Note: I don’t own Gundam Wing or it’s characters, although I wish I did. I am not receiving any money; I could really use some though.

I want to apologize to ‘Fei fans, I am pretty mean in this fic, but I believe that you may find it semi-entertaining in a silly, pathetic sorta way. I don’t mean to offend, only entertain.

Warning: Fic may cause nosebleeds to those that are severely shy. Have tissues nearby.

The Spaghetti Incident: A Story with a Moral

"Dammit, Duo! Roll the freaking dice already!" Wufei scream from across the game board.

"But I can’t decide whether I should buy Park Place or not!" Duo protested. "Besides, you just want me to roll so you don’t have to pay Trowa. You’re sitting on Vermont Avenue and he owns it."

Trowa looked at the board. He had been throwing hotels at Quatre, who had dozed off ten minutes ago, while waiting for Duo to move his little molded-metal top hat. "Hey that’s right! You owe me a hundred bucks, Wufei."

Wufei pouted as he threw the money at Heavyarms’ pilot. "I’ll get you for this, Maxwell."

Duo waved him off. "Sure, just like the time you "got" me for putting toothpaste in your shoes, or gluing your hairbrush to your hand, or the time I tricked you into getting in the shower with Heero, or t-peeing Nataku, or showing everybody the video of you dancing in your underwear, or-"

"I’m still waiting for revenge on those things!" the boy said, indignantly.

Duo rolled the dice, finally. He went to jail, where he joined Heero, who had been there for two hours. "Oh, man! Now I’m over here with the world’s worst Monopoly player. What if his bad luck rubs off on me?"

"I’m sure it will, later," Trowa commented in his deadpan voice. "That probably won’t be the only thing, judging from the noise that comes from Duo’s room every night."

Heero raised an eyebrow. "Jealous?"

"No. Just curious."

"Come and find out sometime."

Wufei covered his ears and winced. "I could have done without that."

Duo smiled coyly. "Always room for one more." He reached over and rubbed Heero’s chest, before sliding his hand lower. Wufei ran screaming from the room.

"Where’s he going?" a groggy Quatre asked. The screaming Chinese boy had awakened him from his nap.

"To stop his nosebleed," Trowa informed him, with a little smile.

"What did Duo do this time?" The blonde boy stretched and yawned.

"Nothing important. You look so cute when you sleep." Trowa’s voice had softened. He only used that voice with his lover.

Quatre smiled back sweetly. "Trowa, Love, why are there hotels in my hair?"

Wufei wandered back into the room a few minutes later, wearing clean, blood free clothes. "Duo, don’t go to sleep tonight," he advised, glaring at the braided boy, who was shredding his paper money.

"Oh, I’m not worried. Heero will be right there to protect me," Duo said, cheerfully.

"Heero, make him shut up!" Wufei groaned.

Heero grinned wickedly as he leaned over and kissed Duo. He surprised his lover, never really having shown any affection publicly. Duo leaned into the tender kiss, wrapping his arms around Heero. Their fingers intertwined as the American put one hand in his beloved’s, the other one still on Heero’s back, slowly working the green tank top up.

Quatre and Trowa looked at each other in surprise. An hour earlier, Heero had threatened to impale Duo, gut him, and hang his open carcass on a tree for birds to pick at and the neighbors to be sickened by. No wonder so many groans and cries of pleasure came from Duo’s room. Heero was gentle when they were alone.

Wufei was on the floor curled into fetal position, yelling his disgust. "Somebody please stop them before they have sex right here!"

Trowa licked his lips as they watched their friends go at each other. Heero had lost his shirt, and Duo had lost…everything except his boxer’s shorts. "Quatre, is this turning you on, too?"

Quatre nodded and they started kissing and pawing at each other.

Wufei, from the floor, bellowed something about possibly losing his lunch, if he had eaten any.

Duo pulled back from Heero’s embrace. "You know, that reminds me, I’m hungry!"

Quatre sat up and grabbed his shirt, which had been flung carelessly on the couch. "Me too!"

Trowa emerged victorious from under the coffee table with a pair of boxers. Wufei looked at them and then turned red. "Those are mine! How’d you do that? I didn’t feel anything." His nose looked like it would go into fountain mode at any time now.

Trowa blew kisses around the room. "Thank you! Thank you! A little trick I picked up in the circus."

"Can we get back to the issue here! I’m hungry!" Duo wailed.

"Duo, you’re 15 for God’s sake! Surely you can fix yourself something to eat," Heero pointed out.

"Heero, he did catch the house on fire that morning when he poured his own milk into his cereal," Quatre reminded him.

Heero shuddered. That had been a freak mishap. "Let’s go, I’m kinda hungry, too."

Duo led the way into the kitchen. "I hope Quatre remembered to get the stuff I asked for when he went to the store," he sang.

"I didn’t got to the store," Quatre confessed. "I was too busy doing the laundry. By the way, Duo, why did you have grass stains on your shirt, jeans, and boxers?"

Duo grinned sheepishly and looked at Heero, who let out a rare laugh. "Trowa, did you go to the store?" the American asked, quickly remembering his stomach.

"No, I had to repair Heavyarms."

" ‘Fei?"

"I was cleaning the bathroom."

"Heero?"

"I was on a mission."

"Well, I went to see Howard about those parts we need to fix the Gundams. I guess we have to look around and see what’s left."

"There was only a packet of McDonald’s Ketchup, and you ate that already," Trowa informed him.

Duo fell to his knees, "Nooooo! I need food. Isn’t there anything else?"

Heero opened up all the cabinets and looked inside, shaking his head. He also examined the inside of the fridge. "All that’s in here is about 50 cans of soda."

The pilot crawled over to him. "I’m desperate, look behind the pop!"

"I’m pretty hungry, too. Go ahead and look," Trowa urged.

