Aloha, everybody! ^_^ This bit of nonsense is brought to you by myself and Tzigane, or "Wufei is WHAT?!?" Productions. ^_^v
WARNING! In this fic, you'll find lemony implications, bad language, and generally stuff that appeals to our perverse sense of humor. If that kind of stuff bothers you, boy are you in the wrong place. ^_~
We should mention here that we do not own the Gundam Wing characters or situations which appear in this fic, and this fic is not meant to be taken as any claim to copyright, nor do we mean any disrespect whatsoever to the creators and rightful owners of this wonderful series. Also, we will not make one red cent off of this story, and suing us would be pretty pointless, since we're both poor as dirt and there would be nothing to be gained by it.
*whew!* That said... on with the fic! ^_^v
a Gundam Wing fanfic proudly brought to you by the warped minds of "Wufei is WHAT?!?" Productions
Quatre Raberba Winner woke with the heart-pounding certainty that something dreadful was going to happen. He sat bolt upright in bed, bleary aquamarine eyes gradually taking in the room as dawn painted his belongings in rosy hues. Outside, early birds twittered happily as they went about their "getting the worm" business, and Quatre flinched. Everything might appear totally normal, but he could feel in his bones that it would be a Very Bad Day.
He staggered downstairs, rubbing his eyes, and found his teammates already gathered around the kitchen table. Duo was glumly stirring a bowl of oatmeal and trying to mash the lumps out, Wufei was glaring at the long-haired pilot with his arms crossed, and Trowa was holding onto his head with both hands. Heero turned to face Quatre, and his eyes held that lethal gleam that clearly spelled out "gotta Mission."
"Trowa? What's wrong with your head?" Quatre asked. The green-eyed pilot dropped his hands and looked over at Quatre... and his bangs sprang straight up in the air.
"Bad hair day," Wufei muttered, oh-so-subtly kicking Duo in the shins as the violet-eyed boy tried to stifle his snickers. You didn't laugh at Trowa's hair - that could set him off into a homicidal rage, and if anyone was going to kill Duo, it was going to be none other than Chang Wufei.
"Oh. Oatmeal? Is there any coffee?" Quatre asked, moving to dip some of the oatmeal for himself and eyeing the empty sugar bowl in surprise. "And what happened to the sugar?"
"MAXWELL happened to the sugar," Wufei growled, a visible pout on his face. "He used *all* of it and he's not even eating his oatmeal! It's not RIGHT!"
"Injustice!" Duo declared, smirking at the Chinese pilot. With a yipping growl, Wufei was out of his chair, dragging Duo down onto the floor and straddling him as two strong caramel hands wrapped around his neck. Quatre calmly stepped over them both with his coffee in hand -- such antics were certainly nothing new to *him* -- and sat down to eat Duo's oatmeal, since all of the sugar had, apparently, been put into it. "I've got the strangest feeling something horrible is about to happen," he murmured, looking over at Trowa.
The pilot from L3 frowned at that. "Well, Heero said there was a mission in, but that it could wait 'til you woke..."
Heero cleared his throat, and when that failed to get anyone's attention he calmly crossed to the sink, drew a full glass of cold water, and dumped it over Wufei and Duo.
"WAUK!" cried Wufei.
"What'd'ya do that for?!" Duo added.
"Mission," Heero said, and his eyes lit up with a fervor to equal that of any religious fanatic.
"Ninmu," Wufei murmured with a sigh. "Ninmu, ninmu."
"Ryokai! Kanryu!" Duo parroted with a smirk. Heero glowered, and refilled the water glass.
"So what's the mission?" Trowa asked, as Wufei and Duo returned more or less sedately to their chairs.
"We've been ordered to infiltrate an Oz hospital," Heero announced. "It's a high-risk mission, because we'll be dealing with some of the top Oz officials. Trowa, you'll be the psychologist on the team."
"Psychologist?" Trowa echoed, waving his hands in surprise as his hair once again bounced to straight-up position. When he had finally gotten his recalcitrant hair under control, he added, "Accepted."
"Hey, how about me?" Duo asked. "What do I get to be?"
"You'll be an orderly," Heero announced.
"An orderly? You mean cleaning up bedpans and shit? No way, man!" Duo cried.
"It's the mission," Heero said, and his eyes started to glow with that maniacal, deadly gleam that Duo commonly referred to as "The Patented Yuy Look of Eat Hot Death and Die."
