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, bishie-torture and general silliness.
Pairings: 1+2 3x4/4x3
Rating: PG-13....I think
Last time on Mission Beauty Queen....
Project 05: *TREIZE IS HITTING ON ME!!!!! DISHONOR!!!!! INJUSTICE!!!!!!*
Projects 04 and 03: The dressing table might never be the same.
Projects 02 and 01: "Hey, I'm a Gundam pilot. Can't fear heights. Come on, let's go!" Duo took a firm grip on his comrades hand, discovering that he didn't mind the physical contact at all.
Mission: Beauty Pageant
The city where the pageant was held, one of those American metropolises overpopulated and stocked full of cigarettes, fast food and cheap beer, made Heero nervous. The farther he and Duo traveled from the hotel and Pageant hall, the more shadows seemed to jump out at people and mug them. His hand twitched slightly, every nerve in his body screaming for him to draw his gun. He managed not to do such, however, aware of the commotion an armed pedestrian waving a gun around would cause, instead tightening his grip on Duo's hand. The braided boy didn't seem to have any problem with this nor with the atmosphere. So far he took everything, in stride, acting as if he walked through neighborhoods like these daily, as if he had all his life. And the thieves seemed to recognize this, that the Deathscythe pilot was a force to be reckoned with. Throughout the entire walk not one soul touched them or made a move to do so. Despite this, Heero was very relieved when they reached the tiny café recommended by the doorman.
A slender red head clad (well kind of) in a stylish french maid outfit, complete with lace, ruffles and apron brought them to their table. She giggled at Duo's sly wink from over his sunglasses and gave Heero her most charming smile, not deterred at all when the silent boy scowled in response. In fact, he got a pinch on the ass for his trouble. Duo casually restrained his friend, as he made it clear that this woman would perish slowly and painfully by his hands in several different languages. All she did was laugh, take their order and leave, hips shaking seductively as she went, though the motion was lost on both pilots. The boys simply faced each other in silence, sipping their coffee. Or Heero sipped his coffee in silence. Duo refused to stay quiet for more than a minute at a time, chattering aimlessly about this, that and the other. Mostly about Dorothy's musical...erm...talents.
"It figures that eyebrow-woman would have the singing voice of a caterwauling she-cat in heat," he grinned, darting his tongue out to catch a errant fleck of whipped cream. He mocked Dorothy's infamous brows with one hand, forking two fingers and waving them around.
"Hn," Heero grunted, focusing more of his attention on the mug of coffee before him than his comrades jokes and wild gesticulations. It was undoctored of course, black.
"And Une! Man, she's gotta be more of basket case than anyone thought!"
"Not to mention Noin's obsession over Col. Zechs. What kind of name is Zechs anyway?" Duo touch a deep gulp of his mocha, savoring the flavor and aroma at the same time.
"The name of a dangerous enemy," Heero growled before returning his stare to the ceramic at the bottom of his cup.
Duo sweatdropped briefly, "You don't have to be such a serious ass all the time, ya know. If you're not insulting me, you're ignoring me!"
"Heero, c'mon man. Try and relax a little. Have FUN for once? Do ya know what fun is?" violet eyes danced at him from behind tinted glass.
"Do you know what's at stake here?" he glared pointedly, which Duo ignored.
*Dammit, why can't he just leave me alone?* Heero wondered.
"Damn the mission, Heero. It's the only reason I'm here. Would I dress up like a GIRL, if not for the mission?"the braided boy snapped, temper flaring slightly.
*I don't wanna deal with his shit. Today was trying enough, thank you very much.*
"Hee-chan," Duo sighed, exasperated, rubbing one temple, "I'm just asking. Would you please try to have some fun for once? Being this gloomy all the time ain't healthy and that's the truth."
"And being blatantly cheerful is?" Prussian blue eyes rolled, he started to turn to the window, becoming less fascinated by his coffee mug.
