Hey-o, and welcome to my Lil' World of Weirdness!!

I state for the record that I don't own Gundam Wing, or the wonderful characters that will be gracing this story. . . Nor do I lay claim to the wonderful Cowboy Bebop song, 'Don't Bother None'. This story is dedicated to my ever wonderful Beta-reader, the Bluegoo – 'cause, just like with 'In This Tainted Soul' something she wrote set my muse off on a all-out writing crusade!!

Okay, that's the legal stuff out the way!!

//Thinking//

"Speaking"

*Stress/Emphasis*

~*~

**MealTime**

By Doctor Megalomania

Okay, so this is a series of little ficlets, there's no time line, no real point, nothing that links them, except for the fact they all came to me during various meals. This one is mostly Heero's POV, Humour. Please R&R at the end!!

Zero One: Good Cook

Duo Maxwell.

The Oxymoron Gundam Pilot.

The Self-Proclaimed God Of Death.

The Talented Mister Chatterbox.

The Almighty Annoying Braided Baka.

The . . . Good Cook?!

Yes.

That's my reaction too.

But there he is, fussing over the perfection of his meatballs . . . the softness of his rice . . . Kami-sama . . . And the safe-house isn't even singed. I felt a nerve ending in my cheek twitch, as he turns, braid neatly doubled up and tied so not to get hair into the food --- Kami-sama, he's actually a good cook?!

I came home, a few hours earlier than expected, from my mission. Everything had gone according to plan, and I came home expecting to enjoy yet another one of his Maxwell's specials . . . Take Out from the local Chinese . . . We – meaning Wufei, Trowa and Me (Quatre doesn't join in, because he thinks it's disrespectful to Duo to assume it will happen) – poured over the menu, already choosing what to order later that night. Like we do ever time it's Duo's turn to cook.

But . . .

But . . .

Kuso!

It takes a lot to stun me.

Massive explosions? Don't bat an eyelid. Self destructing my Gundam? Not even a muscle twitch. Seeing Shinigami in a sunshine yellow apron with 'Resistance Is Futile, You WILL Eat Pie!' printed on it, humming gently to the jazz music from the radio, casually stirring the carrots? The Perfect Solider is left slack jawed in the kitchen doorway.

What the--?!

I gather my wits, and the fraction of a second passes. I move to my laptop with relative ease. As I perch behind the breakfast bar on my favourite high stool, I realise he either hasn't noticed I've come in, or is choosing to ignore me. I blink, as I switch on my laptop, still looking directly at him. He spins away from his stove, and falls to his knees. I lean forward to see if he's fainted, when I see his bottom wiggling as he struggles to reach, or find something from the very back of our cupboard.

Wufei walks in, apparently following his nose. He frowns at me, plainly seeing I'm not the one cooking. His nose wrinkles up as he tries to figure out who is cooking then. Duo chooses that particular moment to sing a snatch of jazz . . .

"I got thirsty so I went to a bar . . . met a lil darlin' with the face of a star . . . in the mornin', woke up to find . . . she'd stole my car, along with my heart, yeah!!"

I swear Wufei couldn't get any paler . . . but there he was, white as a sheet. Black eyes as wide as possible. I swallow a laugh. . . he looks like a chibi-version of himself. He turns to me and points at Duo's bottom, mouthing, 'Maxwell?!'

I nod slowly, as his eye begins to twitch.

He steps forward, and inspects the bubbling stove as if he's expecting to see some trace of fast food packaging. I shake my head as Duo makes a small noise of discovery and crawls back out. He grins, and holds up the flour, "Found it!"

I stare at him, eyebrow raised. Duo grins more, and shakes his head, "I love that song . . . I can't stop singing it even if it's impolite of me!" He nods, "So . . . erm . . . Hi Heero, how was your mission?"

"Hn." I grunt, considering he's understands what I mean – or at last that's what he claims, stating that he'll, one day, write a dictionary of the meaning of 'Hn.' – I see no reason to further explain that it evidently went well considering I'm back and unscathed.

"That good, huh?" He shoots back absently, measuring out the flour in a very precise way. "Hmm, Wufei? Get some milk out the fridge; I've decided we're having cake for afters . . ."

Wufei moves quietly, I think he's still in shock.

Quatre's voice precedes him, as he and Trowa walk into the room. "Hey? What's cooking that smells so good, Duo?"

"Meatballs!" Duo calls back again absently, it seems like the main portion of his concentration is fully centred on cake he's mixing up. He quietly directs Wufei to pour in some milk, just as Trowa walks through the door. The tall boy stops so suddenly, there a quiet 'Hmpt!' as Quatre walks into the back of him.

His single visible eyebrow rises about a millimetre, the only outward sign of his shock. Quatre chuckles as he gently urges Trowa forward, "Mmm . . ." The blonde hums, "Sounds good! And for afters?"

Duo grins, wiping his nose and getting a little bit of flour on the very tip of his nose. "Victorian Sponge Cake, with lemon filling, and a light fudge chocolate icing . . . with a hot, lightly flavoured, lemon sauce . . . Naturally—" Duo explains in a tone of a gourmet chef, "The side to this will be white chocolate ice cream!"

"Naturally." Replies Quatre, as he bends over the stove, "The meatballs?"

"Accounting for the fact Trowa's not a huge beef fan, I've made sure that the pork mince out weighs the beef ever so slightly . . ." The braided chef holds up his finger, "*However* this will not detract from the taste." He smiles warmly as he shows off the various pots and pans, "This will be served with boiled baby potatoes, steamed carrots, lightly seasoned rice with an oriental twist . . . topping off with a thick but still light gravy made from the stock from the meatballs." Duo turns from the stove and motions Quatre over to the fridge, "Naturally there's a side dish of salad, a fresh mixture of seasoned tomatoes, a balance of the greens, and the all important dressing as an optional extra."

Quatre beams, and nods, "Looks like you thought of everything!"

"Not quite," Duo shakes his head, blushing slightly, "I still haven't decided whether a red or a white would go better with the main course."

Finally I open my mouth to say something other than my standard 'Hn.', and yet I wish I didn't sound so naïve. "A red or white what?"

Quatre blinks and smiles at me, as Duo turns the full force of his Gourmet Chef upon me, "Why, a red or white wine!" He chuckles and quickly paces over to sit beside me. He smiles at me, as he asks sincerely, "Which do you think?" He reaches past me to grab two bottles on the other side of my laptop. "Now, a red might be a bit overwhelming what with the meatballs, and gravy, but I think a white would be too sweet . . ." He trails off, looking to me to decide. I glance up at Quatre who smiles at me with that damned 'See? I told you so' look of his, Trowa's still in shock . . . that eyebrow of his has inched up a few more notches . . . and Wufei . . . Wufei looks even more like a chibi now.

Inwardly their shock annoys something in me. So? So, Duo has a talent none of us possess. So, Duo can cook. So? Admittedly it's not something we expected, but there's still no need to go overboard with the shock.

I glance at the labels, both of them are a good year, but he's right, one would be too much, and the other too sweet . . . I swallow imperceptibly, and stand up. Duo blinks, "Oi, Heero . . .?"

I reach into a cupboard that is always mine, and that nobody's supposed to touch and nod slightly as I pull out a bottle of port.

----

As he presents the bottle to me, I don't know what to say . . . yes, he's left Shinigami speechless. And when he starts telling me about the bottle, it's year, it's properties, the taste, and the vineyard it was brewed in and why it would be better than either of my choices . . .

My god.

He's an expert in wines . . .

Owari