Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own Gundam Wing, as much as I wish I could. Which sucks. Don't sue me, or I'll sue you back, cause if I had enough money to be sued, I would be doing more interesting things than this!
Author's Notes: You might have read this before, and if you have, I'm sorry, but I read it earlier on, and found about 3000 unwanted spelling mistakes _ ! Why can't my pc just do it automatically??? Pleeeeease do not take this seriously, it is not meant to be serious, I could never really do this to poor li'l Duo Trowa and Wufei _ ! I've sort of manipulated a few song lyrics in this, mainly by Blink 182, Limp Bizkit, Bloodhound Gang, Korn and Marilyn Manson (don't worry, this isn't all doom and gloom ^_^). Once again, don't take it seriously! Please review. Thankiez!!!
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It had been a quiet, uneventful night at the Winner mansion. Heero was typing something which he claimed was highly secret' into his laptop, Duo was playing Pokemon on his gameboy, Trowa was reading, and Wufei was asleep in the corner of the gigantic lounge room, blowing a bubble of spit as he snored. Quatre had disappeared hours ago, to god knows where. All he had said was, I'll be back by eight. It was half nine before he burst through the lounge door, knocking Wufei off his chair in surprise, while he swaggered about the room twice, then collapsed in a heap in the floor. His platinum hair was full of something very sticky and golden, which looked a lot like treacle, his pupils were dilating, and he had mud splattered all down his front and a grass stain on one knee and elbow.
The other four pilots looked at each other, confusion burning in each's eyes, then slowly crawled over to see if Quatre was okay.
Duo was the one who was forced to prod Quatre in the side. To no-one's surprise, he merely rolled over, then started singing what sounded like a mixture of Mr. Roboto and the Bohemian Raphsody.
Wufei was the first to speak.
Winner, what the hell have you done to yourself?
Quatre stared up at him, confusion obvious in his unfocused eyes, then grinned, and pulled a half empty bottle of lager out of his vest pocket. This stuff is ... *hic* ... good! he slurged, then bursted into a fit of giggles, and slapped Trowa, who was standing over him, so hard that he fell straight on top of him. Unsurprisingly, Trowa jumped straight back up again and took several steps backwards, not wanting to find out what Quatre wanted to do.
He's been on the booze again, he groaned. Quatre looked around, chuckled and winked.
Wufei groaned and started, Okay, nobody touch the booze, I'll get Winner out of here ... Wufei froze suddenly, as he saw Heero pick up the bottle which Quatre had dropped, and Duo open up the bag on Quatre's back, its owner having just passed out. Heero sniffed the amber liquid, then took a quick swig at it.
Hey, this stuff's pretty good, he said with a grin, downing another mouthful.
Duo jumped up, holding a full eight-pack over his head like an olympic trophy. He's got five of these in there, and another dozen loose ones! I say we help him finish!
Wufei opened his mouth to complain, but froze again when he saw Trowa walk forward and pick one up, obviously trying not to grin. Duo had by this time downed a whole bottle.
Well, I suppose one won't hurt, Wufei sighed as he picked up a bottle, and let the alcohol slowly take over ...
**Two hours later**
*Hic* Pass me ... *hic* ... another one, Duo giggled impishly, trying his best to pull an eighth bottle out of Heero's grip. If you don't then ... *hic* ... I'll ... kill you!
Heero blinked passively, and continued drinking.
Duo whined, You don't love me anymore, do you? I know all about it ... *hic* ... you've been running of with my Aunty Josephine ... *hic* ... How could you Heero ... *hic* ... I thought ... *hic* ... You want a fight, don't you ...
Heero suddenly jumped to his feet and yelled, Why's everybody always picking on me??? No-one understands me!!! NO-ONE!!!! N-n-nobody *sniff* loves *sniff* me!!!
Yeah, and you wanna know why? Because ... *hic* ... because ... *hic* ... because ... *hic* ... I forgetted ... Gimmeabeer!
From the corner of the room, Wufei sighed. You just can't ... *hic* ... contlol youlself, can you ... *hic* ... Well, I can, ass you can see ...
Heero stared for a second, then burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. He hit his fist off the floor, and yelled, HE SAID ASS!!!! YeeeaaaaaaaaHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!
Honestly, Heelo, you awe acting wike a thlee year old, Wufei remarked.
There was a murmur from the other side of the room. Quatre shook his head and sat up, woken by Heero's fit of laughter, which had just turned into the chorus from the Birdie Song. He looked around him, dazed, then his eyes finally focused on Wufei. He chuckled a couple of times, then burst into a fit of laughter, mimicking Heero's last, and banged a fist off the floor, yelling, Chang's ... Ch - Chang's ... he's ... he's wearing a ... HeeeeeeeAAAAH HA!!!!
