6-23-2002

Mission: Beauty Queen
By: Lyssira Miokii
Disclaimer: Not mine. -_-
Warnings: Yaoi, of course, possible sap, possible citrus, humor-no
duh-, major OOC but that's not the point, Relena-bashing, cross-
dressing, bishie-torture and general silliness. Original Characters.
Pairings: 1+2 3x4/4x3
Part: 5/?
Feedback: Oh please! If you have a minute, that'd be great! Tell me
it's awful, I'll still love ya! nekophile@h...

Mission: Beauty Pageant
Day: 2

The two young women responsible for the boys' escape lounged behind
the podium of a smaller, less intimidating press room. One, the red
haired girl with her fierce grin, stretched out across two leather
chairs with her booted feet resting lazily on the seat of a third.
Her companion, dark eyes veiled behind her equally dark hair, leaned
against the wall, arms folded. Her stance was uncannily similar to
that of the three quieter pilots who mirrored her across the room.
Duo smirked to himself, wondering exactly who would win in a staring
contest between the four.

Heero shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the only change
in his demeanor. He wasn't sure what could be done about their
two 'friends'. These girls seemed to know a great deal about them--
more than they should. And if they knew who they *really* were, then
he would have no choice. All mouths would be sealed, all talkers
silenced. Though they'd helped the undercover agents out of a
potentially dangerous situation, there was no proof as to whether
they'd simply saved the boys from one kitchen only to be cooked in
another. The Japanese pilot reached back into the holster between his
shoulder blades [1] to find a hand stopping him from drawing his gun.

He turned slightly, meeting Trowa's hard, emerald eyes. The other boy
mouthed `Not yet', gesturing to the girls at the front of the room.
Their focus was on the five pilots now, alert despite their lax
posture. Heero couldn't help but feel as if they were his superiors
and that the five of them were unruly upstarts in need of assistance
instead of worthy adversaries. These girls wouldn't care if they
piloted the most technologically advanced Mobile Suits on the planet
or if any of them could kill a man with a single move.

The Perfect Solder could feel Wufei's glare from the other side of
Quatre and forced himself to stifle a smile. "Wendy" wouldn't enjoy
playing the subordinate to any woman.

They stared for a long while.

"Well," Quatre said finally, keeping his voice low and
ladylike,"Thank you for your assistance. I don't know what we
would've done without you! Is there anything *you* need?"

They both snorted.

"A few things, actually. First of all, let's drop this beauty pageant
BS. The old men sent us to help you, cuz you screwed up. We fix that,
we get paid. You don't mess with us. Any questions?" Miss Rikaru
asked, straightening from her recline, fiddling with something
between her long manicured hands.

The boys said nothing.

"No?" she grinned wider, looking exactly like the Cheshire Cat,"You
prefer to ask your questions at gunpoint? Sorry, that's not how I
play."

Heero had to refrain from biting his lip. He did not like how this
was turning out. He was used to being intimidat*ing*, not
intimidat*ed*.

"My name's Kojin, [2] boys. I've been working for J a long time, "
the girl said easily, "And before you decide to blow my head off, I
thought you should know..."

She opened her hand to reveal a detonator, "... I can push this
button long before you can draw your pretty little guns and pull the
triggers."

To their credit, not one of the five terrorists ducked or looked
scared. She looked pleased with their noncommital appearance, though
it was pretty obvious all five of them were assessing how quickly
they could get to the nearest exit.

"Now," Kojin continued, "Any questions?"

Wufei stepped forward, glaring for all he was worth, despite an inch
of eye make-up.

"Yeah," he sneered, not bothering to sound at all feminine and
earning a dig into his ribs from Quatre, "What can we offer in return
for your `help'? I'm guessing you're not particularly interested in
defending us from the fashion world. Hmm? How much do you get paid,
huh? When do our throats get slit?"

"Wu-*Wendy*!" the blonde squeaked, appalled, his high voice almost at
the wrong decibels for human hearing (Though we may feel sorry for
all of the dogs within a mile radius).

*He'll ruin everything!* he wailed to himself.

"Quatre-kun," the other girl spoke up, smiling sweetly-perhaps too
sweetly?-" Don't mind my partner. She's just protecting
our...interests. It's alright. Dr J and the others *did* send us to
help you pull off this charade, okay? We're not the bad guys." Her
_expression was open and honest, just begging for them to trust her.
Five pairs of eyes narrowed in suspicion. This was an old game. Good
beauty consultant, bad beauty consultant.

