Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ A Simple Tale of "Doing him" ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I won't insult your intelligence, you know the score.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mild use of foul Language.

Notes: Another character thing, I want to work on Heero and Wufei being less than a machine and The CHINESE One. I know I have an unfortunate habit of just making Wufei all angry and/or sage and wise. As with the previous story, A Subtle Way of “Doing Him”, this is set comfortably after the Mariemaia wars. I know I mention some modern day things, but I figure some things never go out of style. The Enquirer is a rag; Heero's attachment to it is in fact a true story from my own life. My mum really did have to drag me from the supermarket because the headliner story of “FBI plot to Steal Elvis' body from grave” nearly killed me, I was laughing so hard.

Synopsis: Trowa likes making things too hard to do.

Category: Mild shounen-ai (boy's love) at the most. Vague humour. A little well-meant fandom bashing.

 

Definitions:

Do Him/Her. [Emphasis on “do”. Doooo hi'm/h'er]

The encouragement of obeying apparent sexual desire. To skip over senseless/over elaborate romantic gestures/setting and head straight into HAWT sexual relations. Often used by yaoi/yuri fangirls, annoyed by elaborate angst riddled plots, when the obvious answer to all characters' problems would be a good session engaged in sexual activity. 1. Just DO him. 2. Will you get over yourself, and DO her! 3. You should tie him up and DO him!

 

A Simple Tale of “Doing Him”

By Doctor Megalomania

 

It came out of the blue really.

“Geeze, Louise, you're annoying. Listen, just … tie him up and do him.”

He felt his ears start to burn and he looked at Duo with wide eyes and a shocked expression. “… I … I-I beg your pardon?”

Duo flicked his eyes over his newspaper, before returning his gaze to the text. “I said,” the other man spoke in a bored tone, “Just tie him up and do him.”

“Do who?” He flushed, and then cringed as Duo levelled a knowing violet gaze at him. Trowa's shoulders slumped, knowing he'd been caught out. “It's not that simple.”

“Of course it is.” Duo replied distracted, turning a page. “You just get some rope and then…”

“Duo, I'm not tying Quatre up.” He swallowed, drew a deep breath and turned his attention back to the television. The news was on, and it was covering some in-depth report about Quatre's charity efforts on one of the L3 colonies. “I meant it's not that simple just to get to Quatre like that…”

“Why not?” This said with some mild curiosity, as Duo's eyes roved the latest reports in “The Enquirer” rag of a newspaper. On the front page, the headlines screamed about some Ex-Alliance plot to steal Elvis' body. Duo was lounging around Heero's living room as if he owned it. Trowa had been living here for two weeks and he still felt like a nervous guest. Heero had an order to things which Trowa was only just adapting to. However, from what he could tell, Duo just arrived when he felt like it and `lounged'. There was really no better way of describing it.

The former Deathscythe pilot had followed them back to Heero's place after a particularly gruelling day's work - Trowa had been training, Heero and Duo had been called out on a random sniper attack. They'd come back with burn marks and ash in their hair from where the car they'd been taking cover behind had exploded.

Now - while Heero showered - Duo was lounging. He'd removed his dirty jacket and slung it over the back of a kitchen chair before moving on to raid Heero's fridge. Balancing a cold beer on his forehead, Duo returned from the kitchen with cold Chinese take out (which still had Wufei's green post-it: “Leave this ALONE, Maxwell.”) in one hand, and a slice of the pizza from two nights previously in the other.

Without much of a thought, he'd demolished Wufei's leftover chow-mein and chewed on the pizza slice whilst flicking through “The Enquirer”. Heero was nuts for the tabloid newspaper. Trowa had never seen Heero laugh so much in public, as when he picked up the rag newspaper. He'd pick it up at the door and read it as he walked around putting things into the trolley. Wufei had had to drag Heero out of the supermarket when he started to hyperventilate.