Whatever Duo might have said in return was lost, the waitress, looking freshly powdered and sprayed with another layer of musky perfume, sauntered over with their meals on a tray. Leaning over to present Heero was his single order of grilled chicken and vegetables, she "accidentally" bumped one bare arm with her chest. Her very female and well-developed chest, causing the Japanese pilot to turn six shades of scarlet for the second time that day. Duo suppressed a snicker behind his hand, grinning madly when his meal was placed in front of him. His dinner consisting of six burgers, three orders of fries, one slab of steak and large fudge brownie with extra nuts. Heero raised one eyebrow in question, returning to his normal stoic self when the young woman left them in peace.
"What?" Duo grinned, having already ravished a second burger, diving for his next victim.
"Did someone forget to feed you?" Heero half muttered, carefully cutting the chicken before taking a bite.
"You promised dinner, my man," he made a sweeping gesture towards his food, " This is dinner."
"For a family of eight, perhaps," The Perfect Soldier sighed, hoping he's have enough cash for the check. He watched his friend eat, eyes widening in amazement as four of the hapless burgers were devoured in a time-frame of about....two minutes.
"Is someone going to take it from you?"
Duo gulped an extra large bite before answering, "Might. Ya never know. Besides, all eating slowly like you do does is make the food get cold."
"You're going to choke," Heero warned, taking a forkful of the vegetables.
"Won't," a handful of fries met an untimely doom.
"Will," the chicken wasn't so bad, in fact he thought this place might be worth returning to.
As if to prove his point, Duo started hacking and coughing. Heero grunted, getting up before his comrade started a ruckus and pounded him on the back, none too gently. The braided boy took a large gulp of water, giving Heero a grateful look when he sat down. Bolting the rest of his food, but more carefully, Duo came to the brownie, breaking the sweet in half and handed a piece to Heero, sighing when the other shook his head.
"It's a tradition. Sharing food with friends.," he explained," Humor me for once. Besides. You can't not like chocolate. It just ain't right!"
"Fine..." he accepted the dessert grudgingly, taking a cautious bite. Truthfully, he'd never had chocolate. It wasn't exactly on Dr. J's list of necessary rations. A rich flavor flooded his senses, catching him off guard for a moment, almost forgetting himself and letting out an appreciative "Mmmm..." Duo laughed heartily at the expression on that chiseled face.
"Finally! Something that affects him. Sweets. Its good ne?"he grinned, biting a large hunk of his half, skillfully managing to smear his cheek. Heero suppressed a chuckle, instead reaching out with a napkin to wipe away the offending fudge. His thumb traced the edge of Duo's jawline as he did so, sending a shock through both of them. Pulling away, he clear his throat, finishing the meal quietly.
"Hai, it's very good," he murmured.
"Yeah..."Duo drifted off, for once unsure of what to say. Fortunately the waitress returned to remove the stack of dishes, this time nearly ending up the Wing Pilot's lap. Heero spluttered in his ice-water, the girl perched on one spandex clad thigh, legs crossed, waiting like a child on Santa's knee. And looking just as gleeful.
"Hi handsome," she purred, balancing the dishes with a professional air, even as Heero tried to squirm out from under her. Bronze skin flashed from white, to red, then to a deep shade of purple nearly matching Duo's eyes. Speaking of the braided boy....he was sprawled out on the tiled floor of the café, laughing hysterically.
"......" Heero's eyes nearly bugged out their sockets, especially when one slender hand cupped his kneecap slowly journeying upward.
"Aww...has a cat got your tongue?" she smiled sweetly.
"No...but one's gonna have his-OW!"Duo earn himself a kick in the ribs, tears now streaming down his paler face.
"....." Bright pink finger nails tickled his thigh gently, ever continuing their trek to new...erm..heights.
"You busy tonight, sweetie?" the waitress whispered in his ear. Droplets of sweat rolled off Heero's face, her aggressive attitude faintly reminiscent of Relena. Or a taller, prettier, more seductive Relena who happened to be seated in his lap, hand ever nearing his-
"Linda!" a deep masculine voice growled, far deeper than even Duo's, "What are you doing to that poor kid?" A burly Italian clad in a chef's hat and greasy apron stepped out of the kitchen, steam surrounding his bulky frame.
