05-Apr-2000

Disclaimer: I don't own GW but I really enjoy using the characters.       :)
Hi hi! Here's a piece of silliness that came to me one night about a year ago and only just now made it past my editorial board (consisting currently of Me, Myself, and I). I'd appreciate feedback muchly, naturally; if you think it's too stupid, just be gentle. ^_^; This is a silly fic, with some yaoi, and some OOC, but I tried to stay in character within the bounds of the plot, what there was of it... it's kind of just an excuse to have Duo in a dress.
I'll leave it at that. Thanks for reading!

Frills and Chills by Erin Cayce

Part One

Duo grumbled under his breath as he fumbled with the clasp. "God-damn... stupid... don't see *Heero* doing this, oh no, not Mr Perfect, damnit... "

"Shut up, Duo," Quatre said wearily. "Do you want any help?"

"Get your hands off," Duo snapped.

"Look, the zipper's stuck."

"I said hands off!" Duo contorted himself trying to fix the zipper, and finally got it by tugging hard on the filmy material with one hand and yanking on the zipper with the other. Then he stuffed his feet into the boots and laced them with hard, jerky movements. "God-damn... "

Quatre sighed. "Here. Use these instead of the tie."

Face frozen, Duo took the chopsticks, wound his heavy chestnut hair into an intricate layered bun, and viciously pinned it with the sticks. Miraculously, nothing fell apart. Then he snatched the make-up case out of Quatre's hands and began to slap foundation onto his pale skin.

"Stupid," he muttered.

"Whatever."

"It is!"

"I didn't disagree."

"Just don't say it, Quatre."

"I didn't."

"You were thinking it," Duo retorted morosely. "I could hear it all the way over here."

"Then I didn't need to say it, did I?" The Arabian, annoyed beyond his considerable patience, retreated and turned around to assess the damage to his room. That, too, was considerable. When Duo threw a tantrum, he didn't waste his time on ineffective screeching. He went straight for the valuable breakables.

"Get me a god-damn mirror!"

Quatre sighed again.

Duo, he thought, watching the other pilot attempt to use the rouge to good effect, wasn't an unattractive girl. It was just... well, no one was ever going to call him gorgeous, but the eyeshadow had softened those big cobalt eyes and the lipstick drew attention to the fine mouth which, for once, was not busy babbling. Cursing wasn't the most attractive thing either, but Quatre had a feeling that Duo would shut up when the time came.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Duo demanded.

He rolled his eyes. He turned back to the email that glowed relentlessly on the screen of Quatre's computer, and skimmed it.

"He's secured your reservation under the name Malena Pacekept."

"*Malena* *Pacekept*!" Duo leapt to his feet, or would have if his ankle hadn't twisted on the stiletto heel. "That sounds just like Relena Peacecraft! What kind of sick fantasy is Spandex Boy living in now?"

Quatre had to admit it did seem kind of weird... He shrugged. As long as it wasn't him. "Anyway, he says don't forget to lighten your voice and to suck it in when you walk. He's says you've gained weight."

"*Gained* *weight*? *GAINED WEIGHT!!!*" Duo threw the mirror at the wall, shrieking. "That little bastard! Is he saying I'm *fat*?"

The pilot of Sandrock winced. "He also says you should leave for the airport early, just to be safe." Actually, Heero hadn't, but there was no way Quatre was going to endure *two* tantrums.

"Is he intimating that I can't get somewhere on time!"

"Just *go*, Duo. You'll get your ticket there."

"Fine! Fine, perfectly fine!" Duo grabbed his purse and slung it over one shoulder. "He's paying for this one. God damn it all!" He stomped out and slammed the door.

Trowa, the coward, emerged from his room. "Is he gone?"

Quatre glared. "Yes. No thanks to you. Where were you when I needed you?"

"Hiding." Trowa shuddered. "I admire your strength," he wheedled, sitting beside Quatre and stroking his hair. Quatre turned his back. "Oh, come on, little one. I was shaking in my boots. If I had had to stay in here, I would have humiliated myself. You handled it so much better. You did."

"It's going to take a lot more than some bad flattery to make *this* *one* up to me, Trowa," Quatre said.

"Anything, my love. I swear. I'm so sorry."

"I'll think about it." But as he spoke, Quatre's eyes fell on the pile of rejected dresses left over from Duo's transformation, and an evil idea began to take form in his mind. It was cruel. It was shameful. It was disgusting.

