'Love Notes' for end1essly
Title: Love Notes
Recipient: end1essly
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fluff
Summary: 3x4. AU. Quatre wasn’t popular, or cool, or special for that matter. So when he received the first love note, he figured it HAD to be a prank... right?
Author's Notes: Enjoy! And Please review if posted!
Author: dentelle_noir
Day One
It would have made sense if Quatre was the new kid at the High School, or maybe if he’d been popular-all the cool things that happen in movies always happened to those kinds of people -but Quatre wasn’t any of that. He’d gone through school like the rest of the people in his small town class. He’d lived there since he was young, had friends there, came out of the closet in the first floor boys’ bathroom, lost friends there because of his weirdness, knew his real friends, and was teased there too. . He was a loser, with a few real friends. He certainly didn’t have a date for the weekend. Life pretty much sucked.
He’d been through it all, really, and nothing really ever surprised him.
And then there was the note.
Quatre thought it was a prank at first. People didn’t often leave him notes (texts were so much easier to hide in class!).
But, he had left to go to the bathroom and when he came back, there was a note on top of his math 11 binder. Opening it, he was at first surprised, then wary...
“Hey, Quatre. You look really cute today. I like your sweater. Are you free Friday Dance?”
Who wrote something like that? And they hadn’t even signed their name: “Secret Admirer” was scrawled in a fancy script at the bottom, as if by someone who had spent a rather long time getting the signature right.
It was sweet, for sure, but... Odd. And probably a prank.
He looked around the class, trying to figure out who it could be, but he barely knew anyone in the Math 11 class. A lot of the students were repeats from grade 12, and some were advanced from grade 10 classes, and some were grade 11s unlucky enough to get this class. It was a mix, and Quatre had never had to really associate with many in that class.
The town was small, and Quatre knew pretty much all the gay guys around. The dating pool was rather slim. And while Jules-the-Drama-Kid was sweet and all, and at least near Quatre’s AGE, he was a real loser and couldn’t kiss worth a shit, so Quatre didn’t really bother with that more than once or twice (okay, four times, but he was lonely, damn it!).
So, thinking it was a prank, Quatre folded the paper up and shoved it into his binder pocket, not wanting to cause a fuss by tossing it.
Who knew who had stashed the note in his binder to begin with! Quatre barely knew anyone in the class (since he was actually a grade 10 taking an advance class), but he was sure quite a few were probably horrible bullies anyway.
Next period was science, and Quatre got to have that class with some of his friends. None of them seemed to know anything was up, so that ruled out any of them as the source of the note. So, he dismissed it and finished his chemistry lab, and the rest of his day. He told his friends at lunch about the note and all of them agreed: A prank in poor taste, for sure! And anyone useless enough to do that was a waste of space anyway.
Day Two
Next day, though, when Quatre opened his locker at the beginning of the day, a single piece of paper fluttered out to the floor. It was on fancy sketch-book paper, and on it was a hand-drawn picture of what was probably Quatre in a cartoon style. He looked pretty in the picture, and kinda sexy, too, giving the artist a sort of flirting smirk.
Next to it was another note: “I’m sorry you thought I was being mean. I not a prank. I mean it. I like you and want to date on Friday.”
Quatre noticed too that the words weren’t hurried, like he assumed the first note was. They were careful... but not correct.
When he showed his friends, they snickered, laughing and teasing, “Hey Quatre, you want to date on Friday? I not a prank!” they quoted the poor grammar, drinking their sodas and giving Quatre back the note as they walked into Math 11 with him. “You landed yourself someone who can’t write! Probably a half-drunk football player thinking this is the funniest thing in the world. What an asshole!”
Quatre couldn’t seem to join in the fun, though. Something about the whole thing felt wrong. Maybe it was a girl who didn’t think he was really gay? That would be awkward, but he would feel sorry for her. And while the bad grammar sure made the person seem stupid, he didn’t feel right making fun of them.
