Title: The Chibiest Petstore
Author: Casshirek
Summary: I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! I have no idea whether this is a good thing or bad. *ahem* First things first .. Chibis aren't exactly little animals, but we're not supposed to know that just yet. *gryns* And, well, read on to figure out if Chibi Wufei is of the right variety.. *giggles* Nope. They don't go into heat in the same time, but the dynamics of writing have warped time into making it seem such. *pause* Ahem. Pretty long chapter coming up. You knew this was coming up. *also hugely, hugely grins* .... I - *pause* Read on! ^.^ *passes out chibis 'n wanders off* Disclaimers apply as usual. ^^
Q-chan's Infactuation and Quatre's Solution.
* * *
"He won't leave me alone." Trowa announced, a little tiredly.
"I see that."
Quatre stared contemplatively at his minature, attempting to identify the nature of the threat. At the moment, the only danger that the chibi posed was that, if permitted to linger, he'd cut all circulation to Trowa's index and middle fingers. The possessive Q-chan, oblivious to Trowa's attempts to flick him away, had a stranglehold on those digits. The Arabian prodded Q- chan in the ribs.
And got bitten.
"Ouch." There was no exclamation, the magnitude of his pain drowned under growing irritation. Quatre slipped his finger into his mouth and sucked on the faint traces of blood. Along the way, Q-chan had developed sharp fangs, it seemed.
"Now what?" A soft voice queried.
"I haven't the slightest idea, my friend.." Quatre returned even as he began leafing energetically through the owner's manual, blanching at the images which exemplified Trowa and Quatre chibi matings.
Q-chan hummed blissfully.
[Moments passed]
The migratory patterns of a chibi were of much concern to Trowa. For some obscure reason, the creature had ventured up the vicinity of his arm, eyes blazing with pink hearts. This resulted in the quick removal of Trowa's shirt by the pilot himself. Fortunately for him, once he dislodged the garment, the chibi was placated. For now, it rested in a tiny bundle of cloth and happy limbs, curled up like a kitten in the shirt placed far away from the main seating area.
"Ah-hah!"
Pause. "Ah-hah?"
"Yes, ah-hah."
"Ah."
"You're distracted, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Right." Quatre scowled at his minature, who remained oblivious. "It says here that the chibi Quatres won't venture into another's territory."
"It won't?"
"Nope. If they figure out that you belong to someone else, preferably another Quatre." The Arabian twitched a muscle under his face. It was disconcerting talking of himself in the plural fashion. "... they'd go away."
"Really."
"Yes."
Both paused.
"But - " Trowa began, raising a finger to object.
"I know, I know .. we'd just have to .. fake it somehow."
"With whom?"
"Good question."
* * *
Quatres have interesting mating rituals.
Much of it it involves incomprehensible formalities, difficult procedures, tea, violins and of course, far too many pink sugar cubes. But let us not linger on the last, which is a weakness common to the chibi populace. As it stands, the first few events tend to involve, well, understandably, tea.
Although Q-chan had exherted its propriety over Trowa, it knew that it had to court the human first. Thus, unsurprisingly, Trowa woke up the next morning to the smell of tea. He did not immediately open his eyes, conscious of the nightmare that awaited him. For a little while, sensitive to the weight on his chest, he pretended to sleep.
"Squeak?"
A sigh tore free from his throat as he reluctantly opened emerald eyes to stare at the oddest sight imaginable. Chibi Q-chan was dressed, astonishingly, in a pink conflagration that made his eyes water, held a tray of tea in his hand, (where he got the matching porcelain tea set, Trowa did not know), and had a tiny table and a tiny chair, with a tiny rose arrangement in a tiny blue vase somewhere at the foot of the bed.
Trowa sat up. "Q-chan?" He ventured.
The chibi bowed extravagantly, wobbling like a pale rose marshmellow. Trowa sweatdropped. Then, Q-chan began a rather elaborate dance, one that involved careful pouring of tea, application of sugar, and a rather fantastic stunt involving a headstand and pouring milk into the tea. In spite of himself, Trowa applauded.
He, however, held his applause later on, when sensous music floated past him in the shower and he discovered that a beaming Q-chan was playing his violin on a bar of soap inside the bathroom with him.
* * *
"Quatre?"
"Hmm?"
"We need to talk."
* * *
Quatre latched the door with a sigh and draped the cloth over the cage in his hands. That was the tenth chibi that they tried, all variations of Gundam Wing pilots, and none of which appealed significantly towards the little Q-chan. The best reaction garnered was a polite handshake with chibi Trowa number four before the little Quatre wandered away, snuffling with all the haughtiness a minature Arabian could summon.
