A/N Hey people! This is my first story so please be nice, but feel free with the constructive criticism. (I desperately need the help -;)

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is not mine. It belongs to Bandai and other rich people :runs off crying:

Paperwork


Quatre Rebarba Winner mentally sighed as he looked around the room at the remnants of the latest attempted kidnapping of the Winner corporation CEO.

Why did people always assume he was a pushover just because he was rich? (Maybe because he was short? Or could it be his age?) In any case it worked to his advantage even if it did get tedious after a while.

Quatre made his way to the door, stepping gingerly over the unconscious bodies. He'd known about the attempt well in advance (Duo had tipped him off) so he'd sent all his employees home early and waited alone in his office for the would-be kidnappers.

Quatre winced as he saw what was left of his desk and stepped deftly out of the room, closing his office door behind him. He salvaged what he could of his vid-phone and after a few minutes of hurried rewiring he had it fixed enough to make a call.

The number was a private one he'd memorized over a year ago, after all, it wasn't one you'd find in the phonebook.

The call was picked up almost immediately by a pretty brunette with a no-nonsense attitude and a familiar dark uniform.

"Quatre, please tell me this is a social call." Lady Une groaned.

"Sorry," he replied a bit sheepishly.

"This is the third time in two months, Quatre." Une said irritably as she kneaded her temples. "Do you have any idea how much paperwork is involved whenever you resolve these incidents yourself? Why can't you just let your bodyguards do their jobs?"

"Someone might get hurt." Quatre answered sincerely. Lady Une sighed, exasperated.

"I'll send someone over to pick up the deadweights and bring them in. Don't leave until the agents arrive, we'll need a statement." Quatre nodded.

"It's times like this that I'm tempted to release the Gundam pilots' identities to the public." Une muttered under her breath. "Maybe you'd all cause less trouble that way." Quatre smiled, knowing she wasn't serious.

"Thank you very much Miss Une," Quatre said with a small bow.

"Sure, Quatre. But the next time you call it had better be because you miss our engaging conversations." Une teased. They said their goodbyes and Quatre settled in to wait for the Preventer Agents, a small smile on his lips, blue eyes twinkling. Lady Une always put inexperienced agents on clean-up duty and Quatre could only imagine the looks Une would get when she told her subordinates that the petite seventeen-year old head of the pacifist Winner family had overcome half a dozen hired kidnappers (not a one under 200 lbs.) on his own

-Owari