A/N: Well, hi. I'm gonna start off with the disclaimer…ready? Here it comes: I-don't-own-GW-so-don't-sue-it's-not-like-I'm-good-enough-at-writing-GW-to-make-any-money-from-it. There. The nasty part is over.

Now, if you're familiar with my work, you know the drill…just like the 27 other GW fics I've written, this one is non-yaoi. Sorry any yaoi fans, but I find it much easier for myself to write boy/girl fics. BUT I don't have a problem with yaoi, if anyone was wondering.

PLOT-- This fic is about a young woman (my O.C. Angel—and don't worry, fans of fics that deal with series'-only characters, because she is the only one) who's undercover pretending to be Quatre's wife, while dating Duo. Yeah, it gets complicated. Anyway, most of the characters you know and love will be here, and even some you don't like. I have plans for Catherine, Dorothy, Sally, Noin, Une, Zechs, Relena, Pagan, the Maganac, and those weird-ass Doctors…so you'll be familiar with most everyone in the fic. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK! Especially if you've got any constructive advice. Yup, even flames are welcome, particularly because it's rainy out today and I'm BLOODY COLD!…eh…flame humor…yeah, I'll work on it. -.- Anyway. Welcome to the zaniest undercover mission in Preventer's history…

Training Missions

Chapter One: Rainy Days

"This is your house?"

Quatre Raberba Winner hid a grin behind his hand as he escorted Une's latest recruit into his home. 'House' was decidedly an understatement. 'Estate' was a better name for the sprawling mansion-like home that Quatre had inherited from his father. Either way, the young Angel Tsuiraku Kurama seemed appropriately awed, and he smiled down at her to help her relax.

"Yes, this is my home," he replied, taking the lead and heading toward the grand-staircase. It was, Angel decided as she trailed after her partner, the grandest staircase she'd ever seen. Trying to keep her mouth from hanging open, while at the same time trying to take everything in at once, she followed him up the stairs.

"I mean, you actually live here? All by yourself?" she asked, and he glanced at her over his shoulder with another smile.

"Not quite alone. My father hired a full-time staff, and I didn't have the heart to fire them…so they live here and dust…and take ridiculously long vacations when I'm home long enough to do my own laundry and cook my own food. Generally, though," he said with a shrug, "I'm either filling out paperwork or chasing terrorists around space."

Angel smiled ruefully at the last. As Preventers, their job was to put out fires before they began. That was the whole reason behind the crazy training mission that Une had assigned her, the whole reason why she was here with the universe's richest, sexiest, and busiest man.

The plan was simple, the mission easy. Their objective was to pose as a newly-married couple and head to a hotel on L-2, a hotel suspected of harboring several radical colonists who had started the production and trade of illegal arms. While their motives weren't entirely clear, it was easy to guess what the colonists there were up to—supplying other hot-headed, anti-Unification terrorists with the weapons they'd need to launch several minor attacks against the politicians and programs supporting the Unification process. Using a honeymoon as cover, Angel and Quatre were meant to discover whether or not the terrorists were, in fact, hiding there, and whether it would be possible to put a stop to their operation without calling in more troops. If the whole thing was kept quiet, it would go unnoticed to the rest of the world, just as most successful Preventer missions did.

All in all, it was a fairly uncomplicated mission, which was why Lady Une had decided to send in a new recruit. Quatre, a more seasoned member of the Preventers' forces, was there to oversee her and execute field-training if it was needed.

"Excited about the mission?" Quatre asked, cutting into the silence that had fallen between the two. Angel blinked, coming out of her reverie, and paused, considering her answer.

"I guess. Is this generally what the first mission is comprised of?"

Quatre laughed, a pleasantly relaxing sound. "No, generally people don't get to pose as my wife until the third or forth mission," he teased, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Oh, shut up," she shot back, trying hard to fight down her own amusement. "You know what I meant!"

He sobered a little, though a grin remained on his handsome face. He courtly opened the door to her room and followed her into it. He shrugged at her when she turned back to him, still waiting for an answer.

