Clumsy [4xCB drabble]

[VioletFairychild]

Clumsy, a fic-let type thing by Vi
Word count: 410
Rating: G

(Clumsy was written for the livejournal community 15 Hugs, where members write 15 drabbles based on a set list of themes for a chosen pairing. The theme used here is "Falling".)

"Lost his practice pins," Catherine muttered under her breath as she stalked towards the lion tent. "That boy would forget his own head if I wasn't-AUGH!"

Standing on the other side of the tent flap she had just yanked open was a startled Quatre Winner, looking as shaken as she felt. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you! Trowa told me to wait here for him-are you all right?" He held out a hand to steady her, but it was quickly batted away in irritation. That's why he'd sent her out here. Various methods of torture played themselves out in her head, but all were dismissed as too mild.

"I'm fine. Now just get out of my way-" his face fell- "Please." Trying to ignore the twinge of guilt that flared in her chest at his crestfallen expression, Catherine pushed her way into the blush-concealing darkness of the tent. "Trowa left his juggling pins in here. Help me find them." The commanding tone of her voice sent Quatre scurrying to comply.

The flounced burgundy skirt of her costume caught the handle of a bucket as she searched, sending unidentified grains of animal feed cascading over the floor. Quatre righted the bucket before she could even swear at her own clumsiness, trying to avoid her openly hostile gaze. "I'm...sorry?"

He sounded unsure of what it was he should be sorry for; Catherine wasn't sure what she wanted him to be sorry for, either. Seconds drummed by in an awkward cadence as they stared at everything but each other. Bamboo under the fingernails, maybe? Finally spotting the pins on top of a supply crate, she took one step towards them and promptly skidded on a patch of feed, flying headlong into space with the odd hope that her costume wouldn't get too dirty.

It took her a moment to notice that the impact she was bracing for hadn't happened. Instead, she was pressed against something considerably more yielding and pleasant than hard-packed dirt, something that smelled like leather and soap and warmth. Then the something loosened its grip on her waist, and two things occurred to Catherine-that she was pressed against Quatre's chest, and that she didn't mind it nearly as much as she thought she would.

"Thanks," she mumbled into his shirt, but made no move to seperate herself from him. The knot of resentment behind her breastbone loosened, just a bit.

"You're welcome," he whispered back.

Definitely the bamboo.

[Eienvine]

Aww, that was sweet! Quatre's so cute. You did a great job of making the story believable without putting too much longwinded background into it. Great story.