Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or its characters or its quotations or plotlines. They belong to the Sotsu Agency who owns their trademark, Bandai who licenses their use, Sunrise, and, of course, the guy who created them. I am neither receiving payment for this work, nor do I intend to accept any.

Pairing: 1'n 2, and who ends up seme is up for grabs
Warnings: Post-EW, gross boy stuff
Squick Factor: Recent Dx1 (air sick bags are located in the seat pocket in front of you)
Spoilers: Natch
Rating: R
Reviews: Always welcome, any sort of review.

Wash My Hair
Chapter Eight: You Just Can't Manufacture Blackmail Material Like That
by Muffie

The look on Heero's face after I dropped that particular bomb was probably horror and disgust. I couldn't tell for sure because I had my eyes scrunched up and the heels of my palms covering them. There was no way in hell I was gonna get my poor heart creamed by the look of pity/derision that was surely to be there. Poor, sad, little Duo, in love with the catch of the universe. Do try not to giggle too loudly because he might cry. Yup, it was way past time for me to get the hell out of Dodge.

I'm pretty sure the only reason why Heero ended up on the floor was because he wasn't expecting me to do my full on rendition of a prize bucking bronco at that moment. Maybe he was too busy trying to keep the giggles hidden so he wouldn't hurt my feelings. Well, he did say I was his friend or something at one point. I vaulted from the chair and leaped for the front door like a gazelle with a cheetah breathing down its ass. Well, faster than that. I got the door open before Heero got to me, raced down the hallway, and hit the stairs at warp speed. No way I was gonna wait around for the elevator. Heero might be super soldier boy with all the hopped up bells and whistles Doctor Demento could think up, but even he had no hope of catching the maxwellis uber-moronis in full flight. It didn't even occur to me until I'd gotten about three blocks away from my apartment building that I was wearing my jammies.

Okay, so I'm screwed. I had no shoes. I'm fricking starving to death because I only got to eat a few pieces of fruit. Yuck-o. I had no wallet therefore no cash. More importantly, I'm the poster child for the How to Abjectly Humiliate Yourself Foundation of ESUN, donations accepted. So I did what any good pajama-clad idiot does when confronted with an empty belly and the results of his own stupidity, I found a public phone and called Quatre collect.

The scratchy screen went through its little frou-frou stuff. I swear, Relena must have had a hand in choosing the graphical layout and greetings for the phone company. I gave it my name and Quat's number and glared at a guy who had stopped to admire the view.

"Duo?" Holy shit, Quatre looked awful, even without the poor quality of the screen.

"You look like hell, man."

He snorted and waved his hand over his head. "He fasted for a year and then broke his fast with an onion."

Uh... "Quat? Are you okay?"

"Your tongue is like a horse--if you take care of it, it takes care of you; if you treat it badly, it treats you badly." He blinked owlishly, then burped. "I don't feel so good."

"Are you sick?"

He put his hand over his mouth and nodded.

"I'm on my way. You just sit tight."

"The dogs may bark but the caravan moves on." He shoved both hands into his hair, then turned a funny shade of green and took off running. I cut the connection and took off running as well. It's a good thing Quatre only lives a couple of miles away. Nothing quite like a puking, blonde cuddle plushie to make you forget that you just wrecked your whole life.

He didn't answer when I pounded on the door to his penthouse apartment, so I let myself in. Despite the best security money can buy, it only took me thirty seconds. Sometimes I'm so good, I amaze even myself. Hey, and he usually had some good leftover--what the fuck?


There was moaning coming from the left, where his bathroom was. His living area was carpeted with expensive persian rugs, soft leather furniture, half empty take out boxes, and bottles of half finished booze. Holy fuck, his place looked like a frat party had hit it. Well, the kind of frat party that stuck their pinkies out when they drank tea, but still. All he needed was some stray panties and I'd think I'd hit the twilight zone.

I found Quat in the bathroom, hanging off of the commode which he'd apparently just.... Ewww.

He blinked blearily up at me. "Duo?"

"Yup. I kinda let myself in."

"Do not buy either the moon or the news, for in the end they will both come out."

"Rrrright. Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

"Oh. Okay."

"Quat? Did you drink all that booze yourself?" Please tell me you had help. Please.

He grinned. "Yup!"


"A wise man associating with the vicious becomes an idiot; a dog traveling with good men becomes a rational being."

I couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, I've heard that one before. Howse the tummy? Are you gonna blow any more chunks or is it safe to put you to bed?"

He giggled, then burped again. "I think I'm safe. A chameleon does not leave one tree until he is sure of another." He said that with all the solemnity of Moses handing down the scriptures from the mountain. Then he giggled.

"Quat, you're just too cute when you're sloshed." I helped him to his feet and got his shirt off. It had apparently gotten between him and the porcelain god when he was making his offering. Pants too. Yuckoleeo. I put him in front of the sink and handed him his toothbrush with some paste on it. He licked it, made a face, and handed it back.

He waggled his finger in front of my nose and frowned. "Call someone your lord and he'll sell you in the slave market." At least I think that last word was market. He got halfway through it and started giggling again.

"I'll remember that. Brush your teeth. Your mouth must feel like the floor of a theater." I gave him the tooth brush again.

He wrinkled his nose at it and handed it back. "The ass went seeking for horns and lost his ears."

"Open your mouth, Quat."

And he did, just popped it open with his bright sea blue eyes and his shiny tousled hair. He looked like a five year old. All he needed was to swap out the silk boxers for superman underoos. If it wasn't for that fact that he kinda reeked--hard liquor and upchucking do that to you--I would have wanted to drag him off into a rocking chair and cuddle the hell out of him. Grinning a little, I stuck the toothbrush in his mouth and swiped at his teeth. He mumbled something around it and took over the job for me. I had to help him rinse and wipe his mouth, though.

I took his hand and tugged him along behind. "C'mon Quatty-pie, time for beddy-bye."

"Quatty-pie. Quatty. Here Quatty Quatty!" He chortled. Swear to God. Quatre's the only man I know that can pull off a full blown chortle without looking like a wussy girl. "The frying-pan says to the kettle, Avaunt, black brows!"

"What in the hell does that mean?"

"Dunno. Rashid always says it when I tell him not to worry." He shrugged artlessly and tried to wander off toward the couch.

"Nope, this way sugar plum. You've had enough to drink already."

"But it's so good! I feel so floofy. Have you ever felt floofy? I like feeling floofy. It's floofyful and I don't have to remember anything that's not floofy. Floofy." He punctuated this with a swooning power fist of solidarity in the air and then ruined the determined effect by toppling over onto his butt and giggling.

"Yeah, I know. Floofy is great."

"Floofy! The sinning is the best part of repentance."

"Yeah, I agree with you on that one. C'mon. Bed time." I took both of his hands and pulled him to his feet.

"Bed!" Suddenly I found myself with a bundle of squirming and rather drunken Quatre wrapped around my torso like a brass on a stripper's pole. He gave me a sloppy kiss that was cool and minty. "Take me to bed! I don't wanna be a virgin no more."

"I'm flattered, Quat, but what about Trowa? You remember him? Your bang-wearing love monkey?"

Quatre's smile slid from his face with a thump. Tears welled up and his lip quivered. "He hates me." He let go of me and crumpled to the floor. "I don't wanna feel like this. I wanna feel floofy."

"Trowa doesn't hate you." I said. He scrunched up his nose and then suddenly bolted for the couch. He would probably have made it if he had any decent coordination left. I managed to catch him around the waist and change his trajectory toward the bedroom. "Whoa, big boy, no more booze for you."

"Floofy!" he whined. "Please, Duo. I wanna feel floofy."

"And you can feel plenty floofy when you're sleeping it off."

He pouted. It was adorable as all get out, but I had no intention of holding his head while he ralfed some more. "Pretty please with naked Heeros on top?"

God. Heero. Shit, I'd just stampeded out on him like a panic driven idiot without a word or anything. First, get Quatre to bed, then deal with the Heero situation. "No. Sleepytime. Aren't you sleepy?"

"Nope!" He grinned at me. "The fruit of timidity is neither gain nor loss."

"I'm sure it is. Let's get you to bed. Sleep would be great right now."

"Bed is good," he purred. "Let's go to bed." He bumped up against me, his hands creeping under my waistband to grab my butt. "You're sexy, Duo. Have I ever told you that you're sexy? Not as sexy as Trowa, but you're sexy. I've had...fantasies. Isn't that naughty of me? I've been very naughty."

