Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Gundam Wing AC.

Pairing: None

Warnings: language, silliness, drabble

Kryptonite: Trowa

They'd just finished a mission and were riding in an armored vehicle for the return trip back to Headquaters. All five former Gundam pilots were present, including Quatre who wasn't an Agent like the rest of them, but worked behind the scenes whenever necessary. The take down was a success, of course. A mild gun fight resulted in no casualties and all was as well as anyone could hope for.

Sitting in the van with four other men, Trowa found himself situated between the door and a sweaty rookie. At first he thought nothing of it until the young man began to cough, wheeze, and sneeze profusely. The green-eyed man became noticeably uncomfortable as his eyes widened, and mashed his body as close to the van's back door as much as possible.

"Aaaaaa-chew!" The rookie - Agent Davis - sneezed for the fourth time.

"Duo switch spots with me," Trowa commanded.

Hiding his smirk behind his fist, the braided man chuckled, "Naw, sorry buddy, I'm good right here." He nudged both elbows into the biceps of Wufei and Heero.

The Agent sneezed again.

"Wufei?" Trowa asked. The Chinese man smiled darkly and shook his head.

"Aaaaahhhh-blew!" Davis sprayed his sickness through the confined vehicles space.

In a squeaky voice, Trowa pleaded, "Heero, help me out here."

"Ahh, mmm," the Japanese man feigned deep consideration. "No," he answered firmly.

Davis began to cough, hawking up phelgm into his hand. Vainly, the tall green-eyed man clawed at the smooth, steel wall by his right side, panic starting to rise. They all knew Trowa suffered from an acute syndrome of Mysophobia, a.k.a. a fear of germs. It wasn't so severe that he couldn't touch the ground with his bare hands or doorknobs, but he did sanitized his hands more frequently than the average person. And when he was confronted with an individual who was clearly ill, his fear got the better of him. And his "friends" found his Achilles heal rather hilarious.

While Davis continued his litany of coughs and sneezes, Trowa began to squirm and shriek pitifully. "Quatre...Quatre, Quatre, please! Switch spo- oh god - switch spots with me!"

The blond billionaire peered over the two agents separating him from Trowa and grinned broadly, forcefully plumping his cheeks and he didn't say a word as he shook his head back and forth.

A powerful sneeze rocked Davis's frame, and with his head tilted down, his spray was aimed directly at Trowa's lower legs and feet.

Trowa squealed high-pitched in a very unmanly fashion.

"Shud I moof?" Davis asked, nose so stuffed up that he couldn't pronounce words properly.

"Please!" Trowa cried.

"No, don't."

"Don't worry Davis, you're fine."

"Tro's just being a baby!"

"Stay where you are, or I'll shoot you."

All his friends insisted Davis stay where he was to purposefully add to Agent Barton's discomfort. The rookie agent caught on quickly and decided to play along by scooting closer to Trowa and invading his personal space.

"Get away!" the green-eyed man howled, scrunching up against the cold metal interior, seeking refuge which was impossible to find in such a cramped space. "Seriously! Seriously! Seriously! Get the hell away from me!"

The other four men he considered friends laughed hysterically at his expense. Davis sneezed again. Trowa screamed, and found himself physically unable to use his fists to defend himself.

Unfortunately for Trowa, the rest of the half hour trip back to HQ resulted in him stuck by Davis, freaking out and fidgeting in the armored car to get away from said Agent.

Once the ride was over, Trowa laughed with his friends even though apart of him harbored disdain for their treatment.

Three days later he woke with a fever...


A.N. : I know this may not be as funny as Heero's or Duo's Krypto, but I find the notion of Trowa suffering from germ-a-phobia kind of endearing in funny way.