Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, sadly… I simply manipulate them and make them do my bidding (muahaha). Fear my authoress-ness. I also do not own My Fair Lady, or any modernized versions thereof. Actually… I've only seen My Fair Lady once, and I don't remember anything beyond the basic plot. So… wish me luck! O.o

Author's Note: Well, this is the first time in an eternity that I've written a fanfic that I actually like. Heero has a couple of OOC moments, and initially Quatre's part was written as Trowa, which is why it seems a little un-Quatre-y at times. I had m00chly trouble with this, but since deleted it, I got to sit down and redo the entire thing. So, here it is – Wouldn't it be Lovely, version 2.0

Wouldn't It Be Lovely

By Tani Gesakusha

Chapter One

Heero brushed his messy hair out of his eyes, sinking into the seat on the bus with a tired moan and throwing his arm across his face. "Today… was not happy."

Quatre raised his eyebrow. "Hm?"

"Relena."

"Ah." Quatre settled back into the seat as if that one word completely explained his friend's mood.

"I don't know where on earth that girl got her abysmal infatuation with me, but SOMETHING needs to be done. And SOON. I don't care if she's the new 'pop princess,' or for that matter, I don't care if she's the one only heir to the crapload of money her parents are going to leave behind when they die. Hell, I would give a damn if she was Buddha or something equally religiously important. If she doesn't leave me alone, I am going to KILL her."

Quatre chuckled and Heero peered out at him from under the crook of his elbow. "I'm serious, you know."

"…of course you are, Heero."

Heero dropped his elbow back and sank against the back of the seat. "How a talent less girl like her ever got the idea to be a singer is beyond me. I mean, did no one ever TELL her that her singing is HORRIBLE?"

"Probably not, considering that they were too busy tripping over their own feet in an effort to fall in favor with the heir to the Peacecraft estate. Zechs disowned his parents years ago—"

"Good for him." Heero muttered.

"—so now all that money is going to Relena. Naturally, she's been spoiled and fawned over since birth."

"I've had to deal with those parents of hers. I really don't blame Zechs for disowning them. I'd have done the same thing myself in a heartbeat."

"Well, it's not as if Zechs needs the money. He's already the king of pop as it is… he's got almost an entire kingdom of fans. Zechs is practically the messiah, or a god of his own little religion."

"It's too bad he can't share some of that talent with Relena. I can't believe those two are related… Zechs is remarkably easy to work with. Put him on a stage with a bunch of lights and he can work the crowd all by himself. He could probably convince an entire stadium of people to commit mass suicide if he wanted to. Relena on the other hand… she has NOTHING."

The bus lurched to a stop, and Heero groaned before pulling himself to his feet and stumbling out into the bright daylight. He scowled darkly at the sun, then turned to face Quatre, who was groping for his bag underneath the seat.

Having successfully located the wayward luggage, Quatre stepped off the bus, eyeing his friend skeptically. "I will never cease to wonder how you did it."

Heero blinked at him. "How I did… what?"

"Heero, let's face it. Relena was a talent less, hopeless, nobody singer. She had no skills whatsoever, and the only thing that even got her introduced to the music industry at all were her brother's contacts and a lot of family money. Thanks to you, she now has the second-best selling album in the country, and seeing as the number one album is her brother, that's saying something."

Heero shrugged in a noncommittal fashion. "Come on, Quatre, anyone with half a brain could have managed that. She already had the looks, she just needed… well… everything else. Okay, so maybe not just anybody could have managed it. But my point is, she hardly required all of my abilities. I could turn anyone into a multi-million dollar artist, and I'm willing to bet my life on it."

"That won't be necessary."

Caught off guard, Heero blinked at his friend. "What?"

"I said, that won't be necessary. Money will do just fine. I bet you ¥100,000 that you could not just pick someone up from the streets and make them a star."

Heero turned and fixed him with a cold stare. "If I thought—"

But whatever Heero might have thought remained unsaid, because at that point in time he was cut off by a blow that knocked him off balance and sent him careening to one side. As he stumbled, trying to keep from falling over (and failing miserably), his line of vision was suddenly occupied by a pair of vibrant violet eyes, staring down at him.

"Ah, sorry! Didn't see ya there." The owner of the eyes said with a grin, offering a hand to help him up. Heero recovered himself and grasped it, surprised at the strong grip this stranger possessed.

As he brushed himself off, he looked the newcomer over curiously. He had a thin, lithe figure which was clad almost entirely in leather. A pair of black leather pants looked as if they were molded perfectly to his slender legs, and a dark red muscle tee rested loosely over his shoulders. The outfit was topped off with a dark leather jacket that was, Heero noticed, a little worn and mud stained. As the stranger stepped back, the light glanced off of a small gold cross that dangled around his neck.

