A/N: This is an AU focusing on the rather weird relationship between Wufei and Treize. I have to say I was surprised with the absence of fic for what I think's one of the most fun slash couples to write.

Contains established 1x2, 4x3(yes, Q's on top), unrequited 5+2, and definite 5x13(x5).

And no, Baltimore isn't about to approve gay marriage, so if you live in Baltimore, forgive me. (I just like the city, is all.)

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING, I GET NOTHING. (TPS reports are from Office Space. I don't own that either.)

Warnings: Uh, the usual. Yaoi, although it'll be more shounen-ai, but hey. Profanity and all that. Sheesh. You guys oughta know what to expect.

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Elegance

Chapter 1

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Wufei hated Thursdays.

Wednesdays were acceptable, albeit tedious in the office and extended in the night. He wouldn't claim by any stretch to be a party animal, but Fridays were a heavenly day of rest. Saturdays- his favorite- were a peaceful day of contemplation with the intelligent silence of black words in a good book. Sundays were an ominous sunrise. Mondays and Tuesdays were days of work, with no time for anything else, but their own steadfast reassurance.

But Wufei hated Thursdays.

Today was an excellent example of why. He'd woken up at 8 AM when he needed to wake up at 7. He'd burned his toast into the likeliness of pumice. The subway had left as soon as he'd stepped onto the platform.

When he finally DID manage to make it to the office, Po was waiting for him, arms crossed and glaring in her receptionist swivel chair. "Every Thursday, Chang. Every Thursday you're late with some lame excuse."

Wufei had glared. "Thursdays and I don't get along very well."

She'd snorted, motioning a thumb into the office. "Yuy's been asking for you all day. He's about to kill someone."

"When isn't he?" he muttered dryly and trudged into the room, setting his singed briefcase in his cubicle. Why singed? Last Thursday, he ended up in a burning building. But, as soon as Wufei dropped into his chair, a familiar head had popped in.

"Happy Thursday, Wuffles!"

His eyebrow twitched. The other annoying thing about Thursdays was the fact Duo Maxwell took over the boss' secretarial work for the day. "My name is Wufei."

The man with the long brown braid chuckled. "It's just fun to watch your eyebrow twitch." His black-covered body bounded into the cubicle, grinning and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He leaned on the bare side of the pseudo-office. "Anyway, Heero needs to see you. Said it was something about your TPS reports."

Wufei snorted. "Not funny, Maxwell. What's he really want?"

Duo shrugged. "Hell if I know. A threesome?"

And Wufei had proceeded to choke from the mere thought. For, as everyone had learned the first Thursday Duo had come in, Heero was rather possessive of his fiancée. Hilde Schbeiker, ex-employee, had run out screaming after Yuy had heard her flirt with Duo and taken immediate action. And of course, Duo had yelled at his then-boyfriend and Heero had yelled back and the door to Heero's office had been shut quite soundly, but regardless some rather inappropriate noises got out a few minutes later.

So no, that was probably not the reason Heero wanted to see him.

Duo, however, was busy snickering. "Just get there fast, Wu. He's either nervous or jealous, and you know how he gets."

"Who doesn't? He threw a delivery boy out the window when they gave him the wrong sandwich," Wufei muttered dryly.

"Aww, that's just a rumor," Duo grinned. "It was a donut, and the kid was asking for it."

Wufei couldn't help but chuckle, getting up out of his chair again as his friend scooted out of the cubicle, politely letting him have enough room to leave.

Yes, friend. The torture of Thursdays was not the fact he hated Duo Maxwell (far from it), but the fact the idiot drove his hormones crazy, and every Thursday he got to see how perfect the couple were for each other and how he could never even hope to be like that with anyone, let alone Duo Maxwell. Heero and Duo had gone to college with him, all of them majoring in business. Heero and Duo were put in the same room, Wufei was given a single room, and one thing led to another. The two hit it off, fell in love, and yet again Wufei was stuck with a trapped heart and an empty room.

But, of course, it was on Thursdays that he had to feel that bitter soreness in his chest.

And Wufei HATED Thursdays.

"If he gets too annoying just walk out," Duo shrugged, misunderstanding the sudden storm cloud over him.

