Tough Love

Wufei. G. 150 words. Humour.
There it sat, innocent and sweet as cotton candy.

There it sat, innocent and sweet as cotton candy. And just as pink. And red. And some shade between yellow and white that couldn’t be healthy to even think about. Pretty was the word for it, with the swirling cursive and delicate little patterns.

Trowa said nothing. Just cocked a brow, quirked a half-smile, and sauntered on his merry way. Quatre wandered by, took one quick look, then a longer one, and for once didn’t even have the decency to cover his laugh with a fake cough.

Duo marched down the hall with an apathetic-looking Heero in tow, made it two steps past the office door before whipping around and marching himself right back again.

“Hey, Wufei,” he started, and grinning, pointed at the card and nudged Heero in the ribs.

Wufei cut him off. “Thank you for the Valentine, Duo. But you’re still the one wearing the skirt tonight.”


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