Smells Like Teen Spirit
by Shannon the Twisted Link Worshiper

(x) X (x)

Game 10
Sittin’ on a Fence

(x) X (x)

Practically coming apart at the seams with anticipation, Duo watched as the large black numbers on the stopwatch that lay in his left palm started counting down the last ten seconds of the lacrosse game. While everyone in the stands was cheering madly as the first game of the season began to dwindle down to its final moments, Duo was busy preparing to sound the airhorn to signal the match’s end.
And how he was looking forward to it.

He had yawned through Wufei’s crash course in the rules of the game, finding all the gritty little details of the sport mundane and far less interesting than the spider that was weaving a large, intricately spindled web just overhead. He had focused more of his attention on the stopwatch Wufei had lent him as the digital numbers rewound towards zero and the horn blown for stoppages in play than the more important task of taking down a record of the game in the score book. He hardly even bothered to mark down when goals were scored, much less any assists, fouls and the like. He copied the score book off of the other team’s manager book during half-time and took her word that there were no errors even though the point of having both managers take notation on the game was so they could compare and make sure that there was no cheating in the record books. As long as the points marked down on the page matched the numbers on the scoreboard, then that was good enough for Duo.

He sounded the horn two seconds earlier than he was supposed to have, positive that he could not have dealt with another painful moment of that game if he had tried. He lifted his finger off the button on the horn that made it wail out its screeching moan and discarded the can on the grass beside the bench he was sitting on, cursing under his breath that he would have to deal with at least eight more of these games… and that was at the bare minimum! If the team made it to the championships (and they most certainly would with players like Yuy, Barton and Marquise), there would be at least another five games to add to the list!

“I will never steal again,” Duo moaned, flopping back in his chair like a huge drooping starfish. “It’s just not worth the pain.”

“You’re scorekeeping is outright sloppy, Maxwell,” Wufei was commenting, appearing suddenly out of nowhere and looming like a long dark shadow over Duo’s shoulder as he scanned the record book. “We’re going to have to work on that before the next game.”

“Don’t talk to me,” Duo moaned, throwing his arms over his head to block out the sun’s mocking rays as they beat down into his eyes. “I’m really not in the mood.”

And that he was not. It was one thing that he had to suffer through the lacrosse team’s first game of the season that afternoon, which (to add insult to injury) they won with such ease, it seemed like they were actually fighting to let their opponents toss the ball around once in a while. What was driving Duo’s mood from bad to worse was the added knowledge that Quatre was dragging him over to Trowa’s house afterwards to take a peek at that Cooper. He had been putting it off for about a week now, and both Trowa and Quatre were getting a little impatient, Trowa about his brother’s car and Quatre with Duo. When Quatre had first baited him with the car, the fact that it was a Mini actually made up for the fact that he would be entering the forbidden territory of Trowa’s home. But now in retrospect, Duo was ready to beat his head into a wall for sliding into Quatre’s weaseling little hands so easily and wanted more than anything to put out those damn precious watery eyes of his. Even a Cooper did not seem to be so worth it anymore. Duo was ready to shoot himself, just sitting there as the team clumped together in excitement over their win, various other fans rushing around him onto the field to join the flurry of team spirit as the losing Zeon School ‘s players dejectedly sulked away. Eventually, the red-and-black-clad Romefeller team, the cheerleaders and their fans started to disperse, though the excitement was by no means subdued.

Duo leaned forward on the collapsible card table that had been set up on the sidelines for the managers’ use during the match while they timed and kept score, stats and records of the game play. Two guys Duo had come to recognize as Treize’s favourite picks for defense, one of which was the elusive Zechs, practically jumped Trowa, knocking his helmet and laying congratulating punches on his shoulder as the three of them headed towards the locker rooms underneath the grandstand. Duo rocked back on the hind legs of his metal folding chair as he looked away with a roll of his eyes. “What’s with the hitting? It’s like a bunch of Neanderthals with clubs!” Duo muttered to himself, staring up at the clear cerulean sky overhead so he would not have to pain his eyes anymore; their sounds were annoying enough. “I just don’t get these stupid preps at all.”

“Well no one quite gets you,” Heero’s moody voice cut through the swelling silence that had suddenly drowned out the low chatter still floating across the lacrosse pitch. “Maybe you seem like a brainless punk to everyone else!”

