(Getting) Physical (in) Geology 1/5
by: Zillie
warnings: shounen ai, language, AU
pairings: 3+4, hints at eventual 1+2

(Getting) Physical (in) Geology + Part 1

"And we're out of here!" Duo hissed. "9:50. Having done our time, we may now break free of this scientific prison. We are cleansed of our sins -- let's make the move from purgatory to -- well, to Japanese. Not quite heaven, but it's better than here." He motioned around the room where they were fulfilling their lab science requirement with an intro to geology course.

Quatre ignored him, hastily jotting down a few last words as the teacher released them. Duo, already packed and ready to go, waited for his roommate.

"Just a second," Quatre promised, hastily trying to organize his notes.

"No worries," Duo said cheerfully. "I've got twenty-five minutes until my Japanese class."

"Yeah, but didn't you tell me that the TA's anal about people being on time?" Quatre asked, shoving his notebook into his bag and standing.

"Yes, well, he has quite a stick up his ass," Duo sighed. "Which I'd be okay with -- if it were my stick up his ass. If you know what I mean."

Quatre rolled his eyes. "No. The incredible subtly of that comment caused it to go right over my head."

Duo smirked. "Well, you are blond." He took a closer look at his roommate in the dim room. "And you're blushing."

Quatre ducked his head, way too late.

Duo hooted. "That's what I love about you, Quatre. You're what, student body president, quarterback of the football team, head, uh," he waved his arm about randomly.

"It's called fencing. I'm head of the fencing club."

"And you admit it. How cute. All that and more, and you still blush like a virgin. I wonder why -- oh, right. Because you are a virgin." He smirked again.

Quatre growled and wrapped his scarf around his neck. "Let's get out of here."

Duo grinned and headed for the door.

"Ah, Quatre. May I talk to you for a second?"

That voice. . . he knew that voice. His heart caught with his breath. "Uh," he said, turning.

"Trowa," Duo said, eyeing the papers in the geology TA's hand. "Uh. I'll see you guys later. Bye, Quatre, Trowa."

And Quatre was alone with him.

Quatre frantically tried to remember how to breathe. It couldn't be that hard -- he'd been doing it since he was a baby. How did it go -- gasp, hack, wiggle your nose? All he could think of was how soft a brown waterfall would feel as it followed a sweet mouth down his torso. . . how a low voice would sound when rich with emotion. . . what it would be like to be surrounded in green, seduced by green, buried in green after being drowned in green. . . drowned. . . .

He took a raspy breath. In, out. That was the trick.

Trowa had paused, and those green eyes ran over him <ah, gods>, almost friendly. "You okay? Yeah? Well, then, as I was saying, your answers to the daily questions have contained some. . . interesting turns of phrase."

Quatre blinked. The paragraphs on geology questions that he'd turned in at the beginning of each class had been dutiful and thorough -- but interesting?

"Very interesting," Trowa confirmed. "But I'm not sure that you've quite got everything down. I thought maybe we could arrange a time to go over it. Maybe Thursday afternoon after lab?"

"Uh, okay," Quatre said, not really listening.

"Great," Trowa said, his lips almost almost almost curving, pleasure almost almost almost sounding in that faintly accented voice of his.

"But Trowa," Quatre said, confused. "What precisely was the problem?"

Trowa looked down. "You seem to have mixed up a few phrases and ideas. For example, in the one where you wrote about earthquakes, well, they're actually called subduction zones."

That sounded right to Quatre; he nodded. "And I didn't say that?"

"Actually. . . you wrote about, well, seduction zones. And let's see. . . as for plate tectonics, when one plate goes beneath the other, nothing slips into a, let me quote, tight round hole. The really hard rocks you wrote about? The big, long ones that are so hard, uh, well, that are very hard? They aren't smooth as velvet. . . they aren't that shape. . . and the term is extrusive. . . not erective."

Quatre's eyes were round and horrified. "Uh," he said. All he could think of was the beginning of class, when Duo had, kindly, as usual, taken his paper up and turned it in for him.

Like always.

"Quatre -- "

"Gack," Quatre said, and ran out.

[part 2] [back to Zillie's fic]