"How do we know you are who you say you are?" Quatre replied,
unconsciously shifting closer to Trowa.

"If we were enemies, blondie, do you honestly think I would stand
here playing with the explosive switch?" Kojin snorted.

"You could just want to us to reveal mission secrets before you
splatter us all over the Earth. Just because you know the Doctors'
initials doesn't mean you have all the information you want. But we
won't talk so you're wasting your time," Duo spoke up for the first
time since they'd entered the room. His violet eyes were shielded and
downcast He'd earned himself four astonished stares and two approving
ones.

"True," The girl in gray nodded, "But there is little else you can do
but accept us. If you dismiss us, we either blow you up or expose
your secrets, ne?"

Four nods, though they all appeared grim. Wufei still didn't look
convinced. But Heero, nearly as suspicious and sympathetic to the
Chinese boys attitude, couldn't rid himself of a gut instinct that
these were people Dr. J would send to help. Something just seemed to
fit in this puzzle, damned if he knew quite what it was.

Meanwhile...

"Threats and bluffs do not affect me," Chang said, "Give me some form
of truth and then I will consider your claims."

The dark haired girl laughed, startling the other pilots, wagging her
finger at Wufei, "You really are something, Dragon-boy."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he growled.

"It means you're something," Kojin interrupted, smirking slightly,
"And you want proof? You want a fact? You ripped a blouse yesterday."

Duo, Quatre, Heero and Trowa all turned to look at Wufei, eyebrows
raised until he nodded grudgingly.

"Furthermore, I was there," she continued, tossing the garment in
question to Wufei, "And I didn't kill you. In fact, I fixed it. If I
were truly your enemy, I would've killed you or kidnaped you while
you were defenseless and trapped in an onna's underpinnings."

Wufei nodded slightly, looking far more trusting, though not
completely.

The still unnamed girl cleared her throat,"Besides the fact, who do
you think organized your closets for this mission? It was not the
drag fairies, I assure you."

She began to list off pieces, more accurately than any catelog.

Now each one of the `contestants' flushed dark red, realizing who it
was that had found out their sizes and selected the feminine attire.
Heero suppressed a snort, which was really a laugh.

"So *you're* the ones who go in and pretend to act like maids! I knew
I'd seen you before!" Duo blurted out, pointing a finger at the two
girls. His wide grin was in stark contrast with Quatre's disbelieving
stare, the two deathglares and Trowa's constantly blank _expression.

"You did notice," Kojin smiled, "And here I had begun to think the
lot of you really were a bunch of dumb teenagers and not trained
spies."

They all blushed redder.

"So now what?" the braided boy asked.

"Well, as a front, we're your social managers and public speakers,"
the red haired girl answered.

"As a front?"

"In reality,"her companion added, her _expression turning just as
feral,"This is beauty pageant boot-camp and we just became your drill-
sergeants."

The three undercover agents gulped audibly.

"Yes, ladies, when we're finished with you, you will be able to walk,
talk, look and act just like real live beauty queens," Kojin smiled
evilly.

"Is that really necessary?" Quatre asked, turning on his puppy-dog
look, big blue eyes quivering and innocent. They were unmoved.

"Quatre, you're wearing your wonderbra upside down. It's necessary."

The blonde muttered something inaudible and tried to twist to get a
look at the misplaced piece of lingerie.

"We'll start fresh tomorrow morning," the red-haired girl added," Get
a goodnight's sleep and don't go out unless you absolutely have to.
We'll be using this weekend before the preliminaries start to give
you a crash course in being perfect ladies. I hope your endurance is
better than your diplomatic skills."

The two turned to go, a sure dismissal if any of the boys had ever
seen one, speaking softly to each other in a dialect none of the boys
could quite understand. It was slurred and sounded vaguely American
but that was all any of them could make out. As she exited, Kojin
tripped and dropped the detonator, watching cooly as it clicked on
the switched side. The five pilots all ducked and rolled, hoping to
dodge the coming explosion-except there wasn't one

The red-haired agent smiled to herself and the left the conference
room, her heels clicking on the tiled floor.

"A bluff," Wufei grumbled, "I knew it."

The gray-clad girl shook her head, "Actually, I believe it was a
minor explosive in the Men's toilet. Can't be blowing up our most
important guerillas, can we?"

