It's been a while, hasn't it? And I sincerely apologize for taking so long. My life has been more than hectic lately, and I just found time to sit down and write this chapter. So without much further ado, I'm just going to toss it at you. Enjoy, and please comment or review or whatever. I like reading your feedback.

Last time: Quatre's sisters got shit-faced, Heero and Wufei exchanged words (some of which Quatre couldn't understand), and we've been invited to Trowa's for lunch. Oh my…

Saturday morning dawned on the clear, cool side. There was the tantalizing tang of autumn in the air, rifling through the red-gold leaves that clung stubbornly to trees and swishing through the fur of squirrels skittering about the lawn, gorging themselves on acorns in their pre-winter binge. It was apple cider and jack o' lantern weather, and overenthusiastic department stores were stocking Halloween decorations in the windows once again. Quatre tromped down the stairs, shoes in one hand, wallet in the other. He was mildly amazed that he didn't step on the hem of his jeans and plunge headlong down the steps, and attributed his good fortune to whatever guardian angel, perhaps his mother, had recently taken to watching over him.

            However, he was quite surprised to see three men besides his father sitting at the table in the kitchen, drinking coffee and eating fresh Dunkin Donuts while discussing the weekend newspaper. Rupert Winner glanced up from the sports section, sourly bemoaning the Yankees entering the World Series yet again, and gave a curt nod to his son, whose arm was wading through the newspaper sections to the donut box.

            "Good morning, Quatre."

Blue-eyed Quatre nodded in return, stringing a coconut donut onto one slender finger. "Good morning, Dad…Abdul, Auda…Uncle Rashid," he replied, reeling in his prize.

The three Arabian men, business contacts and distant relations to the Winners, exchanged coffee-garbled greetings of their own. Abdul wiggled his eyebrows rakishly over the round sunglasses he always wore, due to some medical condition that made bright light unbearable to him.

            "Surprised to see us? We thought we'd surprise your dad with a little breakfast courtesy of Dunkie's and the latest portfolio completed ahead of schedule. So…what's this we hear about you going on a hot date with a little chicky-poo today?"

            "Lia's not my date," Quatre corrected peevishly. "She's a friend from school. Remember, Abdul? I'm the gay one?"

Apparently he hadn't remembered, for the moment the words had left his lips, Abdul let fly a chunk of jelly donut with a surprised cough. Auda crowed, slamming his large fist down on the table.

            "First time he's been left speechless in seven years! Good for you, kid!"

Rashid merely rolled his eyes, pulling his billfold from his coat pocket and handing Quatre several crisp bills.

"Everyone at work thinks you've been studying too hard lately, Master of All AP Courses. Take this money and go blow it frivolously, I don't want to hear one cent of it went into your savings account. Understand?"

He nodded, stuffing the money into his jeans. He'd put it in his wallet in the car. It was best to take the gift and not argue with the mountain of a man, especially when the wad of cash had the well-wishings of forty burly Arabian businessmen, the chairs of Maguanac Industrial Corporation, Winner Enterprises International's sister company.

            "And that goes double for me," Rupert Winner added, handing Quatre money from his own coffers. "Take your cell phone, call me if something happens, and drive careful. I may trust Lia's driving skills, but it's the skills of every other idiot out there I'm more concerned about. Got it?"

            "Yes, Dad. I'll see you tonight and call when I'm on my way home," he replied, kissing his father and hugging his relatives before grabbing a leather jacket, his tiny Sprint PCS, and heading out the door into the crisp September morning to sit out on the porch and wait.

            It wasn't a long wait, but sometimes waiting can seem like an infinity when you're an anxious teenager with a wad of cash in your pocket. Quatre pulled out said wad of cash and unfolded it, flicking open his wallet.

            "Holy shit…five hundred fifty dollars. Who gives a sixteen-year-old that kind of money?!" he gasped, stuffing it into the wallet and jamming it into his pocket. He'd always considered himself lucky to have such an extended family, thirty-nine "cousins" and one doting "uncle," plus their entire families to take care of him…Quatre was beginning to feel like the heroine from that movie Hilde had dragged him to, My Big Fat Greek Wedding. While musing over this, a slightly unfamiliar gold Ford Explorer rolled into the driveway. The window rolled down and Lia, dark hair French-braided into pigtails, leaned out on her elbow.