"Fine. I'm an orderly," Duo grumbled, slouching down in his chair.
"Hn." The little smirk on Wufei's face bespoke his amusement at Duo's chagrin. "What about the rest of us, Yuy?"
"Quatre will be serving as the chaplain."
"But... but... that's against my religion!" Quatre gasped. "What if someone asks me to pray with them?"
"Fake it," Heero said. "You can not allow your cover to be blown. Mission failure would be unacceptable."
Quatre swallowed hard. "I understand."
"And me, Yuy?" Wufei asked, a black eyebrow arching.
"You'll be working in Obstetrics and Gynecology, as Dr. Lee Chin."
"NAAA~AAAANIII~III!?" came the loud almost violent response.
"BWAAA-HAHAHAHA!" Duo fell out of his chair laughing, waggling one finger in Wufei's general direction. The black-haired pilot once again went for Duo's throat only to be stopped by a full glass of water splashing in his face.
"Spp!!"
"Be nice, Wufei," Quatre sighed. "All of us are going to be doing things we don't want to do."
"But I don't know anything about WOMEN!" the pony-tailed boy declared in disgust. "What am I supposed to do about THAT, hm!?"
"Mr. 'Who-Needs-Onnas' Chang Wufei???" Duo cried. "Damn, this I gotta see!"
"You won't be 'seeing' anything, Orderly MacDonald. You'll be scrubbing floors and keeping your eyes peeled. The objective is to gather as much information as possible about the operations of the hospital. And if Khushrenada so much as *looks* at the building..."
"And what about you, Yuy?" Wufei wanted to know. "What are *you* doing!?"
"I'll be... working in Proctology," Heero admitted, all but daring anyone to say anything. Duo, surprisingly enough, stopped laughing and sat calmly at the table.
"You're the only one of us who could do that with a straight face," the long-haired pilot commented. "Except maybe Trowa."
Wufei was still muttering beneath his breath as Heero frowned. "This mission MUST be accomplished in full by the end of the week," he informed them, "so we'll be beginning this morning. We're due at the hospital when the next shift begins at nine, which means we've got an hour and a half to get ready and get there."
With a little sigh, Quatre ate the last bite of Duo's oatmeal and stood, smiling nervously at Trowa. "Well.. I guess... could I borrow one of your collars and overshirts, Duo?"
"Where are we supposed to get scrubs and labcoats, Yuy?" Wufei asked triumphantly, crossing his arms firmly over his chest.
"I have everything we'll need already," Heero answered. "I suggest you all do whatever is necessary to prepare yourselves mentally for this mission. Duo, let me borrow your ass for a minute."
"WAUK! WHAT??? Heero! Yamero!" Duo bellowed, as Heero dragged him off by the braid, snapping a rubber glove in place.
"Have to practice for the mission," Heero announced grimly, and Duo cast a pleading glance at his remaining teammates just before Heero dragged him out of sight.
"He wouldn't really..." Quatre began.
"OW, SHIT!"
"...I think he would," Trowa answered with a shudder, and his hair jumped up to punctuate the statement.
A vague shudder worked its way down Wufei's spine as another yowl sounded and he paled. "I'm going to go find an encyclopedia and look up women things," he blurted, running out of the room.
"Coward," Quatre sighed, shuddering slightly. "Maybe I should go find a Bible or something. I wonder if there's even one here..."
"I'll come with you," Trowa murmured, and then they, too, left Duo to his horrible fate.
"Duo, are you Ok?" Quatre asked, as the long-haired pilot shifted in his car seat once again.
"I'll be walking funny for a week," Duo grumbled, casting a sour glare in Heero's direction.
"Hn," Heero answered, unconcerned as Duo turned to glare at a smirking Wufei before shifting again, uncomfortably, on the squeaky vinyl. "I had to have something to use as a reference."
"What the Hell are you talking about?" Duo snapped.
"How can I tell whether a patient's ass is normal, unless I know what a normal ass feels like?"
"...Yeah," Duo admitted grudgingly. "But then again, how do you know for sure that *I* have a normal ass?"
Heero abruptly pulled the car over to the side of the highway and parked it. "He's right. All three of you, get out of the car, drop your trousers, and bend over."
Tugging vainly at the white collar that seemed to be constricting his breathing, Quatre moved through the front doors of the hospital and past the gift and sandwich shops to the board which would indicate where the chapel was.
