As the final cords of the violin fell away, the crowd jumped to its feet, cheering wildly in abandoned passion of the music rendered from Quatre's instrument. He bowed, smiling broadly at the crowd as he raised his hand to accept Trowa's in a final bow of soloists. He turned to Trowa, hugging his friend tightly out of more than just instrumental camaraderie.
The curtain dropped for a moment and then rose again to reveal the crowd, this time with the whole Sanc orchestra bowing gratefully.
Things happened quickly after that. Treize, Milliardo, his mother and Rashid came back to congratulate him, followed by a wave of woman otherwise known as his sisters. They hugged and kissed him, handing him more roses than he knew what to do with. And he hugged them all, kissing them in turn, and cooing wondrously at his nieces and nephews who insisted they too wanted to be great musicians like their Uncle Quatre.
They dinned that night in majesty back on Windemere estate with Hilde presiding over the Kosher cooking of all the foodstuffs. It was a wondrous night, filled with happy discussion and bouts of playful reminiscence.
In the end they learned that Quatrene, after ten years of mourning, was engaged to be wed to General Rashid, a man she'd been secretly dating since a year after their father's death.
It seemed that nothing could be as wonderfully happy as this moment, but a portion of it was very much a ruse. Three months after Quatre's discovery, two since Duke Dermail's mysterious death in a transport crash, Quatre was moving down the hallway to the left, to the room he'd been staying in since returning to the estate with Treize and Milliardo.
Both Milliardo and his husband had agreed that Quatre needed time after the things that had happened, but mostly to allow him to build back to the level of trust they'd shared before things with Dermail had taken place.
None of them expected it to take this long, least of all Quatre. But while soft and gentle touches had been acceptable, the more needy ones of passion threw him into memories he had no desire to relive. Those nights usually ended in tears for Quatre and mild frustration for his two lovers. But they were patient with him, and Quatre was sure that things would be alright soon. He was planning on taking a big step this very night in fact.
In his room, he slipped on the cream silk top he'd stolen from Milliardo the night before. Then, with nothing else to hinder the contact of lovers, Quatre walked back to his husband's door and knocked lightly.
Milliardo opened it, and upon seeing the determined look in Quatre's eyes, smiled brightly to him, as he took the slightly shaking hand and brought Quatre to be seated in Treize's lap.
Immediately, Treize nuzzled the skin below Quatre's ear, as Milliardo knelt to softly stroke Quatre's bare knee. "You were beautiful tonight, Angel. I told Milliardo that not a single person on the stage could compare to your beauty, and would you like to know what he told me?"
Quatre smiled as he looked down at his lover before nodding.
"He told me I had to say things like that, otherwise, Trowa might steal you away from me. I tried to explain that Trowa wasn't a likely threat considering his preference for rather dominate females, but Milliardo assured me, that I should continue to say such things to keep you happy. Are you happy, my Angel?"
Sighing, Quatre nodded before curling himself against Treize's chest. "I'm sorry this is taking so long."
"Don't say such things, Quatre, how many times do we have to tell you that?" This from an indignant Milliardo, who rose up to lay his head upon Quatre's knee. "These things require time and patience, and luckily for you, we have both in abundance." He sighed softly as Quatre ran his fingers through platinum hair.
"I wanted to come here tonight and get it over with once and for all, to try and pretend it never happened, but that doesn't seem like it's ever going to work."
"Quatre, you can't force this. When the time is right you'll come back to our bed, and until then, just be satisfied that you are in my arms, I am."
And with those words, Quatre knew what he had to say next, the thing he'd struggled with nearly a year now just to say in his own head. The moment was right, and even if nothing physical could come from the admission, there was time enough for that later. Besides, Quatre had a feeling that once they knew, and once he'd said it out loud, everything might just fall into place again.
"I love you, Treize. I love you, Milliardo."
"And we love you, Angel."
"Yes, Little One, love you very, very much."
And that night, though nothing happened, Quatre spent his first night's sleep in the oversized bed in over four months, wrapped warmly in silk and the arms of his husband and lover.