“You're avoiding the question, Trowa.” Duo flicked over another page, his eyebrows rising in a vaguely surprised expression as he tilted the paper slightly. He muttered distractedly, “No way… get out of here! She couldn't fit into that…”

“What question?” Trowa brought his feet up into the armchair and wrapped his arms around his knees. Duo flicked a glance in the direction of the television, and Trowa watched the screen as Quatre took the podium from some elderly, blue-rinse woman. The camera cut in close to capture Quatre's light blush as the gathered conference jumped to their feet to applaud him even before he'd begun his speech. Quatre could bring that out in people, they wanted to follow him even before they'd heard what he was about. Trowa knew what that felt like.

“Why is it not as simple as that?” Duo sucked on a tooth for a moment, before continuing, “No, let me guess. The problem is that you are a lowly, poor clown who has been living out of a trailer for the past four years, you have nothing to give him … and he is a mega-rich CEO of a multi-billion corporation, he wants for nothing. It's your classic tale of the Rich/Poor divide.” Duo tilted the rag newspaper up right again, before flicking a knowing look at Trowa, “I'd act soon if I were you; this is just about the point where the mega-rich evil suitor approaches the mega-rich protagonist, and then you'll have to endure the whole second act being utterly despondent, while this utter bastard - you know, it's probably gonna be Zechs - wines and dines your beloved Quatre - who secretly would be pining for you the entire time.”

Trowa frowned sourly. “Please.”

“No?” Duo sniffed and plucked his beer up from the floor. He took a sip from it, before setting it down again. “Hmm, let's see…” He shuffled to get comfortable, tilting one way to grab the loose change out of his back pocket, then the other to swing his feet up and over the back of the sofa. Once he was comfortable - feet over the back of the sofa, braid spilling over the armrest and upside-down gaze focused on the screen in front of him - Duo tried again; “Ummm … Your secret past of being molested by evil mercs makes you too impure …and then… you're…”

He trailed off briefly to concentrate on toeing off his boots.

“No … where was I? Yes, too impure for the naïve, young, innocent Quatre who has barely seen the sun for his family have kept him locked up from the hideous real world…” Duo raised a virtuous finger in the air and wagged it at Trowa, “I'd wait a while if I was you, this is just about the point where the innocent one accidentally discovers that his damaged love one is hiding something and this leads to all kinds of bizarre misunderstandings, until the point the innocent one - thinking that the damaged love doesn't love him anymore - makes an ultimatum.” He flicked over a page in the newspaper, “Whatever you choose, don't choose the option which involves your past remaining a secret. Never works.”

Trowa stared at him for a long moment, before asking, “… what?”

“Wrong again, huh?” Duo chuckled lowly, “Okay, I'll get serious. Quatre's too weak, too soft to understand the violence of your passionate feelings… You're afraid you might break him. You can barely hold yourself back when you're around him, you're obsessed! You want to protect him from everything. He's just not strong enough to handle the real world like you know it, his `SpaceHeart' is always too open to people. You'll risk your job, your reputation, your very life to protect him from what you perceive to be the ultimate threat - some ex-lover who's become just as obsessed with Quatre as you have. Of course, at this point nobody suspects anything but in about a month or so, Heero's going to be clearing out a cupboard and finds your really spooky shrine to Quatre. Then we're going to notice that you've gotten really paranoid about Quatre's safety…” Duo dropped the magazine on the floor, and folded his hands behind his head, “I'd be checking out Quatre's new staff if I were you, you never know when those obsessed ex-lovers will come back…”

“Quatre's perfectly capable of protecting himself.” Trowa looked partly bemused. “You were there when that idiot in the bar knocked Quatre's drink over and called him a motherfucker… You help me pull him off that twat.”

