Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, its characters, its quotations, or its plotlines. They belong to the Sotsu Agency who owns their trademark, Bandai who licenses their use, and, of course, the guy who created them. I am neither receiving payment for this work, nor will I accept any. No copyright infringement is intended.

Pairings: 3/4/5
Warnings: There be children in them thar hills. Third person limited: Trowa POV.
Spoilers: Direct quote from episode two. Spoiler? Depends on your definition.
Copyright notes: Lyrics quoted from "Hooray" are (c) 2002 Rrraargh! Music (BMI), written by James Dague. Used without permission.

Notes: This comes from one of those LJ meme things that I did a while ago.For Miyabiarashi of "And You Hear Me Call" fame who wanted a tale of Trowa Barton babysitting. There were no other instructions, so you can blame me for it. The yoga is, of course, my version of total subtlety.

Left Behind
by Muffie

While Trowa certainly wasn't happy that Quatre was in China on a business trip and he certainly wasn't thrilled that Wufei had decided to go with him and get in touch with his roots in the mother land, he did have the clear headed thinking to blame every one of Quatre's sisters for it. They knew he, Trowa, couldn't go because they knew Lady Une needed him this week. They knew it and still they decided that none of them could stand dealing with the, the, the whatever it was. He'd been too busy being angry to listen. Worse, by the time he'd gotten over it, it had been bed time last night, the night before they were scheduled to depart. After they left, much too early in the morning, amid kisses and hugs, he'd sat on their bed and he'd been...mad.

No, he couldn't be mad at Quatre for being a Winner. Well, he shouldn't. He was, but he shouldn't. He really couldn't be mad at Wufei for being Chinese, particularly not when he got off on Wufei's Chineseness, but he was. To be honest, he shouldn't mad at them for haring off to China, without him, to do Winner things and Chinese things. But he was.

It's not like they'd left him behind. They'd just gone to China at an inconvenient time for him. They didn't plan it. It wasn't on purpose. It wasn't some plan cooked up to make sure they had some Trowa-less together time. Really. They'd all spent plenty of time in some sort of coupling, leaving at least one of them out of it, if only because circumstances dictated so. Like that afternoon in the dusty basement crammed full of boxes and papers that the Preventers call the archives. He had spent it quite pleasantly with Wufei after he'd first disabled all the surveillance and then unkinked---or would that be kinked up?---his lover enough to get partially undressed in a Preventer facility during work hours. Quatre had been on the phone with a plumber. Of course, a few days later Trowa convinced Wufei to put on his uniform and get up to no good in the library where Quatre, also in uniform, caught them half naked and sweaty and promised not to bring them up on charges in exchange for sex. Then there was that time Wufei had been tied up in meetings all day and he'd spent it with Quatre at the beach, or, more specifically, locked in a cabana near the beach. Of course, the next evening, Quatre got them into a pool at some club after hours. Wufei had been the rich, domineering executive, Trowa had been the pool boy and Quatre had been a cabana boy. This time, Quatre and Wufei would be in a China and there would be no library or pool with him, Trowa, later on. Not that it was anyone's fault, of course. No, business had to be done and being Chinese was something Wufei did well.

So, it was a perfectly normal thing for threesomes to be twosomes occasionally and the one left at home---no, not left, but the one that was forced, due to circumstances beyond anyone's control, to stay behind---no, not behind, but at home. Yes. He had stayed at home. Not because they had---

God, how stupid. He was a grown man. He was a gundam pilot, one of the elite warriors. He was a Preventer. If he couldn't figure out how to constructively spend the next---he checked his watch---fourteen hours before he could reasonably show up for work, then he surely didn't deserve to be one of Lady Une's most trusted. Besides, Quatre and Wufei would be back tomorrow night.

Yeah. He could do this.


His guns were clean. Wufei's guns were clean. Rashid had cleaned Quatre's guns already. His knives had all been oiled and honed. There was no way in hell he was sharpening anyone's sword, he liked all of his bits in one piece and attached to him, thank you. The spices in the kitchen had been re-arranged in accordance with frequency of use, bottle size, and then alphabetized. The lightbulb they'd been meaning to change in the garage door opener was changed. Even though it hadn't gone out---yet---the lightbulb that would eventually need to be changed in the oven was changed.