The other four had all driven around to the back, where it was necessary for them to clock in. Duo was still complaining about Heero's abuse of his posterior, and Wufei's squawking was almost enough to drown out the sound of Duo's voice.
Thank ALLAH he was out of that car!
"So you must be the new chaplain," came a thready little-old-lady voice behind him.
He turned and smiled nervously at the silver-haired lady in pink behind him, the thick lenses of her glasses not hiding the scatter-brained gleam in her eyes. "A...aa."
"I can't wait to hear your sermon tomorrow at the Tuesday Brunch Bible Study," the old woman continued. "My name's Ellie Mae, by the way, Pastor..."
"Brown," Quatre supplied. "John Brown."
"You know, Pastor Brown, it's been a long time since we had such a handsome young fellow for a Chaplain," Ellie Mae said with a coy giggle, batting her false eyelashes at him.
"Ah... thank you," Quatre answered, blushing from the edge of the collar to the roots of his hair. "I think I should prepare for that sermon... could you tell me where...?"
"Your office is right over here," Ellie Mae answered, and led the way, cheerfully filling him in on all the gossip as he followed her meekly to the humble room. "Now, Pastor, I'm wondering if I could ask you to pray with me?" Ellie Mae requested, seating herself and looking up at him expectantly. Quatre swallowed hard, and sat beside her, hoping that Trowa was having a better day.
As it turned out, Trowa was not having a better day than Quatre. "Mmhm," he murmured to the client on his couch, attempting to stifle the urge to run out screaming.
"Commander Zechs is perfect. Absolutely perfect. I want to be like him, think like him, dress like him, everything. I worship him. I worry about him... and I'm worried about him."
"Worried?" Trowa asked, trying not to raise an eyebrow. The fellow, Otto by name, seemed to have quite the obsession.
"Yes," Otto answered. "I worry... about his sex life."
Well, that was certainly a surprise. "I see," Trowa murmured, un-crossing and re-crossing his legs. "Tell me more."
"Well, there are quite a few of us... Zechs's admirers, I mean," Otto said. "But I'm his biggest fan! He needs someone to take care of him, because he obviously can't take care of himself."
"Mm-hm," Trowa muttered noncommittally.
"But that... that Noin! She had the nerve to disagree with me! Publicly!"
"Mm-hm?"
"Yes! She doesn't really care about Zechs! She's just saying that, so she can gain credibility with his other fans, who are so clearly stupid and mindless as to be led astray by her radical ideas! I'm Zechs's REAL fan! I worship him! I have a shrine in his honor! I save hair from his hairbrush and lint from the clothes dryer after he uses it! I even have a plastic fork that he used at a party 3 years ago!"
"Three years?" Trowa asked.
"Yes, and I never washed it," Otto proclaimed proudly.
The urge to ask whether or not the entire matter was a joke was almost impossible to resist. "I see," Trowa murmured. "And you find nothing unusual in keeping an unwashed fork for three years?" Sweat gathered at the back of his head. His hair was still standing straight up and waving around, revealing both green eyes wide with something resembling panic.
"Oh, certainly not!" Otto answered. "Why, I adore Lieutenant Zechs! He's a man among men, of course! That still doesn't give Noin the right to say the things she does about him!" he sniffed, frowning. "And then there's the matter of..." He paused dramatically, as if for effect.
"Of?" Trowa asked, frightened of what the answer might be.
"His SEX life," Otto asked, getting back to the starting place once again. "She insists that he's having sex with the General! She insists he's on TOP! How dare she!? Doesn't she understand anything at all about him!?"
Trowa was left in stunned silence once more. "...Mm-hm," he answered at last, because Otto seemed to be expecting some sort of reply from him.
"And her comments about Zechs having too much spine to need someone to take care of him! Preposterous! How dare she SAY that??? He might have spine, but he's still the spineless little weakling I know and love! And anyone who says otherwise is just WRONG! I can prove it, even though there isn't any proof!"
"........Mm-hm," Trowa said, and glanced with some surprise at the notepad he'd been scribbling "notes" in for the entire session. There, among the doodles, were little phrases like "psychotic", "personality disorder" and "sociopath." Had he picked up the lingo somehow through osmosis??? He restrained the urge to pull his hair back down over his eyes and started drawing a doodle of a chibified Zechs Marquise, begging for mercy from the rabid psycho fan. He certainly hoped Wufei was faring better.
