The Most Eligible Bachelor

by Windsor Blue

Disclaimers - I don't own Gundam Wing, nor do I own any eligible bachelors. If you do, then be happy and well in the knowledge that you make more money in a week than I have in my entire working life, and that you have much better, bigger and more important things to do with your time than hassle me.

Genre: Romantic comedy, I hope...

Warnings - None for this chapter. Overall - some swearing, some innuendo...the usual stuff.

Rating - PG-13

Pairings - The principal pairing in this is 3x4, with the set-up for a future 1x2 and eventual 1x2x5.

Note - This is the first of a planned trilogy arc of multi-part romantic comedy-style fics. They're gonna be long, and they intersect with pretty much everything else I've ever written, so over the course of the arc characters and events from the "Letters to Quatre" and "Favorite Uncle" series will poke their noses in. Fair warning!

Special thanks to Anne and Maureen for egging me on. Oh, and Lockheed - guess which line is in here just for you! ^_^

Feedback to: windsorblue17@yahoo.com

Chapter 1

"Mr. Winner! Mr. Winner!"

Quatre sighed to himself as his graceful legs unfolded from the back seat of the limousine. There were days when he didn't think he'd ever get used to the crush of reporters shouting for his attention.

Before him, his press secretary Adele dutifully brushed the questioners aside, files clasped against her chest like a shield, assuring them in polite but firm tones that Mr. Winner would be available for questions later that afternoon. Behind him, Trowa sheltered him from the voracious horde.

"Mr. Winner, what does Winner Enterprises hope to accomplish by supporting Representative Peacecraft's reparations legislation?"

"Mr. Winner, is it true that your family's art holdings include several pieces rumored to have been stolen from a museum in Italy in the 21st Century?"

"Mr. Winner, how do you feel about being the Earth Sphere's Most Eligible Bachelor?"

Quatre paused for a second at that one. He turned to face the microphone and camera-wielding crowd, plainly confused. "Being the what?"

The question had barely passed his lips before Adele was in front of him. "Mr. Winner will be releasing a statement regarding that later this afternoon," she said, a bit more brusquely than her usual style. "Now if you'll excuse us, Mr. Winner is expected upstairs." With that she nodded once at Trowa - the "We're done here" nod -- and took Quatre by the arm, nearly dragging him up the stairs leading into the Earth Sphere Parliament building.

They got inside and Quatre reversed the hold so that now he had Adele by the arm, guiding her gently but decisively down the hall. "What was that about?" he hissed.

"Not now, sir," she replied through an emerging smile directed at the page approaching them. They were summarily escorted to a small suite, where they had the opportunity to catch their collective breath for a few moments before Quatre would be called upon to address the Parliament. The page bowed stiffly and silently before leaving the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Quatre shrugged off his overcoat and noticed Trowa doing the same. Beneath it, he wore an elegant navy suit, a crisp white shirt and a small badge declaring him Quatre's personal bodyguard. My stars, but he looks good in that color. Quatre abruptly stopped that train of thought and turned to the woman busily shuffling through files at the suite's desk, which she was apparently claiming as her personal space. "Out with it, Adele. What was that bachelor comment about?"

She looked up briefly, gray-green eyes flitting to him and back down to her work in an attempt to look busier than she was. "Hm?" she asked around the pencil she held in her teeth.

Quatre narrowed his eyes and Trowa chuckled. "Has that ever actually worked with him?"

She pulled the pencil out of her mouth and flashed Trowa one of the 1000-watt smiles that Quatre had always believed was the deadliest weapon in her personal arsenal. "Well, Mr. Barton, it's like my daddy always said - when in doubt, punt!"

"Your father was a wise man," Quatre commented dryly. "Now, out with it."

She sighed profoundly, pulling one of her files to the top of the pile. "You're familiar with Sphere Magazine, are you not?"

"Yes," Quatre nodded. "It's that glossy gossip rag, isn't it?"