Trowa eyed the split ends in his bangs for a moment, then growled to himself and straightened up the magazines on the end table. A year old issue of his Yoga Journal caught his eye. Perfect! There had been a few asanas he'd been wanting to try out that Wufei objected to because, as he put it, the human body simply wasn't meant to bend that way, Barton!

Wait, there'd been one that he'd teased about being perfect for sex because Wufei had turned three shades of green. For days, all he'd have to do was say the word yoga and Wufei would turn colors. Quatre had laughed.

That would do it. Learning a new, intense asana would kill a lot of time and have the benefit of both wearing him out and relaxing him enough to get some sleep. Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd pull something and his loves would have to rush home and nurse him back to health with judicious applications of TLC. TLC they'd have to give to him, not each other, by themselves, in some swank hotel room in some exotic Asian city.

Twenty minutes later, he found the magazine with the asana that turned Wufei green and propped it open on the floor next to the coffee table. He'd changed into a pair of spandex shorts, rolled out the yoga mat, and did a little preliminary stretching.

Okay, parsvakonasana first followed by a deep, hamstring stretching visvamitrasana. It made sense to start with a hip opening asanas first. After that, into kurmasana to fold the body in half, then eka pada sirsasana.

Trowa smiled to himself. Quatre had caught him in eka pada sirsasana once and managed to get him handcuffed with one leg tied to the bed before he could work the ankle of his other leg out from behind his neck. The very nice four hours he'd spent at Quatre's mercy had proven that what he'd always considered a tactical disadvantage to yoga practice could be very, very beneficial.

His smile turned a bit nostalgic and he shook his head a little. Ah. Good times.

Okay, back to business. The object of tonight's mission was yoganidrasana. Sleep of the yoga. He blinked at the picture in the magazine and twisted it sideways. Hmm. Mastering this asana could get him another step closer to a good session of autofellatio. His torso was too long for this particular asana to bring his cock comfortably to his face, but the lumbar stretching would help in his later endeavors.

Easing into tadasana, Trowa took a few deep breaths to center himself, then began the slow slide of his right leg out along the mat to bring him into parsvakonasana. Wufei liked to see him in this one, though he could never get him admit to it. He twisted his left foot outward and bent his knee. Leaning over his thigh, he brought his arm over his---

Ding dong.

---and landed flat on his ass.

Ding dong ding dong ding dong ding dong ding dong ding dong ding---

God dammit!

---dong ding dong ding dong ding dong---

Trowa flung the front door open and came face to braid with Duo trying to pry something out of his toddler's hands.

---ding dong ding dong ding dong ding---

Calmly, because anything else would have him re-enacting Heavyarms' big night as a headliner in the circus, Trowa took the four year old's finger from the doorbell.


"Trowa! Thank god you're home." Duo pushed past him, dragging along the two year old Burt, who appeared to be choking a live cat. "It's one of those stupid to-dos of Relena's and Mrs. Applewood told me she'd rather drink drain cleaner than babysit tonight. I think she's getting some. Muy scary, big guy. You're my only hope, buddy." Duo dropped a bag on the floor next to the foyer table and stopped the four year old Heather's escape with a hand on a blonde braid. "No, Wufei didn't call and suggest that you might be bored, so quit thinking that. I promise, promise, promise that I will be back as soon as Relena gets mad and kicks me out or the party's over, whichever is sooner. You'd think she'd quit blackmailing me into coming to these things. I know you've got a ton of meetings with the Wicked Witch tomorrow. Hey, man, you really know how to work Heero's shorts. Too bad your guys aren't here to appreciate it. God, you're a life saver! I don't know what I'd do without you!"

Trowa glared. "I'm not going to---"

The front door slammed shut with Duo on the wrong side of it.