Wufei limped along the hall, valiantly resisting the urge to reach back and rub his poor abused bottom. /I can't believe Yuy did that! There is NO justice,/ he thought. /None AT ALL./
He reached the OB-GYN clinic with no particular problems (though he did, perhaps, wish he'd had a few) and entered quietly.
"Ahh! You must be Dr. Chin!"
That voice caught his attention and he looked up to find a vision in white.
A very scary vision in white.
A woman.
"Erm... yes. I'm Dr. Chin," he mumbled, straightening the labcoat embroidered with that name.
"Well, Dr. Chin, I'm Nurse Baker. I'm your personal assistant. We have quite a line-up for you already. Three pregnant women, one on the verge of labor, two PAPs, a vaginal ultrasound..."
Chang Wufei stifled the urge to whimper and closed his eyes tightly. Today... was going to be pure living hell.
"Very well... who's first?" he asked, taking a deep breath and steeling himself to meet the nurse's eyes. He had studied for an entire hour on women's health issues, so everything would be fine. After all, how complicated could it be?
Fifteen minutes later, Wufei was fully aware of how complicated it could be.
"Um, doctor?"
"What, woman?"
"...nothing!"
Carefully, he peered between raised knees, trying not to faint. What the hell was he supposed to do with an extra-long Q-tip, for God's sake!?!? His stomach growled quietly, and he bit his tongue to keep from snapping at his nurse as she raised her eyebrows. Curse that Maxwell and his sugar-hogging ways! He only hoped that long haired moron was suffering at least as much as he was!
Duo grimaced and contemplated the blisters rising on his palms from the mop-handle. Damn, but who'd have thought scrubbing floors could be so hard? He'd climbed all over Shinigami, monkey style, grabbing hand- and foot-holds as best he could while slathering the Gundam with slippery soap... and that was a walk in the park compared to this job. No sooner did he get one pair of rooms done than somebody bled all over the floor in another, or spewed the disgusting hospital food they weren't able to keep down, or, God forbid, spilled their bedpan all over the place. The Head Nurse glared at him from her work-station, and before she could snap at him - again - he bent once more to his work, whistling tunelessly under his breath. Horrible job. How did people DO this every day? All the blood, and puke, and filth... and blisters and sweat and glares from Nurse Ratchit... Not to mention the fact that Heero's practice examination that morning had left him in serious discomfort, the rat-bastard! Not that he should be surprised - he'd bet that Heero would be just as abrupt and rough with anyone he took to his bed as he was with his poor fellow pilots. Duo sure as Hell hoped Heero's patients survived the experience!
"Shall I drop my trousers for you?" Tsubarov asked the pretty new proctologist coyly.
There was an eternity-long pause, as Heero sternly reminded himself that a mission was a mission, and it didn't matter that he always ended up with the worst assignments.
"...Yeah," he agreed at last, snapping his rubber gloves in place and desperately wishing that his doctor outfit included goggles or SOME kind of protective eyewear. This wasn't going to be pleasant.
Little hairs were poking out all over Wufei's head, an eye twitching almost absently. "I can't believe," he said in a frazzled voice, "anyone could be so cruel. I delivered not one, not two, but THREE babies today. THREE!" he shrieked. "And if I see so much as one more... Well! I'll go blind!"
"I had to lead the Seniors' Bingo game," Quatre said mournfully. "And they all wanted to shake my hands and pinch my cheeks, and every last one of them had eaten that horrible tuna monstrosity they served in the cafeteria at lunch. Do you have any idea what senior citizens SMELL like? Especially when they've been eating tuna yecht?"
"You wanna talk smells, bucko, you're not getting any sympathy here," Duo snapped. "I had to mop up bucketfuls of that tuna shit, so believe me, I know from bad smells!"
Traumatized, Trowa gave all three a wild-eyed look. "You have *no* idea what suffering is. Any of you. ~I~ had to listen to an Oz soldier's obsession with Zechs Marquise for hours today. Does he seem particularly acquiescent to any of you? Because that man was utterly certain he was..."
"Who? ZECHS?" Quatre asked incredulously, tourmaline eyes impossibly wide.
"Hn," Heero commented.
"You got something to say, oh articulate one?" Duo asked.
"I had to examine Tsubarov. Stop whining and consider yourselves lucky."
