When it rains, it storms.
by: thejasonresno
The young braided man leaned his chin into his hands and stared disconsolately out the window. It was raining. No check that. It was pouring out. Of all the things that could possibly happen this was the worst, or so he had decided. Not only did the rain eliminate all outdoors play for the day it also seemed to put his friends in the worst of moods.
Quatre would walk around all day sighing. His aquamarine eyes would droop and often they'd find him staring out the window of his bedroom, his hands folded in his lap. Their unibanged friend, Trowa, always ended up on the couch. Eating. And not stopping. It was a wonder he never gained weight. They'd find him at the end of the day half buried under bags of potato chips and in a deep sleep.
It was weird.
WuFei on the other hand just seemed discontent, much like Duo was, and would often end up pacing the house up and down. Often Duo would step in his way to prevent the carpet from molding from his steps, and try to get a conversation out of him. To no avail. He'd mumble a curse word and mention how he'd rather be out riding his bike. The previous Christmas the raven haired man had received a motorcycle, a group gift, from the guys. He rarely parted ways with it.
Heero. And Heero. How can a storm effect the perfect soldier? Not as much as you may think. Instead of receiving glares from Heero...the American would receive deathglares. Not much of a different, Duo always thought, but enough to make him yelp and flee in the room.
Not this time. Duo refused to allow the storm to put him down.
DUO MAXWELL
The perfect soldier. Trained in every facet of battle. A master technician. Ok. So maybe he wasn't Heero, but it would be fun to pretend...right?
Outside of their large living room window the storm raged on. The pat pat of raindrops on the window was a constant. Underneath those glass panes crawled a mischievous American. His braid was tucked stealthily in front of him, his teeth holding it.
'This oughta be good.' Duo sniggered in his head.
On the couch a unibanged pilot napped contentedly. His emerald eyes were shut tight and his hands were clutching a bag of Cheetos. A small smile played across his face as he dreamed of food. Lovely food. He never saw it coming.
Duo had deftly tied the mans wrists together without alerting him of his presence and had begun to work on 03's feet when he made a small grunt. Duo froze and his eyes turned to slits in concentration. The black war paint Duo had painted underneath his eyes made his face seem paler
Trowa returned to his nap. Duo sighed and returned to his work.
Today would be fun, even if he were the only one enjoying it, Duo had decided.
With his wrists tied together, and a wry grin playing on Maxwells face, he moved down to the ankles.
A look of consternation flitted across his face as he realized the slender ankles of his friend were under not just pillows but half empty bags of pork rinds. Pork rinds.
02 shook his head and got to work. And it was work. Sweat played at the brim of his hairline and his fingers deftly, but slowly, worked across the bags. One by one he managed to remove the layer of garbage covering his quiet friends ankles.
The American withdrew another wrap of tight, strong, string and slowly tied it around and around the tanned ankles of his friend. Duo had to be especially careful here, his friends feet happened to be very ticklish.
That being done he did a backwards, exaggerated, roll and landed in a crouching position. He grinned and quietly ran out of the room, monkey style.
DUO MAXWELL
Quatre Raberba Winner, heir to the Winner fortune, stood in silence as he watched his friend tied at the limbs. From the kitchen the blond Arabian managed to survey the whole event. Luckily, Duo was none the wiser.
The aristocrat turned lightly on his heel. He would not be a victim. Not to Duo Maxwell. And, well, the only way to not be a victim was to fight back. He rubbed his slender hands together. Yes, fight back.
DUO MAXWELL
'How I love you Cheeto. You really make my day. I dance. I run. I sweat. I play, I play I play. How I love you Cheeto. All day, every day!'
Trowa smiled. He was twelve feet tall and chasing a giant cheeto. The world revolved around him in a twisted cotton candy color. But that didn't matter. What did matter was that the cheeto would soon be his.
He flung his arms open wide and was about to embrace the Cheeto when--
"FIRE FIRE!"
His eyes flew open and shock almost set in. He could hear someone shouting to alert him of a fire and then hear the banging of pans. He swung his legs around to his front and jumped to his...
Face. Bound! His feet were bound!
The clown did an admirable pirouette in attempt to stay his balance but to no avail. With a loud thud the emerald eyed warrior fell to the carpet.
"Maxwell!"
He looked up from the floor just fast enough to see a pair of black socked feet running across the room to a chorus of raucous giggles.
"I was having a beautiful dream!" Trowa lowered his face to the ground and groaned.
DUO MAXWELL
Duo ran out of the room and baseball slid into the kitchen laughing. He risked a glance over his shoulder and noted that his friend didn't put up a fight. His life was safe, for now.
With a grin Duo rolled onto his stomach and started tracing the tile floor. In the reflection he could see the window. And in the window he saw droplets of rain cascading down the pane.
He almost immediately sobered up, "Who next?"
FIN for now!
That's chapter one people. This is just going to be a light piece to break up my two really dark fanfics and to let people know that I'm still out here writing! Enjoy it! I know everyone is OOC but..well...I want a fun fic...because..well it was storming when I started it...I hate storms...