It was perfect.

He put a sweet smile on his face, and turned back to Trowa. He kissed his lover, and wiggled into the eager embrace the taller pilot held out to him, leaning his head against Trowa's chest and sighing contentedly. "I can never be angry with you for long," he purred.

Trowa smiled, relieved. "I *am* sorry, Quatre."

"I know, Trowa. And if you still want to make it up to me-- no, never mind."

"What?" Trowa kissed the top of his head. "Tell me."

"No. No, it's silly. Never mind, love. Let's go make some tea, and practise that duet."

"No, tell me," the Heavyarms pilot insisted. "Quatre, I want to make it up to you after leaving you in here all alone with Duo."

Quatre could barely conceal his glee. "Well... " He sighed theatrically. "It was just, watching Duo get all dressed up, I was thinking--"

"What, dearest?"

"I was thinking, well--" He sat up, and put on his best sappy puppy look. "No one's ever dressed up like that for *me*, koi, and it did look really nice on Duo and all I could think was how wonderful it would be if you proved how much you loved me like that."

Trowa stared, a sinking feeling occupying his stomach.

"Dressed up--like a girl."

Quatre nodded, his eyes at their widest and most loving.

"Like a girl--in a dress."

"With makeup. And hair things. And pretty shoes."

If Trowa had been scared of Duo, he was suddenly, absolutely terrified of the boy he'd thought he'd known. "You want me to--"

Quatre smiled. "Oh, yes," he purred.

Duo muttered to himself all the way to his seat on the plane, and then he muttered some more as he encountered the entirely new frustration of trying not to wrinkle his dress with the seat-belt. The fact that he wasn't even getting a window seat made it that much worse.

A steward appeared at his elbow to check his baggage compartment and make sure his seat was raised. Duo glared at the man when he lingered to oggle Duo's fake chest. "What the hell are you looking at?" he snarled.

The steward gave him an odd look, and fled.

A girl seated across the aisle laughed. "You tell him," she agreed. She held a hand out. "I'm Zhen."

"Du--Malena Pacekept." They shook, then Duo blinked. "Um-- like the religion?"

Zhen laughed. "More like the name," she said. "It means chaste' in Chinese."

Duo couldn't resist a leer, forgetting that at present he was dressed like a woman. "Are you?"

A delicate blush answered him. Duo laughed.

He chatted with Zhen while the plane took off, leading him to his ultimate humiliation in the name of Operation Meteor.

Unfortunately, Zhen fell asleep pretty fast, confessing in a slurred voice that she'd taken some sleep pills to get her through the flight, and Duo was left to comtemplate his doom.

*Stupid Heero.* When the steward passed by, Duo ordered a vodka on rocks and sat poking holes in the seat upholstery with his favourite penknife. *Put on a dress, Duo, lighten your voice, Duo, SUCK IT IN, Duo--ass. Ass! You hear that, Heero! I just called you an ass, and I meant it!*

But thinking nasty thoughts wasn't doing much for him. His legs itched from the shaving cream he'd used, and the garters for the sheer pantyhose were cutting off circulation to his lower legs. The g- string thong was riding up his crack. Worst of all, the socks he'd put in the push-up bra were making him hot.

And he couldn't even lay his head back, thanks to his damn hair.

Stupid--

Oops. He remembered he was supposed to be looking at his mission readout, and dug around in his purse to find the crumpled paper he'd shoved in there. He'd been too distraught to do more than glance at it earlier. He smoothed it out in his lap, and began the process of trying to translate the Japanese characters. Stupid intercultural interface. Couldn't people send him things in English?

"Blah blah blah, yada yada--gain his confidences--blah blah blah--kill the bastard." Satisfied that it would be business as usual at least at the end, Duo put the paper away and allowed himself to relax a little. As long as he got to shoot *someone*, he could always pretend it was Heero, and deal with a little bit of his anger that way.

Zhen muttered, "No--hotdogs."

Duo sighed. When had life gotten so damn hard?

Wu Fei took another picture. Then he snickered some more.

Trowa glared, clenching his little teacup and wishing it was Wu Fei's head. He should have called this off.

He would have, too, except Quatre had kept whispering what a turn-on the lacy underwear was. He should have known better than to listen with his--

"Trowa, darling?" Quatre smiled benignly. "Would you like some more tea?"

"No." He put down his cup, and stood up. "If you two don't mind, I need to use--"

"The little girls' room?" Wu Fei almost fell over laughing.

