The Interloper
by Maria Rocket
***
Author's Notes:
Warnings for... uh... animal abuse? Um....Trowa owies? Yes, this fic is extremely stupid, but I had to write it anyway. I'm evil. ^^; Based on real-life horrific events! 3x4 shounen-ai! Implied sexual content! Kinda! Whoooooo-Haaaaa!!! Annoyed blondie is comin' after me with a shotel! Must run now! O_o;
***
Automatically looking side to side, Heero answered his cellphone.
"Hello. Yuy here."
"Heero! It's me, Quatre!"
"Oh, hello, Quatre." Heero glanced behind him. Relena was still in the shower. In another hour, they would be on their way to the L4 colony hosted Earth Sphere Relations summit. "Relena isn't available at the moment."
"That's alright, I really need to talk to you." Quatre sighed. "There's been an accident, I'm here at the hospital with Trowa. I'm afraid I'll be late to the summit."
Heero frowned. "Is it serious?"
"That's what I need to talk to you about. I didn't want to bring anyone else into this, but now that Trowa's hurt, and since you're in the neighborhood..."
"What is it, Quatre?" Heero interrupted impatiently.
"I... I need you to do something for me."
Heero raised an intrigued eyebrow.
***
It had all started innocently enough. A nice sunny day, with a freshly pressed charcoal suit, and the promise of a visit with Heero and Relena later in the day, after the business at the summit was finished with. Quatre opened up a window and let the artificially created breeze waft through his hair. It was going to be a simply lovely day.
"Oh, Mr. Winner, you're ruining it!"
Behind him, three women exclaimed in dismay, and began fussing with his hair again. Quatre laughed gently and began to shoo them off. They were personal groomers originally hired by his sisters who thought he needed a professional touch to keep him from looking like a little boy with his hair falling in his face all the time. He needed to look good for media, they said. Quatre knew Trowa liked him the way he was, and he could care less what the media thought of him. However, he had grown attached to the ladies and hadn't the heart to let them go.
After finally closing the door behind them, he smiled devilishly as he ran his fingers back through the golden gelled mop and shook his head until his hair fell back into its natural shape. He rubbed his gel-covered fingers together as he headed towards his dresser. He was going to the summit early, and there was one last thing he needed. With the day ahead, he didn't expect he'd be using it, but it was good to be prepared.
With all the gunk on his head, he wasn't even sure why he bothered. Opening the small decorative chest on top of his dresser, he saw what he almost never left home without. With a smile, he reached in to put the small tube of lube in his breast pocket. Instead, he froze as something inside the chest moved.
Standing on the small tube, was something big and furry. With thick, multi-jointed legs and eight shiny eyes looking at him. Something that stood up and reached for him...
***
Downstairs, Trowa was talking on the phone with the L4 police department. He was himself the officer in charge of police security at the summit, and wanted to make sure everything was taken care of before he headed over. He was leaving early to meet with Wufei, who was already there coordinating the security effort between the local police and the Preventers. Upstairs, Quatre was preparing to leave early so they could arrive at the conference hall together.
He paused for a moment as he heard a high-pitched scream. Jade eyes peered up the elaborate staircase. It sounded like Quatre was sending his hairdressers into fits again.
***
Hands over his mouth, trying not to hyperventilate, Quatre stared at the evil interloper from between his fingers. Okay, so maybe it wasn't right to call it evil. The spider was more scared of him than he was of it.
And the spider was ready to jump on him and bite him with those big ugly fangs...
Maybe if he tried moving it gently... As he approached, the spider moved back and forth in a threatening way. Quatre backed off again nervously. He could just leave it there. He likely wouldn't need the lube anyway. Then again, he would need to get into his chest again eventually.
He considered leaving it open and letting the spider come out on its own. But then the spider would still be in the room. He shivered, imagining finding it in the bed. No, the spider had to go.
He glared into eight beady eyes.
How was he going to do this!? He scratched Trowa from his thoughts immediately. There was no way he was going to admit to Trowa that he couldn't handle a tiny spider. Even if it was a huge, tiny spider.
He was a grown man, he could deal with this!
***
"Jeeves!"
With a long suffering sigh, the butler looked up from his cleaning to find his young master standing in the doorway, his white-knuckled hands clenching the doorframe. "Sir, may I remind you, my name is William."
"Uh, yes, sorry," Quatre replied distractedly. "Where's the bug spray?"