"Generally the first mission is something along these lines, yes. Undercover work is fairly common, considering we want to keep our work as quiet as possible so we don't alarm any citizens—colonists or naturalists."

"Naturalist" was a fairly new term that the colonists used to describe people who were born on or lived on the Earth. Angel, having been born in the Sahara desert to a woman from England and a man from L-4, was a mutt, and mutts weren't trusted by either group. It was for that reason that she'd joined the Preventers' ranks a few months ago.

"How long until we head to the hotel?" she asked.

"Two days. That gives us time to get to know each other. Plus, I'm sure your boyfriend will want to stop by and threaten to kill me if I get any bright ideas while we're gone," he replied, and grinned at her. Duo Maxwell was the other reason Angel had joined the Preventers. He was her boyfriend, and was a part-time Preventer himself. He and Quatre were good friends, considering they'd fought side-by-side through the two devastating Eve Wars. Both the Earth and the colony clusters were still recovering, though the last battle had been fought nearly four years ago.

"I'm sure he will." Angel shrugged, smiling herself. "But don't take him too seriously. I still think he likes you better than me."

Quatre laughed at that, a nice, rich tenor sound. "Maybe, but I seriously doubt that. Too bad he didn't introduce us sooner—you're excellent company. Where is he, by the way?"

"Where else? L-2, trying to help Hilde keep the salvage business running." Surprisingly enough, Quatre reminded her the tiniest bit of Duo. They both laughed a lot, but they both had shadows lingering in their eyes. Both made her feel instantly at ease, and both had very appealing looks. Both worked out enough to maintain beautifully shaped upper and lower bodies. But while Quatre was as funny and charming as Duo, he had real class and very proper manners. Duo's knowledge of etiquette was lacking, and he was a lot more laid back. Also, their appearances were completely separate. Duo liked street-smart clothes—black, on the frayed side, and easy to move around in. He was about 6'2", making nearly four inches taller than the blonde man standing a few paces away from her in the room, and he had vibrant violet-blue eyes and long chestnut hair. The hair he wore in a long, thick braid down his back. He had the look and feel of a true American, especially when his loud bravado and easy-going, prankish behavior were on display.

Quatre, on the other hand, was a gentleman's gentleman. While he most certainly preferred casual clothes, they were of a different caliber than Duo's. He wore light colors—mostly whites, greens, and blues, and dark jeans or khakis. He was fond of tennis shoes, but didn't appear to like hats. When he was working, he looked equally comfortable in a Preventers' jacket as he did in a perfectly tailored, two thousand-dollar suit. He looked devilishly handsome dressed in blue-jeans and a white, buttoned down shirt as he appeared to her today, his aqua-colored eyes vibrant against the light color of his shirt. His hair was cut short, though his bangs had a tendency to fall into his face, and it waved toward the back of his head to end in slight curls at the nape of his neck. He was about 5'10", a nice, even height compared to her admittedly short stature of 5'3". His smile said, "don't be worried, I'm here," as opposed to Duo's, "Maybe you should be worried, but that just adds to the fun," grin. His persona, too, was very definitely different. His aura put one immediately at ease, and everything about him—his posture, his body language, and his calm, confident presence—labeled him as a natural, compassionate leader. Duo, too, had leadership potential, but he had a wild feel to him, unpredictable, dangerous, and sexy. Both men were completely at ease with themselves.

"Yes…that certainly does sound like Duo," Quatre agreed, and Angel started at the sound of his voice, suddenly missing Duo terribly. He eyed her forlorn expression and busied himself with setting her bags near the dresser and straightening the comforter on the bed. "Does it worry you that he spends so much time with her?"

She smiled, dismissing her depressed feelings. "No, I trust him. They've known each other for a while now, and I know he'll be good." Then she nailed him with a mock-suspicious stare. "Why? Should I be worried?"

Rebuked, he grinned sheepishly and shook his head. "No, no, not at all. I was just curious. You're right, you've got nothing to worry about."

