Disclaimer – I don't own the GW characters and write purely for fun.

Note 1 – Many thanks to Kaeru Shisho for editing and encouraging.

Note 2 – Since I already have a rather large backlog of WIPs the only practical thing to do, really, was to start a new story. This was – ahem – intended to be a one-shot, but Duo is already clamouring for his own romance, so there will be one more chapter.

Carriage Ride for One:

'Swear to God, Tro,' Duo said earnestly, waving his coffee cup around so enthusiastically that he drenched a passing Japanese tourist. 'This guy and his girlfriend I picked up last night; they were like randy fucking weasels in the back of the carriage. I looked around to ask them if they wanted to stop at the Ha'penny Bridge for a photo, and they were at it like they were getting paid for it. Jesus! It's not a bit fair, is it? If you or I carried on like that, we'd be lynched, but straights get away with everything.'

Then he was off in full flood, while Trowa made the appropriate noises on the rare occasions when his friend paused to breathe. It wasn't that he didn't agree with what Duo was saying; far from it. He just didn't have Duo's compulsion to change the world, especially not at eight a.m., when he wasn't even a morning person.

It was a glorious morning though; even Trowa had to admit that. Spring in Dublin was beautiful. The chestnut trees in St. Stephen's Green were just coming into bright, glossy bud, and people were slowly starting to shed layers of Winter clothing. He could smell the park's flowers on the breeze, mixed with the rich scent of horse, and the life-preserving aroma of hot coffee.

Howard liked his carriages to be in place first thing in the morning, just in case someone decided they wanted a ride before breakfast, which they never actually did, so the first couple of hours on the job never involved anything more arduous than hanging around and making sure the horses were comfortable.

And listen to Duo, of course. He liked to talk, and didn't usually require too much audience participation, and Trowa liked to think about things, and didn't mind his friend making a bit of white noise in the background. He stopped talking about the injustice of the world, finally, and was back on his other favourite topic.

'Still not getting anywhere?' Trowa asked when Duo stopped rambling about what Heero had said in class the previous day, and what he'd worn, and the cute way he'd nibbled the end of his pen when he was bored with something the lecturer was saying.

Duo shrugged. 'I've decided that maybe in Japan glaring at people and refusing to interact with them is actually a way of showing you're attracted. Still, we're supposed to be working on a project this afternoon, so I'll have him all to myself for two hours and I'm wearing my lucky jeans. Maybe if I keep dropping stuff and bending down to get it, he'll finally crack.'

'I could make a really bad joke there,' Trowa mused, grinning at his friend. Duo had jumped out of his carriage and was doing sexy little wiggles. A couple of Howard's older drivers looked a bit disapproving; unlike them, Duo and Trowa wore jeans and leather jackets, instead of the regulation old-fashioned coachman's uniform of cloak and bowler hat that made you look like a total pillock.

Duo got away with it because he was Duo and got away with everything by being charming and cheeky and universally adored.

Trowa didn't have Duo's social graces, but he had a degree in history, and he loved his city, and loved talking about it. He could also coax any horse into good behaviour, and he saved Howie a fortune on vet's bills.

'Sod off, Barton.' Duo wandered around to talk to the horses, Shinigami turning around to whicker affectionately and nuzzle his pockets. Nanashi stamped one impatient hoof, and Duo gave the big bay a wide berth.

'Whoa, cute guy alert,' Duo whistled, jumping up to the running board of Trowa's carriage. 'He's a babe, isn't he? What's the betting he swings our way?'

'Doubtful.' Trowa didn't even bother to look up from the book he'd pulled out from under his seat. Duo firmly believed every attractive guy he met was gay, a testimony to his hardcore optimism. Dublin was hardly a Mecca for gays, not with Brighton and Amsterdam a short hop away by air. He'd driven same sex couples around on occasion, but they tended to be older, more interested in Dublin's cultural offerings than nightlife at the city's only gay pub.