“Hmmm… yes, I do recall …”

“I don't know where you're going with this—”

“Dominatrix! You spotted Quatre visiting a gay bar and saw him transformed into this incredible dominatrix! Now you don't know how to approach him without losing the chance to be his bitch!” Duo smirked and winked saucily at Trowa, “If I were you, I'd tie myself up and leave myself wearing nothing but a big red bow tied around my cock.”

“NO!” Trowa was horrified now. “It's nothing like that!”

“Fine… YOU'RE the dominant one, and you're just waiting for that special shipment of rope—”

“You're insane!” Trowa's ears began to burn again and he brought his hand up tug nervously at his piercing. “Fucking hell, Duo! Let this go.”

“Am I really?” Duo tilted his head and blinked blandly.

It took a moment for Trowa to calm down enough to register the sudden change in discussion. “What?”

“Insane? Am I really insane?”

Trowa nodded his head disbelievingly, “Yes. I really think you are.”

“Oh.” Duo sniffed and licked his lips, “You know this could mean it's a `my best-friend is actually a psycho' plot. If I were you, I'd check where Wufei is right now. Because you know, I could have been sent here to distract you from thinking about Quatre and Wufei's locations. He's probably out stalking Quatre right now…” Duo's eyes widened comically, “Maybe he's the one who's insanely obsessed with Quatre. It started out as a mere admiration during the war, but has turned into something massive. Now, Wufei MUST know where he is all the time. It'll be you who finds the secret shrine one day while cleaning out the freezer.” Duo kicked himself over and sat up, suddenly excited about it. “Oh my god! Then, just as you close the diary in which Wufei has been detailing all his plans for Quatre's corpse, you hear a scrapping noise. You turn and there's WUFEI!”

Duo jumped up and rolled up the newspaper, to hold the tube loosely in his right hand as he slumped as if he were a puppet with a few strings cut. He widened his eyes and adopted a blank, mad stare.

“Tro-waahhh…” Duo began, his voice adopting a raspy quality. He snapped up his left arm to point at Trowa. “You dare to defile my shrine to my beloved Quatre…” Duo straightened suddenly and quickly pushed his fringe to flop over one eye. “Wu-Wufei! You'll say, like this, yeah? Wu-wufei! I… I didn't hear you come in… I… Wufei…” Duo skipped over into his `Mad-Wufei' pose and resumed the narrative, “And he'll be like Pyramid Head from Silent Hill, and just bring up his sword…” Duo raised the rolled up newspaper above his head, his voice rasping; “Tro-waaaah!! NOW YOU MUST DIE FOR THIS DISHONOUR!! RAAAGGHHHHHHH!!”

As Duo staggered forward to bring the newspaper down on Trowa's head, the bathroom door snapped open and a soggy Heero ran out, clutching a towel around his waist. “What the hell, Duo!?”

Duo paused perfectly, the rolled up newspaper just five centimetres above Trowa's head. “What?” He asked blandly, as if he wasn't pretending to be a crazed Wufei on the verge of attacking Trowa.

Heero looked from Trowa, to Duo and finally settled on the rolled up newspaper. Whatever he was about to say was lost as Duo shifted his fingers to unroll the newspaper without letting it go. Heero tilted his head to read the headline and all chance Trowa had of rescue went out the window as Heero snorted and turned back to the shower, chuckling over the Alliance's plot to steal Elvis' body.

Trowa stared at the bathroom door long after it closed, before turning to look up at Duo. The long haired former pilot was flicking idly through the newspaper. Duo was scratching his nose and nodded slightly. He hummed in a `is that so?' manner, before turning his attention to Trowa.

“So, which is it?”

Trowa blinked dumbly for a moment, before snapping his mouth shut. “You seem to think that this… thing between me and Quatre is just some kind of …” His expression soured again, “Some kind of tragic romance novel…”

“I love those.” Duo said quite seriously, swooping over grab his beer.