"Unca T'owa, you pants stick out funny." Heather poked him, painfully, in the middle of his spandex.

Trowa closed his eyes and sighed when he heard Duo's car peel out of the cul-de-sac. Burt shoved his face into the cat thing and immediately started wailing.

Heather giggled and poked his spandex again. "It like jello! Did you spill jello in you pants, Unca T'owa?"

"You're not supposed to touch boys there, Heather."

"You not a boy, silly." She giggled again, her finger aiming for his crotch.

Trowa caught her hand. "I'm not?"

"You is a unca!"

Burt threw the cat thing on the floor and flung himself at Trowa's leg. "Unk To! Pick up, Unk To!"

"Burt is a boy." Heather grinned.

Trowa snatched up the cat thing and hefted the boy in question with one arm. No way he was letting go of her hand until he found something else to occupy her. He headed straight for the vid. If Duo wanted a good babysitter, he should have found someone else.

"He gots a outtie peepee. Daddy say boys got outtie peepees; girls got innie peepees."

Trowa blinked. "Er, okay." He could have lived his whole life without---

"Daddy told me that I gots to be good for you, Unca T'owa." She smiled up at him, her face beaming with sincerity. "I is gonna be the goodest girl ever so you don't gots to get you panties in a knot."

Trowa frowned and plopped Burt on the sofa. "Did he."

"Daddy told Unca Hee'o that you was gonna get you panties in a knot." She climbed up to sit next to her brother. "Yup. I din't know you wore panties Unca T'owa. Is they p'incess panties? I gots p'incess panties. See?"

"No, they're just plain white ones."

"Oh. I know! You kin ask Santa for p'incess panties for Ch'istmas! I tell Daddy to help me gets you some p'incess panties for you birthday. Oh, oh! I kin gets you unico'n panties! I saw some at the store but Daddy said no." She frowned. "I like shoppin' with Unca Oofei. He buy me unico'n panties at the store if he was there." The frown deepened. "Unca Quat'e wou'n't. Unca Quat'e be like Daddy sometimes."

"I see."

"Unca Quat'e told Daddy that you was all alone and Unca Hee'o call Miss Appawood on the phone and told her that you was gonna babysit. I told Unca Hee'o that I is not a baby so he told Miss Appawood that you was gonna Bu't and Heather sit. An' Unca Hee'o told Miss Appawood that it be nice if she tell Daddy that she din't wanna Bu't and Heather sit so's Daddy wou'n't feel bad about stuff. Miss Appawood say she wou'n't lie to Daddy 'cause lyin' is bad and Unca Hee'o said that Unca Quat'e was b'ingin' some tea f'om China that she likes."

"Tea." He forced himself to smile. "Uncle Heero was at home with you?"

"Yup! Unca Hee'o told me he gots to make sure Daddy come to Miss Leena party. And he told me I gots to not say nothin' to Daddy about him talkin' to Miss Appawood. I even pinky swear but Unca Hee'o don't know pinky swear. Unca Hee'o look like a p'ince. He was wea'in' a p'etty p'ince suit. Daddy mouth was open and he din't say nothin'! Daddy funny. Is you sure you din't spill jello in you pants, Unca T'owa? They stickin' out funny."

"I'm positive. I don't like jello." Trowa gritted his teeth and picked up the remote. Tea. From China. He clicked around until he found the animal channel. "I'll be right back. Don't do anything you'll get in trouble for, got it? Keep an eye on your brother."

He stomped off to the bedroom to change into pants that didn't stick out in the front. Pay. Oh yeah, someone was going to pay. He yanked his drawer open and ripped out a pair of briefs. He grabbed a pair of sweats from the closet and threw them on the bed. Several someones, in fact. Duo, Heero, and then Quatre. He pulled his exercise shorts off and tossed them in the direction of the hamper. Quatre was going to suffer the worst.

He was going to---

"Unca T'owa? Bu't gotta go pee."

Trowa whipped around to see a blonde head sticking through his door. Dammit. He yanked a pillow off the bed and stuck in front of his groin. "Heather, you know you're not supposed to open a door without knocking."