He was a far cry from the fifteen-year-old version of him she'd seen in pictures during war-time. He'd matured quite a bit, while Duo had hardly changed at all, apart from his height. It was easy to see why the two men got along so easily, despite the difference in their social status and upbringing.

"Well…I'll leave you here," he said after a moment of silence. "Dinner should be ready in about an hour. There's a bathroom through that door—" he specified the said door with a jerk of his thumb—" and if you need anything, there's an intercom system next to the bed. Just hit the button on the left and call for me. I'll contact Duo so he can come say goodbye before we leave…uhm…the room and the bathroom should be fully stocked. I'll let you get comfortable. I wouldn't bother unpacking too much, since we're leaving so soon, but there's plenty of hot water if you'd like a shower or bath."

She nodded, and flushing at his own awkwardness, Quatre imitated her nod and left her to her own devices. After a moment, she decided that a bath was her best bet, and headed into the insanely large bathroom to soak in the hot-tub sized bathtub. Still, she felt a little depressed with missing Duo, so when the call for dinner came she was all too eager for company to keep her thoughts from him, even if her only company was a rich stranger she'd only known for a few hours.

--

When Angel woke up the next morning, she was dismayed to see that Duo wasn't there. She wandered around the downstairs for a little while before slipping into the kitchen to join her 'husband.' Quatre, picking up instantly on her emotions—a display of his uncanny perceptiveness—was sympathetic. Silently he offered her a plate of waffles and set out syrup and butter—several kinds of each, in fact—then sat across from her at the island in the middle of the kitchen and tried to catch her gaze.

"I'm sorry Duo couldn't make it, but I think I have news that might help you feel a bit better," he said finally. He could see why Duo had been attracted to her. Even when she was unhappy, she was pretty. Though she was short, that aspect only further enhanced her attractiveness. She had clear blue eyes and hair that waved luxuriously to her shoulder blades. Her skin was a pale shade of mocha—very pale, but enough to confirm her Arabian heritage—and she was nicely shaped and curved. Slender, but not disgustingly so, she looked good in just about anything she wore. At the moment, she was in a borrowed shirt—Duo's, he noted—and comfy pants, with her hair in the high bun she'd put it in the night before when she'd gotten ready to relax into sleep. Bereft of makeup, her skin appeared to be flawless, and think black lashes ringed her eyes, enhancing their intensity. Yes, she was right up Duo's ally, and she was witty and smart enough to keep even that wily American guessing. Smiling at the mental picture of his friend and his 'partner' together, he poured her a glass of orange juice.

"News, eh?" she prompted, and he continued to smile, eyes teasing. Deciding to draw it out, he shrugged and very studiously cut up his waffles. Waffles, she'd noticed, that he'd made himself, and judging from the ingredients scattered on the countertops of the kitchen, from scratch. Impressed, especially after living with Duo's cooking skills for a month or so, she scarfed down her breakfast. Moping, she decided, made one hungry. Laughing, he got her a second helping and sat to carefully eat his own breakfast.

"Oh, it's nothing…important. In fact, it probably won't make you feel better at all," he told her innocently, then took another bite of his breakfast and chewed very precisely. Gritting her teeth and getting a firm hold on her knife—something that didn't escape Quatre's notice—she gathered her wits and tried again.

"Well, tell me anyway," she invited, and he smiled at her in boyish charm.

"Certainly—after breakfast."

He was a cruel man for torturing her at such an early hour… With a sigh, she decided—for the time being anyway—to acquiesce to his desires. She ate the second batch of waffles, matching his slow pace, and it wasn't until she was nearly through that she realized what he'd been doing and how well it had worked. She did feel better; more awake, alert, and though slightly ruffled, she even had to admit that she was amused. Cheering her up had been his aim the whole time and his plan had worked beautifully. Blinking at him, she realized she now knew what made him such a brilliant businessman and politician. He caught her gaze and grinned again, obviously realizing that she'd caught on, and turned his eyes back to the paper he'd been reading.

