The Arabian Doll [Part Four]

It had been a relatively restless morning when Duo showed up at Trowa's front door. Having no means by which to release his pent up energy, Trowa had taken to cleaning his entire apartment. Restlessness sometimes did do wonders for the anxious who could find nothing to do to occupy themselves with.

"He's coming," Duo said upon entering the nearly immaculate abode of his long time friend. He could not help but squint as he was assaulted by the orderly surroundings. Trowa was never untidy but neither was he organized.

"He's not," Trowa answered in kind, finding himself enthralled with arranging overused art materials and depositing them in their proper place. He'd almost forgotten that he preferred leaving things where he last used them to prevent confusion afterwards, but distraction was the key to stop thinking about the previous day's events.

"He's not backing down," Duo reiterated, making himself comfortable on the couch which was currently the only piece of furniture that had not been cleaned, sanitized, or otherwise noticed.

"Are you suggesting that he's challenging me?" Trowa said although the way he voiced his question made it seem like he was not interested, only verbalizing an appropriate response.

"As accurate as the guy was in pointing out your flaws yesterday, I doubt he'll leave you without a model to work with. He's a nice guy. Might I even suggest that he'll endure your impossibility?"

Trowa threw a thoroughly used paper towel into the trash bin, not deigning to make a response. It was true that Quatre was the type of person who seemed accommodating to the point where he would most likely endure Trowa's selfish tendencies for the sake of helping him. Still, his model had seemed more than insulted the day before.

"Either people get used to you or they leave you alone," Duo mused loudly, causing Trowa to turn and look at him for clarification.

Before Duo had the chance to answer, he took a seat at the opposite end of the couch, carefully positioning himself so that he was facing the other. Having few acquaintances was a disadvantage sometimes. It left little room for feedback. That was why he valued Duo's the most.

"You're impossible, Tro," Duo said a bit too cheerily, placing his feet on top of a nearby coffee table recently wiped spotless. "Only the insane or perpetually tolerant will be able to muster your way of thinking. If he doesn't show up today then you might as well forget ever touching that body again. But, if he comes in through that front door then I'm sure nothing you'll ever say or do will drive him away. Like I already said, either they can handle you or they can't."

"I'm not as difficult as you make me sound," Trowa protested, choosing to shove Duo's feet off the coffee table. He knew there was some truth to it, but there was still something disturbing about hearing it from someone else's mouth. "And like I already said once before, he's not coming back."

Feeling disappointed that he'd lost his favorite model far too quickly; Trowa stared out his window, the scene of blanketed snow greeting his eyes that hungered for only one thing. Surely that hunger would not be sated now that his object of veneration had been pushed away by the same hands that yearned to recreate it into the masterpiece it so deserved to become.

"Remember Tro, you're not the good judge of character here. I am," Duo said, again raising his feet up so they were comfortably positioned on their previous perch.

Just as Trowa was about to respond, a soft but well-controlled knock came from the door. Duo's response was to smirk at him rather than move to open the door.

"What did I say?" he said.

Trowa ignored Duo for the time being in favor of his newest guest. He could not deny that he was curious as to who exactly was at his door. If it were Quatre, as Duo had suggested, then he would forever be awed by his friend's ability to read people.

Unlocking the hinges, he held on to the door knob tentatively before finally pulling it open.

"Good morning," greeted their newest guest who looked calm but decidedly serious.

"What'd I tell you?" Duo said smugly from the other end of the room. "Didn't I tell you he'd come?"

Trowa nodded in greeting, moving out of the way so that Quatre could come in. Knowing that it was unnecessary to feed Duo's current rise in ego, he chose not to answer. Instead, he proceeded to his work area where he knew Quatre would soon follow. He looked as if he'd never been worried that the other would show up, but deep in the recesses of his mind was a whoop of pure jubilation. He had hoped that he hadn't driven the other away the day before.

"Duo," Quatre greeted and proceeded to approach him, ignoring Trowa's lead. "I want you out of here," he said, startling both of the occupants of the room.

"Eh?" Duo said, taken by surprise. He was always good-natured, but being shooed so suddenly did manage to make him frown. "I know you'd be more comfortable without me around, but it's part of the deal. I can't leave you alone with Tro. It's nothing personal, mind you."

