By: Lyssira Miokki
Disclaimer: Not mine. -_-
Warnings: yaoi, of course, possible sap, possible citrus, humor-no duh-, major OOC but that's not the point, relena bashing, dorothy bashing, crossdressing and general silliness.
Pairings: 1+2 3x4/4x3
Rating: PG-13....I think
Up in his rose colored, velvet lined balcony, Treize Kushrenada suppressed a sigh. These competitions never started on time. There was always the odd contestant who snapped an ankle or went into a seizure or began frothing at the mouth. And the paramedics always took years to get there and deal with the situation. When Romefellar ruled the world, he would certainly have to do something about that. Until then, there was always patience....and the contraband porn magazine he'd managed to sneak in that morning. Treize fumbled under his seat for a few moments, trying to capture the mass of indecent and suggestive pictures.
He didn't get much of a look though, fortunately or unfortunately, because at that moment, the announcer walked on stage, in the bright glare of the spotlight, signaling that the show would start.
Backstage, Wufei glared daggers at Relena from behind a large, ornate Chinese fan. She ignored him of course, all her attention focused on two points in the world. Herself and Heero. Certainly, somewhere, she was idly listening to the announcer drone on about the prestige of the pageant. Mostly though all gray matter was concentrating on a catching a certain pair of Prussian blue eyes, with her...plummeting neckline. (^_^0) This was a futile effort, not only because Heero was a professional bodyguard and would never EVER even think about said neckline in a way other than the fact that it allowed any assassin a pretty good target, but because at the moment he was too busy trying to hide. A large group (or perhaps more like a herd...) of female reporters had taken to following the Japanese boy around and were currently doing specials on his "relationship" with a particular American beauty queen. They alternated between badgering him for information on "Delia" and making lame and obvious attempts to flirt. He did his best to avoid them, but being trapped at the talent show was making him an easy target.
*Somebody shoot me now....* he wailed to himself, when one of the taller blondes spotted him over the heads of a large group of rump-kissers.
"Mr. Yuuuy! Mr. Yuuuuuuuuuy!!! Over here!" she shrieked, reminding the pilots in the vicinity vaguely of Relena.
Heero ducked, pretending not to hear.
*I will not run...I will not run...I will not run...I'm running! SHIT!* agile and well-trained though he was, even the great Heero Yuy cannot evade a pack of lionesses on the hunt. We all know that reporters are far more deadly, so the poor boy was caught, captured and being bombarded with questions in a matter of a few minutes.
"Mr. Yuy! Can you tell us a little about yourself? About Miss Delia Maxwell?" one hollered above the din.
"Are you two engaged?"
"Have you been together long?"
"Do you support her in her quest for the crown?"
"She isn't pregnant, is she?"
A painful red blush traveled from head to toe on the Japanese boy and Heero fought hard to plug the stream of blood that threatened to erupt from his nose. Little swirls started twirling in front of his eyes. The world became sort of hazy.... Finally a Chibi Duo popped into his head and began beating him with a scythe, knocking Heero back to Earth where he belonged.
"Hn. Go away," he growled in his monotone, sending a piercing glare at that last reporter who was now blushing more than he.
"Now, Mr. Yuy, you don't mean that! C'mon, answer a few questions," another chirped, giving him a wide eyed innocent look.
"But Mr. Yuy. The world deserves to know!" More women circled closer until all the Wing pilot could see was lady's business suits and enough cleavage to make him ill. Somewhere, his soldier's training told him this was one mission he wouldn't be able to self-destruct during.
*What to do..what to do...this is not good...HELP!!!!*
"Aha! There you are, Heero! I couldn't find anywhere. They're starting. Let's go! Ladies, you'll have to excuse him. I think he's more nervous than I am," a familiar, if a bit warped, voice cut in before any more questions could be thrown at him.
At this point Heero was counting his lucky stars, individually and by name, as he was faced with the smiling visage that was Duo/Delia Maxwell.
"Du-Delia! There you are...." he croaked, voice cracking and a tad high pitched, "These ladies were going to help me find you."
"Oh that's so sweet of them. Thanks girls. You can have him later..."Duo chirped pleasantly, dragging Heero off once again into the crowd.