She too left, ignoring their bemused expressions, only calling back
over her shoulder, "I'm Sombra [3], in case you were wondering ."

*****

The setting sun hung low over the horizon as Wufei sat and
contemplated the events of that day. His hunger gnawed a little at
his concentration, but for the most part he'd left the physical world
behind. There was no body, no gravity or limitations. His
consciousness hovered in a completely different realm, mist
surrounding his soul, soothing every frustration, every doubt. He'd
never known a more perfect state...

"Whatcha doing?" a demure, female voice broke the silence.

The Chinese boy sighed and opened his eyes. Standing before him was
Miss Mexico, her dark eyes watching him with curiosity, framed by
artistically tousled brown hair. Her mini-skirt was an imitation of
the Mexican flag and revealed more than a little leg.

"I'm meditating," he answered calmly, trying to heighten the pitch of
his voice

"Oh!" Miss Mexico smiled brilliantly,"You mean like in all those
martial arts movies?"

Wufei groaned to himself, "Yes, something like that."

"Can I try?"

"Sure," he shrugged, closing his eyes once more. He heard shuffling
beside him and cracked an eyelid open to watch. The girl struggled to
seat herself on the grass, while not revealing anything through the
miniskirt. Wufei did his best not to look, though he couldn't help
seeing some of it. He'd once prided himself on not being so
superficial but....

*My god, she's hot.*

*****

Silently, the slight, blonde pilot of Sandrock and his taller
companion snuck along the hotel's main corridor, sliding in and out
of shadows as only Gundam pilots could. They had an important
mission, one Quatre refused to abandon unless life and death became
involved...

*****

Heero pounded away on his laptop with a determination Duo had long
associated with his partner. The keyboard rattled from the force of
his typing, unable to keep up with the Japanese boy's speed. The
machine was the highest upgrade possible, probably with even more
modifications, yet it remained too outdated for Heero Yuy. And it
was slow as hell when it came to email.

"Anything yet?" the braided boy asked for what seemed the fortieth
time in five minutes.

"No."

Duo sighed. Finally, he reached into his own knapsack, the one that
was carefully hidden from the view of all of Relena's cameras. His
own laptop was dented, scratched and an unattractive shade of
charcoal gray. Usually, he relied on other computers to get the job
done. But now it seemed, it was time for his baby to go to work. He
lifted up the cover with care (as it appeared the machine was about
to fall apart at any second). It's screen glowed with technological
life a moment later and the braided boy set to work.

Two minutes later he grinned broadly once more.

"Come here, man I've got us covered," he called to Heero from across
the room. Wing's pilot grunted and got to his feet, knowing that
surely Duo could not have beaten him at getting into his own email
count. It was impossible.

The Japanese boy's jaw dropped as he recognized his inbox.

"Where the hell did you get my password!?!!" he exclaimed, fixing
narrowed blue eyes on Duo.

"`Wing' backwards in Portuguese, `Operation' in Japanese and `Meteor'
in Mongolian, then Dr. J's social security code. *That's* your idea
of a un-crackable password? Puh-lease! I'd thought you were better
than that, Heero," the American boy snorted.

"And I'm sure yours is *so* complicated," 01 glared.

"You are correct, Watson. My newest password is superior to all
others."

"Hilde's Bitch-Boy."

"No."

"1-800-Eat-Me."

"Wrong again."

"Shinigami02?"

"Nope, buddy. You'll never guess it," Duo grinned triumphantly.

"What is it then?" he glared. No one bested Heero Yuy.

"What's pink and gold and red and black and pink and gold and red and
black and pink and gold and red and black all over [4]?" Duo smiled
his God of Death smile, eyes glinting in the most evil way
imaginable.

Minutes ticked by. Little gears turned in his mind. Finally, the
Perfect Soldier's brow creased, "I...don't know."

"Then my perfect password is safe until I change it again. . .Now
check your email. We'll see if the Doctors have anything to say about
our new friends," the braided pilot smirked.

There was one message in the flourescent inbox. Both recognized it as
one of Dr. J's screen-names, which never had the same password, ever.
It would take a genius at least as twisted and brilliant as Dr. J to
crack it. Fortunately, twisted, brilliant people didn't get along
very well with OZ. Heero clicked the email, scanning its single,
simple sentence:

<<They've arrived.>>

*****

Quatre darted into their mission-destination with all the skill of a
carefully trained spy. He was alert, silent and ready for everything.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" a bored voice asked.