Trowa glared. A number of retorts popped into his head--most of them inappropriate for dinner--but, exercising truly amazing self- control, he refrained from speaking them. Instead he simply left.

Quatre leapt up, and grabbed the polaroid from Wu Fei. "Let me see!" He clasped it eagerly in his hands and retreated to the couch, giggling.

Immortalised--Trowa Barton, dressed in a slinky beaded two- piece dress with a tight skirt that slit up the right thigh almost to that adorable purple-lace thong. And that hair--Quatre giggled again. He'd *known* Trowa would look good in curls. He hugged it to his chest, sighed dreamily, and fell over laughing.

Duo accepted the help out of the cab, and tossed his purse over his shoulder again. "This is the place," he noted.

The well-dressed doorman took Duo's suitcase from the cabby, and returned to Duo's side. "If I may ask madam's name?"

"Du--Malena Pacekept."

"Ah." The man nodded, apparently recognising him from the guest list. "If you'll follow me, Madam du'Malena. Are you perhaps French?"

Duo gritted his teeth.

The posh hotel was posh enough to soften some of Duo's irritation--there was nothing more fun than a weekend stay at a fancy- smancy setup with room service. It was like staying at Quatre's million-dollar estates. He managed to put a little more bounce into his step, and followed the doorman to the check-in counter.

"Malena Pacekept," he announced, an octave higher than normal.

The lady behind the counter did her job and handed him his key and pointed him to the most strategic elevator and gushed something about calling immediately if he needed anything. Duo paid no attention. He was scanning the incredible sitting room.

It was huge, high, and horrifically decorated in red and gold. Duo instantly disliked it. Black would have been better.

And--bingo. He saw his target.

DeAntony something. Some stupid name like that.

Duo smiled at the girl, winked flirtatiously--recalled he was supposed to be a female and flushed--and took himself off to his room.

He didn't like his room. It was too girly, the bathroom was too small, the windows let in too much cold air, and the TV was too far from the bed. He bitched about it while the bellboy put up his suitcase, then tipped the guy and told him to get out. He plopped himself onto the bed, and called Quatre.

Wu Fei answered. /"What the hell do you want, Maxwell?"/

"Bite me. Then put Q on."

/"Q? Don't know any Q's. I'm sorry, maybe you have the wrong number."/

"Fuck off, you slanty-eyed bastard," Duo muttered. "Quit playing around and put Quatre on already."

/"I heard you looked real pretty in your dress, Maxwell. Sorry I missed it."/

"Damn it, Wuffie--"

/"Duo? This is Quatre."/

Duo calmed down with effort. "Hi. I'm here."

/"Oh, great. Have you seen the target yet?"/

"Yeah. I figure I'll get him after hours."

/"Okay. Have fun!"/

Duo was immediately suspicious. "What's got you singing?"

/"Oh, nothing... When you get back I have a picture to show you."/ He giggled. /"Well, anyway, I have to go now. This is long distance, you know. Was there anything else?"/

"No. Bye."

/"Bye!"/ He hung up.

Duo looked at the phone oddly, then he hung up too.

A moment or two spent rooting around in his suitcase located his favourite gun, with his extra-special-lucky silencer. Time to go meet his target!

DeAntony Lacy looked up when the waitress seated an unrecognised person at his table. He smiled politely at the young woman, who seemed somewhat uncomfortable in a lovely violet strapless dress.

"Good evening," he said in his most urbane voice. "I presume that you've only recently arrived at this establishment?"

"Yeah." He was presented with a long-fingered hand, which he took, preparing to kiss it. Instead, he was treated to a surprisingly firm handshake. A little intrigued, he smiled again. "I am DeAntony Lacy. You are?"

"Du--Malena Pacekept."

"An--interesting name." He introduced the others at the table, as he knew them, and Malena greeted all of them. She was an odd duck--incredibly rich chestnut hair cascaded from a fashionably sloppy French twist, and her heart-shaped face was quite attractive, in a slighly spunky way. She had a tendency to slouch. She was not, Lacy decided, *quality* money, but money she obviously was, to be staying here, and therefore worth the attention.

He ordered her a martini. "What business brings you to this city, my dear?"

She shrugged, accepting the drink from the servant and tossing back a good-sized gulp. "Here to see a friend. You?"

"Ah, just vacationing. The privelege of having time and ready cash." He laughed deprecatingly.

