I wouldn't say I'm an easily annoyed person. In fact, sometimes I wonder if I'm able to feel at all. But as I stare, I can't help the sliver of annoyance that wriggles in past my outward calm. It's the boxers. Always the boxers. Not so much the fact that he wears them. I can't care less about the choice in underwear. No. It is the fact he left them hanging on the door knob. And every time I see them hanging there, I wonder. Does he have hamper blindness? Can he not see the wicker basket sitting in the corner? But that can't be, because all his other clothes end up there. Just his boxers. Always his boxers. Always on the doorknob. Just hanging there. Then I wonder why he puts his boxers there in the first place. It can't be just simple absentmindedness. I've never known Duo to be absentminded- at least not accidentally. Even if it was, what would pass through his mind between taking off the boxers and hooking them on the doorknob?

As I stand there, staring, there is a knock at the door and Quatre pokes his head in. I glance at him to acknowledge his presence, then back to the underwear. They have parsnips on them. That is another thing to wonder about. Does Duo have some sort of culinary fetish? Does he have other boxers with spatulas on them? Or electric mixers?

"You're staring at the boxers again, aren't you?" Quatre says. It is then I realize that I haven't heard a word he said.

"Why parsnips?" I ask him. Quatre shakes his head, but there is a fond smile lighting his blue eyes.

"Who knows? Duo is a mystery to us all." He reaches for the toothpaste.

"Stay a while?" I say, looking at him. His eyes meet mine for a heartbeat. Then he smiles. A little, devilish smile that many don't think him capable of until they've seen him stealing into their bedroom at night. He slips in and shuts the door behind him. I wrap my arms around his waist and kiss him lightly, tasting his lips which always remind me of cocoa butter for some reason.

"I think I should be a little frightened," he says, placing a soft kiss against the side of my neck. "That Duo's boxers do this to you."

"Is that a bad ..." But I can't finish my sentence because his hands have slid past the waistline of my own boxers and his slim hot fingers are gently cupping me. Quatre seems to understand however.

"Of course not," he says, licking a heated trail over my neck and shifting his hand ever so slightly in a way that makes me nearly swallow my own tongue.

"Why do you think I put them up there?"

"Ah," I say, though that's more because his other hand has found my nipple and is doing rather exciting things to it that makes it difficult to think. Soon it is just him...and me...and the boxers...with parsnips.


This was all a certain person's fault, and she knows who she is. And yes, this Mare is trying to write again. T.T I know, I'm so very terrible at updating but it is hard to get the gumption when your life is going downhill. However, I will keep on trucking and things will be updated.

Keep the love, ya'll

Night Mare