Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, and it's a good thing. They'd be embarrassed by me, and refuse to even walk on the same side of the street as the crazy lady. That being said, I'm poorer than a church-mouse, so obviously no money is being made here. (Sigh).
Warning: Yaoi, and lots of it. Also, swearing and sexual innuendos. Established relationships 1+2+5, and 3+4.
Notes: This has nothing to do with Trying Normal or its sequel. It's just an idea that's been rolling around in my head for a while now. I had clear idea for the end and the beginning, but it took writer's block for my other story for me to figure out the middle of this.
Romance is Not DeadBy GreenLady
The Challenge:
"Oh Trowa, this is wonderful. What's the occasion?"
"No occasion little one, I just saw it and thought of you."
Quatre stood atop the bottom step. In his hand he clutched a crystal violin figurine, while Trowa smiled into his eyes adoringly.
All five boys were in the living room of Quatre's comfortable estate. Heero sat on the floor industriously working on his laptop, Wufei was curled up in a big leather arm chair with a book on martial arts, and Duo sat watching the sickeningly sweet scene taking place between pilots 04 and 03. His glance began to move between them and then to his own two lovers. Back and forth, back and forth. He was beginning to give himself whiplash.
By the time Quatre and Trowa had headed upstairs to, ahem, christen the little crystal bauble, Duo was starting to scowl.
"Ahem," he cleared his throat.
Neither Wufei nor Heero even looked up.
"I said, ahem!"
Still no reaction.
"AHHH!! What the hell is wrong with you two?! I'm talking here, goddamn it!"
His lovers both looked up. "Did you want something?" Heero said calmly.
"Yes! Yes, I do! I want to know why the HELL no one every brings me gifts like Trowa and Quatre do all the time for each other!"
"You want us to buy you stuff?" Wufei said, confused. "You have your own money, Maxwell, won't it just be easier to get it for yourself? We'd only pick out the wrong things."
"That's not the point! I'm not just talking about buying me things. What about all the other sweet little gestures that Trowa does for Quatre? He'll cook for him; bring him wild flowers he picked while on a walk, you know, romantic stuff! All I'm asking for is a little romance, but you two are so freaking, so freaking . . . impassive! I don't even want to see either of you tonight! I'm going to my room, ALONE!" He stormed out of the room and clomped up the stairs with enough force to shake the chandelier above the dining room table.
For nearly a whole minute there was complete silence. Then Wufei put his book down and frowned at the stairs. "Romance? Does he really want romance? That's so . . . so unmanly."
Heero spoke without taking his eyes away from his computer screen. "That's what people say when they don't know how to do something. You probably couldn't do it right, anyhow."
The Chinese boy turned and looked at him, eyes beginning to narrow. "Are you saying I couldn't be romantic? You know less about it then I do. I bet I'd do better than you, stoic boy."
"Unlikely."
Wufei's dark eyes began to gleam. "Is this a challenge then, Yuy?"
"Challenge implies there's some doubt as to the outcome."
"All right, fine. We will see who gives Duo romance better. By tomorrow night the baka can decide who did the lovey-dovey stuff best."
Heero shrugged. "If you insist."
Wufei smirked. "Good night then, Heero. Good luck. You're going to need it." With that parting shot he climbed the stairs to his room so that he could plot.
Heero frowned speculatively. It was true he really didn't know anything about how one romanced one's partner, but he could always find out. With a decisive nod to himself he left the living room to begin his research.
The Research:
Trowa yawned sleepily as he ambled down the hallway. Quatre had been most grateful for his present, and had worn his lover out last night with his 'thanks.' Not that pilot 03 was complaining; he smirked to himself.
Trowa passed the library, and then suddenly stopped short just past the entrance to the room. Green eyes widened in surprise. Did he just see what he thought he saw?
He backtracked carefully and then peered into the room. He rubbed his eyes, but the disturbing image still did not go away.
Heero Yuy sat in a big cushy chair engrossed in a book.