"After this....I'm buying you dinner!" Heero whispered in relief, though very much aware of the braided boy...erm..girl...erm...boy's last comment.
"Oh.. don't worry man. They won't get you again. For now anyway," he snagged Heero's hand again, continuing to drag him towards the curtain where they could observe the crowd.
"That isn't very reassuring," the Wing Pilot muttered.
"It wasn't supposed to be,' Duo replied idly, pulling out a pair of heat sensing goggles. For a moment was overwhelmed by the mass of people crowding the auditorium but as soon as he turned them upwards, it was clear again, searching for a person in the most likely spot for an assassin: the rafters.
"Guess you have to go on anyway," Heero smirked slightly.
"Oh shut up...."
Any replied Heero could have made were lost in the roaring applause of the crowd. Evidently the show was finally going to begin.
Lt. Walker and Lt. Otto  strode across the stage, replacing the arrogant announcer who had made the opening speech. Both were clad in pristine uniforms, clearly labeling themselves as the best of the OZ mobile suit forces. Directing a smart salute towards the judges panel and His Excellency's balcony (where, coincidentally, Lt. Zechs was perched, enjoying caviar and champagne), the two addressed the crowd.
"First into today's talent show presentation is one of OZ's own soldiers," Otto began in lower, throatier baritone. His trademark sideburns stood out considerably in the spotlight.
"She has been in the service since adolescence, when she first began fighting for His Excellency," Walker added, watching his comrade out of the corner of one eye, cover by his commander's goggles.
"One of our finest, may we present..."
"LADY UNE!!!" the two chorused, flashing hundred dollar smiles and making welcoming gestures with black and maroon clad arms.
The most and least popular OZ subordinate was escorted out onto the stage one of her men, that of the rump-kissing, holier-than-thou-adoring smchucks variety. He gave the first contestant an oily leer before leaving, ignoring her sharp reprimand of a glare. Lady Une, hair pinned up in her flawless braided buns, approached Otto and Walker, flashing them both a "Well done" smile. Then, she picked up the microphone, giving the two their exit.
"Hello," Une said in her best "Representative" voice, soft and sweet," My name is Lady Une. And I would like to welcome you all to this competition. My act is that of displaying the split personality in Romefellar's ranks. I hope you enjoy it." She smiled again and stepped back into the spotlight.
Suddenly the well maintained hair and glasses dropped. She now appeared to be Representative Une, the young woman who had brought peace to the colonies. The crowd began murmuring, shocked expressions all around.
"Please, everyone," she began, her voice sugary sweet and calming, "Don't be alarmed. Peace is a good thing...."
Then, in an instant, her long hair was once again up, wire-rim glasses on her nose again.
"It is a good thing," she agreed," But bloodshed must be used to acquire it. For Mr. Treize!!!"
One fist raised towards the crowd, she was most definitely now an OZ officer. Like before, her hair dropped again, loose and free. Her glasses had also disappeared.
"No bloodshed should be needed. Peace can be acquired by the simple discarding of weapons..."
The return of the buns and glasses was now half expected by the crowd. Backstage all five gundam pilots were doing their utmost not to begin laughing hysterically. Unfortunately only those undercover succeeded, knowing they could ruin their appearance. Heero and Trowa were forced excuse themselves, trailed more reporters, thought thankfully none of them had the audacity to follow into the men's room.
"BLOOD!!! We need blood to maintain peace! Let the traitors be punished!"
"No violence. Gentle means of achieving peace...."
"PAIN! BLOOD! ANGST!"
"This era only needs a guiding hand like Mr. Treize. For this peace can be maintained without force."
"Yes, for Mr. Treize."
Lady Une's..erm..dialogue went on for several more minutes and during such no one in the auditorium dared to make a sound. Few men in the Romefellar Foundation had the nerve to stand up to this...performance. So it was silent. By the end of her ten minute period, Lady Une's hair was in disarray, half braided against her head and half sticking out. Her glasses hung off of one ear, dangerously close to falling at every moment. The lady was gasping for breath and red in the face but looked triumph, not to mention deliriously happy...The silence carried over from before, as it seemed no one knew what to do. It had been an interesting act..that much was certain. Suddenly, a noise came from the balcony and applause spread through the auditorium, once the people realized his excellency was clapping. Lady Une was escorted off the stage, leaving a stunned Walker and Otto behind her.