Finally, he rose with cultured grace and began cleaning up after breakfast, something she was sure he had a staff-member to do, though he appeared quite content to do it himself.

"All right," she announced, rising to help him, "what's the news."

"Duo won't be joining us today," Quatre said, bowing to her will easily now that she seemed cheerier, "because he'll be joining us at the hotel on L-2. Une contacted him yesterday and asked him to pose as a hotel employee so we'd have better access to the restricted areas of the hotel."

"Really? That is good news!" Happier now at the prospect of getting to see her boyfriend rather than spending a few weeks without him, she grinned up at her companion.

"Thought you might like that," he agreed with a smile of his own. "Anyway, Hilde offered to let him stay at her place until the mission's over, at which point we'll part company and you two can go back to your happy lives. But remember," he added, shaking a finger at her to emphasize his point, "you and I are supposed to be newlyweds, so no disappearing with the bellhop, got it? We're supposed to be glued together in order for this to work."

"Right, got it. Totally agree," she replied, practically singing. He grinned again, watching her all but dance around the kitchen as she helped him clean, and thought again how pretty she was and what a good couple she and Duo made. In fact, despite the fact that he and Angel had only known each other for about sixteen hours—and eight of those had been spent sleeping in separate rooms—he was even a little jealous of his friend. Still, the fact that Duo had finally found a nice girl made him happy, and he finished up his work with a smile on his face.

"Okay, I'm going to get ready…want to help me pack?" he asked, and she nodded readily, obviously thinking that nothing in the world could possibly go wrong at that precise moment. Chuckling to himself, he pushed her gently toward the stairs. "Good…go get dressed, and I'll take a shower, and then you can meet me in my room to help me pick out some clothes for the mission."

They parted ways at the top of the stairs, and Quatre shook his head as he stepped under the stream of water in his shower. He wasn't worried in the slightest about the mission, though Une's call had put him on his guard a little. She'd phoned him at about midnight to let him know that several other agents would be working on the mission with them, and not just any other agents…no, she'd contacted his four fellow ex-gundam pilots. This indicated that the mission had become a bit more of a priority, considering that the pilots were only ever called in for serious missions. Along with the other pilots, Sally Po would be joining them at the hotel. As co-founder of the Preventers, she was one of the top agents, also used in special circumstances. It didn't take Une long to tell Quatre why the security had been increased, either. Among several other leaders of the Unification project, Relena Darlian-Peacecraft would be heading to the hotel in order to hold several conferences and meetings about the status of the project. Since her announcement of her plan to unify the colonies and Earth, she'd become a prime target for kidnappings, assassinations, and terrorist attacks, all potentially possible if the colonist radicals were, in fact, using the hotel as a base of operations. And, knowing Relena and her stubbornness, as well as her dogged faith in a certain pilot's abilities as a bodyguard, there was no way she'd relocate even after hearing about the potential danger. It was, she'd argued, a contradiction to her beliefs and mannerisms.

Therefor, the security had gone up. Significantly. With a sigh, Quatre reflected ruefully that only danger could bring the gundam pilots back together. Once it had been taken care of, all five of them drifted apart and contacted each other only sporadically. This was always something he regretted, seeing as he enjoyed the company of his old comrades. They were overdue for a reunion anyway. Shrugging to himself, he finished his shower (a/n: yeah, anyone who knows me knows I'm a Quatre-freak, so this scene is like…drool heaven for me…) and got dressed quickly, then called for Angel over the intercom. She, apparently still on her happy kick, bounced into the room and immediately dug into his closet and dresser. Chuckling slightly at her enthusiasm, he barely managed to catch her before she opened his underwear drawer.

"I think I'll handle the more…delicate items," he said teasingly, and she looked up at him with a devilish gleam in her eyes.

"Oh yeah? Why? Embarrassed?" she asked, and—mad at himself for flushing slightly at the comment—he grinned.

"Not at all, but I'm not used to women poking around my underwear."

"Oh, come on," she replied, rolling her eyes, "you've got like…a hundred older sisters."

