Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Personal Ads ❯ One Tequila ( Chapter 1 )

Title: Personal Ads

Chapter: One :: Tequila

Author: Oriana

Date began/ended: 7/24/01 // in progress

Notes: *sweatdrops* I was bored?

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One tequila.

Two tequila.

Three Tequila.

"Four..." The young man wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and frowned at the slight aftertaste left from several previous nights of drinking. "Ugh..."

"You're wasted again, aren't you?" A pair of frustrated blue-green eyes glared down at him.

"So...?" He kicked his feet up on the coffee table and raised his gaze to the ceiling. Such interesting textures and bumps on this particular specimen of plaster. He'd have to check it out when he was more drunk...

A hand grabbed the bottle easily from his loose grip and tossed it out the window.

He heard the sound of shattering glass and bemoaned the loss of a good, good friend. Okay, so maybe he wouldn't be becoming more drunk... today at least. "Why'dya haf'ta go'n do that?" He whined, rubbing at his face with his hands.

"Because you need to get a life."

The boy lurched to his feet, swaying slightly. "And how would you suggest I do that? Quit drinking and shoot heroin?!" He griped, his speech suddenly clear as his temper rose.

"Don't act so stupid. I know you're not." The blond boy sighed and, shoving his hands in his pockets, walked out the door. "I'll be back later to check on you, Duo. I'm meeting Trowa for lunch."

Duo blinked. Lunch? It was lunch already? That meant he'd missed breakfast, not to mention dinner. His stomach growled it's agreement with his time assessment and he glanced around his apartment, seeing for the first time in months how run-down it had become as of late. //This is my place? It...doesn't look like it.//

He went to the bathroom and threw up, then splashed his face with cold water and wandered around the apartment, picking up some of the mess and tossing it under his bed. //My un-made bed...//

Duo sighed. "Maybe Quatre's right. Maybe I do need to get a life." His eye fell upon an old newpaper lying on his kitchen table and he picked it up, shaking it untill a section fell out. "Hunh. Single's ads. Sounds like something Quatre would do... better hide this." He shoved it into a cabinet under some dusty dishes and collapsed on the couch, falling asleep in seconds. His desire for food was completely forgotten as he dreamed up nightmarish ecounters with giant tequila bottles that chased him, yelling at him to save them from the dastardly death dealt by the numerous trips out the window...

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Quatre whistled happily as he made his way back to Duo's apartment hours later, though he was half expecting to find his friend three-quarter's of-a-way into another bottle of alchohol.... or keg, for that matter.

He pushed open the door, which he had left ajar on purpose, and was pleasantly, a bit, surprised to see Duo sprawled across the couch and snoring lightly. //He's going to be pretty hungry when he wakes up...// He realized, edging his way through the piles of dirty laundry and still unpacked boxes to the kitchen, where he opened the afore-mentioned cabinet and clucked his tongue at the clouds of dust that flew out at him.

"Ye gods... does he EVER clean?!" He muttered to himself, pulling the dishes out of the cabinet and setting them gently on the counter. "Never mind; he's probably been ordering takeout for the past...oh...since he moved in."

The scattered wooden chopsticks and pizza boxes were an open confirmation of his assumption.

He stood on his tiptoes and searched the nearly empty cabinet for some sort of food source, startled when he came across a crumpled mass of paper. He tugged it out and glanced at the date at the top -- nearly a month earlier. But what really caught his eye was the bottom section. "Personal Ads?" The blonde questioned aloud, raising an eyebrow.

"Never knew he was interested in that sort of thing..."

Quatre meeped quietly and turned around to see a familiar figure standing behind him. "Don't DO that!" He hissed from between his teeth, glaring at the banged teenager (1) furiously. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Trowa took the paper section from the smaller boy and glanced it over quickly. His eyebrows shot up as well. "Please... don't tell me you're thinking...what I think you're thinking." He shot a look over at the sleeping form on the couch. His eyes held a slightly pleading tone.

A mischevous grin crept across the blonde's face. "Who said I was thinking anything? Planning is more like it, actually..." He swept his hands in a wide arc. "I can see it now... 'slim, gorgeous brunette seeking a companion who can keep me on my toes and away from my booze'...well, maybe I should leave out the booze part. It might turn people off a bit..."