"Trying to get a better tip," the cat pouted slightly, withdrawing her hand from his inner-thigh and pinching the dark haired boy's ass for the second time that evening. This time Heero nearly squeaked, much to her amusement and Duo's.
The man laughed shortly and disappeared again, muttering about hotdogs and fries.
Linda removed her presence from Heero's lap, giving him a good view of everything below the ruffled black skirt.
"I'll be back later, sugar,"the girl giggled slightly, blowing Duo a kiss before leaving as the violet-eyed youth pulled himself back into his seat.
"I think a twenty should do it, don't you?" he grinned, shoulders still shaking silently.
"Omae o korosu," Heero growled, trying to sink lower into his own chair, as a good half of the café was given him appraising, not to mention hungry, looks.
"Yeah, yeah...blahblahblah. Sorry, chief, but you can't get rid of me this time. You need me for the mission," the braided boy's smile only widened.
"Get me out of here," Heero ordered.
"And disappoint Linda? Never."
"Onna," he growled, trying to duck under his menu. Duo snatched it away, playfully waving it before Prussian blue eyes. Heero grabbed back, this continuing until both lunged too far, managing to dump table, chairs and international terrorists in a large unorganized heap, the boys now imprisoned by the cheap plastic tablecloth. Unfortunately, the defenseless furniture made a distinct snapping sound as it went down, similar to that of a twig being broken in half. They wrestled with the aforementioned tablecloth for several more moments, Duo almost ending up wearing it as a toga before they were finally rid of it.
"I thought you only wore skirts for the mission," Heero snorted softly.
"Oh shut up..."
They were now faced with a very pissed off looking Linda and cook, neither at all pleased with the destruction.
"Ummm...check please?" Duo chirped, forcing a grin.
Ten empty shot glasses lined Wufei's end of the bar, only half having been consumed by the Chinese pilot. All were nearly sent crashing to floor by the knocking of one black clad elbow, this one wobbling woozily as it held his fan. The other rested against the table, fist clasped with Treize Kushrenada's as he struggled to wrestle the other's hand towards himself. Veins showing briefly in pale flesh, Treize won for the sixth time that evening, final triumphing over his competitor. Wufei shook his aching hand slightly, glaring from behind his fan at Treize's charming grin.
"The arming wrestling match is mine," the OZ general told him, slurring slightly, "But it was a good battle You fight very well for a woman."
*I lost to him again!!!! I am weak! INJUSTICE!!!!!*
The bones in "Wendy" Chang's fist popped and cracked under the pressure, now clenched so tightly it was a wonder his fingers could ever uncurl.
"Now," Treize added moments later, hand reaching for "hers", " If I remember the terms correctly, I now get an evening of your time sometime this week?"
Driven by honor, pride and way too much alcohol, Wufei almost groaned," Agreed."
Quatre Raberba Winner lay sprawled on his back across Duo's dressing table, cosmetics displaced his wake. Trowa leaned over him doing a very good job of depriving the blonde pilot of oxygen and of his recently acquired feminine clothing. The pearl colored blouse had long since been lost to his efforts as well as several layers of artificial cleavage. Quatre, now bare chested and soon to be lacking in a skirt and hose, shivered under his ministrations well aware of the large drop in temperature.
"Cold, angel?" Trowa growled, almost two weeks of complete celibacy catching up with him.
Distracted by a talented pair of hands massaging his icy shoulders, Quatre could only nod.
"Let's see if I can warm you up," the green eyed pilot almost purred, nuzzling the exposed throat.
It was at that moment the door swung open to reveal Relena Peacecraft, otherwise known as Miss Sank or Princess Relena of Sank Kingdom, in all her royal glory.
She gave in the inside of Miss America's dressing room one brief scan, seeing Quatre with Trowa straddling his slender waist, both boys extremely disheveled and involved with each other, and fainted dead away. The blonde girl landed with a dull thud on the threshold, oblivious to the colorful obscenities now filling the air.
