Title: Mister Personality

Fandom: Gundam Wing

Pairings, Characters: Heero/Duo (eventual), Trowa/Quatre, Wufei/Sally, OMC/OFC, appearance by Noin.

Warnings: WIP, mild angst, some humor. Rating may increase and additional warnings added as the story progresses.

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing, including its characters and other items provided in its universe, is the property of Sotsu Agency, Bandai, Sunrise and others. I'm, as usual, just borrowing them for my personal entertainment and for no monetary gain. The OCs, on the other hand, are mine.

Summary: Duo, who is busy helping others with their problems with love and working all the while to forget his own, starts receiving gifts from a mysterious party.

"To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead."

- Bertrand Russell, "Marriage and Morals" (1929) ch. 19

Love rarely made sense. It made people do things they would not have ordinarily done. Duo wondered if inviting a colleague out for a drink over love troubles then ditching them for said source of trouble counted in that category.

For days on end, McCord droned on about his girlfriend. She wanted him to quit his job, do more of this, do less of that, do none of the other. McCord, who had been pretty happy and set in his ways, wondered if holding onto Roxanne was worth all the trouble he was enduring.

Duo, being the stand up guy he was, convinced McCord to discuss the matter over one drink. Damned if he wasn't going to allow McCord to turn into a lush and have trouble befall him if he could help it. Now... well, now it didn't matter one whit.

McCord called him at the last minute and canceled out, apologizing profusely before abruptly hanging up the phone. Duo distinctively heard a woman's voice in the background, so he was sure all was well with McCord and Roxanne - at least for the time being.

Bah and fie. Duo looked down into the pilsner as if he would find the meaning of life at its very bottom.

On the other side of the bar, a jukebox that was often ignored in favor of sports games on the satellite feed kicked in. If it wasn't for the occasional auto-play, the relic would have sat unnoticed.

~o/(Love stinks) Love stinks, yeah yeah.../o~

Duo snorted and drained his glass. At least he didn't have to worry about the love thing, and he couldn't have put it any better than the old song that played. Love really did stink.

There was a time he thought he'd found it, but those were confusing times. The countless missions from the colonies to Earth and every spot in between coupled with the reality that was raging hormones made it so. In the end, Duo decided he wouldn't dwell on what happened.

Duo pushed the empty glass forward, and Rob the bartender gladly replaced it with a filled one as Duo rested his chin on his hands.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Duo glanced up at Rob. The guy probably had plenty of troubles but seemed willing to lend an ear. It was almost how Duo was about the love lives of the people around him.

"Nah," Duo replied, flashing a sad smile, pushing the pilsner around, watching the trail of water the glass left in its wake.

"Going to work tomorrow?"

"Probably should go, but there's not much happening at the moment," Duo said truthfully, sitting up straighter and taking a sip from his glass. He felt like hiding from the world for a day and wasn't inclined to lie about it.

Rob chuckled. "You mean there are no coups to squash or princesses to be rescued?"

Duo snorted. "Not as of late. No one's crazy enough these days to try another coup, and Miss Relena's got a pretty good security detail, so there's no need for me to be involved with that either."

"Since you're planning a 'sick-ation', how about we go out for an early breakfast after I close up?"

Duo smiled. A little company over some good greasy diner food would work, and he'd be home and in bed long before his neighbors would head out for the day. "Why not?"

"Then it's decided," Rob replied. "Just behave yourself for a while longer."

"That's easy," Duo quipped, eyeing his chronograph then flashing Rob a grin. "You've got a couple of hours, so that won't be nearly enough time for me to get into trouble."

"Says you."

-+MP+-

Wufei Chang knew a rat at first sniff.

"Where's Maxwell?" he asked, glancing around at his colleagues as they bantered about cases over cups of bitter coffee, bites of cold pastries and piles of case files.

"Duo?" Quatre replied. "He's out ill today."

"Ill? Did he say why? You know Preventers' policy specifies call outs require the nature of the illness."

"You want to call him?" Trowa piped in, quirking an eyebrow. "I'd rather deal with him drunk than sleepy. I took the call, and he sounded like he hadn't slept well."

"I'd rather not, thank you very much," Wufei grumped, sitting down at the desk he shared with Duo and pulling case files from the inbox.

Trowa smirked. "I didn't think so."

"I heard McCord stood him up last night, made up with Roxanne," Quatre said, looking up from the case file he was reviewing. "Not that anything was going on, but I think Duo's dealing with a few things he'd rather not discuss."

"I try to steer clear of any matters of the heart," Wufei said. "I have enough to deal with when it comes down to Sally."

"Oh yes. You still haven't popped the question to her?" However innocent Quatre's question was, it made Wufei shrink down in his office chair.

"No," Wufei replied quickly. Sally Po was a self-sufficient woman but had her needs, and that included some assurances for the future – her future with a certain Mr. Chang.

"What's a little commitment?" Trowa asked.