A young woman lounged against the counter of 7-ll, her eyes as devoid
of intelligence as Trowa's were of emotion. She chewed gum, smacking
it against her teeth every 1.75 minutes. Mascara coated her already
limp eyelashes and lipstick smeared unevenly across her mouth. Quatre
gave the girl his best "Katie" smile, showing flawless white teeth.

"I'm sure I can find what I'm looking for!" he/she told her.

"'Kay."

Trowa followed in soon after, though he earned much more of her
attention. Quatre sniffed delicately. He knew his green-eyed lover
had better taste than *that*. Poor girl. She was trying to so hard...

*Good god, I'm even starting to _ sound_ like a beauty queen! Ack!*

"Find it yet?"

A familiar presence slid in behind him, resting warm hands on either
side of his waist. Quatre smiled to himself, continuing to scan the
shelves with large aquamarine eyes. His grin widened and he plucked
the bottle off the shelf, handing it to the taller boy.

"We're set now," he replied, watching Trowa's _expression change from
disinterested to...

Well he was still disinterested, but Quatre could tell what lurked
beneath the surface!

*****

Wufei glanced for the sixth time that evening (though it could've
been the 45th) at the young woman seated across from him. Miss Mexico
was trying to very hard to meditate but she kept squirming. Every
time she moved, it drew him out of his trance and he had to fight
hard to drag his gaze away from her again. She was so
beautiful...almost as beautiful as Meiran had been. Finally, the dark-
haired girl caught Wufei's gaze and held it, her brown eyes
flickering in the dying sunset...

*****

The ring of their room bell pulled Heero away from his computer and
Duo from his book. He was thankful he'd bought the newest Stephen
King thriller from a book-stand on the way here or he'd have nothing
to do. Every single magazine on their well-stocked bathroom rack
pictured a famous woman on the cover who was just dying to reveal her
latest make-up secrets. Duo planned to use those as a last resort
(and if there was a blackout, they certainly wouldn't lack for
material to burn). He would just have to read this novel very
slowly...twice.

He stretched languidly, adjusting his false cleavage under a simple
tanktop (featuring the ladies of Sailor Moon ™), and headed for the
door.

"Room service!" a muffled voice called.

Heero raised an eyebrow in question, but said nothing.

Duo laughed, "Just thought you'd be hungry after this morning's
excitement man. Unless you wanna go visit the loverly Linda."

One might assume that a pillow flying across the room to catch the
young beauty queen in the back of her braided head would alarm the
server. It didn't. The stoic, elderly gentleman simply pushed his
gargantuan cart into the room, accepted a generous tip from the lady
(who had returned fire) and left with little more than a few polite
words. Duo barely caught a glimpse of his name tag. Pargan...odd that
sounded vaguely familiar.

A large silver cover concealed whatever this evening's dinner of
choice was, though there was no doubt in Heero's mind that it could
feed all of OZ's troops. The dome itself was at *least* his height
and twice (or thrice) his slender width. He glanced nonchalantly from
veiled meal to the violet-blue eyes of his partner, not sure whether
to accept their unspoken challenge or run for his life. *I dare you
to stay*, those eyes said. Heero's glinted back a reply,-somewhere in
there a tumbleweed rolled across the tickle-me-pink toned carpet-
*You're on.*

Silently, Shinigami laughed.

Revenge for the past two days' humiliation had arrived on his
doorstep and it was the kind he liked best.

*****

On the way home, Quatre couldn't contain his glee. He hugged the
plastic-wrapped item tight as he walked and imagined moments of bliss
spent with the one he truly loved. Sure, he'd had to fight an old
lady for it at the checkout counter, but sacrifices were necessary in
the war of lust...err...love.

Maybe those tranquilizers were getting to him. Just a little bit.

*****

Miss Mexico was leaning ever closer (and it was taking her way too
much time to get there as far was Wufei/Wendy or Wundy...or Wenfei
was concerned). Her bottomless brown eyes seemed to swallow him like
two oceans. Oh, he'd not felt like this in so long! By the time her
lips finally touched his/hers, he'd forgotten the mission entirely.
Soft lips on his. He'd never appreciated the beauty there was to be
found in a woman's lips. Like silken butterflies they were, against
the rude, calloused mouth of a boy. He returned the drunken kiss, not
remembering that this boy in particular happened to be wearing lip
gloss.