Malena smiled rakishly. "And just what do you occupy yourself with, Mr. Lacy?"

"DeAntony, please." He thought he knew what she was asking, and he was admittedly intrigued. "As a matter of fact, I've found things here just a tad boring."

She leaned forward, still grinning. He admired the way the grin lit up something fiery in her blue-violet eyes. "I bet I can ensure you'll never get bored again, DeAntony."

He smiled back, and casually draped his napkin over his lap.

Heero was bored.

It was not something he often admitted to. It was not a state he ever really had time to achieve. There were always missions to wait for, missions to perform, or missions to log in. But--he was bored.

And thinking about Duo.

Was he okay? The American had a tendency to get carried away when he got angry--usually at Heero. When the Japanese pilot had received the mission from Dr. J, he'd taken great care to be absent when he sent his own slightly altered version to Duo. Entirely out of concern for Duo's health, of course. But the thought of Duo in drag had just been too good to pass up.

Had he arrived at the hotel by now? Perhaps he was already done with the job, though Heero didn't think so. Probably just getting started. Knowing Duo, he'd be in a bubble bath right now.

Heero sighed. Then he frowned. Why had he just imagined what it would be like to be *in* the bath with Duo? He shuddered, and decided he *definitely* needed something to do.

Duo leaned back in the bubble bath, and reached up to let his hair down. The water was toe-wiggling warm, and Duo contentedly wiggled his toes just to prove it. He could get used to this.

DeAntony came in, hips draped in a bath towel and holding two brandy glasses. He handed one to Duo, placed the other on a tray, and let his towel fall.

Duo sternly repressed the urge to giggle like a virgin at the sight of the naked man. It wasn't as if he'd never seen one of those before.

The man slid into the bath opposite from him, and resumed his drinking, which Duo had carefully encouraged. Unfortunately, Lacy had insisted that Duo match him, and Duo was such a light-weight that most of it had gone straight to his head. Hence the bath. Duo was pretty sure that he'd been pretty sure he'd known what he was doing when it started, but he was pretty sure he couldn't remember now. He sipped the brandy and wriggled his toes against the inside of Lacy's thigh, smirking.

Lacy reached under the water and grabbed his foot, gently tickling the arch and then massaging. Duo sighed happily.

"You, my dear," Lacy said throatily, "are a very naughty young woman."

"Live to please." Too bad he had to kill the guy. He'd never been wined, dined, and bathed before. And Lacy was so complimentary. Duo had practically glowed when he went on at length about the colour of Duo's eyes. *Heero* had never mentioned his eyes before. Just told him he was getting fat. Bastard.

A glimmer of wit reappeared. He was on a mission! Damn! He almost spit out his mouthful of brandy, just barely covered it with a smile. What was he supposed to be doing?

"So," he started. "Just what exactly are you vacationing from?"

"I don't want to talk about me. I'd much rather talk about you... if you insist on talking at all."

The glimmer of wit ran screaming in sudden panic. Duo blanked out completely, and gulped the last of the brandy in one harsh mouthful.

"Really," he said calmly.

"Oh, yes." Lacy leaned forward and grabbed him by the hair, pulling him in for one of the most incredible tonsil-hockey matches he'd ever experienced. Duo forgot again what he was supposed to be doing.

Until Lacy made a grab for his breast--and discovered he didn't have one.

"What the--" The older man came up for air in bewilderment.

He pawed Duo's chest while the pilot tried to get his wind back, his eyes growing wider and wider; then his hand dove underwater and between Duo's legs.

"Shit," Duo said.

Quatre giggled as he helped Trowa toss the lavender underwear to the far side of the room. "There now," he purred, "that wasn't *soooo* bad, was it?"

Trowa pinned him and straddled his hips. "I'm still thinking about it," he growled, and bent to apply his mouth to the rapid pulse beating in Quatre's throat. Things were just starting to get interesting when--

Wu Fei cleared his throat.

In perfect concert, the two boys looked at him.

Wu Fei shifted. "Pardon me," he said, "but Quatre, you have a call."

The blonde Arabian huffed a heavy sigh, blowing hair out of his eyes. "From who, Wu Fei?"

"The undercover agent described himself as 'D.'"

Trowa said, "You take too much pleasure out of needling him."

"I live on rice and my best friend is my gundam," Wu Fei retorted. "Of course I enjoy making fun of Maxwell. It's the only interesting thing in my life."