'You could at least look,' Duo moaned and Trowa raised his eyes from the page and saw the most adorable little blond stroking Shinnie's neck.

'Told you so!' his best friend crowed cheerfully. 'I knew he'd be your type. And he's all on his own!'

'Probably waiting for his girlfriend.'

'Wotcher, Guv'nor,' Duo called out in a very bad imitation of a Cockney accent. It was one of his quirks; he tried to adopt a different accent every day when dealing with customers, just to see if any of them noticed he was taking the piss.

The blond guy didn't seem to notice at all, smiling as Shin nuzzled his jacket. A cute guy who liked horses. Fancy that. And he was megally cute; a nice body in jeans and a blue fleece, topped off with that sunlit blond hair. He laughed softly as the big horse snorted at him, and then reached out one hand to touch Nash's neck.

'I wouldn't do that,' Trowa called. 'He bites.'

'All right.' Blondie prudently removed his hand, still not looking around.

Nice voice with an odd accent. And sensible enough to do as he was told around strange animals, which not everyone was.

'Hey, Mister!' Duo sang out. 'Fancy a ride? My friend's free for the morning.'

'Duo!' Trowa hissed. 'Shut it.'

'What?' Huge, violet eyes blinked at him, full of wounded innocence. 'I was just asking a question.'

Giving one last pat to Shin's muzzle, Blondie turned around to face them.

'Is it possible to hire a carriage? I don't just want to do the tourist circuit around town.'

Trowa started to rattle off the prices for thirty minutes and an hour. Shit, the guy was just gorgeous. He had the most kissable mouth ever, and eyes the blue-green colour of sea-foam in sunlight.

'I'd like to go somewhere quiet, without people, for a couple of hours. Can you take me somewhere like that?'

Duo sniggered, and received a sharp elbow to the ribs.

Trowa considered. 'There's the Phoenix Park on the other side of the city. It'll cost you though.'

'I don't care about the money. I just need to get something from my hotel. Can you wait a minute?'

Duo would have said something clever about how he'd been waiting his whole life and he could hang on another minute or so.

Trowa just nodded. 'Yeah. But I can drive you there.'

'No, that's all right. I'm just staying over there.' He nodded across the road at the imposing façade of the Shelbourne Hotel. 'I'll be right back.'

'Score!' Duo whistled as they both watched the slender young man hurry across the road. 'Hot, loaded and single.'

'You don't know that. Maybe he's gone to get his girlfriend.'

'He said he had to get something, not someone,' Duo argued. 'Jeez, Tro, you don't know when you're well off.'

'Why?' Trowa demanded with a bit more bitterness than he'd intended. Duo was the person he was closest to in the world, but that didn't mean they never got on each other's nerves. 'Because I get to have a good looking, almost-certainly straight guy in the carriage for an hour or so? Even if he is gay, by some miracle, there's no way that someone like that could be single, and he's probably only in Dublin for a day or so, and he wouldn't be into someone like me anyway.'

Duo gave him one of those cocky, aggravating grins. 'Not that you like him or anything. And he picked you out of a whole line up of drivers. To take him to a beautiful, secluded place for a couple of hours. I'd say you're in there.'

'Fuck off.' Trowa picked up the reins and clicked his tongue and drove Nash across the road to park outside the hotel. Blondie took long enough for Trowa to indulge in a little fantasy about a wealthy lord who had a thing for his coachman, and then to wonder if the blond had changed his mind or found something more interesting to do.

The hotel porters were starting to give him disapproving looks – cluttering up their lovely part of the road – when Blondie came running down the steps.

'I'm sorry to have kept you waiting,' he apologised, which was nice. Most people didn't bother, specially not the uber-rich ones. 'I had to make some telephone calls.'

'That's OK.' Trowa opened the carriage door with a flourishing bow, meaning that his head was on the perfect level to get a great view of Blondie's ass as he stepped inside. Duo's voice in his head was supplying all kinds of pick-up lines.