The fact that he was reading was not the surprise, though it was unusual considering he usually just looked up anything he wanted to know online, it was what he was reading that was so mind-boggling.
Romance novels.
Unmistakably, cheesy romance novels. Trowa knew that's what they were because of the universally obvious cover. The longhaired woman swooning sensually in the arms of the longhaired man with his nipples showing. Catherine had a ton at home, so Trowa was more familiar with them then he cared to be.
Of course Heero's collection put his sister's to shame. There were two huge stacks on each side that towered precariously over the boy's head. As he watched the cobalt-eyed pilot finished the one he was reading, put it down, and mechanically picked up another. It looked like he had been at it all night.
Trowa opened his mouth, and then shut it again quickly, slowly backing away from the door.
He really didn't want to know.
Romancing Duo: Take OneThe sun's early morning rays shone through the askew blinds straight into Duo's eyes. He waved his hand in front of his eyes, as if he could move the light by physical force. He grunted in sleepy annoyance, and then rolled, along with the tangled covers, right off the bed.
"Ouch!" Duo fought a brief, and largely unsuccessful, battle with the blankets. He peeked blurrily at the bed, wondering why a warm body hadn't obstructed his roll to the floor. The mattress was quite empty, he scratched his head in confusion for a moment, until his sleep-fogged brain finally supplied him with the reason he was sleeping alone.
He scowled. Well screw the stoic bastards anyway! He got to his feet and staggered to the bed, falling ungracefully onto the pillows face first, as the sheets tangled in his legs and tripped him. He muttered several obscenities into the pillow, which thankfully muffled them. Duo really wasn't a morning person.
He had just managed to unwind himself from the cover's possessive grasp when the door clicked open behind him. The braided boy rolled onto his back and transferred his disgruntled glare from the cushioning pillows to the unfortunate person invading his room. Unfortunate because by the time Duo got done with them they were going to have to spend several years in intensive counseling. But the scowl abruptly changed into a comical look of astonishment as he got a clear look at the perpetrator and the goods he carried in his hands.
It was Wufei, and he was carrying a breakfast tray.
Not just any breakfast tray either, the item in question clearly came from the Winner family silver cabinet. And when Wufei sat on the side of the bed and pulled off the lid, Duo's mouth couldn't help but drop to the floor as he took in the amount of artful presentation. Several black rose decorated the surface, carefully placed around the heaping mounds of food, which included pancakes, sausages, orange juice, black coffee (the only way to drink the caffeine without resorting to a direct injection to the veins), hash browns, and his favorite cereal in the whole wide world, chocolate covered Gut Explosions.
He looked at Wufei questioningly, who just shrugged nonchalantly and said, "I thought that maybe you'd like breakfast in bed today."
Duo stared at his boyfriend suspiciously. Wufei was always giving him lectures about the importance of eating healthily, and in moderation. In fact, just yesterday he had been shooting disapproving glances at his mixing-bowl of Gut Explosions and muttering about fake food and how he would be still digesting that when he turned thirty. He transferred the suspicious look from the Chinese boy to the food itself. Salvia began to gather in his mouth at the tasty display, but he forced his sleep-fogged mind to think this through and consider the possibility of poison. Breakfast in bed wasn't exactly a regular occurrence, so what was the last practical joke he had played on Wufei? Oh, right, replacing his shampoo with bright pink hair dye. But that was days ago, and it washed out by that very night. Nope, couldn't still be holding a grudge over that, and besides poison wasn't really his lover's style. His style was a great deal more direct, usually involving an hour-long chase with a katana, or until Duo managed to 'convince' him that he was 'sorry.' Which was definitely fun in it's own right.
"You can eat it, Duo, I did bring it up for you. I don't think anyone else would dare eat that sugared stomach-cramping cereal of yours."
Duo grinned suddenly in a rapid change of mood. "It's not my fault you all have weak stomachs, just because mine is made out of pure gundanium . . ." He patted the belly in question and reached for the tray of food, and started to dig in without any more ceremony.
