers had more to do with just sympathy.

Quatre reached for her face, caressing her cheek as she took hold of his erection, positioning him at her entrance. He sucked a breath in when she slowly sheathed herself upon him. She gave a satisfied sound deep in her throat and firmly planted her hands on his chest as she began thrusting upon him. He released a pleasured sound of acknowledgement, and unconsciously met her thrusts with small jerks of his hips.

Lista bit down on her bottom lip, moaning deep in her throat as she set a steady rhythm. She craned her neck back and closed her eyes, breathing through the slowly mounting pleasure. She felt Quatre's hands cup over hers as her fingers dug into his shirt. He murmured her name and slid his hands up her bare arms, causing her to look down upon him, a passionate glaze in her eyes.

She leaned down to him—her thrusts not waning—and dragged her tongue along the line of his jaw. He nipped at her, hoping to capture her lips in his, but she avoided him. He gave a sound of disapproval and frowned at her, but her wide smile instantly melted it. Her hair was falling from behind her ears, pooling on his chest and tickling his face. He let out a robust chuckle and jerked his head, catching her bottom lip in his mouth.

Lista responded to the tease with a wide grind upon his pelvis, causing him to groan loudly. He urged her thrusts into a quicker pace and wrapped his arms around her back, drawing her lips fully upon his in an ardent lip lock. Lista tried to pull away from his mouth, but temptation was overwhelming, and instead, she thrust her tongue inside, eager for his sweet taste. She forgot everything about her husband's vulnerable state and threatened to drink every last bit of oxygen from his lungs, unrelenting to stop their delicious kiss.

But Quatre was the one who jerked away, wheezing for a breath of air and releasing a long groan as Lista's thrusts upon him intensified. He brokenly moaned her name and slid his hands along the length of her body, gathering her skirts in his hands and bunching them at her waist once more.

Lista grinded against him hard, inching both of them closer to the brink of ecstasy. She felt Quatre's hands tighten over her hips, urging her to speed up her movements upon him. She gazed down upon him lazily, far too engrossed in ensuring their blissful undoing to even say his name. All she could manage to stifle was a long moan, craning her neck as she stared up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling as if she were flying.

She was rocking against him to a silent song, making their own rhythm with their erratic movements against one another, accompanied by their staggering breaths, their undulated moans, their attempts to cry out the other's name in gratitude as they both teetered at the edge of their ecstasy.

Quatre groaned her name, choking on the second syllable as an all-too familiar, yet unknown, sensation sparked through his limbs, through his middle, threatening to cast him off the sofa from the mere force of their combined bliss. He reached up, snatching her shoulders and jerking her down against him, hungry for her flavorful kiss as he hoped to mask his own cry.

He barely made it, jerking his hips up in one last stand, and spilled himself deep within her. Lista followed several seconds later, her inner muscles clenching around him, milking him of everything pent up in his passion-laden body. She broke off the kiss in a hurry, crying out his name in a broken yet grateful sob. Quatre stared up at his wife, watching her slowly come down from her climax. His body suddenly felt three times as heavier as normal, and with no strength left to fight his exhaustion, he succumbed to much-needed sleep.

Quatre awoke next with a lagging warmth swarming around him. Something pleasant was barring his movement from atop him, and it was with blurry vision that he discovered such a barrier was his wife, lying in a blissful slumber with her head rested against his towel-padded chest.

Her skirts were still bunched above her thighs, and he soon discovered with the slight wriggle of his hips that he was also still nestled deep within her body. He wrapped his arms tight around her back, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of her head before surveying his surroundings. Light was creeping into the windows from the rising sun, fighting through the draped curtains.

Realization hitting him, Quatre snapped his head to the wall, noticing the time. He had slept for well over four hours following their lovemaking. He was surprised, for one, that he was able to sleep so easily due to his cold, and second, even more surprised that he felt remarkably better. His chest ached from his night of coughing—not to mention he felt a bout coming on—but his sinuses were clearer, allowing him to breathe with little difficulty.

"Feeling better, are you?"

Quatre hadn't even noticed the lack of weight on his chest. Lista was staring at him lazily, her smile pretty, her ebony hair in slight tangles around her face. Her emerald eyes seemed to glimmer with the aid of the dawning sun. "Surprisingly, yes. We slept for four hours, love."

Lista shook her head and was careful as she pushed herself up, dismounting him with even more careful precision. She smoothed her skirts before pulling the blanket up his exposed middle. She knelt back down to his head, pressing the back of her hand against his forehead. "You're not as hot anymore. I think your fever has passed. That's good to know." She pulled away and tilted her head in a deep chuckle. "And correction, you slept for four hours. I was up for a half an hour or so afterwards. I would have gotten off you, but you were quite insistent on keeping me on you. You seemed comfortable, so I fell asleep too."

Quatre's smile widened apologetically. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I can't imagine you were very comfortable yourself."

Lista laughed heartily. "It was fine. I'm just glad you're feeling better. As a matter of fact, I think I'll get you another dosage of medicine. Six hours have passed, so it would be safe to take another." She pushed herself up with a tired groan, stretching her arms over her head. She sighed contently and stared down at him for a moment. "You are far more convincing sick than healthy, you know."

Quatre couldn't control the blush overtaking his cheeks. "I'm so sorry, love. I really don't know what came over me. I think you may have been right. The fever could have been making me less than cooperative. I had no intention to guilt you into making love." He shook his head and sunk down into the sofa.

"Don't feel so guilty," Lista said, waving her hand up and down. "As long as it made you feel better, I don't see any harm in it."

Quatre frowned. "But what if I have gotten you sick? That's inexcusable."

Lista bent down and playfully poked his nose. "Not inexcusable. If that does come to pass, there is always something positive I can take out of it." Gathering Quatre's confused stare, she giggled and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "Did you not say that you couldn't wait to take care of me if I got sick?"

Quatre stared at her for a moment before releasing a chuckle, coming to realization of what exactly she was referring to. "Yes, I suppose I did say that. I meant every word."

"Well, there you go," Lista replied, standing up straight once more. "I'm going to check on Xander. He may be up, and if so, he's going to be hungry. You lay here for the time being and get a little more rest. I'll get you those cough drops after checking on the baby. From what I recall, they're still lying on the bathroom floor from when you tried seducing me."

Quatre laughed, forcing himself to cough. He covered his mouth and wheezed, gathering his breath afterwards. "I really am sorry for that, sweetheart. I promise not to do that again."

"You really shouldn't promise such a thing," Lista teased as she walked to the doorway. She stopped and turned over her shoulder. "I'm going to have to break it when I get sick myself, and you know neither of us like to break promises." She winked at him. "But let this be a warning to you, sweetheart. If I'm the one who gets sick, you're going to have your work cut out for you."

Quatre watched her go with a smile. Pulling the blanket up to his chin, all he could think to himself was how appealing the prospect of her warning was.