Wufei frowned. "He's my boss."

"And you're one of our best friends, too," he winked, and playfully pushed him towards the corner office. "Now get moving. He's been antsy-brooding all day."

Gathering up his usual scowl, he did as instructed, even though he couldn't help but feel the apprehension that came with being called to a jealous Heero Yuy's office (since nervous could be practically ruled out). When Heero wasn't happy, neither was anyone else…well, aside from Duo. And since it was on a Thursday, this was obviously going to either be a demanded requiting of his love for Duo, or being fired.

He was hoping for the firing, honestly.

The glass door's handle jiggled as it opened, and brilliant blue eyes flashed up to him. "Chang."

"Yuy."

Regardless of the fact they'd been friends for nearly eight years, at work the formalities stood. Subordinate and employer they remained, no matter how much Duo whined and nagged.

From the shifting in his leather chair, Wufei could tell he was actually nervous. Well, that blew all his own brooding out the window. Whether that was a good or bad thing remained to be seen.

"Wufei. You know both Duo and I consider you our best friend, so it shouldn't be too surprising we want you in the wedding. We were thinking best man, but couldn't decide whose you'd be. So, would you be willing to be best man for both of us?"

Wufei blinked.

"You've been engaged for how long?"

A small, fond smile broke out of his face. "Four years."

"And why are you asking now?"

Heero picked up a paper from his modestly neat desk, pointing to a specific article. GAY MARRIAGE TO BE OFFICIALLY APPROVED IN BALTIMORE stood out, highlighted in a frantic yellow. "It'll be finalized in a month, and we're planning on a wedding instead of a court ruling." He handed the paper over. "We've been engaged so long because we couldn't get married, Wufei."

Wufei grimaced. "I know. Duo gives me an earful every Thursday."

A knowing smirk filtered onto Heero's face. "He's…passionate."

He couldn't help but snort. "You'd know." He turned his face to the paper to avoid the full-out, goofy smile that always accompanied any reminder that yes, Duo was his.

Possessive bastard.

"Any opinion?"

His black eyes just stared at the other man. "Would it matter? You'd both drag me to Siberia just to get married."

Heero frowned. "Would you prefer it some other way?"

Wufei paused. Would he? On one hand he'd be there for his best friends, but on the other, he'd be watching the love of his life slip eternally into the bliss Wufei could never be part of.

He shook his head. "No. I'll be there." His eyes couldn't help but drift out the windows. Wufei didn't even have to look back to see his friend's questioning eyes. "I've had a bad day."

"Hn. It's a Thursday."

Before Wufei could give into temptation and start ranting incoherently, he got up and walked towards the door.

But, of course, Heero always got in the last word. "Think about it for a while. I know it would take a lot of time and effort on your part." He paused. "Take the rest of the day off."

He was out of the door before Yuy (yes, he was back to Yuy) could change his mind, leaving everything behind- singed briefcase, cubicle, and all. Including Heero and Duo. ESPECIALLY Heero and Duo. He'd leave them to their fairytale, their glass and diamond world of light and happiness and smiling Duo-

He cut that strand off hurriedly. Even if he couldn't deny it any more (hadn't been able to for nearly five years, now), he could avoid it. And if Wufei Chang was good at anything, it was what he set his mind to every hour of the day.

He found his feet going straight towards Winner-Barton Books, his usual Saturday hangout. It was owned by two men madly in love with each other who chuckled every time they saw their own store's sign. The one time he'd asked, he'd regretted it.

Trowa had gotten a hazy, goofy look in his one visible green eye, lips twitching in a restrained grin. "That's the order it was first time."

Wufei had decided to let the obscurity stand.

As the little bell tinged above the oak door, he was greeted with the familiar sight of the old-yet-new bookstore. Creaky dark wood floors were bordered by rows upon rows of books, the newer books on the left side and the oldest ones in the back right corner. The dim yet cozy lighting flickered across his tight black ponytail as he headed straight for the oldest section. After grabbing an intriguing book dated from 1923, he strode towards his faithful, familiar seat- an enormous armchair of red cloth and mahogany legs. With a sigh, he shut his eyes and fell into the chair.

Or, tried to at least. His rear end met someone's lap, and his startled eyes met equally surprised light blue in a regal face.