            "Morning, Quatre! Look what Dad let me borrow!" she said with her trademark shit-eating grin. "The Crapmobile is getting serviced, so I get his Land Boat!"

Quatre laughed and climbed, literally climbed, into the passenger's side, sinking into leather upholstered comfort. Seatbelts were fastened and re-fastened, and before long they were bouncing down the pothole-strewn back roads of Plympton, Lia singing along to whatever song on the radio she deemed fit to add her perky soprano to.

            "Hey, Jewel, shut the hell up! You sound like you're strangling a cat," a snarling voice stated from the backseat. Quatre jumped, not expecting to hear another person in the car. He whipped around, nearly strangling himself on the seatbelt, and found a young teenage girl with stick-straight brown hair and enormous silver hoop earrings staring at him, arms folded across her rather flat chest, glossy lips pursed with annoyance.

            "Quatre, you remember my sister Nicole, right?" Lia asked, mouthing, "the bitch."

            "Hello, Nicole, it's nice to see you again," he said genially.

The teenage girl glowered. "Whatever, gay kid."

Lia was visibly seething, gripping the steering wheel at ten-and-two (well, maybe more like nine-and-three) with white knuckles. "Nicole…"

            "What? He's the gay one, isn't he?"

The Explorer turned onto an almost invisible side street and parked, a house just barely visible through the trees. Lia whirled around in the seat, glaring black-and-blue bloody murder at her younger sister.

            "Have fun. Call Mom when you're ready to go home. Get the hell out of my car," she stated in a clipped voice. Her sister flipped her off, muttering obscenities under her breath as she slid out of the car with a bag full of girly crap in tow. Lia sighed, shifting the car into reverse and cautiously backing out. Backing out was not one of her strong points in driving.

            "I'm really sorry about that, Quatre. I wouldn't have brought her, but Jenny's house is on the way and Mom was giving me the 'do not argue with me' look."

He nodded, turning up the radio, then turning it down again when he realized it was Eminem. He couldn't stand rap music in the least bit. "It's all right. I was just afraid for a moment that she was coming with us. You did say she was your household fashion consultant."

            "Only because my parents won't let me adopt you. Hit that button there, it'll turn on the CD player. I put all the good music in there before I left, none of this rap shit. God, I don't know how Nicole listens to that!" she griped, flipping her blinker switch to head out on the highway. Quatre obeyed, mostly out of fear. Lia was somewhat of a scary person when she got mad. But peace and tranquility reigned in the Ford as soon as the first CD started up.

            "Josh Groban? Good choice, good choice," Quatre said approvingly. "Had to wrestle it off of your mom again?"

            "Yup. I'm just too poor to afford the live concert CD. Maybe after a few more babysitting jobs. So, Duo told me something interesting the other day. It seems that he got the silly idea in his head that you were going on a date with Trowa Barton tomorrow. Now, how in the world would he come up with something so crazy, I wonder?"

Quatre was blushing heavily. "It's not a date, I'm going over his house for lunch and anime… Lia, what am I gonna do, huh? You're wise beyond all reason, what am I supposed to do? What do I say?"

            "You're asking me? Did we forget that I'm about as clueless about this stuff as you are?" she retorted, making a small adjustment to the rearview mirror.

            "But you're smart, you're supposed to be able to give me your sage-like wisdom that I will inevitably ignore and then come crying to you when I've botched everything up," he protested.

The brunette girl rolled her eyes. "God, Quatre, you're making this sound like a cheap fanfic. What do you want me to tell you, hm? Something you don't already know? You'll be fine, Quatre. You have been imparted with countless ages of Disney wisdom; you don't need me to repeat it. Speaking of Disney…that urban legend about Aladdin is true."

They laughed about the bizarre sexual innuendo hidden within some of Walt's classics, the ones they'd seen in the theaters when they were younger and it didn't cost a small fortune to see a movie, but it didn't put Quatre any more at ease about what felt like impending doom. He was terrified that he'd make a complete idiot out of himself, and even more afraid of what would happen if he tried to 'put the moves on' a (possibly) very heterosexual (and possibly homophobic) Trowa. He felt like he was going to throw up, and the date wasn't even until tomorrow afternoon.