The other four all exchanged appalled glances, and Duo stepped close enough to place a blistered hand on Heero's shoulder.
"You win, man," he said quietly, struggling to keep the trembling corners of his mouth under control. "Your job sucks the worst."
"Hn," Heero said sourly, and stalked away, deciding to spend some quality time with his Gundam to unwind. It was lucky for the other four that they managed to hold in their laughter till he was out of earshot, and even luckier that they didn't burst anything while waiting.
"Hee... hee... Heeero..." Duo gasped some time later, dashing tears of laughter from his eyes and glancing over at his comrades, each of them red-faced and holding his aching sides. "We forgot to ask if Tsubarov's ass was normal!"
That started them all off again, and it was quite a while before the laughter died down.
"I'd better go work on that sermon," Quatre said suddenly, and the reminder of what they'd all have to face again in the morning killed the last of the mood. Soberly, Quatre went to study the Bible, Wufei went to study "woman things," and Trowa went to look up information on obsessive psychos and what to do about them. Duo glumly examined the blisters on his hands, and decided that a nice, long shower couldn't possibly hurt.
An hour later, Heero returned to the safe house, his hands covered with grease and grime and his mood much improved... right up until he realized that Duo had hogged all the hot water.
The next morning dawned bright and early, the five pilots each rising and stumbling into the kitchen (still sans sugar) for coffee and breakfast.
"I can't believe you STILL haven't gotten more sugar," Wufei sniped at Duo, pouting over his bitter black coffee.
Duo mimicked him. "'Wahwahwahwahwah'. And just when, o guru of all things sweet, did I have the time to do that yesterday?"
Green eyes looked at them both balefully. "You know, the sort of behavior the two of you exhibit is typical of unresolved emotions..."
That shut Wufei up rather quickly, ebony gaze glaring across the table as his mouth compressed tightly as if to prove his silence. Duo gaped at the green-eyed boy for a long moment, and silently took a swig of coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste and wondering why Heero insisted that coffee should be thick enough to stand a spoon in.
Quatre stifled the urge to snicker at the sight of Duo Maxwell uncharacteristically speechless, and drank his own coffee with some confusion - everyone seemed to be reacting to the coffee as though it were very strong, but it might as well be colored water when compared with the brutally potent stuff the Maguanacs had been serving him for years.
Heero grimly swallowed his breakfast and washed it down with his share of the Perfect Coffee, trying to mentally prepare himself for the day's ordeal. He only hoped it couldn't get worse than yesterday.
"Young man, what is your name?" the Head Nurse snapped, turning to face Duo with an unholy glare in her eyes. Duo briefly wondered where she had learned the "The Patented Yuy Look of Eat Hot Death and Die," before giving her one of his most winning smiles. The engaging grin faded slightly as the Look remained unwavering, and Duo grimly considered that he'd rather be out in the hallway adding to the mop-handle blisters on his hands, than here in Nurse Ratchit's private office.
"Uh... MacDonald," Duo answered.
"Your given name?"
"Ronald."
"Ronald, I've noticed that you're slower on the job than every other orderly in the hospital."
"Well, I like to do a job right," Duo said, trying the winning smile again. Nurse Ratchit frowned, and his expression quickly sobered.
"I have the feeling you're not taking me very seriously, Ronald," the Head Nurse said. "Tell you what. Either you put some elbow grease into your work, or I'll show you an alternative use for a mop handle. You got that?"
"Yes, ma'am!" Duo gasped, and all but ran back to the safety of the hallway, mopping with a single-minded intensity that would've rivaled Heero's concentration when playing "Pong."
"My DEAR pastor," the squirelly little old lady warbled as Quatre once again came in through the front doors. "How GOOD to see you again. What a sweet young man you are!" Fingers came out, pinching his cheek. That was something he utterly detested and always had, but he bore it well.
"Yes, Mrs. Ellie Mae," he said with some resignation. "I'm here and ready to give my sermon." A slim hand patted the Bible by his side. The look on her face was somehow delighted and predatory all at the same time.
"Oh, GOOD! I have some ~friends~ I'd like to introduce you to..." Quatre sighed slightly as she pulled him along behind her. /Today isn't going to be any better than yesterday.../
"Doctor, how does everything look?" the patient asked, and Chang Wufei bit his tongue to keep from answering honestly.
"Your... woman things appear normal," he said with a slight frown.
