30-Oct-2003
Title: Meeting Beatrice
Author: Sol (archived as Zefyr on FF & MM)
Chapter 2: Trowa Warns, Dorothy Plots, and Everyone Else Unpacks
Genre: Comedy, Romance
Pairings: 1+R (past), 1+2, 3+4...
Rated: PG or PG-13 for mild cussing (maybe).
Warnings: Silliness and fun, mostly at the expense of two canon characters.
Archiving: Sure, just write me at zefyr@hereticstudios.com
Critiques: Always welcome, especially constructive.
Disclaimer: I just like to take them out and play with them. I promise to put them back where I found them.
Spoilers: Takes place 3 years after EW, and may reference some events/past history.
Quatre had come down the kitchen for another cup of coffee. There he found Trowa, looking exceedingly smug.
"Oh, that's a dangerous smile," Quatre said, setting down the coffee cup to slip his arms around his lover's waist. "You're up to something. Or you know something."
"Maybe," Trowa murmured, his green eyes dancing. "What's it worth to you?"
Quatre pulled the taller man's head down with one hand, pressing their lips together for a quick kiss that soon deepened into something more. A minute later they pulled apart, and grinned at each other. Quatre poked Trowa in the ribs, and raised an eyebrow.
"Well?"
"I was in here making another pot of coffee and I heard Zechs and Duo talking..."
"And?" Quatre raised both eyebrows.
"Duo wants to propose to Heero." Trowa grinned. It was one of the wide laughing smiles that he often did, now that he'd reached a place in himself where happiness was a daily occurrence.
"No shit!" Quatre frowned when Trowa started laughing harder, and shook his head. "No, really. They've been dancing around it for years now."
"A year, at most." Trowa pursed his lips. "They spent two years dancing around whether or not they were more than friends. Then another year of pretending to just be friends around the rest of us. So perhaps one year."
"That's a technicality. We've known each other for years, now."
Trowa groaned. "Gods, Quatre, you make us sound ancient. We're not even twenty-one."
"And we all grew up fast." Quatre pondered the situation, his blue eyes going distant. Trowa recognized the look, and squeezed his blond lover to bring him back. Quatre glanced up at him. "What?"
"There's just one thing... Duo is afraid to propose. He thinks Heero might turn him down."
Quatre rolled his eyes. "I always knew Duo was an idiot."
"Yeah, and you were real upfront when you proposed to me." Trowa released Quatre and began pouring coffee for each of them.
"That's different," the shorter Preventer retorted, opening the sugar jar and spooning two teaspoons into Trowa's cup. "So how's Duo going to propose? Skywriting? Blowing up Heero's motorcycle?"
"No, he blew up the bike last year for their one-year dating anniversary."
"And Heero still likes him," Quatre observed dryly. "That's true love. So what's he going to do?"
"I think Zechs is going to broach the subject on his behalf." Trowa shrugged, and added milk to Quatre's coffee. Before the shorter man could say anything, Trowa was already nodding. "I know, Heero's still on guard around Zechs. Duo might end up with a 'no' before Zechs even has a chance to say anything."
"True," Quatre said, considering it carefully as he stirred Trowa's coffee. They traded cups and leaned against the counter, a comfortable silence as both thought about it. Presently, Quatre brightened. "I'll tell Relena, and ask her to talk to her brother. She can do the asking for Duo, since she and Heero are good friends now."
"Given their history... "
"Oh, please," Quatre said, waving one hand dismissively. "That's ancient news. All three are friends, and Relena's diplomatic enough to come up with a way to say it that will give Heero no choice but to say yes the minute Duo asks."
Trowa frowned slightly. "I don't know... "
"It'll be fine," the blond said, and grinned. "Anything's better than Zechs and Heero forced to deal with a touchy-feely subject together. They've been working on being civil ever since Relena and Heero came to a mutual understanding, but I don't want to risk it. It's bad enough dealing with Wufei and Relena under the same roof," he added, grumbling a little.
"Fine," the green-eyed pilot said, shrugging. "I leave it all in your hands." Kissing Quatre on the nose, he grinned. "Now, I suppose I'd better go make sure your aforementioned guests aren't shredding each other in the upstairs hallway."
"Please, no," Quatre said. "The insurance on the rental doesn't cover architectural damage."
Dorothy was sitting in the chair by the window, staring out at the ocean when a soft knock came at the door. "Come in," she called, without turning her head.
Conrad entered, a little abashed. "Boss, come on. This is a vacation. Everyone's gathering for lunch... "
Dorothy made a face. "I'm bored already, and I have two weeks of looking forward to more of the same."
"But the beach," Conrad protested. "I thought you said you liked the beach."
"After a storm, when there's driftwood and chaos... " She leaned back, resting her head on the chair. "I like trouble and the chaos after it. The beach in August is too sunny."
"It's also hurricane season," Conrad replied.
Dorothy laughed softly. "You always know the way to cheer me up! I knew there was a reason for insisting you come." She stood up, stretching a little, and tugged at her tank dress to straighten herself up. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she paused, and shook her head. "I'm not really cut out for this. I can't spend the whole time trying to be nice and making polite conversation with everyone."
"But you and Mr. Winner finally made peace, but neither of you followed up on it, until now," Conrad said softly. He stayed near the door, unwilling to venture further, but watched his boss with anxious eyes. "You'll have to play nice if you want to get away with your usual tricks, without being tossed out on your ass without question."
Dorothy snorted, amused. "You have such a way of putting things... but you're right. I'm just a troublemaker, Conrad, really. In peacetime, there's no purpose for someone like me. I'll say it straight up to anyone who asks, that's all I am, I suppose."
"Well, you can still have a little fun, right?" Conrad suggested. "I'm sure you'll think of something to amuse yourself."
There was a second knock at the door, and Dorothy frowned, and then nodded her permission. Conrad opened the door to reveal Bart standing there, grinning goofily.
"Bart," Dorothy said, a little weary. The young man was simply too gung-ho, she thought. "What's that look for?"
"Guess what I heard," Bart said, stepping quickly into the room. "Two more Gundam pilots are getting hooked!"
"Really?" The blonde woman furrowed her brow. Great, she thought, not only a vacation but a cheerful one, full of people planning a wedding. Oh, this is going to be torture.
"Yes, but there's more." Bart settled himself in the chair by the window, oblivious of Dorothy's irritated glance. "I was coming down the stairs after finding our room, and I heard Mr. Maxwell... Duo... talking to Mr. Merquise... I mean, Zechs."
Dorothy made an aggravated face. "Pick a damn name, Bart, and stick to it."
"Right, boss, sorry," he muttered. "Anyway, Duo can't work up the nerve. So Zechs is going to propose on his behalf." He laughed. "A big, bad Gundam pilot, and he can't even work up the nerve to propose to his boyfriend."
He seemed to be delighted by the concept of the pilots as human beings, and Dorothy rolled her eyes behind him, halting in the motion as an idea occurred to her. "Duo's best friends with Quatre," she mused. "What's tonight's entertainment, gentlemen? Didn't Quatre say something about a party to start to the vacation?"
"Some crazy idea of Mardi Gras in August," Conrad replied, shrugging.
"Good, good," Dorothy said, tapping a finger against her lips as she thought. "I have an idea."
"What's that, Boss?" Conrad exchanged a look with Bart, who grinned.
"A way to keep me amused," she said, and smiled at both of them. The look wasn't entirely pleasant.
End Part 2
(:./sol/meeting2)
