For Trowa-bat, with lots of love. ^__^
AU, fantasy, OOC (?), general oddness on my part, and yaoi. Yep, definitely yaoi here...
Bob: <thwap> Geez, Em, you *know* they know you better than that now.
Quatre shifted slightly under the silent gaze of his... betrothed. God, he was going to have a hard time with this. They had been sitting together in silence for nearly half an hour. The few conversations that Quatre had started before the silence had fallen had lurched to painful, agonizing deaths. The disguised prince was about to scream in frustration just to make a little noise. "You don't talk very much, do you?" he asked, finally, tired of playing the etiquette-prescribed game of conversational cat-and-mouse.
"I suppose not," Trowa replied, using the same mostly inflectionless tone with which he had commented on the weather, breakfast, the warm, comfortable atmosphere of his home, and the cat now lounging in his lap. He paused, and for the first time in the two and a half hours they had been sitting together, asked a question. "You'll tell that to His Highness?"
*Was that--hostility?* Quatre wondered, rather baffled by the green-eyed enigma sitting across from him. "I don't know, Lord Barton," he answered, smiling slightly. "I haven't decided yet if this is normal for you or if it's just my presence." *And if it's me, we are in _such_ deep trouble.*
Trowa petted the ecstatically purring cat for a few moments, the long sweep of his hair covering fully half of his face--not that seeing both eyes would have provided that much of an aid to deciphering his emotions, Quatre decided. "Forgive me, I should try to be more forthcoming," he said finally. "What would His Highness like to know about me?"
Quatre floundered, even as he rejoiced to be getting somewhere in the conversation at last. "Um... well... he'd like to know everything, really."
Trowa lifted an eyebrow. "Where shall I begin?"
His mind had gone blank. Frantically, Quatre tired to think of something (anything) to ask. At length, he swore. "Damn it, I can't think of a single bloody thing."
If he had been watching, he might have seen Trowa's eyes soften slightly before the customary mask settled back into place.
At that moment, Duo poked his head into the study. "Good morning!" he exclaimed. "Mind if we join you?"
Quatre looked questioningly at Trowa, who merely shrugged. "By all means, Duo, please come in," the prince said, not without a certain sense of relief.
~*~
*So... I make him uncomfortable.* Trowa filed this away, wondering why the Crown Prince's emissary should be so jittery around him. It wasn't as if Quatre were the one who would have to marry him.
Duo seated himself quite happily on a low couch, smirking at his lifebond and patting the cushion next to him invitingly. Heero snorted, but took the offered seat anyway. Duo immediately rearranged himself so that he was leaning against the warrior. "So, has Quatre wormed all your deepest, darkest secrets out of you yet?" the wizard asked. "Because we were thinking--"
"*You* were thinking," Heero corrected him.
"We were thinking that maybe you'd like to know a little more about His Highness. Turnabout is fair play, after all, and no one knows His Highness better than the three of us," Duo continued, unperturbed by Heero's interruption. "Especially Quatre. He and the prince are so close, you might say they were inseparable."
"Duo--" Quatre said, voice hard.
The violet-eyed wizard simply smiled at him. "It's true, Quatre! The two of you are very close, and Trowa--and *can* call you Trowa, can't I?--deserves every bit as much warning about His Highness's foibles as you're going to report back to the Eternal City."
"Duo, shut up and give someone else a chance to speak," Heero snorted, taking the braid and tugging it gently.
Duo made a face. "It's not like anyone else around here was saying much," he complained. "Quatre's tonguetied, and it looks like Trowa talks even less than you do."
Heero pulled the braid again. "Duo, *behave*."
"All right, all right... so, Trowa, what do you do for fun around here when it storms like this?" Duo asked.
"Try to stay warm." Trowa wasn't expecting the grin that spread across Duo's face at the comment.
"Say, Heero--"
"No."
The wizard sighed heavily. "He's absolutely no fun in front of strangers," he confided to Trowa. "So, assuming one is already warm, what else is there to do?"
Trowa hesitated. "There is a weapons room where you could practice, and there is a library--it's small, but it's hard to get books this far north."
Quatre's eyes lit up. "A library?"
Duo chuckled. "You said just the right thing, Trowa. Our friend here adores reading."
Trowa looked at Quatre, interest flickering across his face. "You do?"
Quatre nodded vigorously. "Definitely. Books are one of my passions."
Trowa's mouth quirked up slightly. *Well, well...* "I could show you the library," he offered.
Quatre very nearly glowed. "I'd like that very much!"
Satisfied and grinning smugly, Duo snuggled closer to Heero. *My work here is done.*
~*~
"Wonderful..." Quatre inhaled the familiar dusty scent of books and smiled peacefully. Trowa was right, the "library" was really only a small room, but it was warm and cozy, and the books appeared to be well-loved. He nearly forgot his guide's presence, drifting over to one shelf and inspecting the titles closely. "May I?" he asked, glancing back at Trowa, who nodded. He carefully removed a volume, lovingly opening the book and leafing through the pages.
*He really _does_ love books....* "That's one of my favorites," Trowa offered, almost shyly.
"Mine too... I compliment you on your good taste." Quatre sighed happily. "I would never leave this room if I lived here..."
"Thank you."
"Hmm?" Quatre looked at him curiously, still holding the book like a beloved child.
Trowa ducked his head, looking slightly embarrassed. "I take care of the books, sir."
"Call me Quatre, please, my lord. I can't stand honorifics. And you've done a wonderful job," he said sincerely, letting his eyes rove over the shelves filled with books absolutely free of dust, the comfortable, inviting chairs by the fireplace, and the abundance of oil lamps to provide clear light for reading.
Trowa found himself almost smiling. "Thank you again... and please, call me Trowa."