"All pesticides are out in the gardener's shed, Sir."
"Oh! Thank you, Jeeves!" Quatre beamed and ran out.
Shaking his head, Bill the butler went back about his business.
***
Still on the phone, Trowa looked up briefly as Quatre went barreling through the foyer. He waited a moment to see if the hairdressers were chasing him. When none followed, he turned away, one hand tucked into his pocket. God, Quatre looked so edible in those formal suits...
"Mmmhmmm.... Oh, yeah, I'm still here. Yes, the bomb-sniffing dogs too..."
***
Inside the garden shed, Quatre browsed the dark, dusty shelves. He absolutely had to get rid of that spider. Trowa was wearing his special police dress uniform today. If his reaction to just glimpsing it on his way out to the shed had been any indication, then he was definitely going to be needing that tube before the day was out. His friend Dorothy had once told him that there were times when pacifism simply had no place. Now he felt that this was surely one of those times.
The arachnid had to die.
Ah-Hah! He'd found the bug spray. The black spray canister looked very ominous. Around him, he felt many, many little eyes on him. Feeling a little guilty, he looked up at all the cobwebs scattered throughout the shed. No doubt the spiders that lived there were related to the one holding his lube hostage. Poor spiders.
It couldn't be helped. Holding the canister at arms length, as instructed on the label, he headed back towards the house.
***
Trowa had just finished his phone call, when he heard Quatre come back in. He turned to meet him, but Quatre rushed back upstairs too quickly. He stood at the foot of the staircase and called up after him.
"Quatre! We need to be going in a few minutes!"
Walking around the mansion, he found their butler, who was also the chauffer. Trowa blinked. Quatre had known him since childhood, but he was still getting to know the old man himself. What was his name again? Oh, yes, now he remembered.
"Jeeves," Trowa walked up to him. "Can you please prepare the limo? We need to leave shortly. I'm going to bring Quatre down."
"Yes, Sir," the butler sighed. "And my name is William, if you please."
"Oh, yes, I forgot." Trowa apologized and and left to find Quatre.
He didn't have to look far. Just a few doors down, the blonde was sagging against a wall, hacking violently.
"Quatre! What's wrong?" He ran to his husband's side and placed a hand on his chest and back to support him. His nose wrinkled. There was an awful acidic smell. "What've you been into?"
"Chemical warfare," Quatre choked. "Bad idea."
Trowa pulled him into a chair. "What?"
"It didn't die... Plan... backfired..."
"Quatre, please, do you need a doctor?" Trowa asked worriedly, wishing his beloved would just tell him what was going on.
"No, I'll be fine," Quatre smiled a bit, leaning into him. "Just needed some air. I don't know if we'll be able to use our master bedroom tonight, though."
"Exactly what have you been doing?" Trowa asked in bewilderment.
With a little sigh of defeat, Quatre told him.
***
After mopping down Quatre with a wet rag, Trowa had him wait outside. Then he ascended the stairs. In his fist was clenched a rolled up newspaper. From the front door, Quatre watched him go, waiting beside the chauffer.
A few minutes later, Trowa returned. He no longer had the newspaper, and was holding his right hand. "Damn. That thing bites hard."
"Trowa!" Quatre's eyes shone with pain as he examined Trowa's spider bite. "Does it hurt much? Did you kill it?"
"No, it jumped me and got away." Trowa shook his head. "Let's just forget about it for now. We have to get to the convention hall."
"Right!" Quatre nodded. "Jeeves, let's go!"
"Yes, Sir." The chauffer opened the limo door for them. "But please Sir, how many times have I told you, my name is William!"
***
During the ride to the convention hall, Quatre noticed that Trowa's hand was swelling terribly. It was red, and starting to resemble a balloon.
"I think this is going to be a problem." Trowa could hardly move his fingers. "Quatre, is there any ice in here?"
"That spider must have been poisonous!" Looking around, Quatre found nothing that could help the swelling. "Jeeves!" He hollered. "To the hospital!"
"Mr. Winner..." the chauffer clenched his teeth. "Oh, to hell with it! Jeeves is now headed to the hospital!" With a wild swerve, the limo changed course and sped towards Our Lady of the Desert Medical Center. Several other vehicles honked irritably at them as they went.
***
"So you see," Quatre explained to Heero and Relena, "that's how it all happened." He dropped down in one of the hospital lobby's garishly orange nylon seats. "And because I couldn't take care of a simple little spider, Trowa's hurt."