I was getting hit on by a walking, talking teddy bear. I so did not want to hear this. "I think you're awful sexy, too, Quatre. We can talk about this when you're sober, okay?"

"No! Now is good." He landed a wet kiss on my neck while I got his hands out of my pants. "Now is very good." I blocked a grab for my wedding tackle while he shucked his boxers off with his other hand. "See, I'm naked!"

Whattaya know, Q's a natural blonde. "Quat, I'm really flattered and all but--"

The vidphone rang and he squealed, cutting me off. "Maybe it's Trowa!" I was then treated to the sight of Quatre's naked white buns bouncing happily across the room. He hit the receive button before it even occurred to me that he was going to answer it butt ass naked. "Heero!"

"Quatre?" Even ol' gundanium face sounded shocked.

"The one-eyed person is a beauty in the country of the blind." Quatre intoned, then giggled. "Is Trowa with you? Trowa is soooo--" He interrupted himself with another giggling fit.

"No, Trowa isn't here. Have you seen Duo this evening?"

Quatre pouted. "Duo won't have sex with me."

Shit. I snatched a throw blanket from the couch and draped it over Quatre. Heero was blinking, obviously puzzled. I grinned. "Uh, hi, Heero."

"Duo? What's going on?"

Quatre shoved the blanket off and wrapped himself around me. "Take me to bed, I wanna be yours! If that's okay with you Heero." Giggling, Quatre wrapped my braid around his neck. "We can play Sheik Quatre and His Harem Boy Duo. I've got all of these naughty...fantasies. Pretty please with naked Heeros on top?"

Heero's eyes flicked from Quatre to me and back. "Duo?"

"Quat's a little drunk--"

"Floofy!" Quatre insisted, then licked my cheek, tripped, and nearly hung himself with my hair.

I sighed and tugged my braid free. "Make that a lot floofy."

"Oh, I like being floofy. It feels so...floofy." He smiled sweetly at Heero. "He who plants thorns must never expect to gather roses."

I patted Quat on the head. "Right. We'll keep that in mind."

Quatre started humping my leg. "And I'm so very thorny."

"Heero, could you bring me some spare clothes and my toothbrush? Q needs a keeper and we're as good as any."

"Oooh!" Quatre squealed. "We can have a threesome! I can be Treize and Duo can be Zechs and Heero can be Wufei and we can play Masterful Dictator Tames His Kinky Captain and Horny Dragon!" He leered at both of us. "I have...fantasies."

Ooookay, that was way more than I needed to know. I should probably never clue Wu into this little conversation.

Heero paled visibly. "I'll be there shortly. And Master, please be careful."

"Master? Kinky! Are you Heero's Master? You can be my Master, too. I'm tired of being good. I want to be naughty."

Oh boy.


"Yes, Master?"

"Please hurry."

Heero nodded curtly and disconnected.

"Every sun has to set." Quatre smiled at me. "I'm thirsty."

"Let's get you back into your boxers and then get you some water."

"Oh no. I want scotch. Scotch is so good. Not like tequila. That was icky. And the wine tasted funny. I think it was because I used it to kill the taste of the tequila." No wonder he was throwing up. He pulled away and tottered over to the couch where he flopped down. He picked up a bottle and tipped it over, shaking it. Some vodka splattered over his thighs and he tossed it away. "Not scotch."

"When was the last time you ate anything?"

His face turned faintly green again. "Don't mention food. Just scotch."

"Quat, you don't drink."

He glared at me. It was cute. Then he snatched up a bottle and tipped it over his mouth.

I dropped the blanket back over his lap, then sprawled into a chair, rubbing my temples. God, what a nightmare. "This isn't going to solve anything, Quat."

"A horse that will not carry a saddle must have no oats." Then he swigged some more booze.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged. "Don't know."

"Why'd you say it?"

"Don't know." He shrugged again and threw the bottle on the floor. "I want to feel floofy again. I don't want to feel like this. This sad." His head lolled to the side and he stared at me with those big, blue puppy eyes. "You don't hate me, do you? I'm not a bad friend am I?"

"No, Quatre. You're my best friend and my brother and I love you."

"The knife of the family does not cut." He sniffled, then rubbed his nose, listing hard to port. "I love you, too."

"Getting a little sleepy?"

"Just a little. I'm naughty. I have...fantasies." He looked so mournful about it, as if he'd just kicked Heero's puppy.