Trowa sighed. "I can see it in the headlines as well -- 'Furious teen maims young business man, Quatre Winner, and is locked in a mental asylum for his psychotic tendencies, which rear whenever someone waves a Miller Time ad in front of him.'"

The Arabian snickered softly behind his hand. "I always knew you had a flare for the dramatic, Tro."

His newly aqquired conspirator rolled his eyes. "I didn't make that up from pure fantasy, Quat. I'm a Psychology and Behaviorism major, remember?" He pointed out.

"Heh...right...but really, what harm would come of it? We put an ad in the paper for him, get a few responses, force him to go on a date with one or two of them, and that's that. If he meets someone, he meets someone. If he hates us for it, then it was all my idea. So, what do you say?" He bit his lip, gazing up at his partner.

"Well..." Trowa hesitated slightly, torn by indecision.

Quatre reached deep within himself and brought out his puppy-dog face, knowing that it would always work without fail.

Trowa's moral resolve crumbled completely. "Aw, come on, not the face....not the FACE!" He looked away in defeat. "When, where, what, how the hell do we keep him from figuring it out?"

The blonde grinned impishly and glomped the taller boy around the waist, snuggling against him happily. "Three hours from now, my place, pen and paper, just don't tell him. He never leaves his apartment anyways."

"You're sure?"

"Look at how pale his skin is! He looks like he's never seen daylight in his entire life!"

Trowa looked. "I never really noticed before."

Quatre gave a quick snort of laughter. "Observant to a fault."

"I hate it when you're sarcastic...I'll give you a wedgie..." His eyes sparked evilly. "Actually, I know a better way of making you not able to sit for a week or two..." Trowa ran a hand along his partner's back , trailing slowly down to brush against the small of his back and massaging gently there.

Quatre bit back a gasp of pleasure and glanced nervously over at the sleeping boy. "Let's continue this someone else... if he wakes up..."

The other winced. "You're right, there'll be no end to the ranting."

They made their way down the hallway and out the lobby to one of Quatre's many homes, groping and kissing all the way. Screw passerby!

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Quatre placed a chaste kiss on his lovers cheek and rolled out of bed, wrapping the sheet around his waist and dragging it with him.

"Unnhhh...." Trowa curled into a ball at the loss of warmth. "What the hell.."

"We came here for business, remember? The personal ad?"

His partner groaned and buried his head under a pillow. "What was that then, an appetizer?"

Quatre grinned. "Nope, just a prelude to later tonight."

"You'd better be uke again. My ass hurts."

"Don't worry, I'm getting tired of you squirming."

"You squirm more."

"Says who?"

"I think I have a pretty good perspective of it most of the time..." He flashed Quatre a rare grin and heaved himself out of bed.

"Hmm... you've got a point there..." He scooted over in the chair to make room for Trowa, pointing to the quick paragraph he'd just outlined.

---Young male, 17 years old, with gorgeous long golden-brown hair... seeks a loving companion who can balance out my exuberant personality and join me in pleasure and thrill- seeking. Females need not respond.---

Trowa poked his loved one and ran his finger over the last few words. "The rest sound's great, if not a little...over the top... but how do you know he's...?"

Quatre gave a dismissive wave. "Takes one to know one, ne, Trowa?"

He shrugged. "I guess..."

The Arabian gave an evil snicker. "That, and the fact that I went through his porn stash." He picked up the phone in the wake of his shell-shocked lover's tumble from the chair and dialed the local newspaper.

"Hello? Yes, I would like to run an ad in the Personal's section. What do you mean, there's no spaces left for the nest month?! Ma'am, this is Quatre Winner you're speaking to. I OWN your newspaper, if I recall correctly."

He paused as the editor checked his claim, then returned to his call, slightly subdued. He answered a few questions to prove his identity and then read her the ad, adding in his own post office box number in leiu of Duo's home address. "Allright; yes, that is all. Goodbye."

He looked down at Trowa, who was stil recovering from the shock. "It's all set up. Now, all we have to do it wait for a few people to answer it."

"Just a few?"

"Yes, a few. I mean, seriosuly, how many people read these ads anyways?"

TBC......