Machiavellian

Quatre/Duo. ~250 words. Futurefic.
Who you gonna trust?

Duo finally straightened, and, with a shrug, absently scratched the back of his neck. “That’s good enough for me,” he said, looking more than a little sheepish. “Sorry, Q.” He signalled to the viewing room, heaving a sigh when the light winked out. “You know how this shit is.” After short pause, he added, “I hate this shit,” and collapsed in a chair.

Quatre gave him a rueful look, pushing aside the rancid coffee. “I’m sorry you had to be the one to question me.”

“Crazy bitch,” Duo muttered, scrubbing his hands over his face. “She’s got some complex about dissention in the ranks and lingering loyalty.” He slung his arm over the back of the chair, and dropped his head back to stare at the blank ceiling.

Quatre laughed, and Duo missed the quick calculating flash in his eyes. “You can’t really blame her. Would you trust us?”

“Me? Hell no.” The chair creaked as Duo stretched, eyes still on the stained tile. “But you, man? Yeah, I’d trust you.”

“Would you really?” Quatre’s tone was light. Duo merely nodded.

A long moment later, Duo jumped and hissed a startled curse. Quatre stood behind him, hands wrapped lightly around his wrists. As Quatre leaned closer, they slid along his arms to rest firm and solid on his thighs. His startled gaze met warm blue eyes, his breath suddenly short. Soft lips touched his, and his eyes closed.

Quatre’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe you shouldn’t,” he breathed into Duo’s mouth, his voice a shadowed whisper.

End

Leave a Reply