He looked at his friends and took the paper back, “Stop it, guys. Just go to class. Leave me alone.” Quatre said, taking his seat and opening up his binder.
There was another note left there. Clearly it had been there from the day before. Top page. There were no words; Just a picture composite of some hearts and random intricate doodles with Quatre’s name woven into the black and white details. It was beautiful. And probably took hours to do while listening to teacher’s drone on in other classes.
Quatre smiled softly, running his fingers down the drawing, lost in his own little world...
“Quatre?”
The drawing was so intricate, too! It must have taken a long time...
“Quatre?!”
And the black pen marks was from an outlining pen. An artist it seemed.
“Quatre Winner!”
Quatre’s head shot up, out of his daydreams to look at the teacher, who was now standing right next to his desk. He blushed deeply, and smiled in apology. The teacher moved on after rolling his eyes, not picking on a student who generally didn’t cause trouble.
Quatre waited a few more minutes until it was time to do seatwork, and he asked to go to the bathroom, leaving his binder there, open to a new page...
And on the top he’d left a note of his own, “Are you a girl or a guy?”
Quatre took his time in the bathroom, nervous and wondering what had come over him. He didn’t even know for sure if whoever it was took Math 11 with him! Just because that was the binder that he’d gotten the first note in, and now the drawing... He just hoped.
When Quatre got back to class, he tried not to look anxious. And he looked....
Nothing.
No response.
Quatre sighed and sat down, trying to focus on his work. It was hard, though... He had really been expecting another note. But maybe he was over-thinking. He brought his Math 11 binder to all his other morning classes; it was easier to just bring it and toss it into the desk in his next class than to go all the way back to his locker. Maybe the person was slipping the notes in there?
In his next class he tried the same thing, asking to leave, leaving his own note open...
Again, nothing.
His locker... Nothing.
All the way to the end of the day, Quatre received nothing.
Day Three
Hoping for a miracle, Quatre waited for the next day... checking his locker, binder, making it a point to leave every class even for a little bit... But nothing came that day, nothing at all.
It seemed his secret admirer had given up.
Was the prank just getting old? Or was his admirer upset at him for something?
Day Four
Quatre opened his locker and looked again carefully, but there was nothing. He sighed, trying to tell himself that it was for the best-it was probably a prank anyway!
Lunch he sat down sadly, but no one really bothered him about it. They just shrugged and went on talking about the horrendous homework assignment from chemistry lab and what style they would wear their hair in for the dance tomorrow night.
Friday night; This whole stupid thing started over Quatre being asked out to the dance on Friday. He should be happy that he wasn’t going with the secret admirer. It was probably just a prank anyway. A tasteless one, too. Quatre never had a date for the weekend. Why would it start now, anyway? It was silly to think even for a moment that life would be looking up.
He was sure it was just a prank... Until one more surprising thing happened.
When he got up to clear his lunch table, Quatre was too focused on getting his garbage to the can to notice where he was walking. He nearly crashed right into a football player- Burt- who was a nasty piece of work and used to beat up Quatre in elementary school just for fun. Around his arm was the (hotly debated) most popular girl in school: Cathy Barton. She glared at Quatre and huffed, “You is a frozen-heart asshole Quat’rah. ” she hissed with her thick accent, flipping her bouncy red-brown curls behind her shoulder as Burt led her away.
...How did Cathy Barton even know Quatre existed? She had only transferred into the school not even a few weeks ago to join her family. She was from Buenos Aires, with a gorgeous tanned body and sexy accent that made all the guys in school drool. And why in the world was she talking to him about his heart-he had never said anything to her!
From her attitude, it was clear that Cathy wasn’t his admirer. And she was in grade 12, and not taking any of the courses Quatre was... So he was relieved that is wasn’t her sending the notes, but that didn’t stop him thinking...
Math 11... his friends had been making fun of the grammar on the notes when they walked in...
