InsaneJournal

[series: Fuzzies] 01 Truth-Bender
[ Warm Fuzzies And Logic - 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 ]

01 Truth-Bender

Pairing/Characters: Trowa & Duo; minor roles for Catherine + OMC Sem Yoltis, Quatre; mention of Heero, Zechs, Noin, Hilde.
Rating & Warnings: R for informal/offensive language and heedless alcohol consumption.
Notes: Mentioned drinks are RL cocktails. "Suck My Kiss" is a RHCP song.
The author in no way promotes consumption of alcohol. Anyone not old enough to consume alcohol as defined in the laws of their respective countries should stay away from it. *Lady Une glare*

Summary: Saturday. Trowa amuses himself drinking at a hind- and stag-party.



"Oh god, not another pre-colonial funk-hop song, or whatever they called it," Catherine said when Duo started his red hot interpretation of 'Suck My Kiss'.

Trowa chuckled behind his cocktail glass; he was all too familiar with Duo's strange taste in music.

"Just as well, though," Catherine continued, "Sem and I are leaving in a moment anyway. We'll do a quick round of goodbyes and then we're out of here."
She rested a hand on Trowa's shoulder as she scanned the crowd.
"Now, where is Lu..? Okay, I'll be right back."

Lieutenant Noin, as Trowa addressed her on the job, would be referred to as 'the Lightning Countess' in office hallway conversation in less than a week time.
Judging from the pure elation emanating from her face, this surprise ending to her bachelorette party could carry away her approval; Sally and Howard, respectively Lu's maid of honour and Zechs' best man, had each led their convoy to this karaoke bar for a festive evening. The groom himself, on the other hand, looked as if he still had not recovered from his embarrassment for having to sing his fiancée a love song in front of a listening crowd comprising family, friends, and esteemed colleagues. If Trowa knew Howard at all, Zechs would never hear the end of it.

"Master Barton." Pargan arrived with a tray of assorted alcoholic beverages. "I trust you are amusing yourself," the old butler said as Trowa traded his empty glass for a Dorm Room Special: his favourite, so far.
Trowa nodded, smiling, taking the blue paper parasol from his drink and putting it in his chest pocket, where he had collected all the parasols of his previous cocktails.

Just about everybody was here. When Zechs' and Lu's parties had met at the bar after an activity-packed day, Trowa had felt a little unnerved; he was not big on mingling, especially in crowds, and he had dreaded the idea of being dragged up to the microphone to sing a song. Quatre and Catherine had tried a couple of drinks ago, but fortunately, his trusty Preventers-partner Heero had faked an emergency and saved him from certain doom.
As the evening had progressed, though, he had managed to loosen up. The gentle buzz of the imbibed alcohol and the cheerful chatter around him —occasionally topped by Duo's downright dreadful singing voice— made him feel pleasantly hazy and content. He had even allowed Hilde to drag him to the dance floor once — though he had felt more than a little lost just standing there in front of her, drink in hand and bashful grin on his face.

"All set. Well, we're leaving," Catherine said, suddenly wobbling into existence again from behind his glass. "Will you be alright by yourself? You did have an awful lot of those fancy beverages… Make sure to brush your teeth; you don't want to know how much sugar they put in some of these candy drinks."
Behind her, Sem Yoltis, handsome acrobat and Cathy's date, shook his head with a good-natured smile. Trowa chuckled as he chewed the top of the straw in his glass, blowing some bubbles in his drink.
"If Sally can't give you a ride home, please call a cab, okay? I'd rather not have you walking the streets alone at night in this state."

Sem folded his arms around Catherine from behind and urged her forward. "Relax, Cathy, he's a big boy," he said with an amused smirk, "and there are plenty of people here to keep an eye on him." Sem winked. "Aren't there, Trowa?"

Trowa raised an eyebrow at that last remark; well, of course, he was among friends. He walked them to the door and waved goodbye. He stood outside for a couple of minutes, just staring up at the soothingly wobbling starlit sky, enjoying the metallic swirly ringing in his ears as much as he had enjoyed the chatter inside the bar.
It occurred to him that for the greater part of the evening, he had not spoken to anyone, nor paid any attention to people specifically. He was not sure whether he had subconsciously decided to refrain from talking to not be caught slurring his speech, or if he had simply been too lost in his observation of the lively crowd-entity to think of anything to say. He had merely nodded or smiled when spoken to, and looked out over the crowd from the side-line. Wait, he had talked with Zechs, Quatre, and Heero… Duo too, but that was before his collection of drink decorations had started to become impressive.

Trowa took the last sweetly-sour sip from his glass and headed back inside. He would look for Duo and show him how vast his collection of parasols had grown; the inside of his chest pocket would even put Howard's most optimistic shirt to shame.
When he looked up to scan the room, he saw Duo approaching him. He smiled, but hesitated for a moment, remembering the empty glass in his hand. He turned to see if there was any place to put the glass.

"Tro," Duo said, "Listen, I…"

Not having noticed anything he deemed horizontal or still enough to call a surface within arm's reach, Trowa turned his attention to his friend. The face he saw before him, once it finally stayed in one place, was all determined frown and had a colour resembling that of one of his parasols.
He picked one out of his pocket with his free hand —then put it back and selected another—

"Tro, there's something I've gotta tell you—"

—and held it out, next to Duo's left cheek. A triumphant, woozy grin formed on his face. It was a perfect match.

Duo lowered his head, tensing his shoulders. "Damn it, Tro. I'm really fucking serious."

Lowering his arm and cocking his head, Trowa tried to get another look at his friend's face. Duo turned his face away, granting him a good look at his reddened cheek.

He thought to tell Duo it was nice and cool outside, that maybe it would do him some good —already raising the hand holding the pink parasol again and brushing it gently against the overheated skin— but before he could say anything, Duo shoved him and pinned him to the wall two yards behind them.
Two fists held his shirt by the collar and pulled his head forward, and Trowa's lips were pressed to Duo's for a very confusing series of time-units.

When Duo let go of Trowa's shirt and moved backwards with an almost panicked look on his face, Trowa looked at him fuzzily, flush-faced and surprised. Before he could gather his thoughts enough to compose any kind of response, Duo stumbled further backward, wide-eyed, and hurried away to the exit.
Trowa was left to stare in the direction of the door and then at his hands holding the glass and the parasol.

Quatre appeared next to him and carefully pried the empty glass from his grip, obviously gleeful when he said, "Incidentally, Trowa, have you got a date yet for the wedding next week?"
Trowa was not sure he understood the question — of course the wedding date was set; why else would they be drinking rainbow-coloured drinks in a place like this now? He shook his head, confused, stupefied. Quatre seemed to think it was funny.

He softly bit his lower lip, letting his tongue follow the curve of his lip behind his teeth, tasting Duo's kiss. It tasted faintly like Attempted Suicide.

He leaned the back of his head against the wall and closed his eyes on the twirling madness of the karaoke bar.
Well, next time, Duo'd better get it right.