"Now you can," Quatre answered, handing Duo a piece of paper. Whatever it was, Trowa had no idea. All he could decipher from the exchange was that Quatre somehow managed to find a loophole in the contract. He was as clever as he was attractive.

Trowa watched as Duo reached for the paper, read through it, scratched his head once, and then shrugged.

"I guess you're on your own Tro," he said, standing up from his already comfortable perch to retrieve his coat. "Make sure you don't hurt him," he warned before settling a smirk Quatre's way. "Or maybe it's you I should warn my buddy about," he added.

"I assure you, no harm will come to him," Quatre answered and although the formality of his voice could slice the air in half, the sincerity on his face said otherwise. "I'm really sorry for the inconvenience," he added, the pleasant sound of his voice too charming to resist.

"Aww," Duo said, opening Trowa's front door and setting foot outside. "If you give me that sweetie-pie look then there's no reason for me not to trust you." With one more grin, Duo waved a quick goodbye to Trowa before disappearing into the snow-covered streets outside.

Piecing together what had just happened within the span of a few minutes, Trowa eyed his Arabian model, unsure of what to expect next. He chose not to say anything in favor of simply observing what the other would do next.

Sure enough, Quatre did not disappoint him as he approached Trowa, sitting down on the same rickety stool he had occupied several times before. The only difference was that he was still fully dressed.

"We need a compromise," Quatre started, staring at Trowa who was in mid-crouch, retrieving materials from a bottom drawer.

Trowa nodded, still not willing to speak. He supposed that it was inevitable, considering that their inability to work through Trowa's directness and Quatre's unwillingness to expose himself was halting their ultimate goal. If it continued any further, they would never finish.

"I need you to work blind," Quatre said, looking at Trowa with eyes hard as steel as if daring him to say otherwise. "There is no other way I'm working with you," he continued without taking his eyes off him.

"My eyes are as important as my hands," Trowa responded, staring right back at Quatre with an equally unwavering stare. It was unheard of that anyone working with him would make any demands. It was always him who made the decisions, always him who decided how his masterpieces should be done.

"Then I suggest you start learning how to rely solely on your hands," Quatre said, retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket. "Your hands are what are most precious to you after all," he added.

"My eyes refuse to be deprived of viewing your body's structure. I have to see every vein, every muscle structure or I can't work at all."

"Your eyes merely guide your hands," Quatre answered. "It's your mind's interpretation of what you see that seeks gratification."

Trowa shook his head, unable to come up with a verbal response to Quatre's observation. However, something at the back of his mind was convinced that it was true. It reiterated that what he really wanted was to feast his eyes on the most magnificent human form he'd ever seen.

Quatre sighed, the determined look on his face leaving his features for the time being. "You do realize that I'm taking everything off?" he said, massaging his forehead with his thumb and index finger. "That in itself is hard enough already."

Trowa stood up so that he was now hovering just above Quatre's head. Perhaps he was being inconsiderate and Quatre's suggestion did sound like a reasonable compromise. It was possible that he work with just his hands because his fingertips alone could successfully fill in what his eyes could not see.

"Fine," Trowa said, not waiting for any further prompting and taking the handkerchief held in Quatre's hand. He secured the cloth around his head so that his eyes were shielded from all sight. When he was done, nothing could be deciphered through the barrier. Even with his hair already obscuring his vision most of the time, Trowa still felt awkward with the situation he found himself in. At least without the blindfold, he'd still been able to view through the curtains of his hair.

"Thank you," was all Quatre said. Trowa did not see the other's expression, but somehow, he felt the smile of gratitude through the covering.

Trowa waited patiently and stood with arms crossed, waiting for Quatre to finish undressing. It was only the sounds of cloth rustling that signaled him to the fact that Quatre was indeed doing as he'd promised. When the sounds of movement ceased, unexplained warmth radiated from before him. Trowa could only assume that Quatre was close by.

"It won't be so bad," Quatre said, although it was not obvious if he was trying to reassure Trowa or himself.

