FIC: Broadsheet (GW, 13x6)
Title: Broadsheet (Part of the 'Between Equals' cycle)
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Theme: #17 Orange; colour
Pairing: 13X6
Rating: G
Word Count: 449
Notes: Because I watch too much Doctor Who... Written for the 30_hugs challenge.
Disclaimer: The usual. Me no own, me no make money, you no sue.
It wasn’t easy being clever. Treize had discovered that early on, when at the tender age of five he had roundly beaten his uncle at chess. He didn’t remember that himself, had been informed of it so many times by slightly tipsy female relations that he had accepted it as truth; Treize only remembered that his many cousins started looking at him differently. Looking had become being spoken to differently, and soon after being treated differently. It would have been nice to blame it all on them, but even at twelve years old he’d realised that they no longer included him in their games because he simply couldn’t understand them, let alone connect with them. Why on earth did they want to run around playing anything from hide and seek to soccer on the perfectly manicured lawn when they could be reading Sun Tzu, or learning to fence? He’d rather have his orange head buried in his father’s broadsheets than try to steal his oldest cousin’s secret stash of adult magazines; he’d joined in once in an attempt to understand and just got more confused searching for the appeal of the naked ladies the other boys giggled at. That was why he thanked the gods for Milliardo.
There may have been four years between them but they had fun raiding the library together, voracious minds tearing through first his mother’s library and then his father’s study to the proud perplexity of the owners. Being very clever, he never took for granted the companionship of the quiet and oddly serious boy who understood the attraction of Machiavelli, and riding, and grown up theories on everything they came across. At night when thoughts just wouldn’t stop rushing through his head one or the other would sneak along the corridor, nimbly avoiding the boards that would reveal their actions to slip into the other’s room with a dozen thoughts on the tip of their tongues demanding they be discussed immediately, if not sooner. On nights like that it was easy to forget that his peers kept him at a distance and that sometimes his father would look at him as though wondering which planet he’d come from. It was easy to let all that drift away along with the rest of the world on a stream of enthusiastic discussions with someone he didn’t have to dumb down for or explain to. It was a singular joy to be understood.
And if he found the fluid movements of his friend as he crawled into the embrace of shared blankets more interesting than the long ago stolen nudie magazine... well it was probably because no one else was clever enough to notice.
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Theme: #17 Orange; colour
Pairing: 13X6
Rating: G
Word Count: 449
Notes: Because I watch too much Doctor Who... Written for the 30_hugs challenge.
Disclaimer: The usual. Me no own, me no make money, you no sue.
It wasn’t easy being clever. Treize had discovered that early on, when at the tender age of five he had roundly beaten his uncle at chess. He didn’t remember that himself, had been informed of it so many times by slightly tipsy female relations that he had accepted it as truth; Treize only remembered that his many cousins started looking at him differently. Looking had become being spoken to differently, and soon after being treated differently. It would have been nice to blame it all on them, but even at twelve years old he’d realised that they no longer included him in their games because he simply couldn’t understand them, let alone connect with them. Why on earth did they want to run around playing anything from hide and seek to soccer on the perfectly manicured lawn when they could be reading Sun Tzu, or learning to fence? He’d rather have his orange head buried in his father’s broadsheets than try to steal his oldest cousin’s secret stash of adult magazines; he’d joined in once in an attempt to understand and just got more confused searching for the appeal of the naked ladies the other boys giggled at. That was why he thanked the gods for Milliardo.
There may have been four years between them but they had fun raiding the library together, voracious minds tearing through first his mother’s library and then his father’s study to the proud perplexity of the owners. Being very clever, he never took for granted the companionship of the quiet and oddly serious boy who understood the attraction of Machiavelli, and riding, and grown up theories on everything they came across. At night when thoughts just wouldn’t stop rushing through his head one or the other would sneak along the corridor, nimbly avoiding the boards that would reveal their actions to slip into the other’s room with a dozen thoughts on the tip of their tongues demanding they be discussed immediately, if not sooner. On nights like that it was easy to forget that his peers kept him at a distance and that sometimes his father would look at him as though wondering which planet he’d come from. It was easy to let all that drift away along with the rest of the world on a stream of enthusiastic discussions with someone he didn’t have to dumb down for or explain to. It was a singular joy to be understood.
And if he found the fluid movements of his friend as he crawled into the embrace of shared blankets more interesting than the long ago stolen nudie magazine... well it was probably because no one else was clever enough to notice.