Title- Sick Days
Disclaimy- I don't own these Bishies. I'm merely using them for everyones -mostly mine- amusement.
Warnings- Hmm. It's just..weird?
Heero, as usual, was typing out his mission report. For once, Duo wasn't hovering and asking a million questions. His report finished, he saved it and clicked off his laptop. He stood, stretching briefly. That's when the room tilted slighlty. He grabbed for the table and missed, landing on the carpet. Rolling onto his back, he stared at the weaving ceiling. He frowned slightly. He already knew he wasn't sick. Heero Yuy never got sick. He sat up, ignoring the tilting sensation. Maybe it was a drug. He blicked away the blackness that threatened to overtake his sight. He stood, stumbling a little. Somehow, he reached the door and struggled with the doorknob. When it finally twisted open, he fell through the open door way. He barely managed to stay on his feet. He knew where the bathroom was. There had to be some type of anitdote for whatever drug was in his system. He tried to ignore the fact that the carpet kept trying to grab his feet and trip him.

Luckily, the bathroom door was wide open. He staggered in, grabbing the counter to keep from falling. He glared at the boy in the mirror. He fumbled with the medicine cabnit, managing to pull it open. Bottles and more bottles. He grabbed a random bottle and tried to read the squirming print. He made out only one word. 'anti-'. With a shrugg, he struggled with the top of the bottle. When it was ripped off, he shook a few pills into his hand. And swallowed them dry. Then he stumbled back to his room.

Twenty Minutes Later

Heero giggled, studing his work. A statue of Wing, made from flour and water, stood proudly on the table. He frowned, noticing that something was missing. His eyes lit up. Explosion type stuff. With a mad grin, he ran to Duo's room. Of course, the door was locked. As if that would stop him. He pulled his gun out and shot the door knob. It fell and landed dejectedly on the carpet. He glared at the carpet, daring it to try and grab him. Satisfied that the carpet was cowed by his glare, he stepped into Duo's room. After rummaging for a good two minutes, he found supplies for bombs. He left the room, his prizes in his arms.
When he got back to the kitchen, he dumped the bomb supplies on a counter. With a cheerful whistle, he went to work. Within minutes, a few bombs were built. He looked at his beautiful creation. To have a really good explosion, one needed enemies. And his enemies were OZ. And being that none were around, he'd have to make some. He checked the flour bin. Empty. He frowned. His two foot Wing didn't take up that much flour! Then he glanced around the kitchen. Which was covered in white. Oh..right. He wanted snow, but it was too hot for that. He hunted around, finding some boxes of potato flakes. Made with real imatation potatoes. He began preparing the mold for the OZ. When he was done, all boxes were empty. As least four OZ mobile dolls now surrounded his creation. With a crazy-like chuckle, he carefully pushed a small detonator into each of the potato dolls. With a cheerful whistle, he backed away from the soon-to-be-carnage scene. He pushed the detonator. And was immediatlly covered with potato doll and flour Wing debris. His poor Wing! Completely destroyed by those Dolls! With a sad sigh, he trudged back to his room and took a shower, then went to bed.

When Duo and Quatre entered the kitchen to cook supper, they stopped dead in their tracks. Judging from the slight scorch marks, something had exploded. Which didn't explain the white goop which covered the walls, ceiling and floor. "M-my kitchen," Quatre moaned. He looked at Duo. Duo blinked. "I don't wanna know.." Quatre nodded and called out for pizza.