A few more minutes of silence passed before Trowa felt his hand being guided by another's. Moments later, he felt his hand being pressed against a very warm, very solid form. He stiffened. It was all he could do not to recoil in sudden alarm. Until then, he had never imagined what it would feel like to touch a body without first seeing it. Information was usually passed from his eyes to his brain before his hand even reached out to touch what he already knew he would feel. It was strange to experience something so foreign.

"I don't see why you should be scared of me all of a sudden," Quatre said, picking up Trowa's other hand and then guiding it to his body so that both nearly shaking palms were positioned against his bare chest.

"It's an entirely different sensation," Trowa admitted, closing eyes that were already shielded. He moved his fingers experimentally, calculating where both hands were located within the warm body. He slid his hand down Quatre's side, before the other hand joined in its exploration.

"If you can't figure out where your hands are, just ask and I'll tell you," Quatre said, his voice drifting toward Trowa's ears. However, the sounds were incomprehensible as Trowa favored lavishing attention on a newly discovered sensation of blind fingertips against burning skin.

Unable to comprehend his hand's sudden excitement, Trowa allowed both to wander. Like pairs of serpents let loose on their prey, Trowa's hands sought defenseless muscles and still bones without mercy. The first structure they'd come into contact with was a slender neck that was tilted painfully back.

"Trowa," he heard Quatre say, but the rest of the statement was suppressed as Trowa continued his investigation.

Thumbs brushed against an Adam's apple that was protesting the sudden assault. He could feel it move as it tried to escape invading touches. His thumbs stubbornly followed it, relentless as they stroked over flesh which he knew would be bruised by such a brutal assault. The rest of his fingers were positioned against the back of that same, taut neck to prevent further escape.

"Trowa, it hurts," Quatre whimpered. Trowa could feel the wince as muscles moved to do just that. "You're choking me," was added a few moments later, but Trowa's hands refused to let go.

It was finally a pair of cold hands latching on to his own forceful wrists that jolted him out of the uncontrolled disturbance in his mind. Quatre's hands had joined in the effort to detach the tight hold, struggling valiantly to free its captive neck.

Suddenly woken from his frenzied assault, Trowa dropped his hands to his side, surprised that he had not realized what he was doing. It was on such rare occasions that he was not able to control himself. The sudden spark of madness had taken over his hands and his mind without his knowledge.

"I'm... sorry," Trowa said slowly, fingers curling and straightening as if they were ready to touch once again. He must have looked frightening. He was sure of it.

"It's fine," Quatre answered, voice raspy from the earlier onslaught of eager hands. "But if you keep this up, I'm going to look like a beaten tomato by the time this session ends."

Trowa reached out blindly to the spot where he suspected the injury would be. He first came into contact with Quatre's hands which were busy stroking the aching neck. Trowa pushed the hands away gently to massage an abused neck that was harmed by the same hands only moments before.

"This hasn't happened in so long," Trowa said, allowing his hands to do the soothing his expressionless voice could not. The admission, he knew, was selectively vague. It revealed a secret and caused a reason for questioning all while sending a warning of how uncontrolled he could get. "You must realize now why Duo is needed."

"It's happened before?" Quatre voiced with concern. It was obvious from the sound of his voice that the concern was for Trowa and not himself who would most likely be at the mercy of frenzied hands. "I doubt that you mean any harm."

"I don't," Trowa said, stopping his hand's motion in favor of resting them atop narrow shoulders. "Not very many would believe so." He wished he could see Quatre's face and witness the probable look of fear he had caused. Facial expressions always did well to remind him that he should never loose control again.

His lips quirked downward the slightest bit when he felt hands attach themselves to either side of his face, pulling him down so that he was at Quatre's eye level. His blindfold was nudged down the tiniest fraction with thumbs that felt softer than even his own. The semi-freedom given allowed him to stare directly at eyes he suspected would look frightened.

"I already said it before. I know you won't hurt me," Quatre said.

Instead of the fear he knew was going to be present, Trowa saw a look of concern with a tinge of amusement as if Quatre were confident in the belief that his statement was wholly accurate. Bright eyes then lead a path downward to bow-shaped lips that graced him with a smile. The ensemble was completed with a full view of the child-like visage.