"Th' name's Duo Maxwell." He said with a grin. He casually tossed his chestnut braid over his shoulder and winked at Heero. "Who're you?"

It was Solo who first pointed them out to him. The rich boys, here to spend Daddy's money in the casinos or brothels. He remembered his words, even after all these years;

"Kid," he began, that afternoon so long ago. There had been a tinge of annoyance and exasperation in his voice when he'd explained. "See those guys over there? Th' ones what're all dressed up nice, n' look to be 'bout in their teens? They're our meal ticket. They're loaded, see. The only reason someone dressed so nice would be around here would be to get a whore, and the only way someone so young could be here ta do that was if he was rich off'a his daddy's money. None of them, not one has ever had to work a day in their life. So ya don't need to feel bad about takin' their money, see? It ain't theirs anyway."

Solo had discovered very early that Duo had a set of morals. Twisted morals, but morals nonetheless. Solo would always shake his head and go, "Kid, morals are good for those what can afford 'em. We ain't one of them what can. We ain't got a single penny to our name, and yet you're tellin' me that you can't up and steal money from that man 'cause it's wrong? Kid, morals are fine and dandy, but they ain't much good to eat. 'sides, it ain't like he wouldn' steal from you if you was in his place instead."

Duo shook his head violently to rid himself of his current thoughts. He leaned against the side of a building and focused on the task at hand.

Eyeing the crowd getting off of the bus, he checked them off in his mind.

"Too poor… too old… too young… WAY too old… aaah, here we go."

He straightened up and eyed the last two passengers to leave the bus. A dark haired kid who looked to be in his late teens or early twenties stepped off and squinted into the afternoon sunlight, then turned and glanced back. Duo eyed the well tailored suit, taking in the expensive looking (though slightly mussed) haircut and silvery briefcase in his hand. In a moment, the blonde-haired person he was waiting for scurried through the door and onto the street, grinning at the object of Duo's observations. Duo grinned at the glimmer of silver on the blonde's wrist, which he could almost positively ID as a Rolex.

"Ah-hah." Duo said with a smirk, toying with the end of his braid as he made his way towards the pair. "C'mon, baby, mama needs a new pair of shoes…"

"Th' name's Duo Maxwell. Who're you?"

"I-I'm Heero. Heero Yuy."

Quatre coughed and simply smiled into his hand when Heero shot him a glare.

"I'm Quatre."

"Nice ta meetcha." Duo said with a grin, winking at Quatre. Heero guessed that this was the type of person who would annoy the hell out of you or charm you, but never both.

"So, what're a couple'a guys like you doin' in a crummy neighborhood like this one?" Duo asked, arching an eyebrow at the two. "If ya don't mind me askin'…"

"Oh, well, Heero lives a little ways uptown, and this is the closest bus stop." Quatre explained.

"Which isn't saying much," Heero added grumpily, "considering that I have to take a taxi anyway."

"Ah." Duo said, grinning at the two. There was a slight pause, where neither group said anything, but before it could develop into an awkward silence, Duo spoke up again. "Well, I'd best be movin' on. Allow you two to get on with your lives n' whatnot." He turned to go, chestnut braid swinging behind him. "See ya!"

"Ah, Mr. Maxwell," Quatre said with a small smile. Heero glanced at him; he was never this polite outside of a courtroom unless he was up to something. "Before you go…"

Duo paused and looked back with a small smile. "Jus' Duo's fine. Mr. Maxwell makes me feel old. Anyways, what was it?"

"I believe you have something of Heero's?"

Ohshitohshitohshitohshit…Duo thought. He forced a smile onto his face. "Whaddaya mean?"

Heero was staring at Quatre with a look of confusion on his face equal to the one that Duo was feeling at the moment. How on earth had blondie been able to spot him? He'd thought that neither of them suspected a thing… oh, SHIT…

"I believe you know exactly what I am referring to."

"Quatre…?" Heero asked, blinking. Before Duo could react, Quatre's hand snaked out and withdrew from inside his jacket, something Heero instantly recognized as his wallet.

…SHIT.

Heero's eyes widened slightly at the wallet Quatre was holding, letting his hand drift almost imperceptibly down to his pocket. Sure enough, the wallet was missing. He scowled at Duo and snatched it back, stuffing it in his pocket.

Duo looked very, very uneasy. His skin had taken on an unhealthy pallor, and he was staring openly at Quatre's smiling face.

