Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and all its characters © Sotsu Agency, Sunrise, and TV Asahi. All fanfics not for profit.

Blind Spot
by kokopelle

"Miss Dorothy, you might want to dial down your thoughts a notch. They're too loud. And if you don't mind, I suggest you stop trying to lengthen the list of reasons why this upcoming war is going to be all my fault."

"I don't know what you are talking about," Dorothy replied, her la-di-da tone hiding a giggle. "There is no upcoming war. At least not of the traditional kind, and definitely not of Lagrangian proportions."

Quatre sighed at the self-satisfied smile she was wearing. He examined the lit buttons on his dashboard and pulled at the joystick again to hoist his machine to its massive feet. On his monitor he saw Dorothy do the same with her suit, humming. It looked like she was enjoying churning out ridiculous suggestions that were getting on his nerves…literally, since she's channeling them to his brain with the help of the System. He wondered for the hundredth time that day why he ever said yes to her.

"No one can ever say no to me, you should know that by now."

"Would you please stop reading my mind?" he snapped.

A giggle escaped from the mini-speaker on his side. "Only if you'd stop reading mine. But you know, being in this position when you shed that poster-boy-for-politeness image is pure entertainment. Seeing what you've become after your obvious teatime deprivation back in 195, the side effects of being surrounded by Gundanium all day… I'm telling you, it's priceless. It's one of the reasons why I agree to keep on seeing you."

Quatre opened his mouth to retort, but he gave up. "I think I hate you."

"See? You're so fun when you're like this."

He groaned. "I've humored you enough, okay? At least stop mind-suggesting this...this integration of annoying stuff to the systems."

Dorothy let out a horrified gasp. "How are collapsible tea caddies annoying?"

"You want me to add them to a war machine's dashboard!"

"We are not in a war." When Quatre looked pointedly at the fallen Rook and Bishop MS around, she reconsidered. "All right, a mind war perhaps, with a little physical exertion on the side. But this is different. We're not killing each other off in a bloody battlefield. And since we're hutched up in our Queen MS—you in your King sometimes—for hours during our matches, don't you think we might as well enjoy good cups of Earl Grey while weeding out each other's pieces? These designs are cute, by the way. Mr. Milliardo would be thrilled that you designed the Knights after the Tallgeese. Except that you have to make my pieces pink. Why?"

"To annoy you," Quatre said, irritated.

Dorothy just chuckled.

Regret was too far off behind to catch up on him this time. He knew he would be technically wasting everything he sacrificed if he did this, but still he bent to the whims of this woman, still attempted to make her happy. He was so desperate he would be willing to take her boredom away by agreeing to make chess pieces out of mobile suits. With a downgraded copy of the ZERO system, to boot. Yes, the ZERO system. There's a special place in hell for him for doing this.

He had always known he was not a strong man, but this time had he proven to himself he was a stupid, pathetic man. On good days, he was okay with that. On bad days, he was irritated to the hilt he wished he could slam his fist on a self-destruct button.

"Stop brooding," Dorothy complained. "You're giving me a headache."

"Staying out of my head would be a great painkiller then."

"Don't be a sore loser, Winner."

"I haven't lost yet."

"Yet," she threw with a smug smile.

He heaved an exasperated sigh. "Have I mentioned I hate you?"

"And I love you too."

Quatre loosened his grip on the controls. It was all about that, wasn't it? The moment he met her again, the moment he zeroed in on her among the crowd in the Eve War Armistice's First Anniversary Ball at Miss Relena's—the instant he took in the deer-in-the-headlights look that crossed her face when she saw him and how it softened to something he couldn't quite place—he knew he was a goner. It took him years to get there with her, wherever 'there' may be. When he found out a way to get closer to her again, close in a way that no one else would understand, he grabbed it...

Even if it required him to build an army of killer system-installed mobile suits and dolls, all to be used as mere substitutes to a pre-colonial woodpushers' pastime! There's no hope left for him. She had officially turned him into a heart shard-clutching, daydreamy bloke.

He had all but bared himself to her since that ball. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years. All he wanted in return was to get a hint from her own open mind…a hint that maybe, just maybe, she feels the same way about him.

It looks like the side Lady Luck chose wasn't his, though. Up to now he still haven't seen that hint.

"I already told you, I love you too," Dorothy said.

Pop quiz! What's worse than falling in love with a ruthless woman? Answer: falling in love with a ruthless woman with a penchant for sarcasm and reverse psychology.

She rolled her eyes at his self-mocking introspection."Now that's just uncouth. I may have to remind you I'm still inside your head, Mr. Winner."

"You always are," he gave up.

"Can you get any cheesier?" she mumbled.

Quatre then slumped to his seat, acknowledging her mild accusation with another sigh. He relented and let himself drown in his own thoughts, not caring if she could hear them verbatim. She could ridicule them all she wanted, he wouldn't give a damn today.

He started when the latch to his Queen suit suddenly hissed open. Dorothy appeared in the entryway, one hand resting on her hip, her eyes searching his. Dorothy's mind was a cloud of magenta and he couldn't read a thing. They stared at each other for a long while until Quatre felt uncomfortable enough to say, "Please go back to your suit, Miss Dorothy. Let's finish this."

Dorothy shrugged. "Let us. We can't be in a stalemate forever."

Her tone made him ask, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're so oblivious for someone who claims to have the mighty super-empathic power of a Space Heart. What do I need to do for you to believe me? Kneel and ask you to marry me?"

When he flashed her a confused look, she threw her hands in the air.

"Fine, then."

Quatre gaped when she did step into the cockpit, kneeled, then tried to pry his hand off the harness he didn't know he was gripping.

"You have to excuse me for not bringing a ring, proposing to you wasn't in my itinerary for today." She held his hand in both of hers. "So? You stupid, stupid man, allow me to be Mrs. Quatre Winner for the rest of our lives?"

All right, this is not funny anymore. "Dorothy—"

"You're damn right it's not funny. Reject me and you'll regret it forever."

But he never saw a hint…

"You're looking hard in the wrong places," she replied with a note of exhaustion. "I'm letting it all out there and you insist on looking the other way, dismissing everything I say like I'm meaning the opposite. Like I said, you're stupid."

"Um…Thanks?" He was feeling dizzy, but very happy.

"So? I won't give you a rain check on this one."

Quatre laughed. He pulled his hand from Dorothy's and then proceeded to peel himself off the cockpit harness, off the seat, before he gathered all the courage he had in that instant to place a small kiss on her lips. When he pulled away, Dorothy followed him and tried to deepen the contact.

Now, this is what you call a real checkmate.

With ZERO buzzing around them, Dorothy heard his thoughts and laughed into his kiss.

fin.

A/N: Happy new year, folks! I know this isn't much of a gift, but I hope you like it! :) This is my first update in years and my official first as kokopelle.