"It was open."

Trowa narrowed his eyes.

"It was. This much." She held her fingers about a centimeter or so apart.

He frowned.

She pouted. "Daddy gets mean like you, too."

"Heather," he growled.

"Daddy gots a bigger peepee." She grinned a very Duo grin and disappeared.

Fuck. He yanked his underwear on, winced when something delicate was pinched, then pulled on the sweats. He glared at the picture of Quatre smiling at him from the wall. "You will pay for this, my love. You. Will. Pay."

He found Heather leading Burt to the bathroom, singing, "Hooray for Bunny!"

"Hoo-ay!" Burt yelled.

"Hooray for the Pee Pee boy!"

"Hoo-ay!" Burt yelled. "I be Pee Pee boy!"

"Hooray for the Pee Pee boy!" Heather yowled. She punctuated it with a jump into the bathroom.

Trowa flicked the light switch. "Yeah, hooray for the Pee Pee boy."

"No potty chair, Unk To!" Burt turned a horrified face up. "I gots potty!"

"I've got a toilet. Can you use the toilet?" Trowa couldn't believe he was having this conversation.

"Unca T'owa," Heather sighed, as if talking to a two year old. "Bu't is a lil boy. Lil boys use potty chairs."

"I got potty!" Burt started jumping around, tears forming.

Plotting Duo's demise, Trowa knelt in front of the toilet. "Come here, Burt. Stand on my knees."

"Unca T'owa, you doing it w'ong! Bu't gots to sit down!" Heather yelled. "Don't you know how to potty?"

"Heather, go watch the vid. Now." Trowa picked Burt up and settled the boy on his knees, facing the open toilet. He glared at Heather. Her face turned bright red before she whipped around and ran down the hallway.

"Unk To?"

"Sssh, it's okay." Trowa tugged Burt's pants down, wrapped an arm around his chest, and leaned him over the toilet as much as possible. "Okay, you can potty now."

"Unk To?" Burt sounded panicked.

"It's okay, go ahead and potty. I don't have a potty chair, so potty like this, okay?"

Burt sniffled. "Okay."

Silence reigned in the bathroom and no one moved. In the den, the vid volume went up, then down. Channels changed.

"Can't," Burt whispered. "Don't wanna come out."

Trowa stretched and managed to get his fingers on the faucet knob long enough to twist. Water gushed into the sink. "Listen carefully, Burt. What's that sound like?"

Burt pressed the back of his head against Trowa's shoulder. "Water come out. Like baff time."

"Yep. Water's pouring out. You like the sound of water?"

Burt nodded. "It baff time?"

Trowa smirked to himself with Burt started to pot---dammit. He was a grown man. He could think what the he--heck ever he wanted to in his head. Burt started to pi---dammit. Burt started to potty.

"I potty, Unk To! See! I Pee Pee boy! Hoo'ay!" Burt waved his hands over the toilet. His hands weren't the only things wildly waving.

"Yup, hooray." If Trowa'd've had a free hand, he would have covered his eyes with it. Maybe he should grab and aim it himself? Maybe he should go and get drunk. "See the water in the toilet? See if you can pee in it, okay?"

"Okey dokey." Burt giggled in his arms.

After he'd helped Burt wipe himself off and pull his pants back up, Trowa stood up.

"See," Heather said, pointing. "Lil boys hafta use a potty chair."

He tried to convince himself that it was okay to leave this particular mess for the hours it would take Duo to show up and claim his kids. He tried. It was just too...yuck.

"Pick up, Unk To!" Burt slapped him in the thigh. "Got wash hands. Got wash!"

Trowa hefted the little fire hose so he could reach the sink. At this rate, he figured he'd have his back thrown out in the next twenty or so minutes and his lovers would be winging their way home to shower him with TLC---not that he'd let Quatre anywhere near him without sufficient groveling after this---that he wouldn't be able to appreciate because his back would be out.