"It's only a spider bite, Quatre." Trowa was standing beside Heero and Relena. His right hand was still swollen, but now padded and bandaged. "I just won't be able to use this hand very well for awhile. Now let's go the summit. They can't start talking until you and Relena arrive."
"Yes," Relena agreed. "And Heero, you should take care of Quatre's problem for him."
"But it's just a..." Heero protested.
"Please, Heero." Quatre pleaded.
"Relena needs me at the summit," Heero growled. "I'm not getting involved in this. I'm a bodyguard, not an exterminator!"
Suddenly, Trowa waved his swollen hand in Heero's face. "Sometimes Heero, it comes with the job." He said dryly and looked sideways at him. "And you're better at it than I am."
"I'll go with Quatre and Trowa," Relena smiled. "Everything will be just fine. You can catch up afterwards."
Heero looked at her in horrified disbelief, and then at Quatre, who was looking up at him with those quivering eyes that were too big and blue to belong to a grown man. He looked last to Trowa, who only smiled in that infuriatingly calm way.
"Okay. I'll do it."
***
Later that night, Quatre, Trowa, and Relena rode back to the Winner residence together. Strangely, Heero had not made it to the summit. They weren't too worried, since they'd made several calls, in which he'd only say he was close to completing his mission.
"I hope Heero's really okay." Relena wrung her hands in the backseat.
"I'm sure he is," Quatre said as they pulled up to the house.
"I believe that's him now," Trowa said as one of the mansion's second floor windows was shattered by several rounds of gunfire. And from the look of many of the other windows, this had been going on for awhile.
"Aw, reminds me of when Mr. Winner was a small boy," Jeeves mused at the scattered broken glass as his passengers flung open the mansion doors and ran inside.
They fell into the master bedroom, where Heero was laughing maniacally. He was now aiming at a portrait on the wall. "I've got you now, you little monster! You can't escape!"
"Get him!" Trowa shouted. He and Quatre piled on top of the crazed Heero, attempting to wrestle the gun away from him. Relena sighed and sat on the bed. This was going to be a long night.
Meanwhile, on a picture frame in the corner of the room, a big spider watched on with a big fanged smile.
[End]
by Maria Rocket
***
Author's Notes:
Warnings for... uh... animal abuse? Um....Trowa owies? Yes, this fic is extremely stupid, but I had to write it anyway. I'm evil. ^^; Based on real-life horrific events! 3x4 shounen-ai! Implied sexual content! Kinda! Whoooooo-Haaaaa!!! Annoyed blondie is comin' after me with a shotel! Must run now! O_o;
***
Automatically looking side to side, Heero answered his cellphone.
"Hello. Yuy here."
"Heero! It's me, Quatre!"
"Oh, hello, Quatre." Heero glanced behind him. Relena was still in the shower. In another hour, they would be on their way to the L4 colony hosted Earth Sphere Relations summit. "Relena isn't available at the moment."
"That's alright, I really need to talk to you." Quatre sighed. "There's been an accident, I'm here at the hospital with Trowa. I'm afraid I'll be late to the summit."
Heero frowned. "Is it serious?"
"That's what I need to talk to you about. I didn't want to bring anyone else into this, but now that Trowa's hurt, and since you're in the neighborhood..."
"What is it, Quatre?" Heero interrupted impatiently.
"I... I need you to do something for me."
Heero raised an intrigued eyebrow.
***
It had all started innocently enough. A nice sunny day, with a freshly pressed charcoal suit, and the promise of a visit with Heero and Relena later in the day, after the business at the summit was finished with. Quatre opened up a window and let the artificially created breeze waft through his hair. It was going to be a simply lovely day.
"Oh, Mr. Winner, you're ruining it!"
Behind him, three women exclaimed in dismay, and began fussing with his hair again. Quatre laughed gently and began to shoo them off. They were personal groomers originally hired by his sisters who thought he needed a professional touch to keep him from looking like a little boy with his hair falling in his face all the time. He needed to look good for media, they said. Quatre knew Trowa liked him the way he was, and he could care less what the media thought of him. However, he had grown attached to the ladies and hadn't the heart to let them go.
After finally closing the door behind them, he smiled devilishly as he ran his fingers back through the golden gelled mop and shook his head until his hair fell back into its natural shape. He rubbed his gel-covered fingers together as he headed towards his dresser. He was going to the summit early, and there was one last thing he needed. With the day ahead, he didn't expect he'd be using it, but it was good to be prepared.