Well shit!
He was getting ideas now.
Day Five: Friday
Quatre was not a bold person. He hated confrontation, he hated being made fun of, and he especially hated being made fun of while trying to confront people! He had no idea what gave him the balls, but he came prepared.
He walked in grade 12 English class right before the bell. He had asked around and found out where Cathy Barton was going to be. She was the only lead he had.
Quatre shook in his boots as Burt laughed and told him he was in the wrong class, but Quatre walked right up to Cathy and handed her a note.
She glared at him so coldly that it seemed as if she was envisioning his entrails being yanked out by wild horses.
Trying to put that aside, Quatre waited, still holding the note out, “I don’t know who this should be addressed to, but I- I got the feeling that you did. I don’t know what else to do. I can’t even apologize to someone who I never met for things that my friends said.”
Cathy’s glare softened just a little, and she snatched the note, looking over it...
Quatre had made it a point to use easy words, and she seemed to be able to follow. When her boyfriend tried to look, Cathy pushed him away.
She folded the note back up and put it in her bra (...awkward...), then looked at Quatre sharply, “You, go class. I will give letter where it belongs,” She said, her accent rolling but sharp with a bit of irritation.
Quatre turned around and went to class, hoping he’d done the right thing.
Now, all he could do was wait... Wait and hope.
Day Five: Friday Night
Quatre hadn’t told anyone else what he was doing. He felt enough like a loser standing alone at the Friday night dance in the gym and he didn’t want his friends hanging around and making it more awkward.
Plus, if his admirer sent notes instead of just talking to him, clearly he was shy. Quatre wanted to make approaching him as easy as possible.
A couple of people had walked over to find him, standing underneath a star decoration off to the side. Quatre’s heart would start to beat every time someone would, usually in anxiety as it was a girl or jules-the-drama-kid but each time they would give Quatre a strange look and ask why he was way over at the side and not enjoying the fun. They were being friends.
Not the secret admirer.
It had been nearly two hours... and Quatre was working on the plate of carrot sticks and cookies that he’d managed to score before the food table had been descended upon. He sat on an art-stool and balanced the plate on his knee as he looked at the decorations behind him (again).
He shifted position just a little, twisting to get a better look at some of the artwork behind him... and the plate began to tip.
“Shit!” Quatre growled, turning quickly to try and steady it- but it was too late.
Quatre moved off the chair and began to pick up the spilled food from the floor, cursing himself for being so clumsy.
Another hand began to help him, putting the fallen food back onto the plate so Quatre could throw it out.
Quatre looked up sharply...
The most beautiful deep green eyes met Quatre’s and the other man smiled a little nervously, shy. He had dark brown hair covering one side of his long, elegant face, and his skin was tanned the exact same as Cathy Barton’s.
And in a shock of recognition, Quatre remembered that this guy was in his Math 11 class. He had been there since the beginning of the year. He’d volunteered to be in a group with Quatre once at the very start, but Quatre had always hated group work, and had asked if he could do the project alone.
Quatre couldn’t, for the life of him, recall what the guy’s name was.
They stayed where they were, staring somewhat nervously at each other waiting for one to speak, but neither seemed inclined to do it.
Slowly, they both stood from crouching on the floor to pick up the food. The guy was tall, and slim around the hips with broadening shoulders. For the dance, he was dressed in a pair of comfortable looking jeans and a black T-shirt that seemed to hug his body. There were ink smudges on his fingers, and he had shoes on that had been doodled on excessively. Looking now, Quatre could tell there was just the hint of eyeliner making those green eyes pop out.
The guy stared, still looking incredibly nervous... He opened his mouth to say something... But nothing came out.
He smiled tightly, and then took a step back, the instinct to get OUT of a bad situation about to kick in.
“Hello” Quatre said instead, taking a step forward, “I’m Quatre. You’re in Math 11 with me, right?”
