3nanashi | (no subject)

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really at milliways

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Quatre has stocked up on decaf coffee since the last time Trowa was in this room, even if he made an amiable face at the bag when he pulled it out. Trowa would have been fine without, and even bothered to say so, but Quatre is Quatre.

Which is why the coffeemaker is equipped with a one-cup-at-a-time setting, in case of guests. (Okay, in the certainty of at least one guest.) This is also why Quatre's mug contains highly caffeinated coffee instead of the lightly sweetened decaf Trowa has.

Trowa also has his boyfriend's shoulder resting against his, and on the whole, he's pretty good with the world at the moment.

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"Mm," Quatre says.

He's currently considering whether wearing a dark green waistcoat would be too spot-on.

He thinks he can pull it off.

Trowa is sure he can!

Which is to say, he leaves all judgment calls on such fashion questions to Quatre. Trowa's own knowledge of clothes as social signals is considerable, but it's mostly calibrated to lower-class circles than Quatre moves in.

In any case, he has even less opinion on the matter than that, since they're not actually discussing it. He turns a page, instead.

Quatre glances at him, silently entertained, before returning to his laptop.

He makes a quick note regarding fashion considerations for the 25th, before returning to his e-mails.

Quatre has a strange sense of humor. But Trowa knew that.

Tolerantly, he carries on reading.

Most of the unfamiliar words in this he can either figure out from context, figure out from similar words he does know, or skip past without losing much. The third time he hits نُقُود in the same paragraph, though, he opts to ask Quatre about it.

Might as well, with a native speaker leaning against his shoulder and all.

"Currency," Quatre says, using the more common synonym as he glances up. The term Trowa said is not particularly in use anymore, outside of specialized documents. He adds "Or liquid assets, in general," in English as he scans the paragraph. "He does mean assets, here, I think."

"Okay."

That makes sense, in context.

Thanks, Quatre.

Turning to read the book brought Quatre's side in closer contact with Trowa's, and he leans into his boyfriend, slightly. He moves his right hand off of the keyboard and runs it lightly from Trowa's left hip to the middle of his chest, lingering several moments against his abdomen.

He presses a kiss against Trowa's shoulder, left hand keeping his laptop steady, and leans against him for several moments more, eyes closed. It's nice, to have Trowa here. He's warm.

Trowa's already settled comfortably into the couch. He doesn't bother to move at the caress or the shift of Quatre's weight, except for the faint smile that warms his eyes.

When Quatre stays where he is, though, Trowa tips his head slightly, just enough to lean it against Quatre's as he reads.

Quatre was originally intending to move, soon, back to writing his e-mails - but when Trowa tips his head against his he thinks something muzzily along the lines of I'll do that later and stays where he is.

He doesn't really drift off, but he relaxes; his left hand hits the save button on his laptop, and he closes it with his thumb.

His eyes are partly open, and he's making a half-hearted attempt to read along with Trowa. He can't read the right-hand pages from his angle but somehow, he expects (partially because he's read the book before) he'll survive.

Trowa tilts the book to a slightly better angle for Quatre, though he's not totally certain his boyfriend is awake enough for that to be relevant. It's just as easy for him, anyway.

And whether Quatre falls asleep or not -- well, Trowa's content to stay like this and keep reading for a good while.

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