The pilot of Deathscythe, Shinigami, death in his mortal form, was not happy. There was detergent in his braid, a tacky apron three sizes too big hanging around his ankles and hot, soapy water soaking his arms up to the elbows. They still had two more enormous stacks of dishes to sort, scrub, polish and dry. And it was all Heero's fault! Sending another scathing glare at his partner, though it was more of a squint since he kept getting soap in his eyes. Heero returned the angry look eye for eye, now under Linda's constant "supervision" as he worked. And, as far as he was concerned, it was Maxwell's fault they were in this mess.
"Baka..." he muttered, setting another platter on his pile of clean items, flicking a soap bubble at the boy across the way. A splash of dirty water caught him in the back of the head. Heero growled. Two could play that game. The end of a certain chestnut braid was now dipped in polishing solution. One particularly demoniac sponge managed to find its way down his tanktop. His partner yelped moments later when a scrubber caught him in the jaw. Heero grabbed the mist-er from its place on the sink, spraying water at one black clad back. Duo, of course, returned fire....
A soggy, soapy and very disgruntled Linda shoved both boys into the alleyway, her green eyed glare rivaling Heero's. Duo snickered quietly, just as wet but not nearly as unhappy, having scored several shots on the Japanese pilot. He laughed openly when she left, earning a small smile from his companion.
*Much as I hate to admit it, that was fun...* Heero joined him
began the walk back, afternoon having turned into twilight as they'd eaten and played.
"Now, Heero, you can't say you didn't enjoy that at all," the American grinned, unconsciously taking his hand once more.
"We still gotta work on the conversation skills, man."
"You're the one who does all the talking."
Duo sweatdropped briefly, stopping for a minute and clamping his free hand on the Wing pilot's shoulder.
"Hee-chan, I forgot my manners, non-existent as they are for a minute," he smiled, "Thanks. That was really great."
They walked in silence for a while after that, the thugs of the nighttime much like those during the day, recognizing one of their own. Not one soul made a move towards either of them.
"You're welcome," Heero grunted, ducking his head beneath shaggy dark bangs for a moment. Duo grasped his chest in mock amazement.
"Oh well...I can still hope, ne?" his fingers intertwined more tightly around Heero's, squeezing gently.
"C'mon dude, you were doing so well!" the braided boy's grin widened, ruffling the unruly dark hair for a moment. Heero glared but didn't pull away.
"Can't you be quiet?" he muttered.
"Can't you say more than five syllables at a time? And 'hn. hn.
hn' don't count," Duo shot back, challenge bright in violet eyes.
"H-Are you always this difficult?" the wing pilot wondered aloud.
"Oh, Hee-chan! I'm so proud!" Duo cackled merrily, then dramatically wiped at one eye, "I have a tear...."
Heero shorted, giving the braided boy a dubious look.
*Definitely not sane...*
Relena Peacecraft lay sprawled out on the floor, jaw inelegantly hanging open and a slight trickle of drool forming at the corner of her mouth. Trowa looked on with disgust, rapidly becoming unaroused. Quatre's blue-green eyes narrowed dangerously. Now that was something he couldn't allow to happen.
*Bad enough I'm a -girl- but if I don't get any soon...* Maniacal cackling echoed through his head, dangerously similar to Heero's after he destroyed an enemy.
"Leave her," the blonde boy growled, bending down to start straightening the mess they created, "We'll clean everything up, go back to our room.."-Screw-"And when she wakes up she won't remember a thing. Especially if there's no evidence."
The Heavyarms pilot thought this over, glanced once more at the blonde beauty queen, and nodded. Within five minutes, they were out the door and down the hall, each planning exactly what he was going to do to the other....
Wufei stumbled to his room, falling into the violet decorated bed and dreaming of ways to kill Treize before his head even touched the pillow.
Duo scaled the rusting fire escape once more that day, swinging energetically from pipe to pipe, giving his comrade below a series of small heart attacks. Heero's usual frown deepened as the braided boy deliberately shook the railing, sending dirt and soot onto his friend.
"Wooooooohoooooo..." he hollered into the night, doing handstands and back-flips just to grate the Japanese pilot's nerves.
"The dashing prince must climb his tower to rescue the fairest damsel of all!" Duo proclaimed dramatically, now about halfway up the side of the building.