Duo let the front legs of his chair fall back to the soft earth at the interruption, his arms, legs and whippy rope of hair snapping about as he turned in the direction of Heero’s voice. He was sitting just to Duo’s right in the front row of the grandstand, no longer dressed in his lacrosse gear. His helmet, stick and a fat duffle bag of equipment leaning against the red metal chair beside him, a slim whitish silver laptop lying across his jean covered thighs as he returned to typing on it. Duo slapped himself across the face, leaving a large raw pink hand print on his cheek to punish himself for thinking that he would have liked to be lying across Heero’s thighs like that computer of his was. “Better to be hated for who you are than loved for who you’re not!” Duo retorted as loudly as he could to make up for the few moments of strange silence, dotted here and there with the rattle of Heero’s fingers on the keyboard.

“You wouldn’t love me whether I was who I am or not,” Heero answered, his tone a little bitter. He never bothered to look up at Duo while he spoke and kept his small plush-lipped frown focused intently on his computer screen. “Besides,” he added with what could probably best be called a sigh as his dark cobalt eyes flicked over Duo’s way, his cold gaze giving Duo involuntary shivers, “it’s not like you’re even one to say that. You stand around waiting for people to love you for someone you’re not.”

“And just what would we be meaning by that?” Duo asked in a snide and cynical voice, as he bounced onto his feet and strode powerfully over towards Heero. He grabbed the steel guardrail running in front of the first row of seats and used it for leverage to help him clamber up the three foot concrete ledge that raised it above the sidelines. “Oooh, lookie, lookie, the doctor is in,” he mocked as he slid through the bars of the railing and stood looming over Heero and his computer. “Suddenly we’re a psychologist here.”

“Hey, just take a good hard look at yourself, Maxwell. Why do you work so hard at looking like a bum?” he asked, returning his voice to that disinterested monotone Duo was used to hearing, though there was a subtle bite laced in it as he spoke. “I mean, you try and run around saying that you’re such a rebel but you look just like every other punk I’ve ever seen.” He paused in whatever he was doing on his computer to make a hand gesture at Duo’s calf-length shorts and untucked tee, a ripped plaid button-up shirt overtop. His hand returned to the white touch-pad that served as a mouse for his computer, “You look like you’re wearing a uniform. Don’t you think that it would say more if you didn’t spend so much time buying chains and bondage straps for your pants and growing your hair so long just for some... some hippie-mod statement?”

“Wow, I think that’s the most you’ve ever said at one time--ever!” Duo snapped irritably. He pointed to Heero’s duffel bag, “You know, if I were you (which I thank heaven I’m not), I’d watch what I said about uniforms, Mr. Captain-of-the-Preppiest-Team-Among-the-Preps. For your information, buster, I happen to dress this way because I, Duo Maxwell, like to dress this way and that’s all I give a shit about! And never, never insult my hair again, pal. It’s been this way for longer than you can count.”

“What, you mean since the 1960’s? Bet it hasn’t been washed since then either,” Heero ridiculed anyway, despite Duo’s warning about making fun of his long surfer-boy hair. “You’d think that someone who’s so different would want to change it after so many years... maybe take a brush through it now and then?”

“I said never talk to me about my hair again, you asshole!” Duo shouted so loudly at Heero, he almost fumbled his computer, but managed to save it before anything dastardly happened to the precious machine. Duo sidled right up to Heero and grabbed an unruly tuft of mahogany brown hair in each hand and pulled hard, shaking Heero’s head about as he tugged ruthlessly. “Look at this shit! It’s like a fucking mop! You’re one to talk about keeping orderly hair you damn hypocritical fuck!” Still attacking Heero’s head, he looked down his arm at Heero’s computer as he prodded, “And what the hell are you even doing on that damn laptop of yours? I didn’t even know you could turn one on!”

“Don’t touch me like that you little brat!” Heero growled, slamming the screen closed with one hand to deter Duo’s prying eyes and using the other to savagely knock Duo’s clawing hands away from his head. “You’re just angry because ‘the stupid jock’ proved you wrong and totally overturned your ideas.”

“Hey, wake-up call,” Duo clapped his hands in front of Heero’s face a couple times, “in a socially oppressive school, where more than half of the population isn’t even of that social circle, rebellion comes hard. I just don’t need you shits running around like you’re better than everyone else because you’ve got an army of friends ready to kill themselves for you no matter how crappy you are to them.” Duo saw Heero preparing to open his mouth to retort and beat him to the punch. “Hey, I love my friends more than life itself and I’ll fight tooth and nail to the death for each one against anyone who even steps a toe out of line around them! I just seemed to have noticed this trend in the sort of people who like to kick our asses. Now who could I mean.... Hmm, let’s think,” Duo made a big show of cupping an elbow in one hand and touching the bottom of his lip as if he were pondering on the question hard, staring up at the sky with furrowed eyebrows.