Because it was what most people wanted, he pointed out places of interest as they set off down Dawson Street towards Trinity College. Blondie made a couple of polite, monosyllabic responses, and then rather shyly said that while it was all very interesting, he really just needed some time to think if that was all right.

It was cool actually. Trowa wasn't used to people in his life who weren't jabbering on all the time. His two best friends, Duo and Zechs, never shut up, and his sister could talk for Ireland. For most of Europe, on a good day. It was nice not having to do the tourist spiel for once.

He took the shortest route to the Phoenix Park, driving along the Quays, since it was still just that bit early to have too much traffic. Blondie never said anything, apparently sunk in whatever problem he was trying to sort out in his head.

As they drove under the park gates, Nash tossed his head impatiently, fighting the bit, and trying to break into a faster trot. On really quiet days, he and Duo took the horses out here for exercise, and sometimes raced them, even though they weren't officially allowed to. Not by Howard or the park officials.

'Hey.' Trowa twisted around to look at his passenger. 'D'you mind if I let the horse go a bit faster? Just to stretch his legs?'

The blond head nodded, without looking up. So much for him needing quiet time to sort his life out; he was tapping away at a nifty little hand-held computer. Duo would have been drooling over it. Trowa didn't get why he hadn't just stayed in his hotel if he had to work.

People were weird, even the hot blond ones.

He gave Nash a wholly unnecessary tap with the whip, and the horse sprang forward. This early on a weekday, they had the road pretty much to themselves and Trowa gave Nash his head for a mile or so before pulling him up.

'Oh, that was fun!' Blondie had put the computer away, finally, or maybe it had fallen out. He didn't seem to care, either way. He looked amazing, leaning forward with an actual smile on those lush lips, and a delicious splash of bright colour on each cheek.

Who'd have thought it? Another speed freak.

'This is a lovely place.' He looked around, apparently charmed by the avenue of trees with branches meeting overhead. 'So green.'

Trowa grinned, guiding the carriage away from the main road down one of the smaller trails, giving Nash time to cool off. 'Yeah, people say that sometimes.' He pulled the horse to a halt. 'Here. You wanted somewhere quiet. This do?'

'It's perfect.' The blond took a deep breath, taking in his surroundings. Picture postcard pretty; with drifts of bluebells smothering the ground under the luxuriant chestnut trees. 'I can't believe there's somewhere like this right in the city.'

'Largest public park in any other European city,' Trowa said proudly and quite automatically, and just stopped himself in time from adding in all the bumf about how there was a zoo, and a city farm, and a herd of wild deer.

'Do you think I could get out and walk for a little while?'

'No problem. Have fun.'

Blondie gave him an odd little look, as if fun were some sort of alien concept and then jumped out without waiting for Trowa to set the carriage steps in place. He didn't actually go very far, just wandered over to the nearest stand of trees and sat on a log.

Trowa loosened Nash's girth, and gave him some water, and draped a blanket over him, and then found another blanket to sit on and got out his book. He had a meeting with his tutor scheduled for the end of the week, and was used to snatching odd moments between jobs to work.

'Um, excuse me?' A soft voice tore him away from Viking raids on Irish monasteries. 'I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I was just wondering what those blue flowers are called.'

'Bluebells,' Trowa put the book down.

'Bluebells,' Blondie repeated. 'They're beautiful.'

'Yeah. They're just wild flowers but I like them.' Trowa broke off one and handed it to him. 'Here, smell.'

Those blue eyes widened in pleasure; a few shades lighter than the flower in his hand. Fuck the stupid coachman fantasy. He had a whole new one; the blond naked and sprawled in a patch of bluebells.

Bad, bad thoughts.

Trowa carefully moved the book over his lap but Blondie was still happily flower-sniffing.

'Thank you for taking me here. I've never seen a place like this before.'

'They don't have parks where you come from?'

'Sanque,' he supplied. 'And, yes, of course there are parks. But they're all very formal. Even the flower beds are…regimented, I supposed.'