"Well now, this is awkward, isn't it?" Quatre said cheerily. Heero glared at him, but Quatre only beamed back at him inoffensively.

Duo turned as if to run, but Quatre caught his arm in a vice like grip and held him still. "Now, now, no need to cause a fuss, ne? I'm not gonna turn you in or anything. I just have a proposition for you."

Duo tugged against Quatre's grip for a moment, surprised at the strength Blondie possessed. He glared at Quatre, then gave up and relaxed, looking for all the world like a beaten puppy. Heero felt sorry for him; there was a reason Quatre was a highly successful lawyer, and it wasn't because he had any particular tendency towards sympathy. Suddenly, Quatre's last sentence sunk in.

"Proposition?" Heero and Duo demanded simultaneously.

Quatre smiled at them both. "Heero, remember our conversation prior to Mr. Maxwell's interruption?"

Duo squirmed. "I toldjya, th' name's Duo."

Heero blinked at him. "Oh, you mean about Relena?"

"Quite so. Now, Duo," Quatre began, turning to the braided captive. "Do you know Relena and Zechs Merquise?" Quatre asked him. Duo pulled a face.

"Yeah… I don't think that Relena's good f'r much, though Zechs might have actual talent. Don't even know how Relena got into the biz, seein' as she don't seem to be able to sing at all."

Quatre nodded in agreement with Duo's assessment. "Well, Heero manages them. God knows you're right, Relena has no talent, but he somehow managed to make something out of her."

Duo rolled his eyes. "Fantastic job, 'All Hail the Conquering Heero', yadda yadda yadda. What does this have ta do with me?"

Heero smirked inwardly. It would seem that one Duo Maxwell was regaining his backbone with a vengance.

"Well, you see, we had a wager—"

"You had a wager." Heero muttered sulkily. "I just sort of blinked at you."

"I took that as a 'You're on'." Quatre said coolly. "Anyways, we bet that he could take anyone, anyone, and turn them into a platinum selling singer."

"Wha? You can't mean… oh, bloody 'ell, there ain't no way I'm gonna be some sort of experiment for a couple of bored rich guys." Duo shook his head, braid slapping both shoulders as he did so, and glared at the two of them. "No way."

"Why on earth not?"

'Why on earth not? Is he insane?' Duo raised an eyebrow at Quatre and tried to convey the no-ness of his answer into a well-placed glare. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Heero smirking slightly at his expression. Well, it was more of a slight upturn of the corners of his mouth. But hey, on Mr. Sulky Man of Doom, aka Heero… Yuy, was it?, it probably amounted to the same thing.

But then what Quatre was suggesting sunk in, and he began to really think about it. He'd go live in the lap of luxury, have this Heero guy try to make him successful for a bit (a plan he fully intended to foil), then boom, back out on the streets, 'cept with a few choice possessions of theirs. His experience was that rich boys were new to the concept of fighting dirty, so he was confident that he could leave without a problem if things got too bad…

What the hell. "I'll do it."

Heero wheeled around and stared at him. "Wha—?"

Quatre was positively beaming. " Good. I'm very glad to hear that. You'll start right away, unless you have anything you would like to get from home…?"

Duo snorted. "No thanks, Blondie. I'm good ta go."

Quatre ignored the name. "You'll be paid as would any normal artist, of course." He put his head thoughtfully to one side. "And all the perks as well."

"Perks?"

"I think he's referring to the mansions and servants and fans and whatnot." Heero said flatly, sending a Look at Quatre that spoke volumes.

"…Ah. Perks."

"Good, then it's settled." Quatre said with a smile. "You'll be a rock star in no time."

"Yippee. Just what I always wanted." Duo rolled his eyes and saw Heero doing that strange half smirk out of the corner of his eye.

Quatre beamed at him as if he had noticed the sarcasm evident in his voice and directed a ridiculously sweeping bow towards Duo. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing across the street to the waiting taxi.

Heero and Duo sent twin glares at him, and he smiled innocently at them both.

"Lawyers." They muttered simultaneously.

it has been my experience that not too many people get off a bus at one time, na no da. I took the bus for about three years to and from school, and even then only about six or seven kids got off at one stop. So, I figure, normal bus NOT packed full of kids, four or five people at a time. Something like that.

Well, here it is! The first chapter of my newly rewritten fanfic, which I spent forever pondering over and cursing at and rewriting. Anyway… um… yeah. It's considerably longer and, if you ask me, considerably better than the first draft. XP That was just hideous. Soo… yeah. Altogether, the fic is… 2,555 words. Make that 2,560.

3 always,

Tani . Nyao.