“Hey, wake-up call,” Heero took his turn to speak when Duo started up on his dumb act, but did not have much time to finish as a cheerful voice cut him off mid-sentence and drew the attention of both boys away from their argument, “I don’t have any--”

“Heero!” cried a slim cheerleader with bobbled red-brown hair that clouded in thick ringlets and and curls around her cheeks. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you!” She glanced up at him and then over at Duo, covering her mouth with the tips of her fingers as she gushed flakily, “Oh dear! Did I interrupt something?”

“Just our daily Airing of Grievances,” Duo said to the cheerleader snidely, his eyes narrow slits and his mouth a pained grin. “It’s a tradition, see. Festivus for the Rest of Us,” he went on in the same way, not expecting her to really get it.

“Yes, and I was just about to move on to the Feats of Strength!” Heero spilled out in one quick burst as he rose up a little in order to land a much-deserved punch in Duo’s stomach. It was returned almost immediately by a punch of just as much spite and justice from Duo’s bony fist upon his jaw. “Fuck this shit,” Heero growled and decided to just ignore Duo, pawing his now bloody lip with the tips of his fingers. He turned his attention back to the cheerleader. “What was it you needed Catherine?”

“Nothing really,” she said coyly, gathering her red and black pompoms behind her back. “Just wanted to know if you were going home with Trowa or not.”

“Yeah, I was planning to,” Heero answered platonically. “Whenever he’s ready, we’re going to leave.”

“Oh, then I’ll just get a ride with someone else then,” she said. “And good job today! You scored four goals!”

Heero’s eyes seemed cloudy, like he was not sure what to say. It was like his conscience was arguing with the devil in himself over whether or not he should say what was really on his mind or not. “Aa,” he grunted simply after a few long ticking seconds of stillness, Heero’s eyes flicking back and forth between Catherine and Duo, who were both staring at him expectantly. He added in a low grumbled tone, almost begrudgingly, “Arigatou, Cathy.”

“Well it wasn’t that great,” Duo said, turning away from Heero and addressing Catherine. “It’s not like it’s changing the world or anything.”

“Who are you anyway?” Catherine snapped at Duo, brandishing a very menacing looking pompom at him. “I think I was talking to Heero.”

“Yeah, well I’m talking to you, so there!” Duo stuck his tongue out at her and flipped her off.

“The nerve!” Catherine gasped, staring at Duo as if he were some kind of freakish alien. “Who raised you to treat ladies like that! With manners like that, a loser like you could never hope to make an impression on any decent girls!”

Things were starting to look pretty ugly about then and they were only preparing to turn a certain shade of nasty bruised green. Catherine was still standing in front of the grandstand, glaring up at Duo as wrathfully as a girl in a gaudy cheerleader’s uniform could while Duo cracked his knuckles, a hazardous gleam in his eyes as he returned her angry stare. Heero seemed to have decided that he no longer had any need to be involved with their exchange and had returned to his laptop as if he were completely unaware that one of his fans and his rival were ready to kick the living crap out of each other. Just as Catherine opened her mouth to make some other derogatory comment against Duo, she got cut off by another voice, just as she had just cut off Heero with her opening lines a few minutes ago.

“Hee-e-ero!” a disgustingly chipper female voice rang across the field. “Cathy, don’t let him leave until I get over there! Oh Heero!”

All three of them snapped around to see the newest addition to their conversation, each with varied reactions. Duo was rolling his eyes and making yet another production of his cynical facial expressions while Heero wore a look of mixed of fear, anger and loathing. Catherine, however, was smiling wide and waving at the newcomer, another cheerleader with dark honey blonde hair that was flowing out behind her, ribbons and tiny braids bouncing around her face as she jogged over.

“Heero! I didn’t think I’d get a chance to congratulate you after the game,” she let out in a heavy gasp when she was finally standing beside Catherine, bent over and resting her hands on her knees, taking in large breaths of air as she fought to soothe her burning lungs. Duo sniggered to himself as he looked at her. For someone who was supposed to be as engaged in gymnastics and such like her, she had very poor stamina. She quickly straightened up, dusting and straightening out her short pleated red and black skirt and smoothing out her slightly mussed hair. She made a subtle fuss over rearranging the uniform tight red shirt she wore, pushing up her bust to make herself look more appealing, trying to make sure that Heero had a perfect view of all her goods.