With all the gunk on his head, he wasn't even sure why he bothered. Opening the small decorative chest on top of his dresser, he saw what he almost never left home without. With a smile, he reached in to put the small tube of lube in his breast pocket. Instead, he froze as something inside the chest moved.
Standing on the small tube, was something big and furry. With thick, multi-jointed legs and eight shiny eyes looking at him. Something that stood up and reached for him...
***
Downstairs, Trowa was talking on the phone with the L4 police department. He was himself the officer in charge of police security at the summit, and wanted to make sure everything was taken care of before he headed over. He was leaving early to meet with Wufei, who was already there coordinating the security effort between the local police and the Preventers. Upstairs, Quatre was preparing to leave early so they could arrive at the conference hall together.
He paused for a moment as he heard a high-pitched scream. Jade eyes peered up the elaborate staircase. It sounded like Quatre was sending his hairdressers into fits again.
***
Hands over his mouth, trying not to hyperventilate, Quatre stared at the evil interloper from between his fingers. Okay, so maybe it wasn't right to call it evil. The spider was more scared of him than he was of it.
And the spider was ready to jump on him and bite him with those big ugly fangs...
Maybe if he tried moving it gently... As he approached, the spider moved back and forth in a threatening way. Quatre backed off again nervously. He could just leave it there. He likely wouldn't need the lube anyway. Then again, he would need to get into his chest again eventually.
He considered leaving it open and letting the spider come out on its own. But then the spider would still be in the room. He shivered, imagining finding it in the bed. No, the spider had to go.
He glared into eight beady eyes.
How was he going to do this!? He scratched Trowa from his thoughts immediately. There was no way he was going to admit to Trowa that he couldn't handle a tiny spider. Even if it was a huge, tiny spider.
He was a grown man, he could deal with this!
***
"Jeeves!"
With a long suffering sigh, the butler looked up from his cleaning to find his young master standing in the doorway, his white-knuckled hands clenching the doorframe. "Sir, may I remind you, my name is William."
"Uh, yes, sorry," Quatre replied distractedly. "Where's the bug spray?"
"All pesticides are out in the gardener's shed, Sir."
"Oh! Thank you, Jeeves!" Quatre beamed and ran out.
Shaking his head, Bill the butler went back about his business.
***
Still on the phone, Trowa looked up briefly as Quatre went barreling through the foyer. He waited a moment to see if the hairdressers were chasing him. When none followed, he turned away, one hand tucked into his pocket. God, Quatre looked so edible in those formal suits...
"Mmmhmmm.... Oh, yeah, I'm still here. Yes, the bomb-sniffing dogs too..."
***
Inside the garden shed, Quatre browsed the dark, dusty shelves. He absolutely had to get rid of that spider. Trowa was wearing his special police dress uniform today. If his reaction to just glimpsing it on his way out to the shed had been any indication, then he was definitely going to be needing that tube before the day was out. His friend Dorothy had once told him that there were times when pacifism simply had no place. Now he felt that this was surely one of those times.
The arachnid had to die.
Ah-Hah! He'd found the bug spray. The black spray canister looked very ominous. Around him, he felt many, many little eyes on him. Feeling a little guilty, he looked up at all the cobwebs scattered throughout the shed. No doubt the spiders that lived there were related to the one holding his lube hostage. Poor spiders.
It couldn't be helped. Holding the canister at arms length, as instructed on the label, he headed back towards the house.
***
Trowa had just finished his phone call, when he heard Quatre come back in. He turned to meet him, but Quatre rushed back upstairs too quickly. He stood at the foot of the staircase and called up after him.
"Quatre! We need to be going in a few minutes!"
Walking around the mansion, he found their butler, who was also the chauffer. Trowa blinked. Quatre had known him since childhood, but he was still getting to know the old man himself. What was his name again? Oh, yes, now he remembered.
"Jeeves," Trowa walked up to him. "Can you please prepare the limo? We need to leave shortly. I'm going to bring Quatre down."
"Yes, Sir," the butler sighed. "And my name is William, if you please."
"Oh, yes, I forgot." Trowa apologized and and left to find Quatre.
He didn't have to look far. Just a few doors down, the blonde was sagging against a wall, hacking violently.