“I know. I've seen the bookcase in your bedroom.” Trowa rose from his seat gracefully and moved toward the kitchen. He was rather thankful when Duo didn't follow him. Trowa fixed himself a sandwich and decided to eat it, sulking silently against the breakfast counter. Duo was always so confident that things were really simple. However, in this case; it wasn't. Quatre was just so… unaware sometimes. They went to dinner, they went to the movies, Quatre stayed over at his trailer when visiting, and Trowa had made a real effort to spend the nights talking. Whenever he went to Quatre's apartment with the other guys, Trowa as always the last to leave. Quatre just seem utterly unaware of the longing looks, the lingering touches and the humbling admissions which Quatre always took in but never really understood.

`You're more important to me than the circus.' Trowa once stated when Quatre was apologising for calling him in the middle of a performance.

`I'll do anything for you.' Once whispered during a very important function, when Quatre's usual bodyguard had to be rapidly replaced.

`You're handsome.' Muttered over dinner, when Quatre bewailed the hazards of being voted one of the top fifty most eligible bachelors in the colonies.

Most revealing was `I love you, you're my best friend.' This had been when Quatre was breaking down after his car had broken down. They were stuck, on the side of the road for six hours after Quatre had wanted to take his brand new convertible for a spin. It was raining hard, and the roof had been leaking. Quatre was in pieces, the stresses of his life driving him down, and then this one moment of freedom was marred by a busted engine. Trowa had comforted him, until Quatre finally poured out all his woes. Trowa avidly remember the feel of Quatre's damp hair under his chin. The smell of rain and his cologne tickling Trowa's nose, his pale hands fisted in the dark green sweater Trowa had worn `for old time's sake' (Quatre had even made an effort to wear his pink shirt and goggles. His light blush and brilliant grin was the best thing about the day.).

Trowa bit down hard on his sandwich and tore a large chunk from it, chewing determinedly. Every time he screwed up enough courage to talk to Quatre, the little blonde scatterbrain would either misunderstand his intentions or something as equally daft. Quatre Raberba Winner was a bloody puzzle sometimes, simultaneously bright and sharp yet at the same time as unaware and oblivious. Trowa sighed.

“Are you going to get out of my way or do I need to go get the crowbar again?” Heero suddenly said, and Trowa blinked out of his thoughts. Heero was stood in front of him, towel draped over his bare shoulders. A quick glance at the clock above the fridge revealed that he'd been standing there contemplating his puzzle for an hour. Trowa shuffled out of the way, while Heero leant into the cupboard behind him to get at the coffee.

Duo was sat at the small breakfast table, now pouring over a glossy magazine and chewing thoughtfully on a slice of pizza. He flicked a glance in Trowa's direction and smiled slightly as if he knew perfectly what Trowa had been thinking about. Trowa felt a flush come over him, and bit into his sandwich hard. He was supposed to be the ice cold one, the one whose expressions were impenetrable and yet Duo seemed completely able to get what he was thinking about without a word.

This of course led him into thinking, why couldn't Quatre just get him like that?

If Quatre would just get that Trowa wanted to be with him, then Trowa wouldn't have to spend so much time devoted to working up the courage to talk to him and spend so long trying to word things in a way that wasn't just so… subtle. Trowa sighed again.

Duo chuckled quietly as Heero made himself busy with looking for food. “If you don't get that off your chest soon, you'll be crushed.”

Trowa was about to respond when Heero called from the depths of the fridge, “Hey Maxwell, where's Wufei's leftovers?”

“I ate it.” Duo replied as if this was glaring obvious.

Heero grunted and looked over the fridge door at him, “I was going to eat it.”

“Meh.” Duo shrugged, flicking over the page of his magazine. “So eat the pizza.”

Heero moved so he could lean his elbow on the door and held up an empty pizza box, asking dryly. “What pizza?”

“So, cook something up. God, do I have to think of everything here?” Duo continued blithely. “You hungry, Trowa?”

Trowa finished off his sandwich and nodded, “I could go for some home cooking.”