"You trust people far too much," Trowa answered, remembering that Quatre had, without question, submitted to Duo's request not too long ago. It was a blessing since Quatre had been the only available Arabian male within the area and as such is instrumental in completing his project. Still, it bothered him that such a sweet-looking person could so easily trust a stranger.

Trowa's frown deepened as his eyes traveled down toward the neck he'd hurt during his moment of madness. He did not dare look further down as the hand that still held on to either side of his face had skillfully restrained any more movement.

"I know what I'm doing," Quatre said, but his expression was lost to Trowa who was still staring at the quickly bruising flesh just below Quatre's head.

Once again, Trowa ran idle thumbs carefully through now visible skin that looked even paler with the addition of his fingerprints. Quatre's statement was left without a response.

"You must be cold," Trowa said all of a sudden, turning away from Quatre so that he could add a few logs to the quickly diminishing flame in the fireplace. He did not dare glance back at the bare expanse of Quatre's body because he did not wish to violate their earlier agreement.

After deciding that enough logs were fed to the burning flames, Trowa secured his blindfold back in place before turning to face the general direction where Quatre was located.

"I can understand if you don't wish to continue," he said. It was Quatre's choice whether they'd accomplish anything that day or not since he'd already done enough to ruin their session.

"I don't think you can continue even if I don't mind," Quatre answered.

Trowa reached for another stool he knew was within the vicinity and sat down. Surely he'd know better than anyone else if he were up for something or not.

"Why do you say that?" Trowa asked, curiosity seeping through his usual monotone.

"You're too scared to touch me again," Quatre said simply, the confidence in his voice making it seem like he could read right through Trowa's mind.

Trowa blinked although the action was hidden behind a cloth barrier. It was strange how Quatre figured the information out before even he did. As true as Quatre had stated, Trowa was indeed feeling a little apprehensive about continuing when his mind had just barely grasped any semblance of control.

"I should be getting dressed then," Quatre stated, not waiting for Trowa's response to whether he was right or not.

Sounds of rustling were heard again as Quatre dressed, seemingly slower this time. When the sound of movements stopped, Trowa was rewarded his sight having had his blindfold taken away from his head completely. He rubbed at his eyes absently, getting used to the sensation of air and light against eyes that had been hidden.

Trowa's eyes lingered on Quatre as he watched the other adjust the collar of his shirt. A muffler soon followed the ensemble to cover any evidences of injury. Duo was going to give him hell for it, he could tell. His friend's love for talking nonsense was overshadowed by his desire to rant on about what consequences Trowa had to face if any of his models ever took the initiative to sue him. Duo's lectures were for his well-being, he knew, but they were meant to sympathize with him as well. How he wished Quatre understood why he was sometimes plagued with manic tendencies he could not control.

"I'll be back tomorrow," Quatre said when he finished putting both his coat and gloves on. Trowa assumed he would be leaving, but was surprised when Quatre sat back down on the stool instead. "But we still have time," he added.

"Time for?"

"A discussion on who you think I am?" Quatre suggested playfully, the tilt of his head accentuating his curiosity.

"Why?"

Trowa preferred to speak less, especially when being dissected. For him, it was the best method of avoiding further scrutiny.

"Because something is guiding you toward false assumptions. I don't like that."

"Then perhaps I shall stop assuming," Trowa answered, not willing to discuss his speculations any further. He'd already voiced his suspicions that Quatre was wealthy and Quatre had acquiesced to it accordingly albeit being distracted by anger the day before.

"That's something you can't do," Quatre said, checking his watch before standing to leave. "My appearance leaves a lot of room for false assumptions. I suppose that asking you who you think I am is unnecessary when I already know what you're thinking."

"It's human nature to judge," Trowa said, following Quatre to the front door.

"I suppose," Quatre answered as he stepped out. "Curiosity is too," he said, turning back to face him. "That's the reason why I'm going to find out why that awe-inspiring sculpture in the middle of town square is credited to an anonymous artist. Do watch yourself Trowa. I'm not as harmless as I seem."

"Dangerous indeed," Trowa murmured, shutting his door to the cold air. It was going to be a burden trying to explain to Duo what he'd done.