"Well...that was..." Otto trailed off, looking to his companion for support. He nudged the younger man.
"Fascinating," Walker squeaked, his tenor suddenly becoming a boy soprano.
"Yes, extremely fascinating. let's here it for Lady Une!" Otto grinned at the crowd.
*What a fruitcake....* he said to himself but showed no sign of it outwardly, much to his own relief.
"I hope that our next contestant will be able to live up to Lady Une's shining example," Walker added.
"She hails from one the Earth sphere's pacifist nations, being their current monarch," Otto began.
"A very accomplished young lady and full of ideas for our future," Walker brushed one unruly lock out of his eyes.
"Future leader in tomorrow's world, give a big hand to..."
"MISS SANC, RELENA PEACECRAFT!"
The two men made a hasty exit, giving nods and salute to Peacecraft's escort, her brother Milliardo..erm..Zechs...erm...whichever. Miss Sanc was draped in her aforementioned low cut cornflower blue gown, her new favorite out of hundreds because it reminded her the gown Heero had pointed a gun at her in....
*Such wonderful memories,* she sighed to herself, ignoring the wary look her brother gave her before she left.
Relena stepped onto the stage, introduced herself over the mike as proper beauty was to do then faced the entire audience. And smiled. Applause flooded the hall. She smiled wider. More clapping. For ten full minute Relena stood on the stage, hair and makeup perfectly in place, smiling. The crowd, evidently, thought this was the most wonderful thing. Her perfect smile was obviously an important talent. Relena exited again, making sure to give "Delia" an elbow in the ribs on her way back. Scores flashed across the screen. Relena: 9.98 Une: 9.97 Duo rolled his eyes and sighed, rubbing his barely bruised side.
*This thing is so rigged a two year old could see it. How do I compete against that? I have to complete the mission, but to do that I have to stay in this competition as long as Relena....Note to self: Kill Doctor G. No, torture, than kill. No torture, more torture...then I'll kill him..No...*
He was so wrapped up in thoughts of death, blood, torture and teletubbies that he missed the next introduction. When the braided boy looked up again there was Dorothy Catalonia, eyebrows in place, hugging the mike to herself and standing in front of a large well stocked band-complete with trumpets, trombones, harps and the odd harmonica. The granddaughter of Duke Dermail waited impatiently for the first count of four before bursting into song.
"I feel pretty...oh so pretty...I feel pretty.."Dorothy crooned, causing several of the aides backstage to fall to their knees, clutching bleeding ears.
The song went on far longer than any human being in the hall wished it had, many fleeing as if their lives depended it on it. The once full hall was now left with only the judges and a few brave (or tone-deaf) contestants, including the Gundam pilots, who couldn't abandon Relena, much to their dismay. Dorothy swept off stage ten minutes later, smiling brightly, eyebrows upturned. The screen flashed immediatly with her score. Dorothy: 0.01. Furious, the blonde girl swept up the stairs, her face the shade of an overripe tomato.
"Why? Why did you do such a thing?" she squealed, her voice becoming a sound only dogs could hear. The judges winced but one wizened old man hobbled forward.
"Your eyebrows scare us. And...you caused the hospitalization of 43 people!" he croaked.
Dorothy's enraged scream forced the paramedics to make the journey the Pageant Hall one more time that day.
The Gundam Pilots sat through Noin's "Ode to Zechs", Hilde's "Fifty ways to Salvage A Mobile Suit", Relena's friend's "Ode to Relena" and several other ridiculous acts resulting in low scores before it was Quatre's turn. Timidly offering his arm to the now semi-calm Arabian, Trowa escorted him onto the stage, before leaving. Silky blonde strands curled around Quatre's shin where he rested it against the polished mahogany. Clad in a shimmering aquamarine skirt and pearl colored blouse, not to mention several layers of padding in order to make him appear "feminine", Quatre pulled out his very much loved violin and began to play.