“That's a good idea. Yo, Yuy, you could make us that crazy stir-fry noodle thing that Wufei's always complaining about. You've got some spring onions and chicken in the bottom drawer of the fridge.” Duo smiled brightly, and looked over at Heero. The former Wing pilot had dumped the pizza box on the counter and was reaching into the tumble dryer for the fresh clothing. He held up one of Duo's preventer jackets with a look of annoyance before dropping it into the basket and reaching in again.

“You know,” Heero grunted as he pulled more clothes out, “It occurs to me, Maxwell, that you don't even live here and yet… I find your crap in my tumble dryer, and you know more about my fridge than I do.”

“Hey, I can't help I'm observant.”

Chucking the damp towel into the tumble dryer, Heero picked out a vest and pulled it on before hauling up the wash basket. He paused by the table and shifted the basket onto a hip while curling his finger and picking up a pair of black boxers. The smiling face of Jack from The Nightmare before Christmas beamed at the pair seated. “And that explains your pants in with my gym shorts, how?” Duo beamed at Heero brightly, until the other former pilot huffed and carried the basket out of the room. “Start cutting up the spring onions already, you slacker!”

With another low chuckle, Duo slipped from his seat and moved over to the fridge. Trowa watched this all with a bemused look, “How do you do it?”

Duo paused with a cleaver raised high above his head and looked over, “What?”

“Get Heero to just be so… normal?”

Violet eyes flicked upward for a moment, as Duo thought. The long haired man shrugged and brought the cleaver down on the spring onions with a disturbing dull thunk. “Trade secret,” Duo shrugged again and looked at Trowa apologetically, motioning the clown with the blade. “I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.”

“Hey, Yuy! It's me!” Wufei shouted and the front door slammed shut. “I brought beer!”

“Hi honey!” Duo chimed back at him, “How was your day?”

“Maxwell? Goddamnit, that's it, we're charging you rent!”

Heero piped up from the master bedroom, “Hey, this is MY apartment, don't you charge him rent without consulting me, Chang, you don't even live here!”

“At least I bring beer with me; all he does is slack about on your sofa and reads your … HEY! Which one of you bastards ate my Chinese?!”

“It was Maxwell!”

“Maxwell, you fucker! I was going to eat that!”

Duo's head snapped around, “Hey Yuy, what happened to the old loyalties?! You're only mad that I got to it before you did!”

Trowa watched as the long hair pilot stepped out of the room to go confront both Wufei and Heero. Shaking his head, he went to the chopping board and continued what Duo had started. He glanced over at the magazine that Duo'd been reading. It was open to a double page spread all about Quatre being voted the most influential business man of L4 again. The article spoke about the young man's busy lifestyle and in the interview, Quatre had easily avoided all questions about his personal life. Trowa sighed, Quatre was his best friend. Perhaps, they were never meant to be.

“Are you sighing over Winner again?”

Wufei's voice startled Trowa, and he turned to see the other pulling his hair tie loose. The Chinese man loosened his tie, and slung his Preventers jacket over the back of the chair. He sat down and rested his hand on his chin as he started shuffling through the mass of magazines Heero had collecting on the table. Wufei looked at Trowa expectantly, as the former clown returned to his chopping.

“Is it that obvious?”

Wufei snorted behind him, the chair scrapping as he got up and put the kettle on. “Not unless you're looking for it. Maxwell told me.”

“That son of a bitch.”

There was another snort, and the sound of Wufei making up a round of coffees. “Yeah.” Wufei replied, “We can only assume.”

Duo sailed back into the room, nonchalantly wearing his black boxers on his head with his braid pulled though one of the leg holes. He had Wufei's six-pack in one hand, and a fistful of several pairs of tight, white y-fronts in the other. He shoved both into the fridge before pulling out the packet of chicken. “So, when are you going to do him?”

“Do who?”