The guy nodded a little, “Hello, Quat’re. I’m Trowa. Trowa Barton. Cathy’s brother.” He said softly, so quiet that the words were barely heard. His accent was the same as Cathy’s, but even thicker. He was hard to understand, which was probably why he didn’t talk much.
Quatre smiled warmly instead, not letting him away just yet. The guy was gorgeous, and as Quatre took him in, he was SURE that he had to be his secret admirer. “I’m really happy to finally meet you, Trowa. You seem like a really nice guy.”
Trowa blushed just a little, and gave him a small smile, flicking his eyes up to him. His body language was changing, standing up a little straighter and smiling more, sliding his hands into his pockets and shifting his weight a little to one side, cocking his hip out just a little. Flirting? Most definitely. “It’s good to meet you too, I-“ he seemed to struggle to find the words he needed. Then gave up when he didn’t.
“Do you want dance?” he asked quietly, flicking his eyes to the dance floor where people were moving with one another, no words needed.
Quatre smiled brightly, and turned just enough to toss out the plate of fallen foods, leaving his hands free. “I’d love to, Trowa.”
The guy’s eyes lit up, and his hands moved to touch Quatre’s arm, leading him towards the music and the people. His arm wound around, sitting comfortably and confidently on the small of Quatre’s back, his thumb making soft circles up and down Quatre’s T-shirt.
Quatre couldn’t help but smile happily, moving along to the music, wrapping an arm around Trowa’s neck. They didn’t really need words. Quatre could figure out the signals loud and clear from Trowa now. I like you. I want you. I hope you like me too.
It would have made sense if Quatre was the new kid at the High School, or maybe if he’d been popular, but Quatre wasn’t any of that.
But he found himself dancing with a gorgeous guy anyway. And really? Wasn’t that actually how all of those teen movies ended anyway.
Perhaps he should have been thinking ‘and they all lived happily ever after’ but he wasn’t really sure of that. Quatre was sure of one thing, at least: He was definitely going to have a date for the weekend.
Life was looking up.
~End~
Recipient: end1essly
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fluff
Summary: 3x4. AU. Quatre wasn’t popular, or cool, or special for that matter. So when he received the first love note, he figured it HAD to be a prank... right?
Author's Notes: Enjoy! And Please review if posted!
Author: dentelle_noir
Day One
It would have made sense if Quatre was the new kid at the High School, or maybe if he’d been popular-all the cool things that happen in movies always happened to those kinds of people -but Quatre wasn’t any of that. He’d gone through school like the rest of the people in his small town class. He’d lived there since he was young, had friends there, came out of the closet in the first floor boys’ bathroom, lost friends there because of his weirdness, knew his real friends, and was teased there too. . He was a loser, with a few real friends. He certainly didn’t have a date for the weekend. Life pretty much sucked.
He’d been through it all, really, and nothing really ever surprised him.
And then there was the note.
Quatre thought it was a prank at first. People didn’t often leave him notes (texts were so much easier to hide in class!).
But, he had left to go to the bathroom and when he came back, there was a note on top of his math 11 binder. Opening it, he was at first surprised, then wary...
“Hey, Quatre. You look really cute today. I like your sweater. Are you free Friday Dance?”
Who wrote something like that? And they hadn’t even signed their name: “Secret Admirer” was scrawled in a fancy script at the bottom, as if by someone who had spent a rather long time getting the signature right.
It was sweet, for sure, but... Odd. And probably a prank.
He looked around the class, trying to figure out who it could be, but he barely knew anyone in the Math 11 class. A lot of the students were repeats from grade 12, and some were advanced from grade 10 classes, and some were grade 11s unlucky enough to get this class. It was a mix, and Quatre had never had to really associate with many in that class.
The town was small, and Quatre knew pretty much all the gay guys around. The dating pool was rather slim. And while Jules-the-Drama-Kid was sweet and all, and at least near Quatre’s AGE, he was a real loser and couldn’t kiss worth a shit, so Quatre didn’t really bother with that more than once or twice (okay, four times, but he was lonely, damn it!).