It was a simple piece, but lovely and very similar to the same one he and Trowa had shared when they first met. Silence once again descended on the now revived and recovered audience, who had suffered through Dorothy's caterwauling and major boredom. They'd been starting to droop since Une's act and it was downhill from there. Now, however, every ma, woman, and child sat straight and perfectly still in their seats. The beautiful music filled the room, forlorn, passionate and cheerful all at once. Half-way through, it changed, now a duet. A flute echoed from behind the curtains, joining it's stringed companion and twining in melody. 
When it ended all was still...for about two seconds...Then applause erupted throughout the hall, deafening in it's enthusiasm. Several shouts of "encore" echoed down and Quatre shook his head, smiling brightly for the first time since they arrived. He gripped Trowa's extended arm happily, whispering "Arigatou."
"I'm really sorry I teased you Quatre," he replied seriously, once they were out sight.
"Well I apologize for shoving your head into the wall at the apartment...and pulling out a handful of your hair this morning..."the blonde trailed off, blue-green eyes shining.
"And trying to strangle me with your wonderbra in the dressing room?" Trowa added, helpful as always.
"No," Quatre frowned, placing a kiss on his koi's cheek, "You deserved that, hon."
The pair disappeared down the hall, trailed by a steady line of journalists and photographers, all observed by amused violet eyes.
"Guess they made up, ne?" Duo grinned.
"Hn.." Heero leaned against one wall, listening to the next introduction, rather than his partner.
"Was kinda fun watching Tro get smacked around, but I guess it's for the best," the braided boy continued.
He sweatdropped briefly before shutting up and focusing on the newest contestant, now being escorted by no one. This earned a raise eyebrow on both pilots part. No girl dared to walk up without an escort. It was like screaming "I'm single! JUMP ME!" to the crowd, mostly consisting of men, married and not. Duo choked on the water he'd been chugging.
"That's Wufei!" he gargled.
The chinese boy, now wearing a short tight red skirt that beckoned at muscular thighs and an equally sexy black blouse-top three buttons undone-, stood before the microphone scrutinizing the ogling crowd warily from behind a large, matching, Chinese fan. Onyx eyes appeared larger than life thanks to the miracle of eyeliner, along with a perfectly powdered face. Duo found himself gaping but quickly snapped his jaw shut.
*It's Wufei,* he told himself sternly, hoping that would be enough of a turn off. It wasn't. *Okay, let's face it Duo, with all that make-up and shit Wu-man is a babe. -But- he is still the cranky- smartass prick that we all know and love so well.*
In a higher pitched voice than he usually used, still soundly vaguely masculine and thickly accented, Wufei began to recite:
Dark eyes mock and laugh
Watching always forever
But never to touch
Love in hate, always
Love in hurtful words we said
Love that burns greatly
Leaving me again
In a field we played in
I've lost you again  
For the remaining time the room was once again filled with applause, showering down onto the Altron Pilot who stood with his head bowed, hiding the tears he felt when he thought of Meiran. Then, he left the stage, more alone than when he had arrived. Gently, Duo stopped him on the way back, giving in understanding nod. Wufei silently thanked him before sending another laser-hot glare in Relena's direction. She quivered a little, tried looking pitiful to Heero, then finally left, not able to take the heat. Meanwhile, Otto and Walker trooped back into the spotlight for the hundredth time that day, to announce the final act and glad for it.
"For our last act we have the beauty queen from the country of the United States!"
"She's probably one of the loveliest girls of ever seen."
Backstage Duo gritted his teeth to the point one could almost here them cracking.
"And smart. She graduated from Harvard just last year."
"The talented and lovely..."
"MISS AMERICA!!! DELIA MAXWELL!!!"
Duo hurriedly tried to run to the stage but was halted by a large group of reporters before him.
"Mr. Yuy, aren't you going to escort your girlfriend?" one asked, fire and flint in her eyes. Like the others, this gossip was dying for some dirt on the seemingly "perfect couples." Next to him, Duo heard the Wing pilot cough slightly before taking his hand. He felt his heart skip a beat but moved forward anyway. They walked out into the nearly blinding light and faced the multitudes of people. Duo stepped up to the microphone and then Heero was gone...Before the braided boy felt the loss of his companion, he threw them all a huge grin.
"Hi, I'm Delia!" he/she chirped, " And I'm going to perform a little dance for everyone's enjoyment!!!"