++

            They dropped off the car in the lot, hoping to God they remembered where they'd put the car when came out later, and headed inside. Of course, this took an extra couple of minutes because Lia decided to be insatiably cruel and trap Quatre in the revolving doors for a few turns. He was eventually freed and they hurried off to the food court for an early lunch.

            "Are you pondering what I'm pondering, Pinky?" Lia asked, grinning.

            "I think so, Brain, but do I really have to wear the lederhosen?" Quatre replied.

She shook her head. "Man, it never gets old. Shrimp tempura from the cool Japanese kiosk thing?"

            "With extra wasabi and a double-helping of rice."

            "Jeez, Quatre, I swear to God you're going to go from being twiggy to weighing nine hundred pounds someday and we'll have to lift you off the couch with a forklift."

            The two teenagers ordered their lunches and picked them up in a matter of minutes, as there's never a line at the Japanese kiosk thing, and scouted out a table for two over by the nearest potted fern. Lia pulled her chopsticks from the paper wrapper and frowned at her bento box.

            "Now, what is it that Heero always says before lunch? 'Ganbatte' is 'good luck,' and 'tadaima' is 'I'm home…' argh, curse my lousy memory!"

Quatre shrugged, breaking his chopsticks and slathering everything in green wasabi. "Dunno. I'll bet if he saw us right now, though, he'd glare at us and say that thing he always says."

            "What? Omae o korosu?" Lia asked around a mouthful of rice.

            "That's the one. I still can't believe he's Japanese. I mean, have you ever seen a Japanese kid with blue eyes? Aside from your standard anime bishounen, of course."

She mirrored his previous shrug. "It's because his mom is American."

            "Oh, right."

The conversation took an abrupt left at that point, going into lengthy discussions on anime and the convention that was supposed to hit Boston in April. Neither of them were going, though, as they were both headed for South Carolina over that same week to be a part of a Missions team that did charity construction projects. But they had a few mutual friends who were going, whom they managed to bribe into bringing back souvenirs from the convention.

++

            The end of lunch marked the beginning of the great dress frenzy. Lia had insisted they get her dress problem out of the way first, so that they could focus the rest of the trip on outfitting Quatre for his "date." The blonde boy and his brunette companion wandered through the major department chains, Macy's and JC Penney's, and some of the smaller stores as well. Quatre hadn't seen anything that really flattered her, and Lia hadn't seen anything she could afford.

            "All right, Filenes. It's the last place we haven't looked, and I have coupons," she said, almost dejectedly, as they rode the escalator up to the juniors' department. The sales rack looked picked over, all of last season's prom dresses colors too garish or pale to look suitable on a girl with Lia's coloring. She was of Middle Eastern descent herself, easily mistaken for one of the Maguanacs' daughters, but her skin tone was of her predominantly Irish heritage.

            "What about this one?" Quatre asked, holding up a black dress liberally scattered with red spots of glitter. Lia frowned, wrinkling her nose.

            "I think the neck goes too low. Besides, it's wicked long and unless I wore twelve-inch platforms, I'll be swimming in it."

He nodded and put it back on the rack with the thirty other dresses just like it, wandering around aimlessly. "What do you think about gold?"

            "I don't like it."

There went whatever idea Quatre had. Lia could hardly see his little blonde head weaving around the metal racks, happily playing the part of 'gay fashion coordinator.' She laughed at this concept and ran around the hangers to try and keep up with him.

            "Okay, how about this?" he asked finally, holding up a dress. It was another long one, but it wasn't absurdly long, and the hem wasn't one of those obnoxious handkerchief-cut ones. It was just a straight, tube-shaped dress with thin black spaghetti straps, no fancy open backs or low-cut bodices. It was pale blue underneath, but there was a layer of sheer black fabric that made it more of a steely color, black velvet flowers patterned across the sheer layer.

            "Bingo. Gimme a three and then go stand by the dressing room so I can model it for you," she instructed, taking the dress and heading for the changing room. Quatre leaned against the wall by the full-length mirror, waiting.

            "Quatre? What do you think?"

