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[mini-fics] Trowa & Duo [06--10 / 25]
5 Sentence Fics
[ Trowa & Duo - 01—05 | 06—10 | 11—15 | 16—20 | 21—25 ]

Characters: Trowa & Duo. 06: Duo & Quatre. 09: +Quatre, +Catherine.
Rating: G to PG-13 // 07: R
Warnings: Here and there some course language.
Disclaimer: here.


   
06 The One Office Supply To Rule Them All

"Honestly tell me if you think it’s too much," Quatre said as he opened the elegant little box he was intending to give Trowa at tonight’s reception in honour of his promotion.
Duo eyed the contents with a grimace.

"Only gold thing Tro’ll wear is his silence," he replied, "but… you could always tell him it’s a fancy-schmancy paper clip?"

"It is too much, then," Quatre sighed, vainly polishing the impeccable tie clip with his sleeve.

"You know, I’ve never seen Trowa *really* laugh while wearing his uniform," Duo mused after a moment of silence, "so if you just drop the speech you —no doubt—planned and tell him with the most deadpan expression you can muster that you got him a Superior Quality Office Supply, I’m sure it will be perfect!"


   
07 Ranting Over Coffee - 1

"So, the next day, Kat gets a call and tells me he needs to visit his lawyer," Duo said, the frustration already thick in his voice.
"Says I'm welcome to tag along, so I figure 'what the heck, the guy probably has a big-big-fucking-pool in his backyard, and I won't mind floating around a bit and catching up on my beauty sleep'—Hell yeah, I'm way ahead of him!"

Trowa repressed a smile and nodded, encouraging his friend to continue.

"As it turns out," Duo continued, raising his voice enough to make a passing waitress jump in surprise, "Lawyer Guy is actually a single mom with three snotty kids and no pool, and Funny Uncle Duo gets to risk life and braid babysitting the Brats, capital B, while Golden Boy takes his time reading mommy legalese love poetry in the next room!"

Trowa focused his attention on his coffee cup, pouting his lips to keep his amusement from showing, as Duo raised his hands to the sky in exaggerated despair over the trauma he suffered.


   
08 Virtually Risky

As soon as Trowa had buckled his seat belt, Duo threw a games megastore catalogue in his lap, opened on a page with several consoles of a specific type and developer circled in red ballpoint.

"Help me decide, Tro," Duo said as he started driving, "because these days there's such a shitload of designs to choose from that it's making me doubt my choice even before I made it."

Trowa raised the catalogue a bit to give the circled pictures an appraising look, but could not help wondering out loud, "You want another one?"

"Well, you know how playing these nightly gaming sessions with Heero always end with something breaking;" Duo sighed, shifting gear aggressively, "be it my lip on his elbow when he dodges one of my particularly brilliant attacks, or be it my console because the damned cables get tangled with my radio's and gravity takes its chance."

"It is not one you marked for preference," Trowa quietly replied after a careful consideration of the offered designs, "but if I were you, Duo, I'd get the one with the chromium casing."


   
09 Anecdotal Instincts

The lively table conversation dimmed when Quatre tapped his wineglass with the handle of his spoon for silence.
He announced that this year, dessert would not be glace flambée aux framboises, as was the tradition for his birthday, and recounted last year's unfortunate incident that had made him opt for crème brulée instead, eliciting laughter from the majority of his guests.

Trowa frowned uncomfortably at Duo at his two o'clock and was answered with a painfully sober scowl, while Catherine, right across him, sullenly stared-and-plucked at her napkin.

Last year, after one Burgundy too many, Duo had gotten it into his head to be helpful of the dining room staff by setting fire to his portion of ice cream – and did so before the butler was done pouring the kirsch.
The flames rapidly eating away at the surprised butler's sleeve had been extinguished by Trowa, by impromptu use of Catherine's favourite pashmina.


   
10 A Fly In The Ointment

"Well, I'm out of ideas," Duo said, dropping his pencil and leaning back on the couch.

Trowa squinted at him in an exhausted fashion.
"If you give up it dies," he muttered, "which means I've won."

"Yeah," Duo replied, rubbing his sore neck, "night out's on me, though it'd probably be a very short one."

"This," Trowa said, casting a brief indicatory glance at the pile of (illegally obtained) office paper they had used in their five hour Kill-The-Fly session, "is exactly why they invented Rock-Paper-Scissors."


Author's note: In case you don't know and were wondering… Kill The Fly is a doodling game, usually played by two people, where one person tries to 'kill' the Fly (a speck with wings, drawn in the centre of the paper) in all sorts of gruesome ways, and the other tries to creatively save it. Drawing skills are not necessary, as long as the 'kills' and 'saves' are recognisable. Highly entertaining, potentially addictive.
The spin-off Kill The Ex seems to have therapeutic value as well…