"The glossy gossip rag that snags over four billion readers a week," she corrected. "They interviewed you two and the other pilots a few months ago for a 'Where-are-they-now' piece. They brought along a photographer and took a bunch of glamour shots, then only ended up using one each. Remember?"

"Oh yes, now that you mention it. What about it?"

"Well," she glanced apprehensively at Trowa, as if looking for his support. He gave a slight nod, not really understanding what she was so nervous about, before she continued. "Every year they put out a list of their choices for the top fifty eligible bachelors in the Earth Sphere."

Quatre stared at her blankly for a moment before his eyebrows knitted in a question. "Am I to understand that I made that list?"

Adele shook her head. "You didn't just make the list, Mr. Winner," she replied, pulling a copy of the magazine out of the file and dropping it with an unceremonious "thwap" on the desk in front of him. "You made the cover."

Both men stared at the magazine like it was a severed head. There, on the cover in full color, was a picture of Quatre dressed in a charcoal gray suit with an electric blue shirt and matching tie. The top button on the shirt was undone, his fingers were loosening the tie and there was a slightly wolfish look on his face. Across the top in a garishly girly type, the magazine declared "Our Favorite Bachelor - Quatre Raberba Winner".

"Oh, dear Lord," Quatre muttered. Trowa couldn't contain himself any longer and burst into laughter. Quatre spared him a glare before turning to Adele in confusion.

"But I'm not a bachelor," he began.

"You're not married, so in the strictest technical sense of the word, you are."

"But I'm in a relationship!"

"A relationship you have scrupulously kept secret," Adele replied, raising a wise finger. "Not that there's anything wrong with keeping your private life private, but you have to realize that if you're going to do that, this sort of thing is to be expected." Trowa picked up the magazine and began flipping through it. "Page thirty-two," she directed helpfully.

"E-expected?!"

Adele raised her hands in a defensive shrug. "Mr. Winner, you are a very public figure, whether you like it or not."

"But I -" Quatre turned his glare back to Trowa. "Would you please stop laughing?"

Trowa cleared his throat, suppressing his mirth into a wry smirk with a heroic effort. " 'Our number one choice for AC 199's Bachelor of the Year couldn't be anyone other than Quatre Raberba Winner'," he read aloud. " 'Sweet and sensitive, Quatre has the face of an angel and a voice like velvet, but don't let that fool you. After a few moments worth of conversation, you can tell that he's possessed with a truly passionate fire - one that could cause you some serious burns. Is it hot in here? Oh, yes, it is. No joke, ladies - this one's a definite keeper,' " Trowa had to bite his lip before he could continue. " 'If you can land him, that is - Quatre Winner is notoriously, unfailingly polite and sharp as a tack - hardly the type to fall for a simple seduction.' " Trowa's eyes flitted to Quatre, who crossed his arms over his chest, and back to the page again. " 'No girls, this one will take a lot of work on your part, but if you put in the time, we're sure you won't be disappointed.' " That smirk was clearly not going anywhere. "Nice picture, by the way." With that, Trowa dropped the open magazine back on the desk, indicating the two-page spread that showed Quatre in that same gray suit, sitting in a large leather chair with his feet planted and knees apart, his elbows on his knees and his hands folded at his lips.

"Oh, shut up," Quatre growled. "I don't understand. Why did they pick me?"

Adele rolled her eyes. "What, are you kidding me? You're young, charming, devastatingly handsome, a war hero and a billionaire! Frankly, I'm surprised it took them this long to get around to you. Every little girl wants to be a princess, Mr. Winner, and you're just about the closest thing around anymore to a genuine prince."

"Devastatingly handsome?" Quatre asked incredulously. Trowa's hand covered his mouth in a vain attempt to hide his snickering. "You wouldn't be laughing like that if it were your picture in this magazine," Quatre grumbled at him.

"You can test that theory by turning to page thirty-five."

The two men stared at Adele agape, Quatre's lips curving into a smile while Trowa's fell into a frown. "What?" they asked simultaneously.