Heero made no move to say anything, or even acknowledge her presence as he stared even harder at his computer screen. He seemed to have taken on an unhealthy shade of pale yellow and looked like he was going to be sick all over his poor white laptop. Wow, Duo thought to himself, angling himself so he could see the other three better, there’s someone he might actually hate more than me.

“Heero,” Catherine said in a worried tone, “Relena’s here! Don’t be so shy and say hello to her!”

Unnoticed by the girls, Duo caught a slight constriction of Heero’s facial muscles as his lips tightened into a pained line and his eyebrows dipped even lower. He smirked and reveled in the sight of Heero struggling with the two cheerleaders in tortured silence before commenting to the blonde one, “Hey sweetheart, don’t take it personally. It would take an eternity and a miracle to rope in an asshole like him.” He reached over and ruffled Heero’s long spiky bangs, a gesture which he could tell blatantly pissed Heero off, though he remained unwilling to say anything in the presence of that Relena girl.

“And I,” Relena answered pretentiously, laying a finely manicured hand atop her breast, “happen to be that miracle.” She eyed Duo almost suspiciously, her pale crystal blue eyes raking up and down his form as if she was mentally weighing up his social status and whether or not he was worth her time. “Relena Peacecraft,” she said after another long silent pause, extending her hand up to Duo, knuckles upward. “Charmed, I’m sure. And you are...?”

“Duo,” Duo replied, reaching over the railing and grabbing her hand in a firm grip to pump it up and down in a hearty handshake. “Duo Maxwell. I run, I hide, but I never lie. I’m dead and loving it and you’re desperate.”

“Erhm, what makes you say that?” Relena asked, quickly recoiling her hand to her side and tucking it behind her as she reexamined Duo, obviously deciding that perhaps he was not what she had initially taken him for.

“Come on,” Duo rolled his eyes, his grin wide and mischievous. Though he had made it a point to avoid her at all costs, he knew that Relena was one of those queen bee types who were used to having the world bend over backwards for them, and he had purposely made an effort to bug her with the rowdy handshake instead of the kiss she had been expecting. “You’re trying to court this guy? Heh, I’d be surprised if he’s even figured out that he’s not the only person living on this planet.” Duo’s smile transformed into a smirk once more as he knocked the side of the still-mute Heero’s head, “For cripes’ sake, this sucker wouldn’t know romance if it hit him in the face. You’d best try your luck with someone who actually knows what a come on is.”

Relena gathered herself and cleared her throat as she replied diplomatically, “He’s just shy, that’s all. I’m sure he’ll figure out that we’re made for each other if he spends more time with me. I’ll be able to coax him out of his shell, don’t you worry.” She put on a lofty air and smiled all googly-eyed at Heero (who, by this point, had sunk low in his seat and was trying his best to hide behind his computer screen) while Duo made fake gagging motions behind her back.

“Come on. We’re leaving,” Heero said suddenly, his hand shooting out of nowhere and snatching Duo’s hand from his side. Duo’s eyes widened when the concept that Heero was latched onto his hand sunk into his head. Heero stood up, closing his laptop and shoving it into Duo’s hands. “Hold this,” he grunted as he took a few steps to his right to shoulder his bag, dragging Duo a few lopsided strides behind him as he moved. After he had gathered all his things, Heero continued down the row towards the exit stairs, still pulling Duo roughly by the hand.

“Wait Heero!” they could hear Relena calling after them, “I still haven’t asked you to take me to dinner yet!”

“Over my dead body,” Heero muttered under his breath, loud enough to be heard only by the longhaired boy in tow. His steps became angrier and more pronounced as he moved faster towards the safety of the locker rooms. Duo stumbled clumsily behind him, really only aware of the tingling feeling pricking the skin of his hand.

“What’s the big idea!” Duo finally managed to garble out as he was dragged into the hallway that connected all the locker room facilities under the grandstand. He wrenched his hand away, his mind registering fear as well as with that rather enjoyable prickling sensation Heero’s grip had instilled upon his hand (though which bothered him more, he couldn’t rightly say). Hugging Heero’s laptop close to his chest in a protective manner, he ground out, “How dare you go dragging me by the hand like a child!”