"Bu't peed on the floor." Heather tugged at his sweats and pointed. "Him peed on the towels. Him peed on the t'olit paper. Him peed on the wall. Him peed on the book. Him peed on the soap thingie. Him peed on the pitcher of the boat."

Trowa placed Burt on his feet and wiped him down with a towel. Book? "Looks like Burt peed on the Selected Works of Li Po. It belongs to your Uncle Wufei."

"Oh. That okay then. I don't like Unca Oofei's books." Heather shrugged and patted her brother on the head. "No pitchers."

"I don't think Uncle Wufei is going to like this book anymore, either."

Burt slapped him on the thigh again, grinning wider than Duo with his hands on a thermal scythe. "I potty in big boy to'wit! I big boy!"

Trowa clenched his teeth and smiled down at Burt. "You missed a little bit, champ."

Burt frowned ferociously. "I big boy!"

Heather put her hands on her hips and wrinkled her face. "You pottied on the floor, like Ra'phie."

"I big boy! Not doggie! Big boy!" Burt shrieked, then took off running.

Heather glared at him.

"Go watch the vid," he ordered.

She stuck her bottom lip out and sullenly trudged toward then den.

He followed Burt's shrieking until it stopped, then listened for the sniffles. Burt was hiding under foyer table, digging through the bag Duo had dropped in his mad dash to ditch his kids on an unsuspecting comrade without getting strangled with his own braid by said comrade. "Burt, buddy?"

"I big pee pee boy."

Where was an Oz invasion when you needed one? "Yes, you're a big boy. Come on, let's go watch the vid."

"I got find kitty."

"I think you left kitty on the sofa. Let's go look, okay?"


Trowa smiled. "It's a place where you sit. You left kitty there."

"Okey dokey."

Burt was happily gurgling over a special on Saharan sand cats while choking his cat thing. Heather was trying to keep up a pout in Trowa's direction, but the sand cats were too enticing for her. Trowa decided to avoid cleaning the bathroom by trying to decide if he should go for the simple revenge and refuse to have sex with Quatre for a month while spending as much time as possible half naked and sweaty in front of him or if he should do something more elaborate involving cock rings, vibrators, and then leaving the little shit high and dry in the middle of it. The only real variable in either plan was Wufei. Despite Duo's frequent whines about staid, boring Wufei, the man was unpredictable. It would probably hinge on who he blamed from the ruination of the book and if that book was important to him at all. Or if he was feeling perverse.

Heather started blowing spit bubbles. After the fourth one popped and dripped on her shirt, she said, "Unca T'owa, can I have somet'in to eat?"

Burt yawned.

Trowa pushed himself to his feet. "C'mon. I think we have some crackers."

"You gots any ice c'eam?"

He grunted. "Not this close to bed time."


"Heather," he growled.

She frowned. "Sorry."


He flipped open the cupboard door and pulled out the box of saltines. Heather squealed in delight when he pulled out the peanut butter. He spread some of the stuff on a few crackers, put them on a plate, and then settled her in a chair in front of it. He just knew he would regret this. "I'm going to go clean the bathroom, try not to wear the peanut butter."

Heather wrinkled her nose around a cracker. "Silly Unca T'owa. You don't wear 0peanut butter. Don't you know how to get d'essed?"

He was a Gundam pilot, responsible for the peace they enjoyed after not one, but two wars. He was a crack Preventer agent who was, according to an overly jealous Wufei who was confoundingly capable of imagining the oddest things under stress, the object of Commander Une's crush. He was the lover of the Chinese version of a crack Preventer agent whose temper that every other Preventer, even Duo who would never admit it, was terrified of. He was a blonde little shit's lover. Yeah, he'd have more to say on that later, after he'd forgiven said little shit. If he ever did. Um. Right. He let his sister throw knives at him for vacation.

A four year old questioned his ability to go potty and put clothes on.

Quatre was going to pay.

"Eat your crackers."

It took a good twenty minutes of cursing, mostly on Quatre's head and not a few on Heero's for good measure, but he managed to get most of the residue from Burt's Bathroom Christening episode cleared out. Wufei's book was a total loss. He made a mental note of the compiler and publisher, then trashed the book. The boat picture that one of Quatre's sisters had given to him made it, but only because the frame was plastic.