"No?"
"Understatement." Quatre retorted peevishly.
He shook his head again when Q-chan reattached itself to Trowa's wrist. The Heavyarms Pilot betrayed little emotion beyond a faint 'help me, damnit' look. Quatre stared thoughtfully at Trowa then, reflecting on the circumstances that had led right up present day situation. Q-chan never liked him. Q-chan ...
"Trowa?"
The other boy looked up, curiousity evinced in his face.
"We need to talk."
Q-chan chirped expectantly.
"Without the chibi." Quatre amended.
* * *
".. that could work."
"It should."
"Quatre?"
"Yes?"
"This doesn't change anything."
"Of course not..."
* * *
[Later that night]
The scene was perfect.
Flames twisted within the hearth, crackling tongues of tangerine and carnelain, swirling with motes of gold and deeper strands of blood, emanating a pleasant warmth that detracted from winter's icy kiss. Music, a tranquil refrain from Mozart, eased from the distance, gentle. Inviting. A long couch is sprawled in front of the fireplace, one occupied by two forms.
The first, a rather langorous looking Trowa, dressed in simple shirt and trousers, one arm draped across the back of the seat.
The second, a golden-haired and blue-eyed creature, who looks possibly dreamy at the moment, drowned in some unfanthomable joy or another, yet muted by fear of being discovered.
Trowa leans forward carefully, almost fearfully. Fingers brush against flaxen locks, pushing them aside so they obscured not a fair face. He smiled, eyes half-lidded with contentment. With a tremble to his movements, he ran fingers down pale rose lips.
Paused.
Lips met lips, and for a moment, Trowa was ready to gag.
But they were sweet, the taste of them.
Sweet as honey.
The door cracked open just then, and a virulent sound as to be heard.
Q-chan stared at the scene:
"SQUEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK!"
Which could be translated into a rather vehement 'No'.
* * *
Since that day, Quatre was never even remotely welcomed by the little chibi, and frequently found melted sugar lumps in all of his pockets, chocolate in his chair and toffee between his toes. However, Q-chan no longer attempted to mate with Trowa, even if his attempts to find another mate intensified then.
In the end, however, everything ended quite well.
* * *
"GET THESE ANTS OUT OF MY PANTS!"
Pretty much.
Author: Casshirek
Summary: I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! I have no idea whether this is a good thing or bad. *ahem* First things first .. Chibis aren't exactly little animals, but we're not supposed to know that just yet. *gryns* And, well, read on to figure out if Chibi Wufei is of the right variety.. *giggles* Nope. They don't go into heat in the same time, but the dynamics of writing have warped time into making it seem such. *pause* Ahem. Pretty long chapter coming up. You knew this was coming up. *also hugely, hugely grins* .... I - *pause* Read on! ^.^ *passes out chibis 'n wanders off* Disclaimers apply as usual. ^^
Q-chan's Infactuation and Quatre's Solution.
* * *
"He won't leave me alone." Trowa announced, a little tiredly.
"I see that."
Quatre stared contemplatively at his minature, attempting to identify the nature of the threat. At the moment, the only danger that the chibi posed was that, if permitted to linger, he'd cut all circulation to Trowa's index and middle fingers. The possessive Q-chan, oblivious to Trowa's attempts to flick him away, had a stranglehold on those digits. The Arabian prodded Q- chan in the ribs.
And got bitten.
"Ouch." There was no exclamation, the magnitude of his pain drowned under growing irritation. Quatre slipped his finger into his mouth and sucked on the faint traces of blood. Along the way, Q-chan had developed sharp fangs, it seemed.
"Now what?" A soft voice queried.
"I haven't the slightest idea, my friend.." Quatre returned even as he began leafing energetically through the owner's manual, blanching at the images which exemplified Trowa and Quatre chibi matings.
Q-chan hummed blissfully.
[Moments passed]
The migratory patterns of a chibi were of much concern to Trowa. For some obscure reason, the creature had ventured up the vicinity of his arm, eyes blazing with pink hearts. This resulted in the quick removal of Trowa's shirt by the pilot himself. Fortunately for him, once he dislodged the garment, the chibi was placated. For now, it rested in a tiny bundle of cloth and happy limbs, curled up like a kitten in the shirt placed far away from the main seating area.
"Ah-hah!"
Pause. "Ah-hah?"
"Yes, ah-hah."
"Ah."
"You're distracted, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Right." Quatre scowled at his minature, who remained oblivious. "It says here that the chibi Quatres won't venture into another's territory."
"It won't?"