Wufei jumped back up, his book thunking to the floor. His eyes remained just as wide, though. "You're in my chair."

The stranger frowned, grabbing the fallen novel and holding it out. "No, this is my chair."

Wufei grabbed it. "I'm here every Thursday, and I've never seen you here before."

"I'm here every Saturday, and I've never seen you," Wufei snapped. The annoyance from his day was coming back in waves, and the man was too good a target. "I've been coming here since it opened four years ago."

The man smiled softly. "So have I."

He glared. "It's my chair."

A hand ran through elegant ginger hair, the other resting on a simple leather-bound book. "Listen, I'm not here to take your chair away from you. It's my chair on Thursdays, and it's yours on Saturdays. I don't see why there's a problem here."

Wufei's eyebrow twitched, his teeth clenching together. "Because it's MY CHAIR!"

"Shhh!" Quatre was glaring at him from the counter, and Wufei glared right back, earning another stern look and the man walking over to them. "What's your problem? This is a book store!"

"I don't see anyone else here," Wufei stated, and it was true. Unsurprisingly, there were only the three of them in the bookstore, since it was about 9:30 on a Thursday morning.

Quatre's ire was untouched. "I don't care. Quiet down, or get out." He was a vicious, stubborn blonde whenever he felt it would get what he wanted, and after four years Wufei had learned trying to argue with him did nothing. "What's got you so angry, anyway?" The man in his chair simply held up a hand to announce his presence, and Quatre rolled his eyes. "There's plenty of room for the both of you in that chair. Now stop shouting and sit down. I'm trying to balance my checkbook."

The ginger-haired man smiled pleasantly up at him. "I'm not opposed to compromise every now and then." He scooted to the right side of the chair, leaving plenty of room for Wufei. "Please, sit. It sounds like you've had a rough day."

The other man snorted and sat, leaving a couple inches between them. "Rough year, more like it." He cracked the book open and turned to the cover page.

"You won't like that one," the man observed, and Wufei snapped the book shut, glaring.

"Now you're dictating my likes and dislikes?"

The chair thief smiled winningly. "No, just making an educated observation. It's a romance, all anxiety and no plot, written for a teenage reader or a depressed housewife, someone that needs a good dose of bad escapism." He pulled a book from the nearest shelf without standing up, and Wufei couldn't help but envy the man's longer arms. "Try this one."

Wufei glanced at the cover, then stared at the man incredulously. "Pride and Prejudice?"

"It's a classic." A wry smile bloomed on the man's face. "Or would you prefer some-"

"9:50, Treize!" Quatre's call jerked the ginger-haired bandit out of the chair, sending Wufei to the floor in the process.

"Forgive me," he said sincerely and held out a hand, but Wufei just glared and stood up, putting his life's study of martial arts to work and rising by himself in one fluid motion. The man- Treize, apparently- paused for a moment, then nodded. "Goodbye, then."

"Bye," Wufei stated, sitting back down in the chair, seemingly disinterested.

With a nod, Treize strode over to the door and walked out, regal to a seemingly impossible degree. He couldn't help but watch the man stroll outside the window, his casual demeanor somehow…hypnotic.

"So…what do you think?"

Wufei jerked to the side, seeing a grinning Quatre to the left of his chair. He glared. "He stole my chair."

Quatre laughed. "It's MY chair. You two just get to use it." He grinned. "Now stop avoiding the question. What do you think of him?"

"Why does it matter?" Quatre's face began the shift from the usual happy-Quatre to pissed-and-scary-Quatre, so Wufei wisely changed tactics. "I'm not interested."

"You sure? He's hot. And single."

Wufei glared. "I do not wish to discuss this any further, Winner."

"Ah." Quatre nodded sagely. "Still hung up over Duo, I see."

Wufei glared, but managed to keep from punching his friend. The memory of the morning was still boiling his blood. "Shut up."

Quatre was a manipulative little bastard, but he was also a well-meaning one, and smart enough to see when to back down. "I'm sorry, Wufei," he apologized. "I just want to help you."

Wufei was tired, and his nerves were already worn thinner than thread. All he wanted to do was grab a book and relax. He leaned back into the chair, eyes slammed shut and scowling. "Then leave me alone."