“We already had that conversation, Barton.” Duo plucked out the wickedest knife he could find in Heero's cutlery draw and attacked the chicken. Wufei set a coffee by him and one by Trowa before taking Heero's cup and his own back to the table. Once settled, Wufei started reading quietly. Duo continued, “So?”

“God, I don't know.” Trowa brought the cleaver down with a satisfying snap. “It's hard enough to tell him I'm his friend, let alone get the chance to talk to him about my feelings.”

“Why don't you just tie him up and do him?” Wufei asked distractedly before looking up and smacking himself in the forehead, “Shit. Maxwell, I order you to stop hanging out with me so much.”

“Hey, maybe you think you spend too much hanging out with me?”

“Maybe both you slackers spend way too much time at my apartment.” Heero complained as he came back, “Maxwell, where's my pants?”

“In the fridge. Coffee's on the table.” Wufei shifted in his seat to cross his legs on the table, getting deeply engrossed in the magazine he was reading. “Who's the slacker here? I swear you said these magazines were only going to be on the table for an hour. They're still here three weeks later.”

“You come in and out of my place all the time, why don't you take them? I swear only you and Maxwell read them.”

“Yeah, right. Says the man who nearly had heart attack reading The Enquirer.”

“Anyway, what are we talking about?” Heero reached into the fridge and pulled out his y-fronts. He looked around for a place to put them, before shrugging and putting them in a pocket. He moved over to the rack and pulled off the wok.

“Ooooh,” Duo cooed by the sink, washing his hands. The chicken was in a neat little pile in the middle of the chopping board. “Nice subject change there, Yuy. Really smooth and subtle. We're talking about the Barton/Winner OTP problem.”

“OTP?” Heero paused with the wok and stared at Duo, expecting an explanation.

Duo nodded sagely as he moved past Heero to grab the spices, “O. T. P.”

Heero rolled his eyes, and glanced over at Trowa. “I assume this has something to do with your thing for Winner.”

“It's not just a thing!” Trowa found himself protesting. “It's… it's…”

“It's OTP.” Duo set the spices down and reached for the oil. “Sheesh, Yuy, man, get with the program.”

“What the hell is OTP, Maxwell?” Heero complained, as he started the hob. He paced over to Wufei and smacked his hand against Wufei's feet. “Get out of it”. He sipped on his coffee and slipped into the seat opposite. Wufei threw him a sour look, before dropping his feet and looked around.

“What are we eating?”

“He's making that noodle thing you hate.” Duo threw over his shoulder, dropping the chicken into the wok. He started stirring the meat quickly, “Why not just call him tonight and tell him?”

“What am I supposed to eat?” Wufei glared at Heero, “I bloody hate that thing. You always cook the noodles for too long!”

Trowa passed over the spring onions and got onto chopping up the carrots finely. “I can't just call him out of the blue.”

“Hey, what do I care?” Heero sipped his coffee and shrugged, “Go fend for yourself, slacker.”

“Why the hell not?” Duo called over the steaming pan. He turned to Trowa and waved the wooden spoon at him, “You just call him and tell him that you need to confess something to him.”

“Is slacker your word for the week, or something Yuy?” Wufei rolled up his magazine and smacked Heero lightly on the head, “Son of a bitch, after all that trouble I went through today for you!”

“Because that would not only worry him unnecessarily, but what if he's really busy right now?”

“At four in the morning? Quatre's busy on L4, but I don't think he's that busy.” Heero added raising his hand to catch the magazine, “Cut that out Chang. There's some pasta in the cupboard, you can make that up.”

“It's only ten past seven, Heero.” Duo replied distractedly, as he flicked open the soy sauce.

“Time difference to L4.” Wufei muttered sourly, pulling half-heartedly at the magazine Heero refused to let go of. “At least can we leave out the mushrooms, you never leave any flavour in them.”

“I do too.” Heero argued, “I can't help it if you like your food still breathing.”

“It's called `cooked', Heero, people do that to food.”