So, thinking it was a prank, Quatre folded the paper up and shoved it into his binder pocket, not wanting to cause a fuss by tossing it.
Who knew who had stashed the note in his binder to begin with! Quatre barely knew anyone in the class (since he was actually a grade 10 taking an advance class), but he was sure quite a few were probably horrible bullies anyway.
Next period was science, and Quatre got to have that class with some of his friends. None of them seemed to know anything was up, so that ruled out any of them as the source of the note. So, he dismissed it and finished his chemistry lab, and the rest of his day. He told his friends at lunch about the note and all of them agreed: A prank in poor taste, for sure! And anyone useless enough to do that was a waste of space anyway.
Day Two
Next day, though, when Quatre opened his locker at the beginning of the day, a single piece of paper fluttered out to the floor. It was on fancy sketch-book paper, and on it was a hand-drawn picture of what was probably Quatre in a cartoon style. He looked pretty in the picture, and kinda sexy, too, giving the artist a sort of flirting smirk.
Next to it was another note: “I’m sorry you thought I was being mean. I not a prank. I mean it. I like you and want to date on Friday.”
Quatre noticed too that the words weren’t hurried, like he assumed the first note was. They were careful... but not correct.
When he showed his friends, they snickered, laughing and teasing, “Hey Quatre, you want to date on Friday? I not a prank!” they quoted the poor grammar, drinking their sodas and giving Quatre back the note as they walked into Math 11 with him. “You landed yourself someone who can’t write! Probably a half-drunk football player thinking this is the funniest thing in the world. What an asshole!”
Quatre couldn’t seem to join in the fun, though. Something about the whole thing felt wrong. Maybe it was a girl who didn’t think he was really gay? That would be awkward, but he would feel sorry for her. And while the bad grammar sure made the person seem stupid, he didn’t feel right making fun of them.
He looked at his friends and took the paper back, “Stop it, guys. Just go to class. Leave me alone.” Quatre said, taking his seat and opening up his binder.
There was another note left there. Clearly it had been there from the day before. Top page. There were no words; Just a picture composite of some hearts and random intricate doodles with Quatre’s name woven into the black and white details. It was beautiful. And probably took hours to do while listening to teacher’s drone on in other classes.
Quatre smiled softly, running his fingers down the drawing, lost in his own little world...
“Quatre?”
The drawing was so intricate, too! It must have taken a long time...
“Quatre?!”
And the black pen marks was from an outlining pen. An artist it seemed.
“Quatre Winner!”
Quatre’s head shot up, out of his daydreams to look at the teacher, who was now standing right next to his desk. He blushed deeply, and smiled in apology. The teacher moved on after rolling his eyes, not picking on a student who generally didn’t cause trouble.
Quatre waited a few more minutes until it was time to do seatwork, and he asked to go to the bathroom, leaving his binder there, open to a new page...
And on the top he’d left a note of his own, “Are you a girl or a guy?”
Quatre took his time in the bathroom, nervous and wondering what had come over him. He didn’t even know for sure if whoever it was took Math 11 with him! Just because that was the binder that he’d gotten the first note in, and now the drawing... He just hoped.
When Quatre got back to class, he tried not to look anxious. And he looked....
Nothing.
No response.
Quatre sighed and sat down, trying to focus on his work. It was hard, though... He had really been expecting another note. But maybe he was over-thinking. He brought his Math 11 binder to all his other morning classes; it was easier to just bring it and toss it into the desk in his next class than to go all the way back to his locker. Maybe the person was slipping the notes in there?
In his next class he tried the same thing, asking to leave, leaving his own note open...
Again, nothing.
His locker... Nothing.
All the way to the end of the day, Quatre received nothing.
Day Three
Hoping for a miracle, Quatre waited for the next day... checking his locker, binder, making it a point to leave every class even for a little bit... But nothing came that day, nothing at all.