*****

Duo yanked the silver dome off a plate the size of Deathscythe's hubcaps. Underneath it was the largest mountain of burgers known to the history of man (or maybe not, just known to the history of the Great Heero Yuy). There had to be fifty there-maybe even more than that. Layer upon layer of bun wrapped deep-broiled hamburger, pickles, ketchup, mustard and cheese. The only thing missing was onions and he had a sneaking suspicion they were piled on the side. Heero's dark eyes widened considerably until he looked like a child... a child who was about to have an apoplectic fit.

"D-Del-Duo! Think about how much this going to cost!" he growled.

The God of Death smiled cooly, "Nothing at all. At least...for us. The Romefellar Organization is in charge of covering all room-service bills for the contestants. It's part of their generosity. They just assume we won't order anything."

"And if the press gets wind of this? I can see it now: Queen Glutton," Heero demanded, not raising his voice from its almost prehistoric grumble.

"Then they'll either assume I'm an anorexic, have an extremely high metabolism or I'm a fanatic about working out. It won't occur to them that a beauty queen has an alternative way for losing weight such as mine. Or if they do, I'm sure our dear lady friends will handle it."

Heero groaned, feeling ill, "So you're going to eat all of those?"

The Evil Grin ™ was back.

"Nope, you're eating half, buddy-mine. Unless...of course...you don't feel up to it?"

The Burger Mountain cast a gloom against the rose-colored wall that consumed the shadow of steely muscled, perfect, deadly, unintimidated-save-in-front-of-vicious-female-rebel-agents Heero Yuy, Pilot 01.

He groaned again.

*****

Hands were on Wufei's slim torso, digging into sensitive flesh. He wondered at the silly feeling he got when touched just along the ribs. Perhaps he was ticklish? No, impossible. Preposterous. He couldn't be ticklish. But that thought was only entertained for a moment, anyway. Miss Mexico's full lips fed eagerly on his own. A knee dug between his legs and real female flesh pressed into his false ones. The innocent beauty pageant contestant had become a sex-cat in about a nanosecond. Her hands slid under his top to toy with the straps of his/her bra....

And he heard a large riiiiip The Chinese boy stared down at his contestant sash. It was torn across the back and lay against the blood red shade of the grass like a banner of his near-fatal mistake. He mumbled something against the girl's lips and drew her away, as gently as he could. Wufei wanted to keep his expression neutral but he was positive some of the panic reached his face despite this. Miss Mexico sat back on her Barbie heels, studying his onyx eyes with more scrutiny than one would have thought possible for her.

"You all right sweetie?" the Hispanic girl asked.

"No! I mean yes, I'm fine but...I'm not like this, I'm sorry."

The girl laughed, loudly, "Y'know they all say that, Wendy. You're just scared. But I've seen the way you look at other girls. You're definitely like that."

Wufei blushed a deep red. He wasn't about to say he liked men! He couldn't look anyone in the face and say that. He wasn't like the others-they could lie easily. But he was so used to telling the truth!His mind spun.

"Ummm...I meant I'm not like this. I just don't randomly make-out with people."

True, keep going.

Her face fell, ever so slightly, "Oh, I see. You think I'm a slut, sí?"

He swore at himself, violently, "No! Of course not...I just...I'm...I..."

Say something moron.

She raised an inquiring eyebrow, still looking sad.

"-I love someone else!"

True.

Sunlight dawned on that cream-and-mocha face. She smiled so brilliantly, "Oh, Wendy. You belong to Cupid. I'm sorry. I didn't know. Your girl didn't want to hurt your reputation, right?"

Smiling back, in relief, Wufei nodded. Well actually Meiran wouldn't have minded but...

Miss Mexico got up, brushing grass from her skirt, "If you ever need someone to just...have fun with, let me know. Mexico's a great town."

"Thanks."

"De nada, mi amiga."

She left after that, the sun finally sinking over the horizon. Wufei collapsed in the grass, uncaring for his white jeans and blouse.

Being a woman's a lot harder than it looks. Being a lesbian's even worse.

*****

Quatre gave the green-eyed boy his famous "come hither" look. Trowa didn't stand a chance.