'Flowers planted by height and colour scheme?' Trowa grinned as the blond nodded, making a face. OK, they both liked horses and disliked overly formal landscapes.

'I've got a friend from Sanque,' Trowa said, since Blondie had started the conversation going, 'Never been there though.'

'It's not really a tourist destination.' He carefully tucked the flower into the top pocket of his jacket and Trowa suddenly realised he was shivering in his light fleece.

'Hey, sit down. I'll get you a blanket from the carriage. You should have said you were cold.'

'I'm fine.' He dropped down to sit cross-legged, and gave Trowa a grateful little smile as the tartan rug was draped over his shoulders. It was tempting to let his hands linger for a minute, making sure the rug was in place. Trowa resisted it.

'I thought it would be warmer in April.'

'Weather's a bit unpredictable here. You fancy a coffee?'

'I would,' Blondie informed him, apparently in all seriousness, 'sell my soul for some.'

Trowa laughed, rummaging under the carriage seat for his flask and an extra plastic beaker. 'I don't want your soul.'

The rest of you, sure.

Quatre had picked up his book by the time he got back. 'Is this is Irish? Gaelic, I mean?'

'That's right.' Trowa poured them both coffee. It probably wasn't what his blond companion was used to, given that he was staying in Dublin's most luxurious hotel, but he seemed happy enough with it. 'It's an account of a raid on an Irish monastery in Waterford. The original is in Latin, which was what all educated people wrote back then, but it's kind of cool reading in the language people actually spoke. '

'Are you studying history?'

'Part time, yeah. Ph.D.'

Blue eyes widened. Presumably, in wealthy Sanque, university students didn't have part time jobs. 'Wow. What are you going to do when you finish? Research or teaching?'

'No idea. I'm not sure if either of them really appeals that much.' He grinned at the look on the blond's face. 'I'm waiting to find something that really interests me.'

In the meantime, driving a carriage paid the rent and food bills; two nights a week playing the flute in a band provided money for treats, and at the end of the month he sometimes busked on Grafton Street or worked construction for a couple of days if things were tight.

The blue eyes, watching him as he said all that, were on the far side of incredulous.

'Goodness, I can't imagine living like that. Isn't it scary, not having a secure job?'

Trowa shrugged. 'I always have enough to get by. I can work extra hours if I need to buy something special. I've never really seen money as being the be all and end all.' Duo was the one who was determined to make his fortune; a result of his appallingly deprived childhood. 'What do you do?'

'Investment banking.'

Trowa tried to think of something positive to say about that and failed. He couldn't think of anything worse than being stuck in an office all day looking at numbers. 'I've probably just committed blasphemy by your standards then, saying money's not that important.'

'Not really. I like having security, but what I like about my job is the challenge. Finding the best opportunities for people's money.'

'Is that what you always wanted to be?'

Quatre grinned at him. 'Not exactly. I don't think anyone ever wants to be a banker as a child. But I'm good at maths, so I took a business degree, and then got offered a job in banking after I'd graduated.'

'You're happy with that?'

'Sometimes. Well, I used to be. I'm not sure any more; it was what all my friends did. What you were supposed to do.'

'More to life than work, though. I always think you should work to live, not live to work.' Trowa took a sip of blessed, life-enhancing coffee. There; something else they both evidently had in common; Blondie looked like his first sip was a religious experience.

'This is very good. Thank you, Howard.'

'Sorry? Oh, right. You saw the name on the carriage; Howard's my boss.'

'This isn't your own horse then?'

''Fraid not.' It was a typical tourist fantasy; they all imagined Trowa taking Nash home at the end of a long day to a pretty little cottage and probably snuggling up in bed. Reality was the cheap-as-piss flat he shared with Duo in Rathmines, Dublin's student ghetto.

'My name's Trowa.'

'I'm Quatre Raberba Winner.' He had one hand politely held out, like they were meeting at some sort of official reception.