Quatre gently pushed Trowa off his stomach. "I have to talk to him, love. Do you mind terribly? I'll be right back. He's probably just confirming that he's completed his mission."

Trowa did look slightly annoyed. After all, he'd endured a *very* long evening in a dress, with Wu Fei making cracks every time he moved, and Quatre sitting there promising all sorts of nasty fun later in the evening with his eyes, and now Duo *had* to call.

Wu Fei smirked at him.

And Trowa got an idea.

It was mean-spirited. It was unfair. It was probably going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

It was perfect.

He smiled blandly. "Go ahead, dear," he said. "Don't rush. I'm not going anywhere."

Quatre smiled, and kissed him. "Thank you, Trowa." He grabbed his pants, taking care not to embarrass Wu Fei, and went out.

Trowa sat up, perfectly aware that he was buck naked and gleaming from the warm scented oil Quatre liked to rub onto him. "Wu Fei," he said.

The Chinese pilot looked up.

Trowa beckoned with one finger. "Sit down," he invited.

Suspiciously, Wu Fei came to the bed, but did not sit.

No matter to Trowa. He moved as if to pick something up from the bedside table, then lunged back and glomped Wu Fei, who shrieked. They tumbled onto the floor, dragging sheets and pillows with them.

After the ensuing fight, in which Wu Fei managed to extricate himself from the very enthusiastic Heavyarms pilot and fled whimpering, Trowa lay back nonchalantly and examined his nails.

Quatre appeared at the door, a mobile phone in his hand.

"Trowa? What was all the noise?"

"I put my hand down Wu Fei's pants," he replied. He smiled.

Quatre laughed. "You're so funny, Trowa. That was a good one. I'll tell Duo." He left.

Trowa's smile widened.

Quatre said, "Well? It's all done, then?"

/"Um--not exactly."/

"Then why are you calling?"

/"Well--I've got him, and everything, but I--I don't want to kill him. Can't I just keep him instead?"/ Duo's voice assumed a childish whine.

Quatre sighed, and sat down. "I think you'd better tell me what's going on."

/"Okay. See, it was great until I got in the tub with him. Up until then I was totally in control. But then he found out I was a guy. And then he--"/

"He what, Duo?"

/"He... fainted."/

"So? What's the problem?"

/"I don't want to kill him."/

"Why not?"

/"'Cause... "/ Quatre could practically see Duo squirming. /"'Cause... I kinda like him. Can't I just keep him?"/

"He's not a pet, Duo." The Arabian paused. "Duo--are you drunk?"

There was a long silence. /"Maybe."/

Quatre sighed. "Oh, Duo."

DeAntony woke slowly. His chest was stradled by a warm body, and a cold steel pistol muzzle was lightly held against his cheek, only to be removed and waved around for emphasis by the body straddling him, who appeared to be complaining into a cell phone. He looked up.

Malena?

Or... should he say *Male*na. Emphasis on the *male*.

And if he looked down, he was greeted with ample evidence of the male part. Malena had not bothered to dress after chasing him down and straddling him.

Malena suddenly interrupted her--him--self midsentence, and said, "Hold on, Q, I'm getting another call." He frowned down at Lacy for a moment, apparently decided that the older man was too stunned to move, and hit the call-waiting button. "Hello?"

DeAntony felt his eyes rolling back into his head when Malena shifted back a little, pert buttocks settling a little more firmly into his lower abdomen. He fought the sensation--both of them--and tried to listen in on the conversation being held above his head.

"Oh, hi, Heero! Yeah, I'm doing fi--hey! I forgot!" Malena rose to his knees. "I'm pissed at you! What the hell did you mean, suck it in? I am *not* fat!... Oh, yeah, I've got him right here, actually."

DeAntony heard the faint voice of the caller. /"You didn't shoot him already, did you?"/

Malena glanced down. "Nope. He's still kicking." When he saw Lacy's eyes narrow, he added, "Don't go getting ideas, Mister. What, Heero?"

/"I said, there's been a mistake."/

"What kind of mistake?"

/"He's the wrong man."/

Malena paused. Alcohol-fuddled brain patterns struggled to assert themselves. "Wrong man?"

/"Wrong man."/

"Wrong man."

/"You already said that, Duo."/

"Um, Heero? Can I call you back?" Malena managed a small uneasy smile. "Oh, and when I get back--we're going to have a talk. A long talk. Got me?"