Wufei's face began to develop a decidedly green-tinge as he watched his boyfriend impersonate a vacuum cleaner. He averted his eyes quickly, but couldn't really block out the loud and disgusting slurping and chewing noises. The Chinese boy tried to ignore the mental picture that popped into his head of a 300-pound Duo, fat rolls hanging over his flight suit, sitting in the cockpit of Deathscythe using a long poking stick to hit the controls. He shuddered, though he wasn't sure if it was at the idea of an obese Duo, or at the idea that Duo would have any kind of poking stick in his possession.
Duo burped loudly and set down the tray. He grinned. "Man Wu-fers, you're the best." He patted his belly, not seeing the struggle on his boyfriend's face as he reminded himself that strangling Duo for using a nickname was decidedly not romantic.
The longhaired man tossed the covers back. "What are you doing?" Wufei asked sharply, internal struggle not yet forgotten.
"I thought I'd go do these dishes. It's only fair, the cook shouldn't have to clean up."
Wufei's severe expression softened. He got to his feet and gently pushed Duo back onto the bed. He then scooped up the tray himself and headed for the door. "I did this so you wouldn't have to get up yet, I know how much you hate mornings." He smirked as he closed the door behind him. He knew that he had just scored major points; Yuy was going down.
Meanwhile, behind the closed door, Duo did a luxurious full-body stretch on his bed. He laced his hands together behind his head and grinned at the ceiling. Now this was the life. All previous irritation at his lover was obliterated. Duo certainly wasn't the type to hold grudges, at least not on a full stomach.
He was just starting to drift off to dreamland again when his ears picked up a familiar mechanical whirring. He bolted up in bed and craned his head around to stare outside. "What the hell . . ."
*CRASH. * Duo let out a very unmanly shriek and dived behind the bed as the French windows, along with a sizeable chunk of wall, were ripped clear away. He had a second to glimpse a Taurus mobile suit though the hole in the wall before tons upon tons of something were shoved into the room, completely burying the former pilot.
Then there was silence.
The quiet was finally broken as the cockpit hatch opened, and Heero stepped out to survey his handy work. He nodded to himself in satisfaction, mission accomplished. All the romance books had involved some sort of scene were the man had given the woman a bouquet of flowers. Now granted, Duo wasn't a woman, but he seemed to enjoy Quatre's rose gardens, and he had mentioned that it was sweet of Trowa to pick the blonde wildflowers.
Well, Heero could do better. He had, ah, borrowed a mobile suit from the Preventers, and decimated an entire meadow of wildflowers. Now Duo's bedroom was blanketed in several tons of sweet-smelling flora. Heero frowned and surveyed the room again. Okay, room full of plants, check. But where was the receiver of the Perfect Soldier's romantic gesture?
The plants near the bed rustled. A hand emerged, and waved around briefly before latching on to a bedpost and hauling its owner to the surface. Duo took several big gulps of much needed oxygen before reaching up and untangling a violet from his hair. He looked around at the destruction, than turned to glance at Heero and his borrowed mobile suit. He opened his mouth.
The resulting shouted obscenity scared a flock of crows into taking flight from the Winner gardens.
Romancing Duo: Take TwoDuo sat seething on the couch as Quatre finished duct taping oven mitts to his hands. Heero hadn't been very discriminating in his choice of flowers, and there had been a great deal of poison ivy mixed in with the pretty blossoms. The rich blonde had caught his friend scratching, and had taken steps to keep Duo from rubbing his skin raw, hence the oven mitts.
Right now the itchy boy was scowling at his cloth-covered hands. "Oh he is so going to pay for this. I mean, this is so not even on par with the pranks that I've pulled on him. This is crossing the line."
Quatre looked up from securing the last piece of duct tape. Part of the blonde was with Duo, as he was still a little perturbed over the destruction of his wall. But, he reminded himself, he had plenty of money with which to fix it, and random property destruction was to be expected when living with ex-gundam pilots, and so he spoke on Heero's behalf. "Duo, I don't think he meant it as a prank. They were flowers after all. I think he meant them as a romantic gesture."