*****

A daunting tower of burgers faced Heero Yuy. He had eaten eight so far and already he could feel the spandex stretching down below. His stomach felt as if he'd poured wet cement into it and his Japanese taste buds were protesting the layer after layer of greasy American food being forced onto them. He glared at his opponent, the braided wonder, who was wolfing down his twelfth with no signs of stopping. Heero thought he might throw up but cast idea from his mind. Duo would not beat him. He wouldn't. Really.

There were seventeen burgers left on his plate. Thirteen on Duo's. They were beginning to sway and dance and smile at him with cute, little clay-mation faces...

"You okay, Heero?" Duo asked aloud. His face showed real concern. Yet, was that malice in his violet eyes?

"I'm fine," he glared harder, perhaps hoping the burgers on his plate would shrink in terror. His golden skin was beginning to take on shades of avocado, contrasting nicely with the infamous forest green tank top.

"Really? 'Cause I can call it off."

Deathglare.

"No thank you," Heero snarled, reaching for his ninth burger. Duo hid his grin behind number thirteen. He patted his stomach. Never too much food for him, no way!

After a few more burgers and much more internal swearing (which shall not be repeated), Heero got up. He didn't say anything to his partner, who was taking more cautious bites now, if only to avoid the evil demon that is indigestion. The dark-haired pilot practically flung open their liquor cabinet. He rummaged around a little, muttering in something that was not quite English. He finally pulled out a large, dark bottle-Jack Daniels-and popped off the top. Much to the God of Death's amazement, Heero gulped the entire thing, head back, neck arched, Adam's Apple bobbing. He rested the empty bottle on the cabinet.

Then he belched.

Loudly.

No, not just loudly, with hurricane force winds!

It was a belch worthy of Heracles. Of Zeus.

Hell, forget Zeus. It was belch worthy of the big man himself. Windows rattled in a building two miles away.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he sat down at the table and began attacking the burgers. Duo stared, shell-shocked. He'd never heard Heero burp. He didn't know Heero was capable of burping. He didn't know Heero knew burping existed. It was like finding out Quatre had been the top wrestler of his weight class as a kid. It was like finding out Trowa had dreams of being an improvisational actor. Or that Wufei was secretly a lesbian in a man's body.

Duo was so busy staring (and listening to the echoes off the walls) that he barely noticed Heero had caught up to him. 22 to 22. Three more burgers to go. Two for Heero...One for Heero. Two for Duo.

"Duo," he grumbled in his monotone, "At least give a me a challenge, ne?"

The braided boy's head snapped up. He could almost see a smile of triumph on Heero's face. Almost. It was barely there. He laughed his battle laugh.

"You got it, Yuy."

He chomped, he stuffed, he hoovered. Not a bit of burger was spared. Duo filled his chipmunk cheeks with the junk food, certain that he was going to find that he'd lost. Again. Swallowing hard, he looked up to see Heero gulping down the last of his burger at the exact same time. Tie. They met each other's eyes and laughed. Duo snatched a leftover onion from the plate. He flung it at Heero's nose. It hung comically off of the end. An evil gleam appeared in his eyes.

And thus began the Battle of the Onions, the final chapter of the War of Burgers.

*****

The clock was striking nine by the time the boys began cleaning up. Duo had taken another dip in the hot tub (Heero declined). Heero had considered throwing up, then thought better of it. He added a little Pepto-bismal to his nightly dosages of vitamins and what not. They were setting up the sleeping arrangements once again. Duo sauntered around in a loose tee-shirt and boxers. To anyone who might stop in, it would look perfectly normal. If they didn't examine his rather flat chest too closely, all would be gotten away with.

Heero laid out his blankets on the floor, fluffing his pillow, cleaning his favorite gun. The floor wasn't particularly soft but that was okay. He didn't mind. He'd straighten out his spine in the morning. Duo bounced a few times on the bed. He'd never felt such a soft mattress. The braided boy winced seeing Heero lay out his things. He stared down at the enormous bed. Time to be a friend. Time to be a man. Grow up. He cleared his throat, trying to appear casual.

"Hn?"

"Listen Heero, you don't...have to sleep on the floor."

The Wing pilot raised his eyebrow. No verbal response. Duo sighed.

"The bed's plenty big," he muttered, more to himself than to the other boy.

Still no response. He was waiting. He was enjoying watching Duo stutter for once. Sadist.

"And if you stay on your side, I probably won't kick you too much."