"Unca T'owa? I gots to go potty."

Trowa dropped the rag. Heather was a girl. A little girl. With an innie peepee. "Be right with you."

"But I can't hold it!"

Cathy's face popped up on the vidphone before he realized he'd called her, let alone made it to the kitchen. "She has to go potty!"

Cathy yawned. "Point her to the bathroom."

Trowa blinked.

She frowned. "Her who?"

"Heather. I'm babysitting."

"Unca T'owa!" Heather shrieked.

Cathy smiled. "Aaah. Just go in the bathroom, help her pull her clothes down, sit her on the commode, hold her so she doesn't fall in, make sure she wipes, help her pull her clothes back on, then help her wash her hands."

He blanched. "She's a little girl."

Cathy had one of those awww, how cute looks on her face. "And you've tamed lions with two words."

Heather started howling like a pack of disgruntled coyotes. A moment later, Burt joined in.

"Sounds like you have your hands full, baby brother. Remember, beasts only bare their fangs at enemies. They're true to their feelings. I love you. Goodnight." Cathy hung up.

Sisters. Trowa did his best to wipe the scowl off of his face and followed the trail of peanut butter hand prints down the hall to the bathroom.

Burt was sitting on the threshold, red-faced and wailing. Heather was standing, her pants and princess panties puddled around her ankles, also wailing. Something worse was puddled on the floor at her feet. Fabulous. Maybe he should use Quatre's favorite shirt to clean it up.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." He knelt down and rubbed Burt's back. "Calm down, it's okay. Shhh."

Burt hiccuped. "Sissy cry."

"Shh. I'll help her, okay? Just calm down."

"Unca T'owaaaaaaa! I coul'n't hoooooold it!"

"I know, Heather. It's okay."

"I coul'n't get on the to'lit and I coul'n't hold it and you was gone!"

He squeezed past Burt and gently settled a hand on Heather's shoulder. "I know, I know. It's okay. Accidents happen, right?"

"A'dent not s'pose happ'n!" Burt shrieked. "Not!"

"Where'd you go, Unca T'owa?" Heather stared at him with red rimmed eyes. "You lef' me! I had to go potty!"

"I'm back now and we'll get you taken care of, okay?"

She stuck her bottom lip out. "You lef'."

"But I came back, didn't I?"

She sniffled, the lip easing back toward normal. "I was scared, Unca T'owa."

Burt hiccuped loudly, then whimpered.

He smoothed bangs as honey colored as Quatre's away from her eyes. "So was I. I never helped a little girl go potty before. I had to call my sister so she could tell me what I was supposed to do. Kind of silly, huh?"

She smiled a little bit. "An' you came back."

He smiled a little in return. "Yup. C'mon, let's get you cleaned up and comfortable, okay?"

"Daddy get really mad when I potty in my pants."

"Well, it wasn't all your fault. I don't have a potty chair so your Daddy can just be mad at me for it."

Fifteen minutes later, Heather was tucked up on the couch in one of Quatre's silk shirts, the salmon colored one Iria had given him for his last birthday, belted around the waist with Quatre's favorite tie. With the sleeves rolled up so her fingers peeked out, she'd looked at herself in the mirror when Trowa lifted her and declared herself a princess. Burt was sprawled on the floor, face down, across a blanket and drooling on his stuffed cat.

Trowa couldn't stop the little smile, even when he pulled the cleaning supplies back out and knelt to clean the floor. Quatre and Wufei would be back tomorrow. He'd leave the peanut butter for his blonde little shit to clean. And he would make sure there was plenty of retribution. Every Gundam pilot turned crack Preventer agent needed a remorseful, blonde sex slave. No, there were too many of those. Only every Chinese Gundam pilot turned cracker Preventer agent and every circus performer Gundam pilot turned crack Preventer agent needed a remorseful, blonde sex slave. Duo and Heero could get their own.


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