She walked out, holding the dress up slightly, as it was still rather long on her five-two frame, and twirled a little. Aside from the fact that her bra straps were showing and she was wearing socks with penguins on them, she looked remarkably good.

            "That's the one, Lia."

She pumped her arms enthusiastically before turning over the price tag that hung at her side. "Shit."

            "What?" Quatre asked, trotting over. The price was rather steep, and the coupons weren't going to make a big difference. "Oh, man, I didn't even look at the price."

            "Even with the coupons, this'll blow all my money. And I was dying to pick up another tape! Life sucks," she groused, tromping back to the dressing room to change.

Ten minutes later, Quatre had managed to wrestle the dress from her and ran to the register, insisting he pay for it. Lia vehemently protested, begging him not to waste his money on her, that she could pay for it herself, that withdrawal from anime for one weekend wasn't going to kill her. Quatre was resolved, though.

"I want to. You were nice enough to invite me, and you're going to help me with my crisis, it's the least I can do. Besides, I'm loaded and the money is burning a large hole in my wallet. And don't even think about paying me back, Lia Armen, because I won't take your money!"

She couldn't argue with Quatre, especially not after he told the clerk he was buying the dress for his girlfriend. She felt like clobbering him, but just couldn't argue with him.

++

            "So, what'd your sisters suggest you wear tomorrow?" Lia asked, swinging her garment bag. Quatre shrugged, slurping the ice cream she'd bought him out of guilt.

            "Weird stuff. Clio thinks I should wear leather pants, Amyra wants me in one of those 80's TV show shirts, Kali says bohemian, and the other two could care less as long as I look good."

She cracked her knuckles and twisted her rings. "Man, those five are cracked. But, I think I've got an idea that you'll approve of. Come along, young Skywalker, let's get this done so we can go romp through the anime sections of all the video stores here."

            The perky brunette girl whisked her companion though several preppy teen stores, having him try on at least thirty pairs of khaki cargo pants and hating all of them on him. It was like some horrid version of Goldilocks, only with a twenty percent discount. Quatre just wasn't going to fit into any boy-sized pants, he was too short and far too slender for the cookie cutter variety pants designed for the rugged athlete. It wasn't until they got to Old Navy before Lia's second brainstorm struck the Atlantic coastline.

            "Here, take these in with you," she instructed, slipping a pair of girls' wide-leg khakis in with the three other pairs already in his hand. Ten minutes and four pairs of cargos later, Quatre returned, looking highly embarrassed.

            "They fit," he mumbled, hiding his eyes in his bangs. "The last pair fit."

His female counterpart nodded and paid for them herself, handing off the bag once they got out of the store. "I figured they would."

            Quatre griped about having to wear girls' jeans all the way back across the mall to the Hot Topic, complaining about rotten luck and how this was a bad omen for the next day. Lia's rebuttal was that he already wore girls' clothes half the time anyway, shirts from his sisters and whatnot, it wasn't really going to make a huge difference if he wore a pair of girls' khakis. Besides, unless Trowa would be checking out his ass the whole time, he probably wouldn't even notice.

            He wasn't fond of the Hot Topic, the darkness and the gothic atmosphere and the scary kids that came in to buy their leather, fishnets and chains unnerved him. That, and shirts cost twenty bucks a hit, which was a complete waste in his mind. Lia waved her hand indifferently, wandering off to go peruse the Thundercats comics and play with the Invader ZIM dolls in the back.

            "Go pick out something that'll go with your pants," she instructed. "And come find me before you buy it so I can approve."

He circled the shelves, getting a crick in his neck from staring upwards at the wall, where shirts were folded neatly behind glass display panels. Quatre was getting nowhere fast. He had no desire to wear a Transformers shirt, he'd never much cared for those robots in disguise, and the Star Wars shirts didn't appeal either. In fact, nothing seemed to suit his tastes, and he was afraid of getting smacked if he reported back with a Care Bears shirt. He ambled over to the sales rack, where something gold and navy caught his eye. It was a softball jersey shirt like Lia had intended, the kind with long sleeves attached to the short ones, and across the front was stenciled, "TRAINEE: GUNDAM FIGHT ACADEMY."

            "Bingo."

