I decided to write this story as a response to a personal challenge. I dared myself to write a non-yaoi or shonen ai love story involving Trowa as a main character. I noticed that most of the fics (through no fault of any writer out there!) involve the other four pilots, but Trowa's role was often secondary--though I'm sure they're out there somewhere...my idea isn't that original, by any means. There is a good reason for this--Trowa's character is not easy to read. Besides that, there really isn't an obvious female character to match him up with--unless you believe that Catherine is not his sister. It was hard to settle on a female character to pair him off with--don't worry, I have figured this part out. I'm not telling, though, for 'suspense' purposes. Also...when writing the scenes involving Catherine and Trowa, I tried to draw on my own personal sibling experiences with my little brother. Having then thrown myself into an angry flashback fit, I then tried to make them act as normal as possible. Just kidding. I hope you like it.
Oh, and I don't own any of these characters. Sunrise does. I won't dare claim them as my own, though I will tinker with their destinies a little.
Trowa stood before the sink in his trailer, dressed only in his boxers, trying to get the last of the clown makeup off. That's it, he thought to himself, that is the first, and the last time I use grease paint instead of my mask! He did not turn when there was a knock at the door, nor did he turn when the person knocking didn't bother to wait for a response before barging into his trailer. He didn't need to...he knew who it was. She was right on schedule, as always.
"Great show, Trowa! I think the Manager really liked that new grease paint instead of your old mask," Catherine said cheerfully as she bounded into the trailer.
"Mm," grunted Trowa, scrubbing dutifully at a particularly stubborn spot on his left cheek. It didn't help that he needed a shave, either, he decided.
Catherine had changed out of her circus outfit and was now wearing a baggy sweatshirt over a pair of leggings. She sat down on the couch, folding her legs underneath her gracefully in pretzel formation. As always, she looked perfect, as if she never had a hair out of place, or smudged lipstick...or grease paint ground into her pores. Trowa cursed inwardly and scrubbed harder.
"You know, Trowa, I do have a facial scrub in my trailer...that ought to help you get that grease paint off of your face. I can run and grab it if you want to use it," Catherine offered helpfully.
"That's okay, Cathy," he said, "I can handle it." Or use it and end up smelling like peaches, he thought darkly.
Catherine was quiet for a moment. Just wait, thought Trowa, first she'll heave a big, gusty sigh, and then she'll start talking about...
Catherine sighed heavily. "What are we going to do about your girlfriend problem, Trowa?"
Just like clockwork, he thought.
"I don't have a girlfriend problem."
"Yes, you do."
"Define 'problem'." Satisfied that his face was clean, Trowa turned from the sink, drying his face on a towel.
Catherine sighed dramatically. "Well," she started, --Here she goes, thought Trowa-- "for one thing, you don't have a girlfriend. I call that a problem."
"And?"
"And...well, you aren't a bad-looking guy, and--Trowa! I'm saying that as a woman, not as your sister! Don't give me that look!" she exclaimed as Trowa raised one eyebrow at her. "You are cute. I've seen you turn heads. You're just too modest to admit it."
"Fine. I'm an Adonis."
Catherine glowered at him. "You're not that cute. But you do turn heads. Didn't you see that cute redhead in the front row by the center ring tonight?"
"Was I supposed to?"
"She was following your every move! Even I noticed!"
"Of course she was following my every move. You were throwing knives at me. She wanted to see if you'd miss the target and hit me instead."
"Ugh!" Catherine spat in disgust, "you are impossible!" She stood up and plucked disconsolately at a spot on his discarded clown costume, which was draped over the back of a chair. Trowa draped the towel over his shoulder and headed for his bedroom. Catherine followed.
"Don't feel bad, Cathy. It's not because of your lack of trying that I don't have a significant other," he said. He searched through his bureau until he found a tee-shirt that was relatively clean, and tugged it over his head. "How many girls have you set me up with? I lost count."
Catherine glared at him. "I haven't set you up with that many people! And would it hurt you to be a little more friendly when I introduce you to one of my friends? They all think you're this antisocial weirdo."
"Let them think that."
"But Trowa--!"
"You don't see me losing sleep over it, do you?"
"Aarrgh! You are impossible! See if I ever help you again!" She turned her back to him.
Trowa walked over to where she was standing and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Cathy..." he said quietly. "It's not that I don't appreciate your...help." She turned around and looked at him. "It's just that...well, I'm not really interested in a relationship right now."
"You're not interested? I don't believe that for a second, no matter what you say!"
"Believe what you will, Cathy. Besides, I don't know what I'm looking for in a woman...just that I'll know it when I see it."
"How do you know that you'll know if you don't know what you're looking for?"
"I just know." He walked into the kitchen area and put the teakettle on a burner. Catherine pulled two mugs out of the cupboard. "I wish I had your confidence," she grumbled as she grabbed two teabags, "because at the rate you're going, you'll never find a girlfriend!"
"At least, not without your help, right?" Trowa leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest, and shook his head. A slight smile creased his face.
"I don't see how you can find this so funny," she grumped. "Don't you want a girlfriend?"
"What about you, Cathy? I don't see you with a significant other."
She flushed angrily. "This isn't about me, little brother. This is about you. At least I go out on dates!"
"Calm down, Cathy. I was just teasing."
"Well, I'm serious."
Trowa didn't say anything for a few minutes, and neither did Catherine. They were both lost in their own thoughts. The whistling of the teakettle jarred them both out of their reveries with a start.
"I don't see why you're so worried about my social life," said Trowa calmly as he poured boiling water into each mug.
"I'm worried because it's not normal for someone your age to be so antisocial. You're 21, Trowa! You should be out enjoying your youth with other people your age, not just hanging around the circus all the time."
"Cathy, I'm not normal, remember?"
Catherine sighed with frustration. "All right. So you're not normal. But I'll bet you don't even notice other people!"
Trowa raised one eyebrow.
Catherine narrowed her eyes at his unspoken challenge. "I'll make a bet with you. I'll bet you don't notice who is sitting in seat A5 during tomorrow's show. It's right across from where we set up the knife-throwing target--even you can't miss that!"
"Interesting bet," conceded Trowa. "What is the prize?"
"If I win, and you don't notice, then I get to find a date for you, and you two have to go out on the town with me and my date for one night...and no complaining."
"And if I win?"
Catherine sighed. "Then I'll leave you alone about the whole girlfriend issue, and never pester you about your social life again."
"It's a deal," said Trowa, and they shook hands. Catherine smirked.
"You'd better make a list of clubs you'd like to visit, little brother," she said, "because I already know I'm going to win!"
I wouldn't be so sure about that, Trowa thought.
That's all for now. Let me know what you think so far. Thanks!