"Then who are you supposed to be? The damsel?" Heero rolled his eyes, turning to make the walk to the hotel room and hopefully a hot bath. He could still smell that perfume on him, the very scent making his stomach roll.
"Haha...very funny. I thought we'd gotten off of the girl cracks, Hee-chan," one particularly rickety step refused to hold all 90-some pounds of the American's weight, causing him to drop all fifty feet onto his ass, right at Heero's feet.
"Hn." Doing a quick assessment of the others condition, he calculated that no major injury had been done, except to Duo's already severely tortured dignity.
"Ouch...my poor tail-bone..." the Deathscythe pilot moaned, " Yeah thanks a lot, Hee-man, the bone crushing, rock-hard concrete broke my fall!!!"
Knowing he wasn't about to get any sympathy from that corner, Duo ascended the iron once more, muttering to himself about his poor abused ass, having been dumped on it for the second time that day, not to mention those crotch-snapping splits he'd been forced to perform earlier... Heero sighed and headed for their room, praying he'd get there first or he'd never hear the end of it. When Duo finally reached his window he slipped inside easily, wondering to himself if Heero had turned the lights out before...He didn't think so, the flourescent bulbs had been on when he left. Not wanting to attract attention, the braided boy strapped himself into his "feminine" attire, this time a simple mid-thigh-length turtle-neck dress, all in his traditional black of course, in the dark.
So it wasn't until he was ready to leave that he discovered the young woman in his room.
Or, more specifically, it wasn't until he was ready to leave that he tripped over the young woman in his room.
Relena gave an unladylike snort before waking up, wiping the spittle from her lower lip and sending a hazy corn-flower blue glare in Duo's general direction.
"Relena-sama!" he exclaimed, immediatly stooping to pull her onto her feet, continuing to help despite her shoving against his arms.
"What on earth is wrong with you people? I mean, you're all sick!!" the future queen of the world wailed before storming out, making doubly sure to trod on the Deathscythe's pilot sandal shod foot during her exit.
Duo rubbed one toe, even though it really hadn't hurt at all, bemused. He wondered, tugging on the confines of the infamous wonder bra, if all women really were crazy or just those of the ideal spouting, terrorist-stalking princess variety.
The hotel room he shared with Heero was quiet, save for the soft breathing of his partner who stretched out on the floor. Dark hair straggled over his cheeks on towards the corners of that ever serious mouth, hiding a good half of his face.  Duo pulled off the outfit, glad he'd had the foresight to wear it after meeting a large number of reporters in the hallway. Even though it was incredibly uncomfortable, the skimpy dress had saved his cover. He "gratefully" flung the garment in one of the far corners of that unnecessarily vast room, before slipping into the equally huge bed they'd provided. For a moment, while trying to adapt himself to all that space, Duo felt guilty for making Heero sleep on the floor. It wouldn't have been all that traumatic to share. But then again, he didn't have the heart to wake the dark haired boy now, especially since waking Heero before morning tended to be dangerous and very painful. He did throw an extra blanket on the still form next to his bed and brushed some of the wild strands away from his face, almost captured by how peaceful his companion looked. Then, a large yawn escaped his lips, the moment passed, and he was asleep.
Relena sat on the equally enormous king-sized bed in her own pink paradise and watched the braided boy through her cameras. This was not the way things had been supposed to work out at all. Heero was supposed to be spending time with her. Taking her out. Defending her from the press and every Romefellar assassin that should come their way. And he should escorting her on stage and presenting her to all their adoring fans. Not that loud-mouth idiot he had the nerve to call a partner. She wanted desperately to fix this little problem for Heero. After all they hardly needed all five of the pilots anymore. One would do just fine on his own. And she knew exactly how to get rid of the rest....
Pain lanced through Wufei's skull the instant he cracked open his eyes, sunlight causing him to immediatly to dive under his pillow once more. He groaned to himself, gingerly blinking puffy eyelids in the shade, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head, the way his brain just seemed to ache even more when he attempted to think. His throat was parched drier than a desert and swollen, causing his voice to become more of a hiss than actual words. His stomach rolled, rebelliously threatening to dump its contents on the expensive carpet next to his bed every time he considered moving. In this state all he wanted to do was fall back into a deep, dreamless sleep and forget everything. But some annoying creature was banging on his door, each knock like an explosion in his ears. Growling inaudibly he pulled his katana from the umbrella stand next to the dresser, laboriously pulling his protesting body upright and lunging for the door.
