Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and all its characters © Sotsu Agency, Sunrise, and TV Asahi. All fics are not for profit.

A/N: I put this up last night but deleted it immediately when I was finally organizing my story list, deciding that the only drabbles I should put here are the ones for 'Adams and Eves'. But since PinkStriped Flamingo asked me to re-upload this (and because she's the one who requested it in the first place), I don't have any other choice. Right, boss? *cries*

This is for PinkStriped Flamingo, Chibi Rose Angel, Yume Girl 91, and all other 4xR fans out there who might be reading this ficcie. Sorry for the delay! This is actually not the original one that I planned on posting, but I really think it will take me a lot of time before I make it work so I wrote a drabble to quench your 4xR thirst for a while. Voila! The result is this uber!senseless drabble! Forgive this one for now, please!

OOC alert's going off, watch out! Inspired by the Korean 'Hanayori Dango', Boys Before Flowers.


"Social Jet Lags"

by Schizoid Sprite


"Among those whom I like or admire, I can find no common denominator, but among those whom I love, I can: all of them make me laugh."- Auden.


"I don't really know where women get the idea that they look cute when they cry."

Relena froze at the familiar voice, but she didn't look up or wipe her tears away. In her tear-laden vision, her pink sneakers looked like a pair of amorphous chewing gums and the cobblestones resembled the reddish walls of a giant mouth. She sank her teeth into her lower lip when she heard the next swing creaking against a new weight.

"You sneaked out again."

"Look who's talking," she blinked the salt water away. "I need to clear my headspace every once in a while, just like you. The office's ambience is killing me."

"So paperwork made you cry?"

"No."

"Microsleeps? Social jet lags?"

"You know it's not that," she croaked crestfallenly. "I love my work, no matter how much it shoots up my stress meter several levels every minute. It's the silence of my office that I think I'll never grow accustomed to."

He barked a laugh. "So there is a certain kind of peace that can make the Vice Foreign Minister of Interplanetary and Colonial Affairs weep."

"Silence doesn't necessarily meant peace, Quatre."

"I know. Do you hear something in that silence then?"

Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline and she snapped her head towards his smirking face. "I'm not psychologically challenged!"

"That's not what I'm implying," he chuckled. "We can hear something in silence, trust me."

He stomped his legs against the ground to stop the swing. He was clutching two popsicles, one blue and the other pink, and he uncoiled his arm from the swing chain to give her the pink one. Face still awash with tears, she grinned and reached out to accept the offer. Quatre pulled the treat back.

"Today," he declared, "I'm going to be a salesman. You'll have to pay for it if you want it."

Relena arched a brow and dabbed her face with her fingertips. "Salesman?"

He winked at her.

One of his games, she thought with a held-in sigh."Oh, fine. How much?"

"One day."

She balked. "What?"

"One day," he repeated with a one-sided smile. "You'll have to give me your whole day today as a payment."

Her jaw dropped. "I can buy myself a whole gallon of ice cream without wasting my time with you, Quatre. I have to go back to my office soon."

Quatre contorted his face in mock hurt. "You're breaking my heart, Miss Relena. Okay…how about half day?"

"No."

"Five hours?"

"I said no."

"I promise I won't make you clean my 'bachelor squalor' again. Please?"

"I. Said. No."

"Four hours and thirty minutes?"

"Can't you understand English? I said no."

"Four hours and ten minutes? I can organize a carrotmob for your Greene Emporium, starting with the Maguanacs. I heard you're investing in upgrades, and it's all for a charity's—"

"Quatre…"

"Okay. Uh, four hours?"

"I told you…"

"Three hours and forty-five minutes?"

"The popsicle's melting."

Quatre gasped at his hand, where a translucent blob of the thawing treat ran down between his fingers. He lapped at the trails delicately, his eyes laughing.

"There's no way that I'm going to buy that now. It's melted...and ew—"

"Honestly, Miss Relena, you sound like you're just pretending that your phantom fat isn't haunting you anymore." He left an arc-shaped bite at the popsicle. The blue one was starting to melt too, and he saved his other hand from the sticky sweet flow by attacking the soft ice with his tongue and teeth.

Relena tossed a handful of hair. "Phantom fat are just felt by people who're once overweight."

Quatre chuckled. "Were you not?"

