When the caravan finally reached its destination Quatre was ecstatic, even if he did not show it. The weeks in the desert had worn him down, and more so since he had found Trowa; half the time he simply didn't know what to do. He was glad there were no other healers in the caravan, but now that they had reached the city he would certainly run into them, and then how would he explain having a slave? Not to mention needing to go to the temple, but that could wait. First and foremost on his mind was a long, relaxing bath.
It was late afternoon when the caravan came to a halt, and Quatre immediately took leave of it. They wandered around for perhaps half an hour until Quatre settled on an inn that was of middle quality and price, and he procured a room, making sure to assure the proprietor that Trowa was merely his guest. Quatre did not relax until he was safely within his rooms at the inn, sinking down into the chair nearest the door.
Trowa went about his business in silence - he brought water and poured a glass for Quatre, then disappeared to go draw up a bath.
When he had left, Quatre stared at the glass of water for a long while before picking it up and taking a drink. Try as he might, he found it becoming easier to let Trowa do what he did best and not worry about it; but he still refused to give him orders, or even ask him for anything. He set the empty glass back on the tray and tugged at the neck of his robes to loosen it. For several minutes he sat there, lost in thought.
"Your bath is ready," Trowa said; Quatre had not even notice him come back into the doorway. Grateful, he got up and went into the bathroom. Trowa followed him, and helped him shed his robes; for the moment, he was too exhausted to think about either implication - that he was allowing himself to treat Trowa like a slave and pretend that he wasn't there, or that he was there and helping him get undressed. Quatre stepped down into the large bath, and with a happy sigh sat down on the submerged ledge and let the water rise up to his chin before dunking his head beneath the water and roughing up his hair to start loosening the sand.
Trowa had taken his robes and folded them in preparation to send them to be cleaned; and when he had finished, Quatre asked him, "What about you? Don't you want to take a bath too?"
"When you are finished," he replied demurely, but Quatre wouldn't have any of it.
"You're not using my dirty, cold water. Get in here. Besides, shouldn't you be helping me wash my back?" He didn't mean to be so sarcastic, and he regretted the last part, but thinking about Trowa willingly using his dirty bathwater...
"As you wish," Trowa replied after a moment's hesitation, and undressed as Quatre watched; and as the last piece came off and he stood there naked, with Quatre unable to peel his eyes away, and he suddenly realized what a very stupid thing he'd asked - though at the moment he regretted nothing. Trowa stepped down into the bath without the slightest hesitation or acknowledgement of Quatre's sudden embarrassment; but if Quatre had thought to look up to his face, he would have seen the barest hint of a smile.
Trowa wasted no time, but did as he was bid, helping Quatre to wash his hair and his back, slow and thorough while Quatre sat still and basked in the attention. He was disappointed when Trowa finished and he had to scrub the rest of himself on his own as Trowa did the same but much more circumspectly. He knew he could have asked Trowa to wash him, but he knew that it would only be asking for trouble. Quatre's sudden frustration at his sworn celibacy as a healer knew no bounds. He wanted something, anything, but at the same time he knew that giving in just a little bit would lead to the whole way. That didn't stop him from wanting it badly.
"Are you finished?" Trowa asked him, and with a start he realized that the water was growing cold; but he did not want to get out and embarrass himself in front of Trowa. However, he inadvertently bobbed his head, and it was taken for a yes. Trowa stepped out of the tub and Quatre watched him go, marveling guiltily at his toned ass, which quickly disappeared under a towel. Trowa dried himself off with quick efficiency and tied the towel around his waist before taking another towel, returning to the side of the bath, and holding it out for Quatre.
Quatre had no choice now but to get out, and he tried not to look at Trowa as he did so; but instead of wrapping the towel around him and letting him dry himself off as he had expected, Trowa began to dry him off himself. He stood there with his eyes closed, but he couldn't help thinking, with intense embarrassment, that Trowa was eyeing his erection. It also didn't help that Trowa had to dry off all of him, that included; but he said nothing, even after he wrapped the towel around Quatre's waist and left to bring him a fresh set of robes. Quatre opened his eyes and took a few deep breaths to help him recover from his ordeal.
When Trowa returned, Quatre hastily took the robes from his hands and, murmuring "I can dress myself," fled quickly from the bathroom.
It occurred to him, after laying awake on the soft bed afterwards that, at least in this world, Trowa was the sort of person - he refused to say slave - who would do anything he asked, and do it for him gladly, and that if he had caved in and asked Trowa to "take care of it" for him... he didn't doubt that he would have. He didn't doubt that if he called Trowa in to the bedroom right now and told him to get on his knees (among other things) he would do so happily. Half of him was disgusted by this realization, and the other half was intensely excited and aroused. But he couldn't act on it without breaking his vows.
That left only one route: the other world. He recalled Duo's words, but still didn't think he could make that leap and take the initiative. He kept hoping that Trowa would do it for him, say something first. He was afraid of tripping up, of being wrong about Trowa's feelings even though he already knew he wasn't. He wanted to be confident. He wanted to stop being afraid.