The blonde complied quietly, setting the book that rested on the chair into his friend's hands and returning to his checkbook.

When he reopened his eyes with a sigh, he noted the book. It was the same simple leather volume the chair thief had been holding, no title on the front. Intrigued, he opened to the title page.

In Search of Elegance T. Khushrenada

He couldn't help but snort. It sounded like the sort of snooty book a guy who liked Pride and Prejudice would read. Deciding to give it a chance, he opened to the first page, and began to read.

I find a sort of humble solace in writing these words, and seeing the blank pages which follow this page. It gives me a sense of future. A sense of purpose, if you will.

But, dear reader, I hope you will forgive my current dreary outlook on life. It simply seems that since Leia died, the certainty of my existence has vanished. There is no more beauty. No more grandeur. No hope.

Now, do not make the easy mistake of believing I loved her.

Wufei couldn't help but blink at the page.

I believe, in a way, we could have grown to love one another. But what's done is done, albeit bitterly, and it is useless to think of lost possibilities. (Although my apparent wisdom and logicality is useful at times, it holds no comfort for me.) She is lost to the world, and we, the dregs, remain.

Perhaps I am going about this the wrong way.

"Really now," Wufei muttered dryly.

There is no true way to express my feelings without giving you, dear reader, some basis to understand my seemingly befuddled mind, and heart.

I suppose, in the long run, it began when I was born. To put it simply, my family was poor. My mother died of melanoma when I was six, and my father remained a working-class immigrant all his life, regardless of the fact he arrived in the United States at the age of five. He worked in a small little box watching the newspapers go through the presses, ensuring the efficiency of a machine that had run flawlessly since 1972.

Like many working-class citizens, my father was obsessed with the education of his children, and as his only child, I was also his only hope. He was determined to have me grow up to be some sort of politician or lawyer, maybe even a doctor. A career where you made a lot of money for being smart instead of strong.

It was an ideal he believed unreachable for himself, but from birth, he taught me everything he could. When most children were out playing on tricycles, I was doing basic mathematics and studying current events.

But after my mother died, he lost a part of himself. Sometimes he would simply hold me in a tight hug for hours, and others he couldn't bare the sight of me. But, somehow my parents had managed to buy an excellent life insurance plan, and after she died our family suddenly had more money than ever before, and less to spend it on.

At nine, my father sent me to a boarding school, knowing well enough that he could teach me no more and that the public school system couldn't live up to his hopes. With a heavy heart but dry eyes, he called a taxi and sent me on my way.

Lake Victoria Academy was unlike anything I'd ever seen. Enormous wrought-iron gates stood at attention

"Wufei! That's not your book," Quatre jumped out of nowhere, and the book went sailing through the air, smashing into the shelves as Wufei jumped up from the chair, ready to hurt something if necessary.

"You're the one who put it in my hands!"

"I didn't know it was THAT book!"

Wufei glared. "What's so special about it?"

Quatre blinked, mouth opening a bit. "Oh." His mouth shut, and he shook his head. "Nothing. I'm just overreacting. Sorry." He smiled brilliantly. "Why don't you just take it home and finish? That way there won't be another Chair Incident today."

Wufei frowned, but pulled out his wallet.

"Oh, no need," Quatre said, brushing the money away. "I know you'll bring it back." He retrieved the book and put it back into Wufei's hands. "So where'd you get to?"

"Not very far," Wufei admitted, not even noticing how Quatre was gently ushering him to the door. "We just got to the academy's gates."

"Ooh, that's where it gets good," Quatre beamed, and finally Wufei realized he was outside the store, the windows' metal screens being lowered by a hasty Trowa, who nodded in greeting. "Well! See you Saturday, I guess."

"Hello, Wufei. Goodbye," Trowa said, and Wufei just had enough time to see Quatre bodily pull Trowa into the door before it too was covered with metal, although a telling thunk followed soon after.

Wufei snorted. "Kinky bastards." Without another thought, he started on his way back home.

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A/N: Well, that's chapter 1. This thing has been MURDERING my muses, so hopefully I can get back to my regularly scheduled ficcage! Huzzah!

Feel free to review! Thanks for reading, and all that!