Part 7
Quatre sat in the tub, blinking in astonishment. He hadn't expected Trowa to act like that. He thought he'd laugh, or yell, or... something else. Quatre ran his tongue across his lips in wonder. He'd known people on Flower Street that talked about men, rich ones, that looked for boys instead of girls. He'd thought Trowa was one of those people when he'd first asked him to live with him.
'e was angry when I said that, but p'raps he dinna ken he be like tha'. It wasna a bad kiss... No' a' all... Quatre smiled, then stood up unsteadily. He got out of the tub and dripped on the floor. He'd never been all wet before. He picked up the towels Trowa had left behind and began to dry himself. Unfortunately, he still didn't have any clothes. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he walked into the hall and looked around.
No' this one... no' this one, 'ere we go... Quatre thought, opening the door to Trowa's room. Trowa himself was naked, having just had his own quick bath.
" 'ello," Quatre said cheerfully, sitting on Trowa's bed, swinging his legs. Trowa blushed and grabbed for a towel.
"You should knock before you enter a room," Trowa said, hunting for something to wear. Quatre cocked his head.
"Why?" he asked. Trowa was having great difficulty thinking, and couldn't seem to find his trousers.
"Because it's not polite," Trowa said finally, as he recalled he should probably put on underthings before he put on his trousers. Quatre watched this gleefully. He was enjoying every moment of Trowa's discomfort, and perhaps other things of Trowa's as well. He felt a minor discomfort, and folded his hands over his lap.
"Seems silly t' me," Quatre said. Trowa dropped his underthings, and bent down to pick them up, while Quatre's mind jumped to someplace rather naughty. He shook his head, and watch Trowa run around in his underwear, dressing quickly.
"Why did you come to see me?" Trowa asked. Quatre stood up and yawned, towel falling to the floor. Trowa looked away quickly, but not before catching another eyeful of the blond boy.
"Ye got me clothes all wet, an' I need some more," Quatre said. He slowly drew the towel back over himself. Trowa gulped.
"There are some clothes in your room. I wasn't sure of your size, so I gave you some of my old things... er, how old are you?" Trowa asked, nervous. He was trying his hardest not to think of what the blond boy looked like under his towel.
"I be seventeen," Quatre said proudly. A look of of relief seemed to pass over Trowa's face.
"Oh, good... so am I," Trowa said. "I'll get your clothes, just stay here..." Trowa said, and walked out of the room. Quatre blinked, then began to explore, poking and prodding various mysterious jars. He picked up a brush with gold flecking and ran in through his hair. Droplets of water fell from the bristles. Quatre smiled and walked over to the window, looking outside. The people didn't seem to notice him through the drapes.
"Quatre, I--" Trowa said, upon walking into the room, then stopped to marvel. Quatre was illuminated by the sunlight streaming through the window, sparkling on the water droplets on his nude form. Trowa had no choice but to take in the slim, slightly muscled form. Creamy skin was dappled in the sunlight as he held the sparkling brush. Quatre turned to him, teeth flashing in the light.
"Yeh?" he asked. Trowa mentally shook himself and placed Quatre's clothes on the bed.
"I brought you some clothes," Trowa said gruffly. Quatre nodded and picked up the clothing and began to put it on, exclaiming at the softness of the materiel. Trowa felt tortured, watching Quatre cover himself from neck to wrist. He seemed to be having trouble with his trousers.
"Tro'a, 'ow do ye put these on?" Quatre asked, shaking the pants in disgust, as if it was all its fault. Trowa motioned for him to pull them on, then Trowa knelt, to fasten them. He opened his mouth to explain, but then his fingers brushed the bulge in Quatre's pants, and he could not speak. He merely fastened them and stood up, pushing silently past Quatre to go to the washroom, while Quatre stared, mystified.