It seemed his secret admirer had given up.
Was the prank just getting old? Or was his admirer upset at him for something?
Day Four
Quatre opened his locker and looked again carefully, but there was nothing. He sighed, trying to tell himself that it was for the best-it was probably a prank anyway!
Lunch he sat down sadly, but no one really bothered him about it. They just shrugged and went on talking about the horrendous homework assignment from chemistry lab and what style they would wear their hair in for the dance tomorrow night.
Friday night; This whole stupid thing started over Quatre being asked out to the dance on Friday. He should be happy that he wasn’t going with the secret admirer. It was probably just a prank anyway. A tasteless one, too. Quatre never had a date for the weekend. Why would it start now, anyway? It was silly to think even for a moment that life would be looking up.
He was sure it was just a prank... Until one more surprising thing happened.
When he got up to clear his lunch table, Quatre was too focused on getting his garbage to the can to notice where he was walking. He nearly crashed right into a football player- Burt- who was a nasty piece of work and used to beat up Quatre in elementary school just for fun. Around his arm was the (hotly debated) most popular girl in school: Cathy Barton. She glared at Quatre and huffed, “You is a frozen-heart asshole Quat’rah. ” she hissed with her thick accent, flipping her bouncy red-brown curls behind her shoulder as Burt led her away.
...How did Cathy Barton even know Quatre existed? She had only transferred into the school not even a few weeks ago to join her family. She was from Buenos Aires, with a gorgeous tanned body and sexy accent that made all the guys in school drool. And why in the world was she talking to him about his heart-he had never said anything to her!
From her attitude, it was clear that Cathy wasn’t his admirer. And she was in grade 12, and not taking any of the courses Quatre was... So he was relieved that is wasn’t her sending the notes, but that didn’t stop him thinking...
Math 11... his friends had been making fun of the grammar on the notes when they walked in...
Well shit!
He was getting ideas now.
Day Five: Friday
Quatre was not a bold person. He hated confrontation, he hated being made fun of, and he especially hated being made fun of while trying to confront people! He had no idea what gave him the balls, but he came prepared.
He walked in grade 12 English class right before the bell. He had asked around and found out where Cathy Barton was going to be. She was the only lead he had.
Quatre shook in his boots as Burt laughed and told him he was in the wrong class, but Quatre walked right up to Cathy and handed her a note.
She glared at him so coldly that it seemed as if she was envisioning his entrails being yanked out by wild horses.
Trying to put that aside, Quatre waited, still holding the note out, “I don’t know who this should be addressed to, but I- I got the feeling that you did. I don’t know what else to do. I can’t even apologize to someone who I never met for things that my friends said.”
Cathy’s glare softened just a little, and she snatched the note, looking over it...
Quatre had made it a point to use easy words, and she seemed to be able to follow. When her boyfriend tried to look, Cathy pushed him away.
She folded the note back up and put it in her bra (...awkward...), then looked at Quatre sharply, “You, go class. I will give letter where it belongs,” She said, her accent rolling but sharp with a bit of irritation.
Quatre turned around and went to class, hoping he’d done the right thing.
Now, all he could do was wait... Wait and hope.
Day Five: Friday Night
Quatre hadn’t told anyone else what he was doing. He felt enough like a loser standing alone at the Friday night dance in the gym and he didn’t want his friends hanging around and making it more awkward.
Plus, if his admirer sent notes instead of just talking to him, clearly he was shy. Quatre wanted to make approaching him as easy as possible.
A couple of people had walked over to find him, standing underneath a star decoration off to the side. Quatre’s heart would start to beat every time someone would, usually in anxiety as it was a girl or jules-the-drama-kid but each time they would give Quatre a strange look and ask why he was way over at the side and not enjoying the fun. They were being friends.
Not the secret admirer.