“I dare just fine,” Heero answered bitterly, letting his lacrosse equipment drop to the floor with an echoing thud, “because you were starting to get out of hand, saying all those things about me. I should be the one asking you, how dare you start talking like that to Catherine and Relena?!”

“Oooh, so it all comes out,” Duo whistled, though there was definitely quite a bit of cynicism woven into the noise. “Someone does have a little crushy-wushy.” Duo made a kissy-face at Heero, still cradling the laptop close. “Worried about how I made you look in front of Little-Miss-President-of-the-School and her lackey? Hmm, are we?”

“Shut up, Duo!” Heero snapped. Duo was taken aback at the sound of his first name. Heero had never called him like that, or even by his name at all, if Duo recalled correctly. Heero ripped Duo away from his mental wanderings with a quiet murmur: “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then tell me,” Duo asked, turning to face Heero completely, his shoulders drooping a little. “What. Are. You. On. About.” He punctuated each word for emphasis, though his tone was no longer condescending, but serious and plain.

Heero opened his mouth as if he meant to explain it, when Trowa suddenly emerged from the locker room, calling after Heero that he was ready to go. Heero glanced over his shoulder at Trowa, who was standing expectantly by the exit at the other end of the hall with all his things, then back at Duo. He opened his mouth again, but quickly thought better of it and scowled at Duo’s curious face instead. He took a few of those angry steps of his towards Duo, snatched his laptop out of Duo’s loosened arms and turned on his heel, grabbing his stuff on his way towards Trowa.

Duo stared after the pair, scratching the back of his head as he watched them go. “I’m gonna strangle that guy one of these days,” he commented to himself. “He is so aggravating! My God!”

(x) X (x)

“Hey Quatre,” Duo said as they walked side by side on the way to Trowa’s house. It had taken half a chocolate cake and two beers to finally get Duo to physically go, but in the end, Quatre managed to force Duo into his end of the bargain.

“Mm?” Quatre hummed, glancing over his shoulder at Duo as he walked cheerfully down the street, a few paces ahead.

“I hate you.” Duo sulked, hands in pockets as he dragged his feet moodily, trying to bore holes into Quatre’s back with the laser vision he wished he had.

“I know!” Quatre chirped, unaffected by Duo’s dramatics as he led the way down the street. His Sense was vibrating with Duo’s unhappy grumbling, but Quatre was still able to tell that it was just a silly ruse. It was not so much Trowa himself that Duo hated, Quatre had eventually figured out, but more the whole social crowd that flitted around him. That was something Quatre could justify for Duo; he could not exactly say that he was fond of the preppy crowd either. But despite all that, Quatre found Trowa to be very unlike most of the morons that tended to be fit into that category and decided that the joy of his company transcended all social barriers.

“I’m not kidding, Q,” Duo went on when he realized his stare was not going to reduce his friend into a puddle of Quatre-flavoured goo any time soon. “I really do.”

“Of course you do, Duo.” Quatre answered with a motion of his hand and just as much cheer as before, though he was practically soaked with sarcasm.

“Why don’t you believe me!” Duo whined, fizzling into a torpedo of cloudy particles and teleporting himself right in Quatre’s path, materializing just as Quatre was about to walk into his atomic haze.

“You’re such a baby,” Quatre responded as he collided with Duo. He stumbled backwards a few steps, rubbing his nose. “That’s really annoying when you do that, you know.”

“That’s the goddamn point,” Duo snapped defensively. “So I am a bratty little whiner. So friggin’ what?”

“Duo, that’s not it,” Quatre said plainly, still rubbing his reddened nose. “You’re just too critical of people for God’s sake. Give your mouth a rest, please! Save some ears!”

“Look Q,” Duo planted his feet firmly on the cracked cement sidewalk and crossed his arms, “I don’t care what other people think. If I have an opinion, I’m gonna make damn sure you know it! And I think that Trowa and his stupid friend Yuy, and their stupid cheerleader girlfriends are a load of crap!”

“You don’t mind Trowa so much,” Quatre said calmly, neatly stepping around Duo and moving on down the street. “Your tough-boy attitude isn’t fooling everybody, Duo Maxwell.”

Duo growled under his breath and stomped both booted feet before whirling around and stalking after Quatre. He caught up to his blonde friend and grabbed him by the hem of his purple vest, dragging him to a halt alongside a white Volkswagen beetle. “I’m sick of your goddamn Sense always brown nosing into my life, Q! The hell would you know what I think about Trowa! I don’t like the guy, period.”