The only problem now was finding the appropriate size, and, as luck would have it, there was an extra small, and the rest were larges. A large would just have to do, as the other shirts were rather ugly or depressing.

            "Find something, Quatre?" Lia asked, appearing over his shoulder almost instantly. He jumped, yelping as if he'd been stuck.

            "God, don't do that! Yes, I found something. They don't have my size, but at this point I don't give a damn. Does it meet your approval?" he replied pointedly, clutching his chest.

Lia pouted. "Well, it is rather big, but the fact that it's on sale and it's a Gundam shirt make up for that. You pass inspection, pay for it and let's go."

++

            They spent the rest of the afternoon (and their money) on anime tapes and DVDs, Lia resigning herself to the former, as her techno-weenie parents refused to hunker down and just buy a DVD player, even though she continually protested that videocassettes were going the way of the dinosaur and the tape deck. She was especially upset that Quatre had bought a copy of Gestalt, which she'd been dying to see ever since it had been previewed on a tape of Magic Knight Rayearth.

            "You'll let me come over and watch it sometime, right?" she asked, swinging her bag of movies. He nodded.

            "As long as I get to use your hot tub sometime before I die."

            The two of them talked anime and made speculations for the upcoming episodes of whatever various series they'd purchased all the way home, stashing the bags of clothes in the backseat and cranking Lia's Michelle Branch CD. Quatre had called his father in the Plaza parking lot, and expected to be home at a reasonable hour, if traffic was cooperative.

            "Hey, you know Cartoon Network started putting Inu-Yasha on?" Lia asked before resuming the lyrics of the current track.

Quatre nodded appreciatively. "That's cool, but I bet they'll get bored with it by February and start up another weird series that won't be as popular."

            "Wouldn't surprise me, since Yu-Yu Hakusho has been nothing but reruns for a couple of weeks now. And they're still trying to keep Cowboy Bebop alive, even though that series is so definitely over. Hey, so what are you watching with Trowa tomorrow? Anything good?"

            "Don't know, guess I'll find out tomorrow. I'm still nervous, though, Lia."

She clucked her tongue. "I know, but you'll be fine. I wouldn't worry about it too much, don't want to make yourself puke over it, now, do you?"

            "Do you think he's gay?"

            "I don't know, Quatre, I don't think the odds are very good, but that's just my opinion. I mean, even if he isn't, I'm sure you guys can still be good friends. Look at the two of us," she pointed out.

            "Yeah, but you flirted with me at Nicki's thirteenth birthday party and you didn't know I was gay until Noin told you a week later," he responded with a quirky little grin.

            "Bastard, you weren't supposed to know about that."

            Quatre thought he fell asleep after that, because he didn't remember the rest of the ride home. All he knew was one moment he was talking to Lia as the Explorer rattled along the highway, the next he was having elicit fantasies of making out on the couch with Trowa, and two moments after that he was being shaken awake, slumped over in the passenger side chair, Lia all but punching him awake. He jumped out of the car, opened the back and grabbed his bags, thanked her for a great afternoon, and stumbled into the house.

            "I'm back," he declared groggily. The five Winner sisters, their father, and the cat wandered into the kitchen, looking at Quatre expectantly.

            "Well, how was it?" Rupert asked.

            "I bought something to wear tomorrow and a bunch of anime stuff. I've got money left, but I haven't been to Borders lately so you can tell Uncle Rashid I blew it all frivolously. And now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

Madiha raised an eyebrow. "Bed? But it's only five-thirty."

            "Yeah, but I'm wiped. I'll see you all in the morning. Love you, g'night."

They all kissed him goodnight, Sandrock nuzzling his ankles and following her master upstairs. He stumbled into his room, dropped his purchases on the floor at the foot of the bed, threw on his pajamas, half-heartedly brushed his teeth, and fell into bed. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

            Please let tomorrow go well…

++

And so I leave you until next time, friends. However, next time might be a ways off, so be patient. And what the heck happened to Inu-Yasha? Where'd he go? And what's this Reign the Conqueror doing on? It's scary Greek history! Waugh!

Next Time: Quatre has lunch with Trowa. Will romance blossom or will he crash and burn in flaming defeat? Find out on Gundam Wing, episode four: The Victoria Nightmare.