"Quatre! What's wrong?" He ran to his husband's side and placed a hand on his chest and back to support him. His nose wrinkled. There was an awful acidic smell. "What've you been into?"
"Chemical warfare," Quatre choked. "Bad idea."
Trowa pulled him into a chair. "What?"
"It didn't die... Plan... backfired..."
"Quatre, please, do you need a doctor?" Trowa asked worriedly, wishing his beloved would just tell him what was going on.
"No, I'll be fine," Quatre smiled a bit, leaning into him. "Just needed some air. I don't know if we'll be able to use our master bedroom tonight, though."
"Exactly what have you been doing?" Trowa asked in bewilderment.
With a little sigh of defeat, Quatre told him.
***
After mopping down Quatre with a wet rag, Trowa had him wait outside. Then he ascended the stairs. In his fist was clenched a rolled up newspaper. From the front door, Quatre watched him go, waiting beside the chauffer.
A few minutes later, Trowa returned. He no longer had the newspaper, and was holding his right hand. "Damn. That thing bites hard."
"Trowa!" Quatre's eyes shone with pain as he examined Trowa's spider bite. "Does it hurt much? Did you kill it?"
"No, it jumped me and got away." Trowa shook his head. "Let's just forget about it for now. We have to get to the convention hall."
"Right!" Quatre nodded. "Jeeves, let's go!"
"Yes, Sir." The chauffer opened the limo door for them. "But please Sir, how many times have I told you, my name is William!"
***
During the ride to the convention hall, Quatre noticed that Trowa's hand was swelling terribly. It was red, and starting to resemble a balloon.
"I think this is going to be a problem." Trowa could hardly move his fingers. "Quatre, is there any ice in here?"
"That spider must have been poisonous!" Looking around, Quatre found nothing that could help the swelling. "Jeeves!" He hollered. "To the hospital!"
"Mr. Winner..." the chauffer clenched his teeth. "Oh, to hell with it! Jeeves is now headed to the hospital!" With a wild swerve, the limo changed course and sped towards Our Lady of the Desert Medical Center. Several other vehicles honked irritably at them as they went.
***
"So you see," Quatre explained to Heero and Relena, "that's how it all happened." He dropped down in one of the hospital lobby's garishly orange nylon seats. "And because I couldn't take care of a simple little spider, Trowa's hurt."
"It's only a spider bite, Quatre." Trowa was standing beside Heero and Relena. His right hand was still swollen, but now padded and bandaged. "I just won't be able to use this hand very well for awhile. Now let's go the summit. They can't start talking until you and Relena arrive."
"Yes," Relena agreed. "And Heero, you should take care of Quatre's problem for him."
"But it's just a..." Heero protested.
"Please, Heero." Quatre pleaded.
"Relena needs me at the summit," Heero growled. "I'm not getting involved in this. I'm a bodyguard, not an exterminator!"
Suddenly, Trowa waved his swollen hand in Heero's face. "Sometimes Heero, it comes with the job." He said dryly and looked sideways at him. "And you're better at it than I am."
"I'll go with Quatre and Trowa," Relena smiled. "Everything will be just fine. You can catch up afterwards."
Heero looked at her in horrified disbelief, and then at Quatre, who was looking up at him with those quivering eyes that were too big and blue to belong to a grown man. He looked last to Trowa, who only smiled in that infuriatingly calm way.
"Okay. I'll do it."
***
Later that night, Quatre, Trowa, and Relena rode back to the Winner residence together. Strangely, Heero had not made it to the summit. They weren't too worried, since they'd made several calls, in which he'd only say he was close to completing his mission.
"I hope Heero's really okay." Relena wrung her hands in the backseat.
"I'm sure he is," Quatre said as they pulled up to the house.
"I believe that's him now," Trowa said as one of the mansion's second floor windows was shattered by several rounds of gunfire. And from the look of many of the other windows, this had been going on for awhile.
"Aw, reminds me of when Mr. Winner was a small boy," Jeeves mused at the scattered broken glass as his passengers flung open the mansion doors and ran inside.
They fell into the master bedroom, where Heero was laughing maniacally. He was now aiming at a portrait on the wall. "I've got you now, you little monster! You can't escape!"
"Get him!" Trowa shouted. He and Quatre piled on top of the crazed Heero, attempting to wrestle the gun away from him. Relena sighed and sat on the bed. This was going to be a long night.
Meanwhile, on a picture frame in the corner of the room, a big spider watched on with a big fanged smile.
[End]