"There's nothing little about it, Barton," Wufei hissed. "I may be young, but I'm not young and crazy."

"I beg to differ," Noin added, walking in on Wufei's statement.

Wufei cringed as she patted his shoulder. "Um… Just how much did you overhear, Noin?"

"Oh, just enough," she replied sweetly.

"Woman! If you utter a word, I'll—"

Noin looked up and smiled. "Good morning, Sally." Wufei turned around in his seat to find Sally standing there in all her glory, jacket over her arm and coffee cup in hand.

"Good morning," Sally replied, pointedly ignoring Wufei in the process and walking over to her desk. Quatre and Trowa had the grace to return to their work as the tension began to skyrocket in the office.

Wufei swallowed a lump he hadn't realized he had in his throat. The paperwork was starting to look a little more appealing than any attempt to garner Sally's attention. Still, he had to tough it out and put his personal feelings aside, whatever they happened to be. Professional decorum called for it.

Wufei swiveled in Sally's direction. "Good morning, Ms. Po."

"Hm," Sally replied, flipping through the stack of mail that piled up in her inbox, not bothering to meet his gaze. "Mr. Chang."

The response left Wufei gob smacked. He looked back at Quatre and Trowa, who had their faces buried in their respective case files.

So much for a lifeline.

Wufei sighed and reluctantly turned to his own work. He'd have to do something and quick.

-+MP+-

Duo frowned as the midday light filtered into the room – and right into his eyes.

"Argh, damn it…" He turned over, hoping to drift back to sleep. That turned out to be short-lived.

The doorbell rang, and the person pushing the button on the other side of the door was doing it incessantly.

Duo groaned and buried his head under his pillow.

And the doorbell rang again and again.

"Alright, alright! I'm coming!"

Duo crawled out of the bed, grabbing his robe from a chair and trudging over to the door to peek through the peephole. He rolled his eyes as soon as he made out the profile of McCord, who was looking frazzled.

"What is it?"

"C'mon, Maxwell. Open the door!"

"I'm not opening the door!" Duo could hear the other person huff on the other side.

"I wanna talk to you!"

"I ain't talkin'! Go away!"

Duo heard McCord sigh. "You know what? You were right. I shouldn't have caved."

Before the words could form on Duo's tongue, McCord added, the words sounding bitter coming from him, "And don't tell me you told me so."

Duo opened the door a crack. "And you want me to do what?"

McCord grabbed his hair, acting as if he were going mad. "I could really use someone to talk to."

Duo opened the door. "C'mon in."

-+MP+-

Relationships often followed a waltz of their own.

First, there was the spark. For a new relationship, it's the initial attraction between two people. For an established one, it's a memory, a situation or a knowing glance.

Second, there was the flame. Whether new or old, it's the resulting passion from that spark, a passion that burned so brightly it left one breathless and curled one's toes.

Third, there were the embers. It was the aftermath of the passion that resulted from that spark. It either left one comfortable or out in the cold, depending on the efforts both parties spent in fanning them.

Sometimes, this waltz was a clumsy one. A misstep on any beat could easily result in a rift or, at worst, a parting of ways.

Depending on the type of waltz, it could be a beautiful or a painful thing to watch.

Duo's plight – however well-hidden from the general population – remained in Quatre's thoughts. He'd been certain that sometime in the last seven years Heero would have gotten in touch with Duo; if he had, and things didn't work out, Duo hadn't said, but Quatre was willing to venture otherwise.

"A credit for your thoughts?"

Quatre looked up to catch Trowa's concerned gaze and sighed before shifting his focus back to his now-cold lunch.

"Duo again?"

"Yes," Quatre said, finally putting his fork down. "He acts like he's fine, but I know it's not the case. I just…" He paused thoughtfully before continuing. "I just wonder if there's any way to get in touch with Heero."

Trowa leaned back in his chair, grasping his coffee mug but not picking it up from the desk. "Heero moves around quite a bit. When he doesn't want to be found, no one can find him." He picked up the mug and took a sip of his coffee. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's lurking about watching us, truth be told."

"I suppose you're right," Quatre concluded. "I just wish we could do something to help both of them."

"Personally, if I could, I would," Trowa said. He remembered Duo talking about how Quatre would blame himself for everything.

Quatre hummed his agreement. "That's what makes this all the more frustrating. Duo's hurting, and we can't do anything about it."

Trowa sat up straighter and leaned forward. "I get the feeling things will get better. When is another question." His voice dropped down to a whisper, "We could, on the other hand, try and help Wufei out – give him the nudge he needs. I get the feeling Sally won't be waiting on him much longer."

Quatre smiled at his partner. "If I didn't know any better, Trowa Barton," he said, his voice equally as low, "you're wanting to meddle."

"Yes," Trowa agreed, "but I'm sure Sally would welcome it."

"Quatre, Trowa." The pair looked up to see Noin at their desks.

"I might be able to help with that," she said, leaning closer.

To be continued...