The point of his sword hovered inches from the acne mottled face of a young man, his hair a flaming red that caused his sensitive eyes to squint and his head to throb faster. The boy gasped and whimpered, pulling away from the sharp edge of the weapon. The being that greeted him was no beauty queen...in fact she looked rather like a guy. A very unhappy guy with a hangover and frizzy black hair.
"Is Miss Chang there?" the boy blubbered.
Shock flashed through harrowed obsidian eyes for a second before the other man composed himself.
"She's getting dressed," he growled, lowering the sword, but keeping it unsheathed and within sigh all the same.
"Oh," he was vaguely disappointed, having volunteered for this route specifically in order to meet some of the world's most beautiful women, "Well, here's your paper."
Sitting on his bed after the boy had left (he'd insisted on a tip despite the sharpened length of steal being leveled at his jugular), Wufei pulled the plastic of his "complimentary" newspaper and it opened it to read. Minutes later he was on his feet and out the door, cursing in every one of the forty languages he'd taken the time to learn.
A feather-light touch to his forehead brought Trowa gently out of sleep and he met the smiling visage of his lover with a kiss. Quatre pulled away suddenly, giggling a little.
"Sorry koi, but I need to know what you want for breakfast," the blonde whispered, balancing their room-service menu on his slender lap.
"....." green eyes glared slightly, though the look was softened when he met those blue-green eyes. It was too hard for him to stay mad at the blonde for long.
*Makes me feel like I'm kicking a puppy...oh well.*
"Don't you have to be careful bout that stuff?...Like what happened to anorexia and all that,' he teased quietly.
"Just wondering," he replied lightly, circling scrambled eggs and bacon before slipping out bed and into the shower.
By the time the food came he was clean and getting into his clothes, typical dark turtle neck and jeans.
Quatre came bustling back into the room, clad only in a pearl-colored satin robe that barely reached far enough to be decent. he carried a large tray, heavily laden down with their breakfasts and a rolled up newspaper. Flipping it open he read as he walked crossing the expanse of their enormous suite slowly, eyes focused on the page before him. Suddenly tray, breakfast and paper all went flying, Quatre squawking in disbelief for a moment, unaware of the eggs and bacon that rained down on his head, then fled the room, more than a little of his pale flesh exposed by the exit. Trowa raised an appreciative eyebrow, still only half into his shirt. One long bang poked out of the top...Pulling the clothes completely on, Trowa got a good look at the offending message before he went racing off after his partner, skin a very painful shade of red. 
"Paper!" Drawn out of dreams of half-dressed women and whipped cream , Duo stumbled to his feet, taken care to pull on the pale violet robe, discovering it was missing several inches of fabric only when he opened the door.
A young red head who seriously needed to find some Neutrogena Deep Cleanser TM, stood at the door knocking for a few minutes even after it opened. Then, his muddy gray eyes now full of gorgeous "female" flesh, he could only stop and stare, jaw hanging loosely as if unhinged. Open lust glowed in his eyes and he nearly started drooling at the sight of Miss America, up close and clad in about a foot of silky satin material. The blonde girl who'd answered at the door before this was cute but....
"Delia" Maxwell coughed, muttering less than polite words, grabbed the paper and slammed the door, hoping a shower later would rid himself of the creepy feeling that kid's eyes gave him as they roamed over his skin. Duo swallowed convulsively before lobbing the paper at his partner who grunted, rubbing at hazy Prussian blue eyes before opening it.
By the time he finished reading those same eyes nearly bugged out of his head and a vein had begun pulsing above one eyebrow.
"Duo..."he growled, as his partner had retreated to the bathroom, brushing his teeth.
Mouth still full of foam and toothbrush, the undercover terrorist sauntered out, doing his utmost to stretch the robe longer than it's 12 or 13 inches of fabric. "Mnahmi?" he asked, question clear enough by his tone.