With that, Relena lunged at him with half-pretended violence. Quatre swiftly dodged out of her reach; a rock turned under her foot, and she stumbled forward with a shriek. She scrunched her eyes close as she felt her body descend slowly—and plunged onto a soft mass of warmth. She lifted her eyelids open to meet the extreme blueness of Quatre's eyes, still shining with laughter. Some feet over his head were the quickly liquefying treats.

"Are you alright?" Relena asked, touching Quatre's cheek and brushing away the bangs that fell over his brow.

He blinked at her. "Of course I am."

With a crooked smile spreading in time with the scarlet smear across his face, he splayed his fingers on her nape and guided her down; she relented to his force and all of a sudden her lips were fused with the warmness of his, the remnants of strawberry and blueberry mixed with the natural sweetness of his mouth. She wondered hazily how many days she would have to give as a payment to taste an exquisite flavor such as this.

She broke the contact when she remembered where they were. Quatre cackled at her.

"I love it when you blush," he commented. She propped her elbows in preparation to stand up, but he pulled her back to lay over him.

"Quatre," she whispered, voice oozing with threat, "you know the paparazzi won't need to use any sort of 'fauxtography' to let the people believe we're actually doing…something, in our position like this."

"I'm always ready for the legal consequences," Quatre responded with a brushing kiss. Relena's attempt to utter something in protest escaped her mouth as a moan. "But hey," he pulled away, "what's the use of your disguise? Surely, the whole solar system knows that the VFM is honey- blonde, not brunette."

"That's exactly it!" Relena gritted her teeth when he reached up to mess up her wig. "Quatre, you're not wearing any form of disguise! What will everyone say if they find out my fiancé's hitting on 'someone else' a week before our wedding?!"

Quatre pretended to think for a while. "I'll call for a press conference and say that Miss Relena Darlian doesn't even like to spend a day with me. What's the harm of fooling around with a hooker as long as I'm still not tied to a loveless marriage?"

"A hooker? L-loveless marriage?!" She pushed herself up and shook Quatre's arms away.

"Relena, it's just a—"

"You suck at funny, Quatre, so there's no sense telling me it's a joke. I'll avenge my wounded pride." She jutted her chin out comically.

"Revenge sure is a dish best served cold, but don't you think I'm just too…hot I'll melt it?"

Relena rolled her eyes at the word he emphasized, at his overconfidence as a whole. But then she realized that it was sort of true, for all of her attempts at coldness would easily go away once he just let that bewitching smile flash. She heaved a sigh in defeat.

"Get up, Quatre."

"Make me."

"Quatre—"

"Tell me why you won't like to spend even just an hour with me."

"I think we already spent an hour now."

He didn't move.

"Quatre, please get up."

"Shhh. Listen."

Relena raised a brow. She stared curiously at the blonde, who looked as if he was straining to hear something. Aside from the peaceful whishing of the wind, there was definitely nothing to hear.

"I can't hear anything," she finally said.

"I told you," he said sotto voce, "you can hear something in the silence."

She let her shoulders slump. "I'm not like you, Quatre. I can't hear anything that isn't there."

Quatre rolled onto his belly with a grunt and finally pushed himself off the dirt. "You think I'm not here?"

"What?"

He brushed some dust off his suit. "I always make it a point to tell you that I love you, especially when you're not occupied by anything, when everything's silent. You can't hear it?"

"For the hundredth time, Quatre, I'm not a telepath."

He stood still for a second, not breathing, staring straight ahead. "Don't you love me?"

"I never said that," she whispered. "I'll never marry a man if I don't feel anything for him."

"You told me once that I just conned you into signing the contract."

It was her turn to stare and freeze. Then she giggled. "I said it in jest, you oversensitive little boy!"

"You suck at funny, too, Relena. But I'm pretty sure you're serious when you said that. I felt that you're serious."

"I'm not serious."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Okay, fine! But it's just an effect of…"

"Microsleeps? Social jet lags?"

Relena narrowed her eyes when Quatre flashed a large smile.

"No," she said cheerfully. "It's the effect of the only peace that can make the Vice Foreign Minister of Interplanetary and Colonial Affairs weep."

Quatre inquired, "I can make you act serious if I make you...cry?"

Relena stood on tiptoes to plant a kiss on his nose. "Make me cry the right way and for all the right reasons...and you'll have me not only for a day."


fin.

I promise to post Latte Factor, a more serious and IC 4xR, soon.