Wufei span his head round dopeyly, and his eyes narrowed as he settled on Quatre, worming about on the ground. What is wlong wiff me, Katla Lababa Uinnel???
Quatre stuck his fist in his mouth to stop the giggles, then exploded, WUFEI'S WEARING A DRESS!!!!!
Wufei started to reply that that was nonsense (or, in this case, ), but looked down to see that he was actually wearing women's clothing. But not a dress, as Quatre had said, as he could definitely feel a cold wind on his chest, which wouldn't have made a very good gown.. He stood up and tried to recognise the pvc skirt that seemed to be dancing under his dizzy gaze.
Who's is thats? he asked groggily, pointing at the skirt.
Heero raised a hand and yelled, at the top of his lungs, and everyone else in the room stared at him. Heero giggled, and continued, That's the lampshade from my bedside table!
Wufei inspected the skirt again, and found that it was, as Heero said, definitely a black lamp-shade. He made to scratch his head, but found that his ear was itchier, so twisted his finger about as he pondered.
Suddenly, all of them jumped as Duo leapt up to his feet after finishing his ninth bottle, and started ballet dancing clumsily about the room, humming something by Boyzone under his breath with a state of ecstasy glowing on his face. The rest looked between them groggily, and continued to do so, until Quatre asked, What's your pretty dance called?
I call it ... *hic* ... the Duck Polka's Eighth Simypony, Duo gargled in a sing song tone, then continued with his rendition of It's Raining Men' as he flapped his arms like something from the Dambusters. Quatre and Wufei nodded, but Heero was too busy counting something on his fingers.
D'you know what ... *hic* ... I'm sure there were ... *hic* ... five of us ... *hic* ... yesterday...
Yeah, and there's eight now, Quatre murmured, gripping his head.
No, no, no, you'le just diwoosional, Wufei chortled. Tlowa went to find some pletty shoes to go with my pletty dless. *hic*. Do you wike my pletty dless? he asked, nodding at each one of them.
Quatre turned away and yelled, Burn in heck ... *hic* ... flower-fairy!!!
Wufei looked hurt. He was about to fake tears when Trowa swaggered in. He had somehow managed to find a pair of very tight leather trousers, which left absolutely nothing to the imagination except how he managed to fit inside them, and a black kohl stick, which was smeared down his left cheek and had formed a pretty little splodge on his chin, as well as scribbling all over his eyelids and lips, and he was carrying a mop. He bowed, tripped over, lifted himself up again, then ran over to the large stereo system at the side of the room, hit the play button, ran back and held the mop to his mouth.
Something along the lines of Marilyn Manson cross Korn cross Bloodhound Gang started shaking through the room. Trowa started jumping about, thrashing his head off the air, and making up lyrics as he went along.
It's my disposable - spleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen! My disposable - and when you finally regain conci - consi - urgghfhg-ness, you're bound and gagged in a pretty ... *hic* ... li'l pulple dress - with a toaster ... in a bath ... and ... and ... you'va had a lotta chchchchchchchhchchch .... and ... Dope, dope, *hic*, great big white dope ... Freeeeaeeaeaaaek on a leeeeeEEEEEEEEEEASH! ... titotering between brilliance and ... toast and bananas ... and .... Make it bleed ...
Heero, Quatre and Wufei sweat-dropped, while Duo started to try and Morris dance with one of Quatre's silk curtains.
Five minutes later, with a final cry of, AND I'M PRETTY FUCKING DRUNK!!!, Trowa collapsed into a heap on the floor, his mop landing ontop of his head, from underwhich snoring started to echo around the room.
Heero murmured, that looks like fun! He immediately fell to the ground, giggled twice, then fell asleep and started snoring. Quatre and Wufei followed suit, and, after several minutes of having the brilliant privacy to lap dance on the sofa, Duo curled up in his pet curtain, Freda, and fell asleep.
******
Trowa woke up the next morning with the worst head-ache he had ever had in his entire sixteen years. The opened his eyes to find that he was clinging onto a broom-handle with a mop hanging over his face. He tried to roll over to get rid of the mop, but realized that the tight leather trousers he was wearing wouldn't let him bend his knees, felt like some sort of Victorian corset around his waist, and seemed to be stuck in a permanent wedgie. He lifted himself to his feet using and, lacking his usual cat-like grace, stumbled through to Quatre's kitchen, wincing with every step, where he found his four fellow pilots sitting around the table, moaning.
Trowa sat down, and after about a minute's silence, asked in a voice much higher than it should have been, What happened?
Duo answered, Well, from what the security cameras told us, Quatre got about fifty bottles of free booze off of one of the butler who's taken the week off ... basically, we all got pissed, you moshed, I morris-danced, Quatre woke tangled up on top of Heero, wrapped in a hot pink fluffy bed-throw from his sister's room, and Wufei got himself stuck in Heero's lampshade.
The other four pilots groaned. So much for a quiet night in.