Duo's scowl got even more pronounced. "Not even Heero can be that socially inept."
Quatre sighed wearily. "Don't be so sure."
Heero sat on the porch steps with Trowa, chin resting on his knees. He stared out into Quatre's garden gloomily. "I suck at this. How do you do it, Trowa?"
"Do what?"
"You know, be romantic. Show Quatre that you love him."
"Well, for starters, I don't dump a meadow full of poison ivy on his head."
Heero groaned and hid his face in his hands.
"Maybe you need to do something a little less, ah . . . elaborate."
"What do you mean?"
Trowa valiantly resisted the urge to make another crack about the poison ivy. "Do something from the heart, something that doesn't require the theft of a mobile suit. Une's really pissed off about that, by the way."
Heero latched onto the first part of the sentence and completely ignored the latter comment. "What could I do?"
"Well, you could tell him how you feel. You know, with words?"
Heero stared at Trowa incredulously.
Trowa, correctly interpreting the look, got defensive. "Hey, I do know how to have a conversation with someone! I can be pretty damn eloquent when I have to be. Once I even . . . ah, this is pretty embarrassing."
"Go on. I won't tell anyone."
"Once I even wrote a poem for Quatre." Trowa blushed and looked away.
Heero, however, was looking at him hopefully. "And that worked?"
Trowa turned his head back and gave a smug half-smile. "Yeah, I'd say it did."
"I can do that." Heero got up and began to head back inside, but Trowa stopped him.
"Um, you might want to give him awhile to cool down first. At least wait until Quatre has time to buy him some anti-itch cream."
Duo lay on his back, desperately trying to not think about how much he itched. A cleared throat made him glance over to the entranceway.
It was Wufei.
Duo stared curiously at the plastic bag in his hands, gleefully latching onto any distraction away from the Heero induced rash. "What's that?"
The Chinese man dumped the contents of the bag onto the coffee table. "I rented you some action movies. I thought you could use a distraction."
The American eyed the videos eagerly. "Are there explosions?"
Wufei nodded solemnly. "The biggest, most fiery ones that I could find."
They sat down to watch, and four hours and two action-packed movies later, Duo lay next to Wufei feeling much better. Quatre had rubbed on some soothing anti-itch lotion and he had a big bowl of popcorn. Life was good again. Duo was feeling magnanimous enough to even forgive Heero.
Someone cleared his throat. Well, speak of the devil. Heero stood nervously at the end of the couch, shuffling his feet.
Duo let him squirm for a few minutes before he spoke. "Yeah? You want something Hee-chan?"
Heero looked up hopefully at the nickname. "I, uh, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I thought the thing with the flowers would make you happy, but I didn't factor in the poison ivy, or the property damage, or the . . ."
"Hey, it's okay. I forgive you. Of course, if you ever do anything like that again, I'll hang you from the window of our room by your spandex."
Heero nodded. "I'm just not very good at expressing my feelings. But that's going to change . . ." He got down on one knee.
Wufei sat up abruptly, glaring at Heero. What a cheap way to win! Besides, if he was going to propose, it had better be to both of them.
Luckily it wasn't a marriage proposal. "I wrote this for you," Heero told Duo solemnly. Then he pulled out a little slip of paper from his front shirt pocket. He cleared his throat, and began to speak.
"The first moment I saw you
You threatened me dead.
The second time you called me crazy
As I fell on my head.
When I set my own leg
You told me I was sick.
Then you jumped me in the cockpit
And sat on my dick."
Duo choked on a piece of popcorn, and Wufei gave him a quick Heimlich maneuver.
"The next day I stole parts
And you got real mad.
I was perfectly happy,
And I still don't feel bad.
But then I began to notice
That you had nice eyes.
They're the color of bruises and plums
And unclouded by lies.