Wha' bi' 'im in the arse? Quatre wondered. He touched the front of his pants. He then walked out of the room, exploring the house. He wandered into the dining area and spotted an old man who was sitting at the dining table, making a structure out of all the glass, plates, glasses and napkins.
"Er, 'ello," Quatre said uncertainly. The old man looked up, and brandished a salad fork at him.
"Ware, foul invader! Ye shall not storm our fair castle!" the old man shouted. One of the glass and silverware towers fell down. The glass shattered, making Quatre wince. "Now look what you've done!"
Quatre decided not to reply, and sat on the far side of the table. A young girl, who appeared to be a maid, asked Quatre what he wanted for dinner, since it was now rather late. Quatre asked for whatever was available.
Trowa appeared just as the maid was bringing Quatre a meal of beef and gravy, with a roll on the side. Quatre smiled at Trowa, who nodded back. Trowa asked for the same meal as Quatre, and sat beside him at the table. Dekim, utterly oblivious, continued to build his little castle.
"Father," Trowa said clearly. Dekim paused, spoon in hand.
"Yes?" Dekim asked. Trowa smiled, relieved.
"This is Quatre," Trowa said, indicating the blond boy beside him. Quatre nodded.
"Excellent!" Dekim said. You must join me for tea. Now I must find Mumsey. Mummy dearest..." Dekim called, wandering off. Trowa began to eat, as Quatre stared after him.
" 'e's mad!" Quatre said in astonishment. Trowa continued eating placidly.
"Yes. Eat your meat, you're too skinny," he said. Quatre shook his head, then began to eat, copying Trowa's method of eating. Trowa noticed him watching and smiled. Quatre stretched his legs out, and his foot brushed Trowa's. A tingle ran up his leg.
He can't realise what he's doing to me... Trowa thought, suppressing a groan. He'd decided the kiss was a mistake. A very big mistake, and if he could make Quatre forget, then everything would be well. And perhaps he would forget, as well...
Trowa stood up, and gestured for Quatre to stand as well. He led Quatre to the library, which was a warm, friendly room, filled with books and other curious artefacts. Quatre appeared delighted, because it seemed that he could read, and quite well.
He and Trowa spent long hours in the library, poring over books. Trowa had even turned on the grammaphone from which soft strains of Vivaldi, Mozart and Bach played. Quatre seemed almost as enrapt by the music as the books, often stopping to listen and to 'feel the music' as he put it.
Trowa didn't realise how late it was until he could hear the faint sounds of Quatre sleeping. Smiling, Trowa stopped the latest record and picked up Quatre, promising to blow out the candles when he returned. He carried Quatre up the stairs to his room and drew aside the covers. He gently lay Quatre down on his bed and for the second time that day, removed his pants. He then pulled the covers over Quatre.
Trowa walked down the stairs to the library and began to extinguish the candles. After he finished, he returned upstairs to his own room, undressed and fell into bed, content that he would now be able to spend long hours with Quatre.
"Tro'a," whispered a voice, rousing Trowa from a rather embarassing dream involving Quatre and the bathtub. Trowa blinked, allowing his eyes to ajust. Quatre was kneeling by his bed, tugging on his fringe.
"What is it, Quatre?" Trowa asked. Now that he could see-- sort of-- it appeared that Quatre looked scared.
"I dinna wan' ta sleep alone," Quatre said. "A' 'ome, Aunt Mattie allus slep' close by."
Trowa absorbed that statement, a wave of pity and perhaps... lust... breaking over him. He nodded, opening the covers and scooted over.
"Of course." Quatre smiled and hopped into the bed. Before Trowa could react, Quatre had his arms wrapped around Trowa's waist and rested his blond head on Trowa's chest. It took a full five minutes before Trowa relaxed long enough to even consider sleep an option.
We will need to talk about this... grabbing without asking, Trowa thought, gently brushing the top of Quatre's head. He closed his eyes and went to sleep, comforted and unsettled at the same time by the warm body that was sharing his bed.
TBC...