"Twenty-nine," he corrected cheerfully, and wrapped his hands around her upper arms. He lifted her easily and set her in front of his closet once more. "And even they don't get to see my underwear."

She stuck her tongue out at him, but was obviously amused. In fact, she was usually smiling in his presence, reminding her again of Duo. "I bet that's 'cuz you don't wear any," she muttered halfway under her breath, and in response, one of his eyebrows lifted slightly.

"Think so, eh? Care to have that theory tested?" he asked, reaching for the button on his jeans. Angel paled noticeably and turned her back, eyes wide.

"You've definitely been hanging out with Duo too long…I thought you were the gentleman!"

Quatre laughed, delighted at how easily he could unnerve her. "Relax. I was just messing with you. I wouldn't really take off my clothes…unless we were married."

"Bite your tongue," she muttered, turning back to him, "because tomorrow, we all but will be."

"Oh, right," he agreed cheerily, "I'd forgotten." Though, by the looks of it, he didn't appear to have forgotten. Vaguely torn between amused and exasperated, she rolled her eyes again.

"Sure…" she replied, and plucked the dark blue dress suit from his closet. It wasn't until later, over lunch, that she was reminded of her earlier nervousness at the thought of Duo staying with Hilde. Shrugging it off as nerves about the mission, she reminded herself that she'd see him tomorrow.

--

The shuttle trip to L-2 took a long time, at least in Angel's mind. Hoping to help keep the atmosphere light and friendly, Quatre attempted to start a conversation. After a lot of noncommittal answers, he finally gave up. He pulled out his laptop and resolved himself to catching up with his work. Angel rose and headed to the bathroom after a few moments, murmuring something about freshening up before landing, and disappeared for nearly a half-hour. When she re-emerged, he glanced up and felt his mouth go dry. If he'd thought she was gorgeous before, it was nothing compared to the vision standing before him now. She'd carefully applied makeup to her face, highlighting her large blue eyes so that he felt as if he were drowning in an ocean of pure, clear blue. Her lips glistened with gloss, and her slender body was attractively encased in a large, turtleneck sweater in preparation of the cold of L-2's early December weather. Her legs were long, perfectly shaped, and bare thanks to the shorts she was wearing, though pants lay draped over her armrest. A silver cross on a thin chain hung around her neck, though she was otherwise unadorned. The only downside was her hair. Though she looked beautiful with it in a twist, with little wisps of curls framing her face and brushing her shoulders, he much preferred it down, waving softly down her back. He gulped and looked at the screen of his laptop, gave up after trying to read two words and not comprehending a bit of it, and looked up at her again.

"You look…you look…" He gulped a second time. She smiled at him and settled back into her seat, feeling better. A very soft, very feminine scent reached his nostrils—she obviously daubed some behind her hears and at her throat—and he struggled to remember that she was in a relationship with a very good friend of his and that they were practically strangers.

"Thank you," she said softly, and he nodded. She seemed in a better mood now that she'd freshened up.

"The pants…?" he questioned, trying hard to maintain control of his voice. He felt like a fumbling teenager, though he'd celebrated his twentieth birthday nearly ten months before. And, really, he'd never been a normal teenager, between fighting in two wars and managing a multi-billion dollar company full time.

"For when we land…it's pretty cool on L-2 right now, but it would be a bit warm in here if I put them on now."

It was on the tip of his tongue to comment that it was already warm in the shuttle, but he restrained the urge and put a chokehold on his feelings. Obviously more content, she now attempted to continue the conversation he'd begun when they'd first boarded the shuttle.

"So, Quatre…are you in a relationship?"

"No." Under considerably better control, he managed a normal tone and even a smile. "No, unfortunately, I'm single. I don't have much time for a romantic life, even less to find a woman I'd want to attempt a romantic life with, and the ladies my sisters set me up with are…well, not my type, to put it nicely."

She laughed quietly. "Sorry to hear that. You've got a lot to offer a woman."

For some reason, that struck a chord inside of him. She looked so happy, so pretty, so excited to get back to Duo that for a moment, the jealous feelings he'd been harboring swelled up and he felt snappish and sour.

