Maybe I ought to practice a little now? So people who know us are not too shocked and surprised when suddenly we are married, and start to wear pink.
(lines parody Jenny Joseph's poem 'I will wear purple')
"I can't do it. You wouldn't understand. You just don't understand fellows like me," Douglass announced dramatically, flopping down onto the bed.
"I understand you perfectly well; you're a simpleton," Gary answered, prodding the boy with his foot. "Now are you going to do it, or do I have to threaten you with the whip?"
As soon as the words had left his mouth, he wished he hadn't said it. He often did.
On cue, Douglass shot up, his brown eyes sparkling. "Gary! Dearest! I had no idea you felt that way!"
"Oh, Mithros," Gary grumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest, and letting his head fall down. There was no point in trying to salvage the situation; the damage had been done. All he could do was wait for it to be over.
"I did suspect I saw some signs of love beginning to flower in you, but I just couldn't let myself believe-"
On the other hand... "Douglass."
"Being so charmingly modest, I passed it off as my own love being reflected back at me. It is awfully strong, I assure you, Master - may I still call you master? Or would you prefer mistress?"
"Douglass."
"Right, right. Have no fear. I'll wear the dress in our relationship. Ooh, as long as it can be a pink dress, I do like pink rather a lot. And it does look fetching on me, you must admit that." Douglass fanned himself with a hand. "Oh, I'm getting all hot and flustered thinking about it. Just imagine what people will say. They'll say, look, there goes Lady Naxen, doesn't he look good in pink? I'll do you proud, my love. Jonathan will be jealous, but you've seen him fawn over his other cousin. You're no match for Duke Roger, but I'll take you all the same."
"Douglass."
"Oh, you mean you'll take my name? Oh, aren't you sweet?" Douglass gushed, clasping his hands together and batting his eyes in girlish adoration. "Mother will be happy; we've no one to carry on the family name, and besides, I've long suspected your father of being immortal."
"Douglass. Message," Gary gritted out.
"Message?" Douglass said, eyes wide.
Gary rolled his eyes impatiently. "Give this to Glaisdan." He dangled the envelope over Douglass's nose.
The chubby boy's lower lip trembled. "You're using me aren't you? I knew it! Just using me for nothing! I saw you mooning after Cythera, get her to take your messages! We're finished, Gareth of Naxen!"
He jumped off the bed and stormed out of the room. When he'd slammed the door shut, he grinned and shoved his hands in his pockets, sniggering as he headed for the kitchens.
Inside the room, Gary had buried his face in his pillow, cursing Jon for having taken the only sane boy available.