Thousands of miles away, Heero wondered if maybe he shouldn't start running now.

"I've got another call, Heero. Bye." Duo hung up on the Japanese pilot, and clicked another button. "Q?"

/"Still here."/

"Long story. It's all fine now. See ya!"

/"But--"/

Malena turned the phone off, pitched it over one shoulder, then stared down at DeAntony.

DeAntony stared back up at him.

Malena said, "Um, I think I have some explaining to do."

"Yes," Lacy agreed. "I think you do."

The young man squirmed to get comfortable. "Well, you see--"

"Ah--dear friend. If I may make a suggestion before we begin?"

"Sure."

"Kindly remove your person from my person, and lose the pistol."

Duo blushed. "Heh heh. Right away. Sorry." He stood, and held out a hand to help Lacy to his feet. "No hard feelings?"

"This seems to be merely a case of mistaken identities... genders... whatever. Believe it or not, this sort of thing happens all the time." Lacy brushed himself off, and looked around, wincing, at the mess in the bathroom. "Shall we go to the bedroom?"

"Yeah." Duo turned and sauntered out the door. Lacy started to follow, then paused. "Malena?" he called.

"Huh?"

"Would you like to put some clothes on?"

"Eh? Oh, no--I think better when I'm naked."

DeAntony Lacy swallowed hard, and followed him out of the bathroom.

"I'm really sorry about all the misunderstanding and all," Duo repeated. Again.

DeAntony smiled. "It's perfectly all right, Malena. Anybody could have made the same mistake." He hailed a cab, and waved it over to them. "I have to admit, it did put some excitement into my weekend."

"You're so nice." Duo sighed. "You sure I can't keep you?"

"Ah--fairly, yes."

Duo licked his lips slowly, and his hand strayed across his hip toward his inner thigh. His eyes sparkled.

Lacy took a deep breath. "Malena," he said regretfully, "we're from two different worlds. It would never work, and you know it."

Duo sighed. "Yeah." He shouldered his handbag, and DeAntony hefted his suitcase, taking it around to the trunk of the cab to place it inside. "You gonna stay here for a while longer?"

"I have a business to get back to, and a vice president to catch at embezzlement."

"Hey--if you like, I could kill him for you." Duo's face lit up at the chance to repay DeAntony for the mission mess up.

"That's all right," Lacy assured him quickly. "Really, though that's quite thoughtful of you."

Duo shrugged again. "Well," he said. "I guess I'd better get going."

"Yes."

"It was great to meet you, Mr. Lacy."

"The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Pacekept." DeAntony offered his hand. They shook politely.

Then Duo sniffled. His eyes filled. "Sorry," he muttered. "Dust."

DeAntony gave him a handkerchief. "Ah, my dear Malena. You never cease to amaze me." He admired the young man even as he patted his shoulder consolingly. "You have my pager number, right?"

Duo nodded, wiping his eyes. "I promise to call you when I land. And if I'm ever in the area--"

Lacy smiled. "Yes. You'd better get going now."

Duo nodded bravely, and got in. He told the cabby his destination, then waved good-bye to Lacy as the cab pulled away.

DeAntony sighed. "Good-bye, my dear," he whispered.

The cab stopped. Duo sprang out, and ran back to Lacy through the traffic. He threw himself, sobbing, into the older man's arms.

Lacy kissed him passionately on the cheek. "I'll miss you," he choked.

"I'll miss you too!" Duo wept. "I'll never forget you! I swear!" And then he collected himself, got back in the cab, and this time stoically kept his eyes on the road as the cabby drove away.

By the time they'd reached the highway, Duo was calm. He reached for his handbag, and took out a small notepad and a pen. "To my dearest friend," he wrote, dotting the "i" with a little heart. Lovingly, he printed in the short message that would guarantee his happiness for at least the next month, if he planned it right.

"Bet you'd be proud of me, Doc," Duo muttered fondly, gazing down at his letter. Absently he used a small bottle of expensive perfume to leave a trace of scent beside his signature. "You always said I'd be good at whatever I put my mind to."

To my dearest friend:

If you're thinking of apologising *before* I hunt you down and gut you with one of Quatre's tea spoons, then keep in mind that I accept cash gifts only. You only get away with that credit-card trick once, Heero.

Oh, wait... You *always* wear spandex, don't you?

As they say in the movies--Bwah hah hah! And you thought you could one-up Shinigami! *Hah!*

End Part 1

(:./erin/frills1)