Dear Readers,

A short chapter to let you know that I'm still alive. I'm sorry if the Duo in this chapter offends you because I get the weirdest feeling that this is what Duo is like 'off camera'... I dunno... This is a fanfiction and I don't claim to know anything about anything. So, warning for OOCness...

I don't own Gundam Wing.

Here's to my friends and reviewers. I should have the next chapter up shortly. Now I'm going to bed because it's late and I'm tired.

Stay safe
Stay healthy
Sincerely,

Starr

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The pants were tighter than he remembered. Then again, the last time he had worn pants this tight he had been sixteen and trying to seduce an oblivious OZ official into spilling government secrets at a nightclub. He glared at himself in the mirror.

"Admit it, Maxwell..." He told his reflection, "You are getting lax in your old age..." PT sneezed at him from the bed and he stuck his tongue out at the overweight rodent.

"Aw, you shuddup... I'm not that fat..." Glaring at the pants he yanked them up one last time and snapped them in place. Slowly he reached down and toughed his toes before gently lowering himself into a split before grinning triumphantly at the mirror.

"Ha! Take that! I've still got it!" Pulling himself into a handstand he walked himself over to his closet and flipped himself rightside up. Humming absently as he rifled through his clothes for something appropriate, yet fun. Pulling out a dark purple zip up vest he smiled fondly at it. It was a good vest and had been one of the few articles of "fun clothes" to have survived the war intact. Well... mostly intact. He glared at the bloodstain on the left side. Pulling on a battered grey undershirt he wandered down into the wash room, hopped up onto the dryer and reached over to rifle through one of the cupboards for the lye soap. Lye was a harsh, natural mixture that was mainly used in the colonies for everything. His first mentor, Solo, had been the one to have the youngest of the streetrats raid garbage cans for shavings of the stuff, molding it together into one clump and keeping the gang somewhat cleaner than most. It helped the older one's find jobs if they looked semi-decent and smelled semi-decent. Here on Earth, Lye was mainly used as a stain remover and Duo knew from experience that, with a little scrubbing, even bloodstains came out.

"Take that! And that! Feel the power of my soap of doom! I may run and I may hide but the only lies I own take out even the toughest stains! Ha-HA!" Holding up the vest triumphantly he squinted at the cloth. Not even a hint of blood remained. Cackling absently in triumph he put the soap away and tripped happily up the stairs to his room. The vest still fit like a glove and he admired himself in the mirror. Pulling out his braid he watched the long ripples tumble past his hips. Blowing a kiss at his reflection he licked his finger and touched it to his hip.

"Tssss. Too hot to handle." It was harder to find his make-up since he hadn't worn the stuff in years. He was surprised to find that he missed this. Dolling himself up, making people wonder just what he was exactly. Pretty for a boy, handsome for a girl. Gay, straight, bi, tranny? He snickered evily at the memories, by-passing the more painful ones and skipping right to the fun ones. He had always been a semi-exhibisionist. He couldn't wait to get back on stage and strut his stuff. Finding the old kit in a baggie in a drawer he pulled out the purple and black. Nice, dark colors. Black for death, which he still claimed as his namesake. Purple for a mixing of two in one. A nice even color that was neither one thing nor another. The fingerless elbow gloves were harder to find and the left one needed to be mended, but that was quickly done. Pulling his hair back in a mimicry of Relena's old style he smiled into the mirror.

"Hello, sexy..." He purred. He spun around a posed.

"Whaddaya think, PT?" He asked the ferret. PT looked up, glanced at him, then put his tail over his eyes and went back to sleep.

"You have no sense of taste." Duo sniffed mockingly.

"Duo?" Relena called knocking on his door, "Are you ready to go?"

"Yep!" He called, pulling on a pair of black boots, his only clean pair at the moment and opening the door. Relena gaped at him. Slowly her gaze went from his hair and paned all the way down to his boots. She, herself, was wearing a white, backless sundress with blue accents and a pair of blue and white sandles. The colors suited her and her hair had white ribbons in it. Duo snapped himself out of his daze when she brought her eyes back up to his.

"What the hell are you wearing?!" She demanded suddenly, trying not to laugh, "You look like a hooker!"

"A very expensive, classy hooker." Duo corrected, spinning around. He stopped and posed dramaticly against the door, "I used to wear this outfit during the war. Like it?"

"I'm surprised to still fit into it!" She said. Duo sniffed haughtily.

"I may be twenty years of age, but I still have the body of a teenager." He ruined the moment by snickering, "That and I know how to suck my gut in."

"Gut?" Relena asked, poking at him, "What gut?"

"Yeep!" Duo helped, hopping out of the way, "Stop that!"

"Why?" Relena asked, mock innocently, "Are you ticklish?"

"Maybe..." Duo answered vaguely.

"Are you?" Relena asked, creeping closer.

"You'll have to catch me to find out! Race you to the car! Last one there buys the winner a drink!" He called, taking off.

"Hey!" Relena yelled, racing after him, "That's not fair!"

"All's fair in love and war, princess!"

"I'll show you 'princess'!"

It felt good, this feeling he had whenever he put on those clothes. The feeling of having no hibitions to weigh him down. If something bad happened he could easily blame the clothes. The clothes that gave him this flirty, flightly feeling. It was like being high... And he found that he never wanted that feeling to stop.