I smiled. "Everyone has fantasies, lil' bro. That doesn't make you naughty."

"I'll tell you a secret." He rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands. "A secret is like a dove: when it leaves my hand it takes wing."

"That's an interesting secret."

He waved his hand over his head. "That's not the secret. The secret is that I'm in love with Trowa."

I smiled again. "I know."

"And this is where I get naughty. I have fantasies...sexual fantasies about Trowa. And he's almost naked and everything in my...fantasies."

"You don't say."

He sighed, listing further to port. "And that's why he hates me. He told me that he's not gay. And I kissed him. It was the best moment of my whole life. And he said he's not gay and doesn't like me that way. It was the worst moment of my whole life. If he knew I had...fantasies, he'd kill me."

Well shit.

He flopped completely onto his side. "I have fantasies about waking up with him. The first thing I see is his beautiful green eyes and his hair sticking up funny like he stuck his finger in a light socket." He smiled briefly. "He looks like that in the morning. And sometimes he drools on his pillow."

"I think that's a very sweet fantasy to have, Quat." Maybe I should get him a copy of the Gay Kama Sutra for inspiration. I take that back. Considering the Treize taming Zechs and Wufei thing, maybe he's got more inspiration than he needs. I should have recorded that; you just can't manufacture blackmail material like that.

"Trowa is so...."

"Trowa is so...?"

"...beautiful. Mmm."

"He's got a hairdo that you usually see on a fuzzy Shetland pony. Which is weird because Shetland ponies are short, fat, and stubby and he's tall, skinny, and shaves regularly." I twiddled my braid in my fingers. "Maybe it's a circus thing. They have ponies in the circus and he wanted to blend."

Quatre gave me a disapproving look that wrinkled his face up. "A horse of good breed is not dishonored by his saddle."

"Yup, that's Tro in a nutshell."

"He doesn't like nuts."


"He likes..." Quatre snuggled into his blanket. "He likes soup."


"And fresh bread."

"He still has a horse's hairdo."

"And soup." He smiled briefly. "Soup."

I swished the end of my braid back and forth over my nose. "Yeah, soup." I wouldn't know why. I've tasted Cathy's soup. Either she was trying to poison me on purpose or her cooking skills are worse than mine.

Q had been snoring softly, and sometimes not so softly, for about ten minutes when Heero knocked on the door. I guessed that it was too late to go do the run and hide thing again. I was at Quatre's house. Where else could I go? Wufei's? Doro's? I let him in.

He stood sheepishly--well, on anyone else it would have been called predatorily, but it was sheepish for Heero--in the doorway. He twisted the duffel that dangled from his fingers.

"Um, hi," I said, twisting my braid in my fingers.


"I think he finally passed out on the couch. I'm gonna leave him there considering."

He grunted and followed me in, shutting and bolting the door carefully behind him.

"Um, if you'll get the bottles picked up, I'll call Wufei and let him know I'll be late tomorrow and then I'll get the bathroom."

"The bathroom?"

I shrugged and dropped my braid. "He mixed his drinks and they came back up. It's pretty gross."

He had his old ninmu ryoukai, let's give it all for God, king, and Pooh Bear expression on his face. "I'll get the bathroom, also."

I pushed my bangs up and gave him a rueful little grin. "I'll clean a bathroom. It's not like I haven't yakked after a night of boozing it up. I'm the expert here."

"No. The bathroom is mine, Master." He added a touch of don't argue with me to the ninmu ryoukai glare. This made his eyes slant a bit more and the blue gleam ferociously.

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared. "No way. I am cleaning the bathroom and that's final."

He stomped up, all but growling, and put his nose in my face. Hah. Intimidation tactics so don't work on me! He poked me in the chest. "You are the Master. I am the slave. That means you sit on your pretty little ass while I clean the bathroom."

I poked him back. "I'm the Master and you're the slave so that means you do what I say. You sit on your pretty little ass while I clean the bathroom!"

The muscles along his jaw were twitching. No, it wasn't a happy, I think you're so hot I can barely hold myself back from jumping your bones kind of twitching either. "Baka."

I smirked. "And don't you forget it."

"How can I forget it when you keep reminding me when you do the things you do?!" Shitfire, could he bellow or what?

"You knew I was a baka before you even showed back up so it's your own damned fault!"

