A/N: An offhanded line of description in another GW fic I wrote said something about walls not applying to the volume level of the Pilots' voices, causing me to realize, in the right(drunken) mood the Pilots would decide that walls really didn't apply to them. Total spoof, kind of cracky and just enough 3x4 slash to keep it interesting.
I own nothing.
"I AM THE VERY MODEL OF A MODERN MAJOR GENERAL…!"
"Oh, for fuck's sake!"
The door to the back room at the bar burst open, for at least the third time this evening. Or at least, Quatre was fairly sure he could remember three times, but there could have been more. Lots of this evening was, shall we say, a bit blurry. Tequila did that to a man. Tequila mixed with vodka mixed with… whatever the hell that purple thing had been was more than capable of knocking a Gundam Pilot on his, or their, ass. Asses? Collective asses?
"I don't like grammar rules," Quatre muttered as the owner of the bar did his right, royal best to shut Duo up. Again.
"VEGETABLE, ANIMAL AND MINERAL!"
"When in doubt, add commas until it begs for mercy," Wufei replied darkly, glaring into his empty bottle. And when did he get a bottle? Of anything?
"I swear by all that is fucking holy, if you don't get off that table and remove the rabbit from my mantle then the lot of you are going to find your drunk asses in the alley, do you hear me 'Major General'?!"
"The very model of," Duo replied, patting the irate man's head as he hopped over him. Since he ended up off the table, the owner didn't have much room to complain.
"Drunk asses. That was it!" Quatre looked over at Trowa and beamed. The brunette caught his gaze and stopped, staring at the blonde in utter fascination. Intrigued, Quatre began to stare back.
"He can't touch the rabbit," Heero grumbled, taking the thing from Duo with exaggerated care. "It's our mascot. We need it."
"My name is Chang Wufei," Wufei proclaimed suddenly, looking up from his bottle. "I don't need anything!"
"Y'all need a brainsplitting hangover," the owner muttered as he wound his way back to the door. "You'd think walls didn't apply to Pilots with how loud you idiots are."
"He's loud," Quatre clarified, breaking away from Trowa's stare and pointing at Duo. "I'm rich."
"And nothing can stop a Gundam Pilot! Least of all a wall!" The four walls that made up this room suddenly had to contend with a full on Patented Chang Hate Stare of Pain and Destruction. It was a long name, but if they made the font small enough they might still be able to market it.
If it was possible to package a Stare of Pain and Destruction. Quatre frowned and turned back to Trowa.
"Trowa," he demanded imperiously.
"Whatever you want," Trowa replied instantly.
"It's just bricks and mortar and drywall and dust and stuff," Duo said, his volume greatly reduced, perhaps due to his sudden proximity to the outer wall of the building? Maybe walls did apply to Gundam Pilots?
"An insignificant obstacle," Heero muttered, petting the stuffed rabbit slowly as he pondered in his deep Heero way.
"It won't stop me," Wufei stated unequivocally. "My name is Chang Wufei."
"His name is Chang Wufei," Quatre whispered to Trowa, scooting his seat around the table until they were side by side. "He doesn't kill bleeding hearts or women or bunny rabbits or stronger enemies."
Trowa snorted then pressed his finger to his lips as he glanced around to make sure the other pilots weren't listening. Quatre looked too, but it was safe. The other three were all lined up, staring the wall into submission. Heero was still petting the rabbit.
Trowa slung his arm over Quatre's shoulders and used his other hand to push Quatre's hair back off his face. Kinda like what Heero was doing with the rabbit's fur. Quatre blinked up at Trowa.
"Are you petting me?"
Trowa looked down and a slow smirk spilled across his lips. "Not yet," he murmured, leaning in until their foreheads were touching. "But I can if you want."
"It will work. I swear. It has to!" Duo burst out. "Come on!"
Quatre was far too focused on the feel of Trowa's warm skin and hair against his face to see what happened next, but there was a loud bang followed by some creative swearing.
"Are they trying to go outside?" the blonde asked, staring at the brown eyes that were watching his lips move.
Trowa nodded, though how he knew, Quatre couldn't fathom. He hadn't looked up either. There was a moment of silence as Trowa swallowed, then he glanced back up into Quatre's eyes and said, "Wanna?"
"Yes," Quatre said instantly, then, as his face heated up against his will, added, "and yes."
Drunk or not, when Trowa wanted to move, he could move. The other three pilots were back to glaring themselves through the wall as the silent brunette propelled Quatre between tables and chairs and out the back door into the alley. The last thing Quatre saw as they passed through the wall the other boys were battling was that, somehow, Wufei had gotten ahold of the rabbit.
"It rained," Trowa commented, making Quatre frown. When had the brunette taken ahold of his hand?
"You're not very drunk," he said suspiciously.
Trowa turned to face him and grinned his secret smile. "Three beers and a shot," he said seriously, moving closer until Quatre was up against the wall that had confounded them all. "But it's okay. I'll just have what you had."
His breath tasted like three beers and a shot, his lips were soft and hard and his hair was just so, so damn hot in-between Quatre's fingers as he ground himself forward against Trowa's thigh.
"F-uck!" Trowa whispered, then, from inside they both heard Duo yell, "PERFECTO! GET DOWN!"
They dropped, kissing the slimy pavement like it was made of chocolate, as the wall exploded above them.
"Fuck!" Trowa shouted, grabbing Quatre and curling the blonde underneath him as the shattered bricks rained down around them.
"Told you I could do—oops. Hey, guys."
Panting, blinking and now a little less drunk than he wanted to be, Quatre peered out from under Trowa's arm at Duo. Standing over them. After blowing a hole in the goddam wall!
"You told me you took away all his toys," Wufei said, shell shocked, to Heero, clutching the rabbit to his chest.
"I thought I did," Heero replied, looking like he wanted to be clutching the rabbit.
"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"
"Tactical retreat, men!" Trowa snapped, surging to his feet and hauling Quatre up with him. And just like that, adrenaline flowing liberally in the place of alcohol, they were all tearing down the alley.
"You know, Duo," Quatre said, stilling holding onto Trowa's hand and quite happy about it, "that's why they make doors."
A/N: *snickers* I apologize for any typos or writing issues. My beta and I had the worst time trying to edit this. We kept getting caught up in the story again.