Duo smiled and bounced on the bed a final time. Then he rolled underneath the covers. Ten minutes passed before he felt the weight shift on the other side. The comforter stirred slightly but there was no noise. Then, when there was, it was the soft snoring of two teenage boys. About five feet separated them. But still, somewhere a princess screeched in rage.

*****

At about twelve thirty, a noise woke Heero from sleep. He didn't notice that in the time he'd fallen asleep to the time he'd been woken up, that five feet had become three. He shifted on the mattress for a while, thinking a dream had shaken him from slumber. Then, a noise again. Heero glanced around. His eyes began adjusting to the dark. There wasn't anyone in the room save for himself and Duo. The braided pilot hadn't stirred yet. Another noise, coming from the room next door. Quatre and Trowa.

It was somewhere between a slosh and a moan.

Heero grumbled something to himself and started to settle in again. Duo rolled over on the other side of the bed, extending the width apart back to five feet. He wouldn't be waking up anytime soon as far as the Japanese boy could tell. Heero began to close his eyes, knowing that he had to rest. Tomorrow was a big day. He'd have to set up surveillance to keep Relena and the others safe, make sure the lady-lessons were going well, and see if he could discover who exactly the threat was. He began drifting off...

That noise.

He turned over again. And again. Three feet.

That noise.

It got louder and louder. He wasn't sure how the American managed to keep sleeping but he did. Heero pulled his pillow firmly over his ears, intent on blocking the noise out. He closed his eyes, imagining a place where all was calm and there was no noise.

Except that one.

Twenty minutes passed. It did not stop. He finally slid from the bed, not bothering to turn on any lights. He rubbed at bleary Prussian eyes and growled. He didn't have any problem with Quatre and Trowa's 'recreational activities'. It was their business. But at the same time, he was developing a tick under one eye and he was tired. Sleep. He wanted sleep.

"Grr..."

He pounded on the Arabian's door none-too-gently. There was more sloshing from within, then the sound of dull footsteps. The door inched opened a crack. He saw Trowa's exposed green eye peering at him with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. Heero glared back into that one eye, knowing if there was a staring contest he would win–easily.

"Can I help you?" Trowa asked, deadpan.

"You can stop making so much noise," Heero replied, just as blandly.

"We're not being that loud."

"......"

"......"

"......"

Trowa sighed, "Listen, we'll be quieter okay?"

"Who is it Trowa?" Quatre called from within the room. There was more sloshing.

"It's Heero."

"Oh, hi Heero!" the blonde smiled.

Heero raised both eyebrows now, "What exactly are you two doing?"

Quatre laughed, "Trowa's washing my hair!"

"....."

Winner's heir continued, as if he was talking about the weather or the state of politics in Canada, "We liked Herbal Essence so much we decided we'd have a late night bath and he'd wash my hair and I'd wash his. And now that we're done we're gonna-"

"That's enough Quatre!" Trowa interrupted swiftly, turning an Un-Trowa-like shade of pink.

"Nice to see you two made up so well," Heero said in his monotone, sighing quietly to himself.

Trowa blushed more, "Rather like you and Duo?"

Heero stopped, turning around to stare into two pairs of eyes, one blue, one green. Well, it was a pair and a half of eyes, technically.

"What do you mean?"

"You mean you haven't...?" Trowa now raised both eyebrows, though only one was visible.

"Haven't what?" Heero demanded.

"Haven't..." Trowa trailed off.

"Fucked each other silly?" Quatre put in helpfully. Heero coughed.

"In a word, no. And I don't intend to, thank you."

"You should try it!" the French pilot called after him, as he went back to his own room.

"It's alotta fun!" his blonde counterpart added.

Heero sighed again, rubbing a temple, "Just keep it down, okay?"

Both doors closed. The Japanese pilot leaned against his. Sometimes he just had to wonder:

*Why me?*

TBC

[1] Yes, this is where I believe Heero keeps his gun. Really. ^_~

[2] Originally I was going to name the red-headed girl something else. But I couldn't think of anything so I called her Kojin, after my friend, until I thought of one. It stuck.

[3] Sombra is `shadow' in Spanish. Sorry, if I've butchered the language at all for those who speak it fluently.

[4] If you can solve this, you get a prize (perhaps a chapter in your name or you give me something the g-boys must do in this fic...) Though if anyone does guess it, I'll faint.

Or if you just wanna know the answer, mail me and I'll tell if you promise not to. ^_~