"Nope. If they figure out that you belong to someone else, preferably another Quatre." The Arabian twitched a muscle under his face. It was disconcerting talking of himself in the plural fashion. "... they'd go away."
"Really."
"Yes."
Both paused.
"But - " Trowa began, raising a finger to object.
"I know, I know .. we'd just have to .. fake it somehow."
"With whom?"
"Good question."
* * *
Quatres have interesting mating rituals.
Much of it it involves incomprehensible formalities, difficult procedures, tea, violins and of course, far too many pink sugar cubes. But let us not linger on the last, which is a weakness common to the chibi populace. As it stands, the first few events tend to involve, well, understandably, tea.
Although Q-chan had exherted its propriety over Trowa, it knew that it had to court the human first. Thus, unsurprisingly, Trowa woke up the next morning to the smell of tea. He did not immediately open his eyes, conscious of the nightmare that awaited him. For a little while, sensitive to the weight on his chest, he pretended to sleep.
"Squeak?"
A sigh tore free from his throat as he reluctantly opened emerald eyes to stare at the oddest sight imaginable. Chibi Q-chan was dressed, astonishingly, in a pink conflagration that made his eyes water, held a tray of tea in his hand, (where he got the matching porcelain tea set, Trowa did not know), and had a tiny table and a tiny chair, with a tiny rose arrangement in a tiny blue vase somewhere at the foot of the bed.
Trowa sat up. "Q-chan?" He ventured.
The chibi bowed extravagantly, wobbling like a pale rose marshmellow. Trowa sweatdropped. Then, Q-chan began a rather elaborate dance, one that involved careful pouring of tea, application of sugar, and a rather fantastic stunt involving a headstand and pouring milk into the tea. In spite of himself, Trowa applauded.
He, however, held his applause later on, when sensous music floated past him in the shower and he discovered that a beaming Q-chan was playing his violin on a bar of soap inside the bathroom with him.
* * *
"Quatre?"
"Hmm?"
"We need to talk."
* * *
Quatre latched the door with a sigh and draped the cloth over the cage in his hands. That was the tenth chibi that they tried, all variations of Gundam Wing pilots, and none of which appealed significantly towards the little Q-chan. The best reaction garnered was a polite handshake with chibi Trowa number four before the little Quatre wandered away, snuffling with all the haughtiness a minature Arabian could summon.
"No?"
"Understatement." Quatre retorted peevishly.
He shook his head again when Q-chan reattached itself to Trowa's wrist. The Heavyarms Pilot betrayed little emotion beyond a faint 'help me, damnit' look. Quatre stared thoughtfully at Trowa then, reflecting on the circumstances that had led right up present day situation. Q-chan never liked him. Q-chan ...
"Trowa?"
The other boy looked up, curiousity evinced in his face.
"We need to talk."
Q-chan chirped expectantly.
"Without the chibi." Quatre amended.
* * *
".. that could work."
"It should."
"Quatre?"
"Yes?"
"This doesn't change anything."
"Of course not..."
* * *
[Later that night]
The scene was perfect.
Flames twisted within the hearth, crackling tongues of tangerine and carnelain, swirling with motes of gold and deeper strands of blood, emanating a pleasant warmth that detracted from winter's icy kiss. Music, a tranquil refrain from Mozart, eased from the distance, gentle. Inviting. A long couch is sprawled in front of the fireplace, one occupied by two forms.
The first, a rather langorous looking Trowa, dressed in simple shirt and trousers, one arm draped across the back of the seat.
The second, a golden-haired and blue-eyed creature, who looks possibly dreamy at the moment, drowned in some unfanthomable joy or another, yet muted by fear of being discovered.
Trowa leans forward carefully, almost fearfully. Fingers brush against flaxen locks, pushing them aside so they obscured not a fair face. He smiled, eyes half-lidded with contentment. With a tremble to his movements, he ran fingers down pale rose lips.
Paused.
Lips met lips, and for a moment, Trowa was ready to gag.
But they were sweet, the taste of them.
Sweet as honey.
The door cracked open just then, and a virulent sound as to be heard.
Q-chan stared at the scene:
"SQUEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK!"
Which could be translated into a rather vehement 'No'.
* * *
Since that day, Quatre was never even remotely welcomed by the little chibi, and frequently found melted sugar lumps in all of his pockets, chocolate in his chair and toffee between his toes. However, Q-chan no longer attempted to mate with Trowa, even if his attempts to find another mate intensified then.
In the end, however, everything ended quite well.
* * *
"GET THESE ANTS OUT OF MY PANTS!"
Pretty much.