'Nice to meet you, Quatre Raberba Winner.' He had cold hands, smaller than Trowa's. The nails looked liked they'd been professionally manicured, rather than bitten off if they got too long, and he surprisingly had a couple of calluses on the fingers of his right hand.

'You feeling better now?'

Blondie – no, Quatre – nodded. 'Yes, thank you. This is perfect. Just what I needed.'

'Everyone needs a bit of space sometimes, right? If you don't mind me saying, you looked pretty down earlier.'

'Yes. Well.' He gazed into the depths of the pink plastic cup in his hand. 'As you said, I needed a little bit of space. I do hope I wasn't rude to you; I just wasn't in the mood to talk.'

'You weren't rude. It was nice for me not having to do the whole touristy commentary. And you're on holiday; you should get to do just what you fancy.'

Or who.

Ahem.

'I'm not actually on holiday. I've moved here.' He looked as if he might burst into tears at the thought of it.

'Don't mind me saying, but you don't sound all that happy about it.'

'I'm not.'

'You can tell me about it, if you want.'

Quatre did a cute little thing where he shrugged and nodded and waggled the fingers of his free hand. 'Oh, I don't know. I just needed to leave Sanque, and this was the first job I was offered and I accepted without even thinking about it, and now I'm in a strange city where I don't know anybody and everything's different and I can't even understand people's accents half the time and I've left my family and friends behind and maybe it was all a huge mistake.'

'Well, you'll make friends when you start work, right?'

'I somehow doubt I'll be very popular at work. My new job will involve finding ways to cut costs; I'll probably have to make people redundant.'

'Ouch. Yeah, they'll hate you all right. So why did you leave Sanque?'

'My last relationship was an utter disaster and I just wanted to get away after we split up.'

'Ouch again.' Somewhere in the middle of all the angst and confusion and misery, Quatre pulled out a little smile. Good, he had a sense of humour. 'What did …they do?' he used the pronoun carefully. He was pretty sure, actually, that Quatre did swing his way; there'd been a couple of little covert glances in his direction when he thought Trowa wasn't looking. He wasn't 100% certain though, and it wouldn't do to insult a customer.

'He,' Quatre said defiantly, 'got engaged to my sister. As you say, Ouch.'

'Sorry. If it's any help, the guy's clearly insane to turn you down for a girl.'

'Thank you.' Quatre blushed faintly. 'I liked him rather a lot, unfortunately. Silly me.'

'Stupid him,' Trowa corrected. It sucked that Quatre had been hurt, but on the other hand, he was gay and available and even though he presumably wouldn't be rushing headlong into another relationship, Trowa could wait.

'You're better off without an asshole who'd treat you like Dublin's not the worst place. What sort of thing do you like doing, when you're not making money and firing people?'

'I don't make a habit of firing people!' Quatre snapped. He was cliché-cute when he got mad; .blue eyes blazing and lovely wild rose colour in his cheeks. Then he swallowed. 'Sorry, Trowa. I'm dreading the thought of having to do that to people, so it's a rather sensitive subject. What do I like doing? I read a lot and I and I love music.'

'D'you play?'

'Piano and violin.'

'I play the flute. I play trad sessions in a pub in Temple Bar a couple of nights a week. You could come along if you're interested. Bring your violin. It's most fiddly diddly stuff for tourists but it's fun, mostly. I can introduce you to some friends of mine. It'd get you out of your fancy hotel room for a few hours.'

'I'd really like that.' He looked absurdly touched by the invitation. 'You're right. I got here almost a week ago, and I've been pretty much locked up in my room. I do need to get out and meet people.'

'You need to eat too, right? Want to come and have dinner with me first?'

'That,' Quatre said happily, 'would be wonderful.'

'Ah, you do get this is a date, right?' Trowa checked, making sure. Duo was always saying he came across as far too subtle.

The blond laughed for the first time. 'Yes, I do get that, thank you. And I'd love to go out with you.'