"Woman things?"
"Do you have a problem with your ears?" Wufei asked crossly.
"Oh, no, Doctor!" Wufei nodded briskly, tore the gloves from his hands and stalked out of the examining room.
"Well, let me just update your chart, and I'll give you some privacy to get dressed," Nurse Baker said with a sickly smile. Of all the doctors she'd worked with, she'd never seen a bedside manner like that...
"He's a wonderful doctor, isn't he?" the patient said with a soft smile.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Dr. Chin. He's just wonderful. I've never had a doctor who inspired such confidence before," the woman clarified. "I just know that he knows exactly what he's doing."
"Er... right," Nurse Baker said, brushing a sweatdrop from her forehead. "Well, I'll just let you get dressed, Ok? Then we can schedule your next appointment."
"And... you say you use a flashlight for masturbation purposes?" Trowa whispered queasily as he gave Alex and Mueller the hairy eyeball. WHY he had ~two~ patients in his office simultaneously was quite beyond him, but he didn't think he wanted to question it. No... no. He didn't want to question ANYTHING!
"Oh, yes, doctor," Alex said dreamily, leaning towards Mueller. "We love it!"
That confounded him for a moment before he said, very carefully, "You know, there are mail-order catalogues for... er... marital aids that are meant more for that purpose. Surely..."
"Well, you see, sir," Mueller answered coolly, "all quarters are inspected. We'd really hate for anyone to find such a thing and a flashlight's pretty inconspicuous, wouldn't you say?"
A doodle of a flashlight with little smelly fumes appeared on Trowa's notepad along with the scrawl, ~seriously disturbed individuals~. "I see," came the quiet response. "And... what do you... you know, think about, while you use this... instrument."
Alex's sigh was full of adoration. "Oh, Inspector Noin, doctor!" he said, almost delirious in the happiness of that thought. "She's WONDERFUL! Those eyes... that hair... you know, doctor, her hair's a bit like yours," came the thoughtful notation.
Trowa's green eyes widened as he sank down into his chair a bit more, bangs falling to hide his green eyes.
"I just KNOW," Mueller insisted, "that she'd be SPECTACULAR with a strap-on!"
"No matter WHAT Lieutenant Otto says!" Alex agreed.
The soft ding of the timer saved him. "I'm afraid our time is up, gentlemen. I'll see you next week, at the same time?" Trowa asked softly, glad that the regular psychiatrist would have to deal with them instead. "Please make an appointment with the secretary on your way out."
"Thank you, Doctor!" the two chorused as they headed for the door.
Some moments passed as Trowa sat there, head in his hands, trying to gather the nerve for his next visit...
...and then the door opened. "Why, hello, Otto. Here to talk about Zechs again? Do come right in."
He even managed to say it without shuddering.
"...this could be even worse than yesterday," Heero whispered to himself, glaring at his wild-eyed reflection. "I have to be mentally prepared..." He splashed cold water on his face, forcing his features into their regular, bland expression. No matter what happened, it couldn't possibly be worse than having to examine Tsubarov...
"The mission. Remember the mission," he whispered to himself, then dried off his face and walked briskly to the examination room.
"Ah, Doctor, I'm pleased to meet you," Treize Khushrenada said, rising to shake the stunned pilot's hand.
"Good morning," Heero said numbly. He was going to examine... Treize?
"Shall we?" Treize asked, and assumed the position as gracefully as was humanly possible. Heero stepped up behind the man, placing a hand on one of Treize's brawny shoulders. He hadn't ever expected to have an opportunity like this...
Some time later, Treize brushed sweaty bangs out of his eyes and stood on slightly wobbly legs.
"General, everything seems just fine," Heero said boldly, struggling not to smirk. "You're in perfect shape."
"Thank you... Doctor..." Treize answered, and pulled his clothing to order with shaking hands before staggering out, a faint smile slowly curving the corners of his mouth.
A bare minute after the General had left, Zechs Marquise walked in and requested an exam. Heero stifled the urge to grin like Duo Maxwell at Christmastime, and settled for a professional nod. Had he died and gone to Heaven? And how could he have ever wished for Duo's job? As always, he had ended up with the BEST assignment!
"I said it would happen, and it finally did," Wufei whined, pressing a wet washcloth against the upper half of his face. Quatre and Trowa sat across from him at the kitchen table, each trying, in his own way, to comfort their Chinese comrade.