"As much as Duo?" he asked, cooler than he'd intended. Angel glanced at him in mild surprise.

"Er…yes, of course. You're a good man…are you all right?" she asked, and he took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, and let out a long sigh. "I…don't know what came over me. I apologize."

She shrugged it off and glanced out of the window, looking at the colony. It still appeared to be small, though it was growing steadily. Quatre bitterly wished that they would simply pass it by and head for L-1…not even come into contact with Duo. Then, feeling foolish and disgusted with himself, he turned to his laptop and again attempted conversation.

"How long have you and Duo been going out?"

"Seven months. I moved into the spare room in his apartment last month," she replied, turning those blue eyes on him. He pretended to be absorbed in his work.

"Hmm…that's interesting. I bet it's messy."

"Like you wouldn't believe." Her smile was warm, lost in memory. "And he can't cook, either. His diet is horrible, and I still have piles of laundry to do. It's like…when he runs out of clean clothes, he just buys new outfits rather than doing the laundry."

He grinned, amused. "Sounds like Duo, all right. Have you met any of the other pilots?" She shook her head, intent on him. Still grinning, he shut his laptop and took a trip down memory's lane himself.

"Well, Heero…Heero Yuy, I mean, he's pretty strange. He's from L-1, an orphan apparently. He doesn't talk much, but his eyes…they're really intense. Blue, like yours…and cold, like ice. He's got this messy brown hair and over the past couple of years he got pretty tall, though not as tall as Duo. He's got this inhuman strength. He doesn't even look like he could be that strong. We use to joke that he was made out of steel wire." He laughed. "He was so much stronger than I ever was. And…I used to admire him, how strong he was, but at the same time I was so mad at him for how unfeeling he was toward war. I know he felt every death, I know he hurt very deeply, but he never let it show. It used to really bug me."

She nodded, eyes alight, trying to picture the man she was describing. Seeing that, Quatre pulled out is wallet and showed her a picture of Heero.

"He never smiles, but at least I've got a picture." He flipped over Duo and showed her a tall, handsome man with brown hair in a strange bang over half of his face. The eye that was visible was bright, emerald green, and a slight smile seemed to toy with his lips. She looked at Quatre in question.

"Trowa Barton. Like all of us, he's an orphan. He works at the circus now, with his 'sister' Catherine. He's really quiet, like Heero, but he's a beautiful musician and he's very smart. He's an excellent strategist, but his sister," he added with a laugh, "is so protective. She yelled at me, almost hit me with a bucket when I came looking for him. He's very interesting if he ever does open up. I think you'd like him."

He flipped to another picture, and the man that stared up at her from this one was Chinese, with high cheekbones and beautiful ebony eyes. His hair was tied back into a ponytail. He was smiling a little, hefting a coke bottle in salute to something. He looked tall for a Chinese man, and was obviously in excellent physical condition. He was strikingly attractive.

"Wufei. Chang Wufei. He's a little more talkative than the other two. He's normally very traditional, but this was a birthday celebration for his partner, Sally Po. She took this picture, which is why he cooperated. He's got a good sense of humor, in the rare event that it shows. He's protective and he's a little hard to handle at times, but Sally seems to keep him tame. He's very duty-bound. Very nice guy, though."

She smiled at him. "They sound great. Think Duo will ever get around to introducing me to all of them?"

Quatre chuckled. "If he doesn't, I will," he promised. "You'd better change into those pants and strap in, we're getting close to the colony."

"Good idea." She nodded at him and grabbed her pants. "I'll be right back."

"I'll be here."

With one last smile, she disappeared into the bathroom again, and he let out a long sigh. Running a hand through his hair—a habit he'd picked up quickly after taking over his father's company—he glanced out at L-2, now looming in the foreground of the view allotted by the shuttle's window.

"Why is it, Duo," he asked aloud, though the said pilot could not hear him, "that you get all the luck?"

With another sigh, he strapped himself in and waited for Angel to return.