Trowa shook his head as the pair continued to argue on, he moved to join Duo over by the wok. “It's just not as simple as your romance novels, Duo.”

“It seems to me,” Duo replied softly, “That you're making this much harder than it needs to be.”

“Quatre just doesn't get it. I've told him that I love him, I've told him how much he means to me but every time it's like …” Trowa paused, handing the spices to Duo, “It's like he's just completely blind to anything more than friendship from me.”

“Maybe he's just playing it safe,” Duo glanced at Trowa, “You consider that he might be just really too nervous? Maybe that he thinks his space-heart-empathy-whatchamacallit might be a little too hopeful, so he's just playing low key and safe with you?”

“I doubt it.”

Duo smiled as he jabbed at the stir-fry gently, turning down the heat. “Are you really so utterly sure of his heart?”

“Fairly so. I can't talk to him; he just won't let me in.”

“Fine,” Duo stepped away from the cooker, as Heero stood to take over. Wufei followed him to continue their argument. Duo slid into Wufei's abandoned seat, while Trowa picked up their coffees and slid into Heero's abandoned seat. Duo finished off his cooling coffee quickly, before leaning forward and putting his chin onto his interlocked knuckles. “Tell you what. If I can get Quatre to ask you out for dinner, will you quit this moping around and actually tell him about your thing?”

Trowa snorted in surprise and coughed on the coffee in his throat. Wufei absently moved to stand behind him and patted him on the back until Trowa could breath normally again. Wufei leant into the fridge and snorted with disgust. He pulled out two beers and a missed pair of y-fronts. Without another word he put the clean pair of pants on Heero's head, and complained about the amount of soy sauce Heero was dumping on the chicken.

Childishly, of course, Heero glared at Wufei and started to shake out more sauce.

Duo chuckled at their antics before looking back at Trowa, “You ok?”

“Yeah…” Trowa coughed once more, and looked at Duo incredulously, “Quatre Raberba Winner is an unsolvable puzzle, and I've been trying for the past four years to get him to get me. He's not that simple!”

“But let's say I get him to call you and ask you out to dinner, would you tell him?”

Trowa narrowed his eyes at Duo, who narrowed violet eyes back at him with an evil smirk growing on his features. Wufei lowered his beer and wiped his lips with the back of his hand, “I know that look. Barton, I cannot in good consciousness advise you to continue your conversation with the devil.”

“What the hell, Duo?” Heero looked over his shoulder, “This had better not involve my apartment again.”

“This is nothing to do with anyone other than my main man, Trowa, here.” Duo continued to grin at Trowa, his violet eyes fixed on the taller man, “Do we have a deal?”

“Don't do it, Barton, what ever he's selling you, you'll pay for it with your soul!” Wufei jumped up onto the counter beside the cooker and sipped from his beer again. “You'll regret it for the rest of your life and don't you ever come crying to me!”

“Oh,” Duo tilted his head at Wufei, “So you don't want the Barton/Winner OTP problem to be resolved then?”

“What?” Wufei blinked, and then glared at Barton, “What are you looking at me for? Where ever you need to sign, do it and do it now! I'm getting really sick of you sitting in the lazy boy and sighing every time Winner crosses your mind.”

“It's my lazy boy,” Heero jabbed the clean end of the wooden spoon into Wufei's arm, “And if he wants to mope over Winner in MY lazy boy, he can.”

Wufei glared at him.

Heero shrugged, “He pays rent and buys food for the house, unlike you two slackers.”

“You call me a slacker again, and I swear I'm going to smack you.” Wufei growled at him, bringing his feet up to sit cross legged on the counter.

Heero turned his head, and looked Wufei up and down before replying, “Get your bony ass off my counter, Chang, and set the table.”

“So what about it, Trowa?”

“If you can get Quatre to call me, and ask me to dinner, then I'll tell him.” Trowa smirked, “So… I can expect this phone call when I'm dead and buried, huh?”