"It's purely psychosomatic," Trowa said gently. "If you'd like to talk about-"
"I'm BLIND!" Wufei howled.
"Sometimes, these things are God's will," Quatre said, laying his hand gently on Trowa's arm to forestall any further psychobabble.
"But I'm BLIND!!!"
"Hey, yanno, you guys, the week's finally over," Duo interrupted, leaning back uneasily against the wall rather than join them at the table. "You don't have to keep doing the infiltration routine."
"What are you talking about?" Quatre asked.
"Well... for example, you really sound like a priest."
"I do?" Quatre smiled beatifically, and Duo brushed a sweatdrop out of his bangs. "Well, I had meant to tell you all... I've been thinking about conversion."
"You're getting a convertible?" Duo asked.
"He means he's thinking of changing religions," Wufei said sourly.
"I know, man," Duo answered. "If you coulda seen me, you woulda known I was smiling when I said it."
"But I'm BLIND!!!" Wufei bellowed, as though he had just remembered the fact.
Duo sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah. We know, man." He shifted uncomfortably, privately thanking whatever kami or lucky stars might be listening that he had made it through the week alive. Grimly he lifted one hand and counted the blisters on it. It would take some time for his hands to heal... and after Nurse Ratchit had caught him napping, well, it would take longer for certain other parts of his anatomy to recover! Who would've thought a guy could get blisters there...? Duo shuddered, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, wincing slightly.
"Trowa, I forgot to mention it before, but I think it would be better if we slept in different rooms from now on," Quatre said suddenly. "It's part of my new religion, you know... I hope you won't mind." Rising with a sweet smile he left the room, intent on studying the Bible. Trowa gaped after him, and for a brief instant he could see himself sprawled over a psychiatrist's couch, spilling his guts about Quatre's virginity or lack of it, and the many possible uses for a flashlight... He shook his head and shuddered violently, dismissing the disturbing notion... though at least if he were the patient, he'd get the chance to talk for a change.
"Hey, Trowa, do you think I could talk to you?" Duo interrupted with uncharacteristic hesitancy. "Privately?"
"What's the matter?" Trowa asked, one green eye gleaming at Duo from beneath his sheltering bangs.
"...Well... it's... uh..." Duo stammered, blushing.
"Spit it out!" Wufei snapped.
"I think I may be developing a phobia," Duo admitted sheepishly.
"A phobia?" Trowa echoed in his best psychologist voice.
"Yes, I'm afraid of-" Duo began, then his eyes widened as Heero entered the room, carrying a mop and bucket. "AAAAAAAAHHH!!!" Duo ran from the room, howling like a banshee, and a few moments later the other pilots heard a series of muffled thumps, as though the long-haired pilot had run upstairs, closed a door behind him, and begun moving furniture in front of it.
"What's his problem?" Heero asked bluntly, opening the utility room door to put the mop and bucket in their places.
"He seems to have developed a pathological fear of mops," Trowa answered. "I think I should go talk to him..." With that, Trowa rose smoothly from the table, intent on having a discussion with Duo and hoping to run into Quatre as well.
"Hn." It really didn't matter to Heero, as long as Duo still got his job done. Actually, after a week like he'd had, very few things could disrupt the Perfect Soldier's perfect mood. Ah, but it had been a good, good week. Not only had it been a successful mission, but he'd had return visits from both Treize and Zechs every day.
"Happy customers always come back," Heero whispered to himself, and with a smug, self-satisfied smile turning up the corners of his mouth, he headed back out to the hangar where the Gundams were housed. He had used the mop to get Wing Gundam good and clean; now he needed to rinse and wax it before water spots could form.
"Hey! What about me?" Wufei asked the empty room. "Aren't you people going to help me? I'm BLIND!!!" Wide onyx eyes peered out from under the edge of the wet cloth, taking in the sight of the empty room. Wufei threw the cloth across the room, sending the wet bit of fabric sailing into the sink with dead-on accuracy, before stumping upstairs to sulk.
"A man goes blind from looking at woman things all week, and nobody gives a damn," he muttered to himself, stalking past Trowa and Quatre, who were both talking to Duo through the barricaded door to his room.
"Duo? Just come out of the room, and let's talk. There are no mops out here."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!"
"I'll pray for you, Duo!"
The End
(:./yoiko/wiwp11)