"Let’s see," Heero said, sticking his head inside the refrigerator. "There’s a box of baking soda, another packet of ketchup (at that Duo jumped up and down and cheered), and a plate of spaghetti from the night before last."

The others cheered at that, then realized that one plate of spaghetti was not going to feed five very hungry boys.

"How do we decide who gets it?"

"I don’t know. Who made it?"

"I did!" Duo grabbed the plate, knowing that no living creature would want his cooking. He did, after all, put ketchup in the batter when he made chocolate cake. You couldn’t beat Ketchup!

"Liar! I made it," Trowa proudly announced. Everyone loved his cooking.

"I’m the hungriest though, so I should have it!" Duo returned.

Quatre interjected with, "I’m the smallest."

Soon it was a free for all.

"You’d eat anything, go eat your packet of ketchup and leave the food for me!"

"Shut up! You’re a weirdo and you don’t have any room to talk! You look like a girl!"

"Look at you braid boy!."

"Leave him alone! Where’s your make-up?"

"This come from a guy that wears floppy shoes and baggy pants and lets some psycho chick throw swords at him."

"Hey! How dare you say that! They’re knives, not swords."

"I still say I should get it because I’m the smallest!"

"No, ladies first, we’ll give it to Wufei!"

"Get bent, Spandex Boy!"

"I’ll go ask Nataku if I’m worthy enough to do that!" "That’s a good one Heero!"

"You’re just siding with him because you’re sleeping with him!"

"We’ll, you’re sleeping with Quatre!"

"So!"

"What does sex have to do with it, although I do enjoy sleeping with Trowa."

"Hey, don’t say that word in front of Wufei, his little virgin ears can’t take it!"

"How do you know I’m a virgin!"

"You always wear white, girly-man! Only virgins can do that!"

"You know, Jung had this theory that the protagonist in every story ever written is stereotypical, the most common one being pure, and clean, and wearing white. What if we are nothing more than a story, with Wufei as one of our stereotypical heroes?"

Duo’s profound thought surprised everyone. Quatre had been holding the spaghetti. In amazement, he let his hand drop to his side, causing the spaghetti to fall in the floor. Heero drew attention to this fact. Duo cried like a diaper baby, Quatre fainted, and Wufei crossed his arms and pouted, because they still thought he looked like a girl.

"Where are we going to get food now?" Trowa asked absently. "Does anyone want to go to the Grocery store?" He was holding Quatre, who he had managed to catch before the blonde fell face first into the spilled pasta. "No, that takes too long," Heero decided. "We could split the package of Ketchup."

Duo brightened. "Let’s order out for pizza!"

The whole team cheered, except for Quatre, who was just regaining consciousness. He turned his head and coughed, a little, red, plastic hotel landing on the floor.

Wufei wrinkled his nose in disgust. "When will you guys grow up?"

"Stop bitchin’! What do we want on our pizza?" Heero asked, looking at his crew.

"Pizzas," Trowa corrected. "Duo can eat two by himself, you know."

"I’m a growing boy!"

"It doesn’t matter," Heero commented, deadpan, "He works it off later."

Trowa and Quatre burst out laughing, but Wufei had turned virgin white, just like his outfit. "You guys are perverts! I’d be better off living in a house wall papered with porno magazines!"

"Male or female?" Duo asked him.

Wufei was caught off guard. "What?"

"Male or female porno?" Duo asked again, putting his arms around his other three friends. "Cause we swing both ways." He made a raunchy movement with his hips. "I approve of the idea. How about you guys?"

Wufei fainted dead away, landing in the spaghetti. Trowa kicked him over so the pilot didn’t drowned in tomato sauce. "At least we don’t have to get anchovies on the pizza now. Hurry up and order while he’s out!"

XXXX

Wufei awoke and rubbed his eyes. When he looked down at his hands he noticed that there was spaghetti sauce all over them. Severely pissed, with steam coming out of his ears, he marched to the living room to yell at the other pilots. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw.

A guy dressed in nothing but a pair of jockey shorts and hat advertising a pizza place was sitting in Duo’s lap. Duo was chowing down, a piece of pizza in one hand, and a caffeine loaded soda in the other. Heero was dancing on the coffee table, inching off his shirt. Trowa and Quatre were out of sigh, but some strange noises were coming from behind the sofa. Occasionally a glimpse of bare skin would pop up over the back of the couch.

Duo spotted him and raised his drink to his friend. " ‘Fei! I’ve found you a special friend. He’s got a doctorate in European history, and he strips on the weekend. He’s even taught Heero a thing or two."

Heero was now slipping off his pants. Wufei’s nose erupted like "Old Faithful" as he ran screaming out the house, leaving a Wufei shaped hole through the wall.

Quatre jumped up and fetched a tape measure. "Eight and a half feet!" he announced, kneeling by the blood that had sprayed on the floor.

Heero brought out a thick book with a gold embossed cover. "Eight and a half feet," he repeated. "We’ve only improved by two inches."

"Damn, I guess we’ll have to keep trying! Next time, we’ll have him going like a lawn sprinkler." Duo laughed.

"Shouldn’t we save him some pizza?" Quatre asked, picking up a slice from the last box.

Heero and Trowa shook their heads as Duo spoke for them all, "Nah! There’s still some spaghetti left."

XXXX

And now for the moral. Take your pick:

A. Don’t cry over spilt pasta.

B.Don’t play Monopoly with Heero, he sucks at it.

C.Sex and spaghetti don’t mix.

D.Being mean has its price (It took Trowa and Duo 3 hours to get the bloodstains out of the carpet).

E.Ketchup, nature’s perfect fruit.

If anyone actually got anything out of this, be proud. You should be able to win a scholarship to the Ivy League school of your choice.

Dixie