It had been nearly two hours... and Quatre was working on the plate of carrot sticks and cookies that he’d managed to score before the food table had been descended upon. He sat on an art-stool and balanced the plate on his knee as he looked at the decorations behind him (again).
He shifted position just a little, twisting to get a better look at some of the artwork behind him... and the plate began to tip.
“Shit!” Quatre growled, turning quickly to try and steady it- but it was too late.
Quatre moved off the chair and began to pick up the spilled food from the floor, cursing himself for being so clumsy.
Another hand began to help him, putting the fallen food back onto the plate so Quatre could throw it out.
Quatre looked up sharply...
The most beautiful deep green eyes met Quatre’s and the other man smiled a little nervously, shy. He had dark brown hair covering one side of his long, elegant face, and his skin was tanned the exact same as Cathy Barton’s.
And in a shock of recognition, Quatre remembered that this guy was in his Math 11 class. He had been there since the beginning of the year. He’d volunteered to be in a group with Quatre once at the very start, but Quatre had always hated group work, and had asked if he could do the project alone.
Quatre couldn’t, for the life of him, recall what the guy’s name was.
They stayed where they were, staring somewhat nervously at each other waiting for one to speak, but neither seemed inclined to do it.
Slowly, they both stood from crouching on the floor to pick up the food. The guy was tall, and slim around the hips with broadening shoulders. For the dance, he was dressed in a pair of comfortable looking jeans and a black T-shirt that seemed to hug his body. There were ink smudges on his fingers, and he had shoes on that had been doodled on excessively. Looking now, Quatre could tell there was just the hint of eyeliner making those green eyes pop out.
The guy stared, still looking incredibly nervous... He opened his mouth to say something... But nothing came out.
He smiled tightly, and then took a step back, the instinct to get OUT of a bad situation about to kick in.
“Hello” Quatre said instead, taking a step forward, “I’m Quatre. You’re in Math 11 with me, right?”
The guy nodded a little, “Hello, Quat’re. I’m Trowa. Trowa Barton. Cathy’s brother.” He said softly, so quiet that the words were barely heard. His accent was the same as Cathy’s, but even thicker. He was hard to understand, which was probably why he didn’t talk much.
Quatre smiled warmly instead, not letting him away just yet. The guy was gorgeous, and as Quatre took him in, he was SURE that he had to be his secret admirer. “I’m really happy to finally meet you, Trowa. You seem like a really nice guy.”
Trowa blushed just a little, and gave him a small smile, flicking his eyes up to him. His body language was changing, standing up a little straighter and smiling more, sliding his hands into his pockets and shifting his weight a little to one side, cocking his hip out just a little. Flirting? Most definitely. “It’s good to meet you too, I-“ he seemed to struggle to find the words he needed. Then gave up when he didn’t.
“Do you want dance?” he asked quietly, flicking his eyes to the dance floor where people were moving with one another, no words needed.
Quatre smiled brightly, and turned just enough to toss out the plate of fallen foods, leaving his hands free. “I’d love to, Trowa.”
The guy’s eyes lit up, and his hands moved to touch Quatre’s arm, leading him towards the music and the people. His arm wound around, sitting comfortably and confidently on the small of Quatre’s back, his thumb making soft circles up and down Quatre’s T-shirt.
Quatre couldn’t help but smile happily, moving along to the music, wrapping an arm around Trowa’s neck. They didn’t really need words. Quatre could figure out the signals loud and clear from Trowa now. I like you. I want you. I hope you like me too.
It would have made sense if Quatre was the new kid at the High School, or maybe if he’d been popular, but Quatre wasn’t any of that.
But he found himself dancing with a gorgeous guy anyway. And really? Wasn’t that actually how all of those teen movies ended anyway.
Perhaps he should have been thinking ‘and they all lived happily ever after’ but he wasn’t really sure of that. Quatre was sure of one thing, at least: He was definitely going to have a date for the weekend.
Life was looking up.
~End~