I thought about it,
Decided I liked you a lot.
We blew stuff up together
And I rescued you when caught."
Actually Heero had originally gone to the cell in order to kill Duo, and keep him from giving up any Gundam pilot secrets. But this sounded better.
"You're a baka sometimes
I hate it when you give me sass
Or dye my laptop pink
But you have a really great ass."
Heero finished reciting, and looked at Duo expectantly.
It was so quiet that you could hear crickets chirping.
Wufei and Duo exchanged a confused glance. Finally Duo said something. "Um, it rhymed very well, Heero."
The Japanese man stared at them both hopefully for several moments longer before realizing that no one was going to say anything else. He nodded stiffly, got to his feet, and left the room.
At least this time Duo wasn't pissed at him.
Romancing Duo: Take ThreeHeero sat on the porch step again, staring dejectedly into the night.
"Can I join you, Heero?"
He looked up at the blonde and shrugged without saying anything. Quatre took that as an invitation. "So," he said after seating himself, "I heard about your, um, poem."
Heero grunted; somehow that one monosyllabic sound conveyed a whole host of unhappy feelings. Quatre patted his shoulder sympathetically.
They sat in the dark for several minutes before Heero finally saw fit to break his silence. "How does he do it?"
"Who?"
"Wufei. Duo hasn't gotten angry with him once all day. In fact, he looked downright happy with him on the couch."
Quatre shifted slightly. "Heero, Wufei knows how to be romantic without forcing it. He knows when to not cross the line . . ."
You mean he manages to be romantic without being crazy?" The brunette said bitterly.
Quatre winced. He would have said it with a little more tact. "Well . . . yes. It's just that you're trying a little to hard. Show him that you love him without resorting to common methods like flowers and poetry. Your relationship has been anything but common and traditional; don't cheapen that. I mean, who else has met one of the loves of their life over a gun barrel?"
"You and Trowa."
"Ah . . . yes, but I didn't shoot Trowa. Twice." The blonde patted Heero's knee and rose to his feet. "Just think about what makes your relationship special," he called over his shoulder.
Duo peeked stealthily around the door to the living room, no one in sight. He then snuck a look toward the other door, the one that led to the kitchen. The coast was clear there, too.
He sprinted back to the couch and leapt over its back, landing with a bounce on the cushions. Using his teeth he ripped one oven mitt off, and than began to vigorously scratch his shoulders, groaning in relief.
The anti-itch cream had worn off hours ago.
His sneakiness as the God of Death had to be put to good use. If the little blonde tyrant found him scratching again, his hands wouldn't be the only thing encased in duct tape.
"What are you doing?"
Duo meeped and fell off the couch to land on the floor with a thud. He looked up and nearly melted in relief. "Oh, it's just you."
Wufei lifted an eyebrow.
Duo picked himself off the floor and plopped himself back on the couch. "This sucks, Wu-man, sucks big time. I am so bored. Stupid rash, and stupid oven mitts!" He threw the loose mitt violently across the room.
"If Quatre sees you doing that he'll hang you to the ceiling with duct tape."
Duo looked up in fear and dove across the room to retrieve the mitt, eyes peeled for his blondeness. "He's not here now, is he?"
"Actually, he went shopping with Trowa. I think they said something about picking out china patterns."
Duo blew out a relieved breath.
"You know," Wufei said, "I can't do anything about your forced inactivity right now, but I can give you something to look forward to. . ." He pulled out three slips of paper.
Duo looked at the offering curiously, and then stepped closer to read them. Wufei continued talking. "I even bought one for Heero, so we could all go." The Chinese man smirked; it would serve him right. Wufei Chang wasn't going to suffer alone.
Violet eyes got very wide as they read the writing on the tickets. "Death Posse passes?" But you hate my heavy metal music! Yesterday you were saying that it sounded like mobile dolls colliding . . . "
Wufei interrupted hastily before Duo could remember exactly what else he had said. "You like them, and I like to be with you, so . . . "
Duo stared at him for a second, startled, and then he grinned brilliantly. He launched himself at Wufei and encased him in a rib-cracking hug. "You are awesome Wufei! Completely and utterly awesome!"