"Read," he shoved the printed piece at Duo, not having enough time to dodge when a mouthful of toothpaste caught him full in the face.
All five pilots gathered in Wufei's room, his having the most privacy due to the "boyfriend" incident that morning. The three undercover shifting nervously on the mammoth canopy bed, each clad in a different color of short, satin robe. Each wishing by every deity and demi-god they knew for a pair of pants. The boys sat in a circle for a while, staring not saying anything. finally, Heero spoke up, gesturing at the Arabian's platinum blonde locks.
"What the hell happened to you?" he wondered, causing Quatre to blush faintly. The well cared for locks were peppered with strange substances, some yellow and others brownish-sort of red. Quatre picked out a bit of egg with distaste.
"One could ask the same question of you, Heero," Trowa reminded the stoic Wing pilot, who's bronze skin and coffee brown hair were tinged a frosty shade of blue.
"Not important," Wufei grumbled, " What we need to know is what caused this? Who could've been spying on us?"
The paper, which had been dubbed 'The Daily Yodel' by that city's inhabitants, lay on Wufei's coffee table, opened to what he considered the most offending page.
The headlines were as follows:
BEAUTY QUEEN TODAY, MOTHER OF THE YEAR TOMORROW
CONTEST SCANDAL: SELLING FAVORS FOR THE CROWN
YUY AND MAXWELL, IS THE ENGAGEMENT OFF?
Duo, having only read the fiction pertaining to himself and Heero, ogled a Quatre and Trowa, not yet half-way through 'Beauty Queen today, Mother of the Year Tomorrow'.
"You were having sex in my dressing room?" he screeched.
"Ummm...not sex, per se...but.."Quatre fidgeted away from the braided boy who promptly tumbled to the floor, twitching.
"And they say I can't be anonymous..." he muttered to himself.
"And Wufei?" Heero added, brows creasing as he finished the article, " What the hell were you doing with Treize?"
A tic had started under Duo's left eye.
"They think you were trying to bribe him with your...femininity," Trowa pointed out helpfully.
"And what about you two?" a now very flustered Wufei turned on Heero and Duo, whom were looking perfectly innocent.
"We can fix what we did," Duo smiled his most charming, heart-winning smile, making Wufei want to knock his face in even more.
"All we have to do is set up a big make-up and apologize scene. Not hard," Heero shrugged, as always his expression revealing nothing.
"But Heero, you can't act," Quatre snorted, ungentlemanly and very unladylike.
"He won't have to," Duo replied, unconsciously shifting closer to his partner. Three sets of eyes stared at them both, causing Duo to laugh nervously, " No, not like that guys. I go and make a very public display of begging the Hee-man's forgiveness. The press'll love it."
"It's not fair..." Quatre failed, burying his face in Trowa's turtleneck.
"Injustice," Wufei muttered.
"We still don't know who did this," Trowa grumble happy to comfort his blonde lover. Wufei turned slightly green at the display.
"That, my friends,"Duo's grin suddenly turned serious," is easy."
On the very last page of The Yodel was a fourth article on the Beauty Contest, this one including a picture of a familiar female face.
FRONICATING IN THE DRESSING ROOM? PEACECRAFT'S ATTEMPT AT SABOTAGE
The piece following did a very detailed description on how Relena Peacecraft had hunted down the reporters of the yodel, then told them everything she knew about the so-called beauty queens. She had held back the fact that they were male...but Trowa, Quatre and Wufei's activities of the previous night were very...graphically depicted by Ms. Peacecraft's account. And it was denied quite forcefully that Heero Yuy was engaged to Delia Maxwell. It seems, though, she had made a small mistake in her description because the reporter had doubted it enough to write that article as well.
"Is fronicating really a word? One might wonder if she made most of that up," he said at the end of his story.
Having now read this, all five pilots, despite Duo's good nature and Quatre's dislike of violence, were ready to paint the walls of the Pageant Hall with the blood of the "pacifist" princess.
::cough:: try to forgive my insanity....^_^
doesn't relena make such a great villain? ::snickers::
anyways, feedback is always much appreciated, good and bad. i live off of feedback...