A colorful mix of pop-rock, R&B, and a tad bit of disco began blaring from the oversized speakers. And Duo sank to the ground. Then, he began dancing. In a flurry of flying limbs, moving without hesitation or hindrance, the Deathscythe pilot traveled across stage. From behind the curtain, Heero's eyes were already bugging....There was nothing suggestive about the dancing, no cheap moves to the crotch or chest. Just pure fluid movement, sometimes ending in flips or splits. Nimble and quick as he was, Duo slid, twisted, jumped..did more poses than any choreographer could have followed in a play by play. He was panting and sweating by the time it was over, aching also from too many splits, but never lost any of the grace. It was as if the braided pilot had transformed, moving with a spineless agility that belonged on a fae or nymph, not a mere mortal.
The applause ringing through the hall and down the corridors, into the parking lost, made that earned by Wufei and Quatre seem like mere whispers. It seemed more like thunder than anything else. Taking several bows, "Delia" was nearly dragged off the stage by her insistent "boyfriend". Though at the moment, Heero was concentrating mostly on trying not to drool.
*He really is amazing...* the blue eyed boy's gaze softened as he regarded the beaming Duo. Blinking the scores immediately appeared on the digital screen.
Katie Winner: 9.98, Chang Wendy: 9.97, Delia Maxwell: 10.0
Ignoring, Relena's scathing look, Duo flung one fist in the air happily.
"We did it, Heero!!!! We made it. I get to keep my gundam and my dignity..."he crowed, actually hugging the Perfect Soldier for moment, much to Heero's dismay and delight.
"What dignity?" he growled softly, trying to make up for the half-smile that would not stay way from the corners of his mouth.
"Oh, shut up. Besides, you owe me food. Now," violet eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms stubbornly over the padded chest.
Heero sweatdropped but nodded, guiding his partner towards the exit.
"No, I wanna be myself!!!" Duo hissed, tugging the other way, towards the dressing room labeled "America".
"How do you suggest we do that?" Heero replied, pulling back towards the exit.
"I don't know but I'll think of something!!!" the other boy yanked him harder towards the room.
"I doubt it!" Exit.
"I will!" Dressing Room.
"Let's just go!!!!" Exit.
"NO!" Dressing Room.
"WON'T!" Dressing Room.
"DO!" Dressing Room.
"IT!!!!!!" Dressing Room.
The two boys slammed against each other, now realizing that they weren't going anywhere until they could agree on something. That and there was a rather large crowd of reporters circling around them like eager buzzards. An idea struck Duo, like lightning. He smirked. Then reached back and bitchslapped Heero in the face, much to the other's surprise. Prussian blue eyes nearly turned red.
"What the hell was that for?" he growled, never one to yell or make a big public display....unless it meant death.
"What do you mean, what was it for, you know what it was for!!!" Duo didn't have that problem he screeched sounding very similar to Relena and Dorothy together with major PMS.
"I have no idea what you're talking about!!!!" Heero snarled, a little louder.
"Don't give me that shit!!!!" Duo back up carefully plotting their course through the army of very shocked (and thus very interested) journalists.
"It would help if you told me what was wrong!!!" Heero snapped back, advancing on him.
*Oh wow...he's really pissed. Note to self: Never slap Heero in the face ever again. Or suffer extremely painful death.*
"It's NOT like you ever listen to me!!!!!!" he wailed, almost meaning that comment.
*Well it's true* he though wryly, noting the other's almost...was it a hurt statement?
"I do so!"
"Yeah right, chum!!!"
Now his back was directly against the door of "Delia's" dressing room, reaching for the handle, Duo signed his own death certificate. He slapped Heero again, across the other cheek. Just when the Wing pilot looked about to strangle him, the formerly docile crowd of reporters surged in, pummeling them both with questions.
"Mr. Yuy! Could you say this is the end of your relationship with Delia?"
"Delia! Does he really never listen to you?"
"Is the engagement off?'
"Could this be due to Miss Maxwell's rumored pregnancy?"
Duo turned bright red before unlocking the door behind his back.
"Omae o Korosu," Heero growled to the surrounding women. Duo sweatdropped but held firm, grabbing his fellow pilot's wrist and dragging him in.