And that's the scene that Heero walked into.
"I can't believe you'll go to a Death Posse concert with me, and how the hell did you get tickets?" Duo was saying.
Heero scowled and chucked his box of candy behind the couch. Chocolate couldn't compete with Death Posse. Wufei was smirking at him around an armful of itchy Duo. Heero couldn't believe it, he had failed, and he had lost to Wufei. And that wasn't nearly the worst part. He and Duo, (and for that matter Wufei and him), would never have the kind of relationship that Trowa and Quatre had, and it was all his fault. Heero glared at the spilled chocolates. Quatre had been right, common gestures of romance weren't enough for their completely uncommon relationship.
Suddenly a light bulb went on in Heero's head. Wait a minute, what else did Quatre say?
Wufei frowned as he watched Heero turn and leave the room. This could be bad. Sometimes, Heero could be surprisingly sensitive about their relationship. Maybe he had better go talk to him?
He tried to take a step, but then realized that Duo was still clinging to him. And he became rather alarmed when he realized that the other boy was rubbing up against him . . . but not in the good way that led to sex. He was trying to scratch his poison ivy itch!
"Duo!"
"Oh come on, Wufei, it feels so good!"
"And if Quatre finds you using me for a scratching post he'll tape us both to the trees outside!"
Wufei was so busy trying to disengage from his itchy boyfriend that he completely missed Heero's reentrance.
So when he finally pushed Duo away they found him standing by the coffee table. They both stared at him curiously.
The Japanese man reached into his jean pocket and pulled out something, setting it on the tabletop. He took a breath and stared into Duo's eyes. "I know I'm not very good at expressing my feelings, but I really care about you, and . . ." He trailed off, shrugging his shoulders with helplessness at his inability to say what he wanted.
Duo stared at the object on the coffee table. Wufei watched as comprehension gradually dawned across his features. But then he was startled to see the violet eyes fill with tears. Seconds later he launched himself at Heero, shouting: "I can't believe you kept that!"
Wufei stared blankly at the thing on the table. It was a bullet. The metal was slightly misshapen from where it had been fired. Why would this pull such a reaction from Duo? How the hell was this romantic?
Heero wrapped his arms around his lover. "Duo, are you crying?" He asked incredulously, getting rather alarmed.
"N-no, of course not," he sobbed. And then repeating himself: "I can't believe you kept it!"
Wufei glared at the spent projectile. "What the hell is this about? It's a bullet!"
"It's mine," Duo said softly, head muffled in Heero's chest. "It's one of the bullets that I shot him with the day we first met."
Wufei was momentarily speechless. He looked at the little lump of metal with new interest. "And you kept it all this time?"
"Yes."
"That's pathetically sentimental," the Chinese man said, but he sounded wistful.
"Duo!" It was Quatre calling from the kitchen. "I got some more lotion for your poison ivy!"
Duo sniffed, and pulled away from Heero. He was practically beaming. "I'm coming!" He shouted back, than launched himself at Wufei in order to pull all three of them into a hug. "I love you guys!" He darted off into the kitchen.
Once he was out of earshot, Heero smirked at Wufei. "This means I won, but we never discussed any terms."
"Terms?" The Chinese man asked warily.
"Yep." He stepped up to Wufei and put his hands on the other man's slim waist. "And since itchy there is out of commission for a couple of days, it's your job to keep me . . . occupied."
Wufei brightened and returned the smirk. "If you insist." They headed upstairs, but as they went Wufei couldn't resist having the last word. "But you better keep your calendar opened for three days from now."
Heero looked at him in puzzlement. "Why?"
"Oh? Didn't I tell you? We have to go see Death Posse in concert with Duo."
Heero stopped short and stared after Wufei in abject horror.