Grandma Winner's Chocolate Cake

A Gundam Wing fanfic
by Kaoru

Greetings, everyone! This bit of sillyness came about after making one too many chocolate chiffon cakes. I won't say any more, just read and (hopefully) enjoy!

Words of warning: This fic contains YAOI, so if you are not into that kind of stuff, please head on back. Also, major OOC alert! If you still don't know who from the title, you just haven't been watching enough GWing.

Please send fan mail, junk mail and black mail to namikata@rocketmail.com

Standard Disclaimer: The characters appearing in this fanfic belong to Sotsu Agency, Sunrise and Bandai (who owns Sunrise). Please don't sue, I'm in this for the fun, that's all. Grandma Winner is my own creation, though Quatre probably has one himself somewhere.


A bout of mad laughter bounced around the sound-proof, flame-proof and explosion-proof metallic walls like a ricocheting bullet. The cavernous laboratory was shrouded in a ghoulish half light, punctuated with the occasional flashes of electric blue from the massive van der Graff generator in a corner, surrounded by menacing contraptions full of whirring gears, benches piled with bubbling beakers and mice in treadmills.

The source of the unearthly laughter was hovering about one such bench, grabbing flasks and bottles of yet unknown substances and pouring their contents into the bowl in front of him with reckless abandon. Another round of protracted maniacal cackling emanated from the lab-coated figure as he fished out a small blue glass bottle from his pocket and added just one drop of the brown fluid to the mix. At last, it was almost ready! The figure rubbed his hands with devilish glee. He had been waiting for this moment since he found the old, leather bound book in one of his many attics, containing the most fantastic secrets long forgotten by the rest of his family. Secrets that he would use to his advantage.

Quatre was interrupted from his power trip by a polite cough from the doorway of the lab.

"If you don't mind, Mr Winner, that will be two hundred and fifty thousand four hundred sixty two dollars seventy nine cents plus tax, insurance, gas, electricity and miscellaneous fees for the rental of my lab," the short, bespectacled redhead spoke in a crisp accent that Quatre guessed might be Polish(1).

"Okay!" he chirped, "Just collect the cheque from Rashid at the door." Quatre resumed his dramatic pose in front of the bench. All it needed now was a thorough heating and it would be ready. A soft giggle erupted into a full blown guffaw as the simulated lightning from the van der Graff arched across the lab, lending that extra touch of B-grade movie kitsch to the sterile domain of the lab. He snapped his welding visor down over his face and raised his blowtorch with manic zeal, bringing it down with fiendish delight to the thick brown mix.

An hour later, he stepped back from his masterpiece, ripping off the welding visor and mopping his sweaty brow with a satisfied sigh. He grinned wildly at his creation sitting in the middle of the bench.

A perfectly frosted chocolate cake.

* * *

A knock at the door made Trowa look up from the book he was reading. He made a face as he was just getting to the good bits. He snapped the book closed and opened the door of his room with the tiniest of sighs.

Quatre stood at the door with the sweetest smile on his face holding the most delicious looking chocolate cake Trowa had ever seen. He stepped into the guest room he had let Trowa have for the time that he was in this part of the world.

"Trowa, I made some cake, would you like to have some?" He beamed at the taller boy.

"Umm... I'm not that hungry really..." Trowa thought it might be best to politely refuse his host. After all, he'd been in this desert mansion for quite a while already and did not want to overstay his welcome.

"Aww, Trowa, I made it just for you," The angelic face broke out in a pout. "Please have a little, and tell me what you think! For me, Trowa?"

Trowa felt his resolve melt under those huge blue eyes. No one could say no to Quatre. With a weak grin, he broke off a chunk of the cake and ate it, watching the golden glow of happiness blossom over the blonde's face. He noticed that Quatre's smile widened with every bite he took, and deciding that he kind of liked that, polished off two whole slices. Though something niggled at the back of his mind that Quatre was being just a bit too happy about something as trivial as cake. He didn't dwell on it too long, well actually, he couldn't, as a sudden wave of extreme relaxation overtook him and he passed out on the couch.

Quatre giggled as he fished out a pair of handcuffs he had kept hidden in his back pocket. Now for Phase Two.

* * *


"Grandma, what's that you're making?"

"Why, it's my secret recipe chocolate cake, darling."

"Ooooh, can I have some please?"

"No, Quatre-honey, it's for your father. It's a very special cake."

"What's so special about it that I can't have some?"

"Well, let's put it this way. Why do you think you have so many sisters?"

"I still don't get it, Grandma."

"Don't worry about it, darling. I'll tell you when you're older. Now run along and play, dear."

"Okay!" The kindly old dame watched as the little golden head bobbed out of the kitchen door and into the sprawling oasis outside.

"Ah, sweet innocence," she chuckled.

(End flashback)

* * *

Quatre checked the handcuffs again to make sure they were firmly anchored to the headboard. After satisfying himself that they were indeed escape-proof, he stepped back to admire his handiwork. Relieving Trowa of his cumbersome clothes had been easy enough, it was lugging him from the couch to the bed that was hard work. That part was done, however, now it remained to wake the sleeping boy from his involuntary siesta.

He pulled out a small green bottle from his trousers. Grandma Winner's Smelling Salts Formula 619 (cue ominous organ chord)! It was the second part to the magic recipe, good old Arabian spice. Gingerly, he waved the open bottle under Trowa's nose, and watched as he was lulled into the waking world once more.

Trowa awoke to a strange, woody smell. He was still feeling more relaxed than was legal in these parts, but not so much that the sensation of being restrained escaped him. In a panic, he started to thrash wildly, but the friction this caused started to raise the most unusual tinglings that rushed through him like... well, nothing he had felt before. He stilled for a moment, enought to notice that there seemed to be a weight on his stomach. The blurry figure resolved itself into something humanoid, with bright blue eyes and a head of platinum blonde hair. It looked a lot like.. like...

"Quatre!" Trowa yelled and sat up, or rather, he tried to. The handcuffs Quatre had so kindly supplied pulled his arms back and slammed him into the sheets. Quatre was, well, indecent to say the least. He was sitting on Trowa's stomach, wearing a brilliant smile and... nothing else. Trowa's jaw worked up and down a few times in a vain attempt to take stock of the situation, but failing that, decided to hang open instead.

"Hmm, Trowa, it would appear that you're glad to see me," Quatre purred, running his index finger in seductive circles on Trowa's chest(2). He whimpered, shaking his head mutely. "Tsk, tsk. Looks like I'll have to convince you of my, ahem, affections. Itadakimasu!"

Let's just say Quatre was very persuasive.

* * *

Several hours later, after all the attendants had gone to sleep, no doubt helped by the industrial-sized earplugs they were wearing, two figures lay entwined in the bed in the guest room.

"Was it as good for you as it was for me?"

"Hmm... but next time you'll have to put on the handcuffs."

"I can't wait."

The two settled down to a peaceful slumber in the blessed night time silence, interspersed only by their quiet breathing and the sound of Grandma Winner turning in her grave somewhere.

Heheh... Quatre with Kodachi tendencies... (shudder)

(1) Dexter and his lab are property of the Cartoon Network and Hanna Barbera. I couldn't resist!

(2) If you know who I'm talking about, you're special. :)