“Duo, it doesn’t quite work that way,” Quatre went on in that same calm voice, despite the fact that Duo had cornered him against the beetle. “I can’t help that your emotions are about the loudest waves of energy I have ever felt in my life. Everything you feel about something is practically screaming at me to be noticed.”

“And?” Duo nipped bitterly, leaning beside Quatre against the car on one elbow, his other hand resting on his hip. “That still doesn’t prove why you’re suddenly an authority on my entire psyche.”

“And,” Quatre responded, his tone finally revealing the slightest hint of impatience, “I can tell that you’ve been putting all these big fake airs whenever I mention coming to do this job for Trowa, which suggests to me that maybe you don’t think that this whole idea is so bad.”

“For God’s sake Q!” Duo leapt back, throwing his arms straight out on either side, like airplane wings. “It’s a friggin’ Mini Cooper! The hell kind of moron wouldn’t want to soup one up!?”

“Well if that’s what you think, then fine, that’s what you think,” Quatre sighed, finally able to get away from the Volkswagen. He started walking again. “I’m glad you cleared up that bit of confusion for me,” Quatre called over his shoulder somewhat harshly. “I guess I assumed too much. Should have known it all came down to a goddamned machine.”

Duo spat, still a little annoyed at Quatre, though he did not say anything more. If Quatre was swearing, that meant that he was on the edge, and it would not be a good idea to wind him up anymore. Plus, Quatre had attacked his ideals... again. Worrying over whether or not Quatre was truly a punk ally or not would have to be saved for insomniac pondering. What was foremost on his mind was actually Trowa. Quatre had made an interesting point; did it really just come down to the Cooper, or was it something else? Was it something to do with the fact that Trowa and Quatre had come to be so close over the past few weeks? Maybe Quatre was catching onto something that he was missing. And here he was feeling like he had such a good handle on the world. Was he wrong?

Duo shook his head, his long hip-length plait of chestnut brown hair flipping about as he tried to rattle those musings to some cobwebby corner of his mind and jogged to catch up with Quatre.

“All I’m saying, Q, is that I’m doing this more for you than for your boyfriend,” Duo said as he fell into stride with his friend.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Quatre retorted halfheartedly, though he had gotten to a point where the taunt did not bother him so much anymore. That was probably due to the fact that he really would not mind Trowa being his boyfriend. No, Quatre thought to himself as he came to a stop in front of a classy Colonial-looking townhouse, I don’t think I would mind that very much at all....

“This the place?” Duo asked, snapping Quatre out of his daze. He whistled in admiration, “Not too bad for a rich kid, I must say.”

Trowa’s townhouse was constructed out of burnt red brick, the creamy white cement oozed and brushed across the old weatherworn walls. Two tall windows, with large black shutters, framed the similarly painted black front door, a row of three smaller ones above, lining the second floor. The house sat behind a curly, black, iron Victorian fence, a tiny flower-bed filling a front yard that was barely large enough to be called a yard at all. A crumbly brick driveway crept between the house and its neighbour, leading up to an old garage behind them.

“I resent that,” Quatre sputtered as he followed Duo through the front gate, down the short brick path and up to the glossy front door.

“Yeah, but you’re a cool rich kid,” Duo explained, turning to face Quatre as he blindly reached up to bang the brass doorknocker against the door.

“That makes no sense, Duo,” Quatre shook his head, turning himself so he was facing the front door. The sound of heavy footfalls on whiny, creaking floorboards quickly approaching the door could be heard inside as someone came to open it.

Duo also turned when Quatre did, just as the knock was answered. When the heavy wooden panel was pulled back on its creaky hinges, a bored monotone yawned out formally, “Yes? How can I help...?” The voice trailed off as if the speaker had only just noticed who had come to call.

Duo eyes widened painfully large when he realized who was standing there. The sudden snarl that rumbled in the back of his throat and the angered stare he sent forward was mirrored in exact time by the one standing in the doorway.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE!?!?” both Heero and Duo yelled at each other in perfect sync.

(x) X (x)

a/n: The title is a Rolling Stones song about being lazy; it’s my dad’s favourite. I like it too, actually, hehe. You know, a lot of peole have been asking about the Noodle Incident and what it was. If you read Calvin and Hobbes, you get the joke, but if not, well, I suppose I should explain. In the comic, there’s a constant reference to something called the Noodle Incident. The gag is that you never find out what it is. It’s probably more interesting in your head anyway, hehe.

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