“You can expect it the next time he comes to visit me, I'll solve your puzzle, Trowa, and then you'll stop moping in the lazy boy.”

Trowa chuckled and shook his head, “I doubt it.”

Duo merely smiled.

 

 

“Trowa, wait! Phone!”

Heero waved at him from the lazy boy, stopping him just as he was about to pull on his jacket. Trowa frowned as he stepped closer; Heero had a smug smile on his lips as he signed off from the phone. “Tell Duo to bring some beer. Come around five, I'll order some take away.” Heero stood and dug into his back pocket to retrieve his mobile phone. “Has anyone phoned Wufei yet?”

As he listened to the other person, he began to thumb through the menu on his phone. “I'll do it now, here's Trowa.” He handed over the phone to Trowa and walked away. Trowa sighed, and lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Trowa, uh, hi!”

His voice warmed instantly as he realised with some shock who was speaking, “Quatre!” he scrambled for something to say, “I haven't heard from you for ages, what's the occasion?”

“Well, I-I was thinking…” Quatre paused, uncharacteristically flustered, “I was thinking about dinner.”

Trowa felt his eyes widened and his mouth fall open. In front of him, Heero was glancing over at him absently. A slight frown formed on his face as he stepped closer.

“And if maybe you wanted to go out with me…” Quatre paused for a heart beat, seemingly waiting for his response before barrelling on ahead. “… to visit an old friend of mine, he's just opened up a new restaurant in town and …”

Heero reached over and poked Trowa, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Dinner sounds fine, Quatre.”

“Really?” Quatre sounded surprised, as if he wasn't expecting the positive response. Trowa smiled warmly to himself. Quatre wasn't the only one who was pleasantly surprised.

“Really. I'd like the chance to catch up with you.” Trowa chuckled quietly, “It always seems like you're tied up with something important…”

“You could say it was something like that. Duo already chewed me out for being off planet for three weeks.” Quatre replied dolefully, he brightened as he continued, “Let's decide something tonight.”

“I'll follow your lead.” Trowa said, ruefully bemused, “And tell Duo `thanks'.”

“For chewing me out? Trowa!” Quatre argued and whinged, “You're meant to be on my side!”

“I am.” Trowa replied quietly, “Duo helped me out earlier; I've just gained the results.”

“Oh…” His voice sounded a bit distant, and Trowa assumed the blonde was turning his head to talk to Duo. “Trowa says `thanks'.”

“Tell him, no problem, I like puzzles.” Duo's voice sounded quietly in the background, and Trowa wondered if the other was standing there with a smug look on his face.

“You hear that?” Quatre asked, returning his attention to the phone conversation.

“Yeah, see you tonight?”

Heero tugged at his sleeve, “Wufei'll be over at four to help clean up the place, he's bringing that damned game again along with the usual.”

Trowa nodded as he relayed this on to Quatre, “Wufei says he's bringing Trivial Pursuit and beer, he wants revenge. See you tonight then? I'll check when I'm free for dinner.”

“Yeah,” Quatre's voice was so warm and happy, that Trowa was reluctant to hang up the phone. He shook his head, as he put the phone back in the cradle, and turned to go out again. Heero resumed his place on the lazy boy, his laptop perched on his lap.

“Seems to me you owe Duo a drink in the very least.” Heero called as Trowa slipped on his shoes, “Don't forget the milk.”

Trowa shook his head, and laughed. He looked over to Heero; the other's fingers flew over the keyboard. “I think I'll owe him more than that.” He tilted his head and stared until Heero returned his look.

“What?”

“So, when are you going to tell Duo about your… thing for him?”

Heero returned his attention to his laptop and resumed his typing, “He's so proud about hooking people up with their one true love, let him figure it out.”

Trowa left Heero behind, smirking.

 

 

 

A good storyteller always leaves them wanting more.