"It's not my fault that you're--" He gritted his teeth and his trigger fingers twitched. Yeah right. "Quit being such a baka!"

"If you don't like me being a baka then why in the hell did you even come? To make my life hell? Huh? It's bad enough to know that I'm a loser without you showing up and proving it to everyone! Are you having fun? Huh? You getting all of this on hidden camera for posterity? Here's a prime example of the stupid idiot, the homo bakanis, folks, see how much of an idiot he is? This one has been carrying a torch for his best friend, the homo superioris, for years even though he and everyone else knows it's hopeless! Bakas make great pets but don't let them breed."


Oh hell no. I was on a roll, dammit. "Well I don't happen to think it's the least bit amusing, you know? So what if I think Godzilla vs. Monster Zero is classical film and a fine treatise on pre-colony societal values and mores? That doesn't make me a moron! No, what makes me a moron is that I love you and you don't love me and you don't even like Godzilla and you're Japanese! And there was a Monster Zero? It's like predestination! How can you not like Godzilla? It's against the laws of nature, goddammit! I don't care if it is a short guy sweating like a stuck pig in a rubber suit! It's pre-colony! They might as well have grunted and lived in caves!"

Quatre staggered off of the couch and slumped against Heero, blinking at me. He held out a half empty bottle of what had been a very expensive merlot. "It tastes kinda bad, but it'll make you feel floofy."

Heero sighed and wrapped an arm around nature boy with the booze to keep him from tottering over like the leaning tower of Quatre. "Duo--"

"Arrogance is a weed that grows mostly on a dunghill." Quatre nodded sagely, then didn't quite manage to stop without Heero's help.

"Thanks Quat. Back to Godzilla. He's my hero, you know? No matter what, ol' Godzilla took a licking and came back rarin' for more. He got shot, he got nuked, he got irradiated, he got bitten by really ugly monster things, he had to listen to weirdo Japanese girls singing, and he even had to fight King Kong--who had a creepy looking nipple thing going on. Did anyone laugh at him? No. You know why not? 'Cause he was big and bad and he took out Tokyo! He creamed it!" Shit. I was gonna cry. "That's me. I've failed to self-destruct. I've almost gotten executed. I give Wufei high blood pressure on a daily basis. I snuck a whoopee cushion onto Une's chair, even though I never fessed up to that so couldn't get in trouble for it. I even told the great Heero Yuy that I loved him and you know what? Just like when Godzilla gets his ass kicked, I'll be back tomorrow, ready to kick some monster ass and cream Tokyo 'cause that's the kind of guy I am. Stupid! So take that, Heero! Laugh if you will!"

Quatre wiped tears from his cheeks. "That was, that was just beautiful, Duo." He took a sip of his wine. "We got any more scotch?"

Heero sighed. "You're an idiot."

"You are like a tree, giving your shade to the outside." Quatre tossed back the rest of the wine.

I glared at Heero. "We've established that, can we move on now? I'd like to get the unbridled laughter and fun-making out of the way so I have a good reason to get happy pills from Sally tomorrow."

"You think I came here to hurt you?"


Quatre huffed and threw the bottle down. It bounced and dribbled on the formerly cream colored carpet. He toddled off toward the couch again.

Heero sighed again. "Then what was that all about?"

"Weren't you listening?"

"Could you repeat it?"

I blinked. Uh. What was it Dorothy said? Oh yeah, when in doubt, pout! "If you don't know, well I'm certainly not going to tell you!"

Heero wasn't moved by the pout. Maybe I wasn't doing it right. He didn't even flinch. "You're afraid."

"The young goose is a good swimmer," Quatre said. He giggled and hoisted a full bottle of schnapps. "Cheers!"

"Me? Afraid?" I forced myself to laugh. "I'm the God of Death!"

"Oooh," Quatre moaned. "I don't feel so good."

"You're afraid," Heero repeated as if he'd just managed to prove Fermat's Last Theorem. "That's what this is all about. Baka."

I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to glare. "So what. I'm an idiot."

Heero smiled and tugged my braid over my shoulder, then wrapped it around his wrist and held it tightly in his fist. "Baka," he said gently. The warm, smooth voice sent shivers down my spine. "I'm here because--"

"Oooh," Quatre groaned again, then burped.

"--I love you."

Quatre promptly yakked on our feet.

on to chapter nine

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