"Congratulations, Mr. Barton, you're bachelor number three."

Trowa went a bit pale as Quatre seized up the magazine, turning the pages until he spied Trowa's picture - a rich sepia-toned affair that showed Trowa in tight jeans and a dark shirt unbuttoned halfway to his navel, head resting in his hand, lounging on the ground next to a snarling lioness.

"You photograph rather nicely, yourself," said Quatre with a slightly feral grin, and to his surprise Trowa blushed a little. " 'Long and lean, Trowa Barton is a former Gundam pilot, an animal trainer, and an acrobat - and boy, does he ever have the body to prove it. With his haunting green eyes and his auburn hair, this beautiful bachelor is hard to forget.' " Quatre glanced at Trowa from over the top of the page and waggled his eyebrows at him. " 'But be careful, ladies - he's quiet and intense, and you know what they say about the quiet ones! We're pretty sure that this king of the jungle would be a...' " Quatre stopped, his smirk exploding into a surprised laugh. " 'Tiger in the sack!' "

"It does not say that!" Trowa exclaimed, snatching the magazine from Quatre's hand.

"Yes, it does," nodded Adele.

Trowa stared at the page for a few seconds before blinking up at her. "They can't print that about me. Isn't that slander?"

"It's only slander when you say it," Adele intoned. "Once you print it, it's libel. But in this case, it's not really either one, since they phrased it as a speculative assumption - 'we're pretty sure he'd be a tiger in the sack'. If they'd stated as an unarguable fact that you were a tiger in the sack without getting confirmation from at least two witnesses, then you'd be able to make a case for libel." She paused, looking thoughtful. "Although I'm not sure why you'd want to..."

Trowa put a hand to his face with a small moan. "You know," he informed Quatre, "We're never going to live this down."

Realization dawned over Quatre's features, and it wasn't pretty. "Oh, God - what's Duo going to say when he sees this?"

"I wouldn't worry about it," Adele put in. "He'll probably just be miffed that he didn't crack the top ten."

Stunned silence reigned once more before the two men erupted again in a simultaneous "What?!"

"He's number twelve. Page forty-four, I think."

Two hands flipped through the magazine's pages, and one stopped suddenly. "Wait, go back a page," Quatre requested. Trowa complied, and their eyes grew impossibly wide. "Is that..." Trowa began.

"Heero?!" Quatre finished.

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Yuy's at number seven. Did I forget to mention that?"

Both men speared her with a glare before turning back to the magazine, gaping at the picture of their friend. Dressed in a pressed and starched white dress shirt that was opened just enough to catch a glimpse of tight abs, Heero held an elegant broadsword straight up in front of him, the sharp edge of the blade against his nose. The blade was etched in a delicate Celtic pattern, and the light reflecting off it cast tattoo-like shadows over the left side of his face, while his right side was left in darkness.

"Oh, my..." Quatre trailed off.

"Who knew he had it in him?" mused Trowa.

"I think the part about East meeting West really takes the cake, there," Adele stated with a firm nod.

They blinked at her before returning their eyes to the page, and Trowa couldn't help but smirk as he began to read aloud. " 'As enigmatic as he is easy on the eyes, Heero Yuy is definitely able to keep a girl on her toes. He claims not to know his precise ethnic heritage, but with those blue eyes and Japanese cheekbones, we're guessing that somewhere in his bloodline East met West and made a little magic happen.' " Quatre let out a choked laugh and Trowa patted his back before continuing. " 'But what about the rumors that say he's involved with Sanq Parliamentary Representative Relena Darlian Peacecraft? He claims they're just friends, which to us sounds like the coast is clear. Any takers?' "

" 'East met West and made a little magic happen'?" Quatre snickered.

"That's just classic," Trowa declared.