"And he means that in the nicest possible way, ladies! Goodbye!" the braided boy called, slamming door the instant they were both safely inside. Duo flashed the glaring Perfect Soldier a grin, inspecting the growing red marks on his face.
"Gomen ne, pal, but we had to get out of there somehow," he chirped cheerfully, giving Heero another quick hug.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Heero demanded, preparing to launch a fist in the other's gut.
"Listen you can hit me later. We're gonna make our escape. You go out and tell them I won't come out, while I climb out the window!!!" Duo told him in Japanese, praying to every Deity he knew and their children that the journalists outside didn't know the language. At the same time he started pulling off clothing, grabbing a pair of black jeans, a tee-shirt and some sunglasses. The mesh top came off easily, while sweat-soaked spandex/velvet-polyester blend was more of challenge. Now the wonder bra was impossible. Just when he was reading to cut the multiple lacings and snaps there were hands helping him out the deathtrap, a sure sign he'd been forgiven for the moment.
"Thanks man!!! I owe you one," he pulled on the new and wonderfully loose outfit, savoring every new freedom he discovered. Boxers and jeans were a new blessing he'd learned to appreciate. Quick as lightening he was at the window bidding Heero a quick farewell and the braided boy disappeared. Shaking his head ruefully, Heero was left to face the sea of reporters outside.
"Miss Maxwell will not be leaving for the remainder of the evening," he bowed stiffly then, left ignoring inquiring looks for Quatre and Trowa and the hundreds of questions thrown at him by the press.
Outside, Duo was merrily bouncing on the rickety fire-escape, wondering how much stress it would take. Suddenly one rusty bar gave out, sending the Deathscythe pilot tumbling to the ground below. And onto Heero, now just exiting the building. For the second time since that mission had begun, Duo found himself on top of the Perfect Soldier. Nimbly, he untangled his legs from the others waist, brushing himself off. He extended a hand down to Heero.
"Thanks for breaking my fall man!!" Duo pulled him up, giving the other boy a quick slap on the back before setting off towards the restaurant district at a breakneck pace.
"Can't you be normal and have some fear of heights?" Heero muttered, following.
"Hey, I'm a Gundam pilot. Can't fear heights. Come on, let's go!" he took a firm grip on his comrades hand, discovering that he liked holding hands.
Quatre watched the tanktop clad back of the Wing pilots for a few moments before smiling brightly.
*They are really, really smart.* With that thought he dragged Trowa towards "Miss America's" dressing room, saying he wanted to comfort Delia. The green eyed boy looked very confused, thinking he'd been forgiven...so why were they going to see Duo?..., until he was met with an empty room. Hentai thoughts quickly replaced any bemusement on his place.
The dressing table might never be the same.
Wufei sat crouched over the hotel bar, tequila in hand. He still kept his large fan and outfit, not daring to go around as himself. He wanted very badly to get drunk now, for the night his job was done, so why not? Taking surprisingly huge gulps for a mere "girl", Wufei failed to notice the muscular form taking the seat behind him.
"Hello," a kind voice said, causing the Chinese boy to jump some fifty feet into the air.
"..." he stared in disbelief at Treize Kushrenada, perched on the stool next to him. Treize. his enemy. And he couldn't kill him.
*Not without betraying the mission...* Wufei mentally broke into a multi-lingual fit of cursing, worthy of any fifty sailors.
"Good evening Miss China," Treize smiled, laying the charm on thickly. The girl before him looked faintly distrusting.
"..." Wufei's eyes bugged.
"Would you allow me to buy you a drink?"
*TREIZE IS HITTING ON ME!!!!! DISHONOR!!!!! INJUSTICE!!!!!!*
Tentatively, trying to mask the rage behind his fan, Wufei giggled.
"Me no speak En-glesh!!" he chirped, hiding a massive sweatdrop.
This was going to be a looooong night.
 They have been resurrected just for the occasion ^_^
 Aren't they cute? Sorry, it can't be all fun and games. Maybe not....
 Three Haiku's I made up on the spot, in ode to Meiran.
 Again, time to be serious. ick.
Anyways, hope everyone liked and please tell me what you thought. ^_^ Forgive any typos you might have discovered along the way, I SO cannot proofread.
phew...that took me three hours....okies...time to go work some more!!! ^_^