The two grinned at each other like plotting schoolboys. "Well, now I have to know what they say about Duo," Quatre insisted. Trowa flipped a few pages until they spied their friend, sprawled across the seat of an impressively large motorcycle. Wrapped in a black leather jacket with a thick chain hanging off the shoulder, no shirt and an artfully torn pair of blue jeans, Duo rested one boot-clad foot on the bike's handlebars while the other stayed firmly planted on the ground. Hands behind his head and the patented Maxwell smirk upon his lips, he peered invitingly over the top of round, black-lensed wire-rimmed sunglasses.

"Nice bike," Trowa nodded. Quatre smacked him in the arm, and he raised a hand in defense. "What? It is a nice bike!"

"Give me that," Quatre replied, taking over reading-aloud duties. " 'Known by the nickname 'The God of Death' during the war, Duo Maxwell hardly seems to live up to the title. Honestly, how can you not love a face like that? And if those pretty eyes and that smile don't get you, then the hair almost certainly will! Which leaves us wondering what kind of death that nickname refers to. After all, how many times have we seen the phrase 'little death' used to describe an orgasm? Yes, we suspect there's a hidden message behind that nickname, and if our suspicions are correct - well then, this God of Death can come and kill us anytime!' "

Quatre lowered the magazine and blinked. "Well..."

"I guess the 'tiger in the sack' thing isn't so bad after all," Trowa mused.

In unison, they turned their gazes on Adele, who leaned against the desk with her legs and arms crossed. "Nineteen," she said, barely looking up.

They flipped a few more pages before spying Wufei. His bare back was to the camera as he turned his head to look over his right shoulder, hair loose around his face. His arms were crossed over his chest and in his left hand he held an exquisitely made calligraphy brush. On his back, probably painted with that same brush, were several bold strokes that assumed the stylized shape of a dragon.

" 'Remember those stories you read as a child?' " Quatre read. " 'The ones where the knight rescued the princess from the dragon? Well, tell that knight to go the hell home, because this is one dragon you'll be happy to stay with. Preventers agent and former Gundam pilot Chang Wufei may not breathe fire, but he's still smoking hot in our book. Those smoldering eyes will captivate even the hardest-hearted princess. And as if the package weren't enough, it houses a startlingly dry wit and a highly educated mind. He even has an impressive set of Chinese love poetry committed to memory! To put it simply, this dragon slays us.' "

Trowa looked fit to burst from trying to contain his laughter. "Is being 'smoking hot' as good as being 'a tiger in the sack'?"

Quatre put the magazine down and gave him an amused glance. "Five minutes ago, you were hating that phrase."

"It's starting to grow on me..." came the unrepentant reply.

"Is it, now?" Quatre purred, glancing pointedly at Trowa's pants.

"I hate to be a buzzkill, Mr. Winner," Adele interrupted, "But you only have about eleven and a half minutes. Perhaps you'd rather examine Mr. Barton's growth after your speech?"

Quatre sighed, relenting unhappily. "Alright," he said, focusing his gaze on Trowa's face. "You're off the hook - for now." He turned to eye Adele suspiciously. "You, however, are not. Did you know about this before the magazine came out?"

"No, sir," she replied with a firm shake of the head. "I knew the list was coming out in this week's issue, but I didn't know you'd be on it. That's part of the fun for the editors of the magazine - keeping it all a big secret until it hits the news stands."

"So you found out..."

"When I went out for my morning newspapers."

"I see. And when exactly were you planning on telling me about this?"

She looked at her watch. "After the speech, but before the press conference."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier this morning?" He couldn't help the hint of exasperation that crept into his voice.

Adele sighed and stepped forward to fuss with his tie. "Mr. Winner, in a few minutes you're scheduled to address the Earth Sphere Parliament on the issue of reparations to the residents of the colonies for war crimes committed against them by the Alliance - an issue which is controversial at best, certain to spur a lengthy debate both in session and in the press, and is near and dear to both your hearts." She brushed a non-existent piece of lint from his lapel. "We've been working on this speech for the better part of three months. It's been keeping you up nights. You've said time and time again that this could be the most important speech you ever make, and I wasn't about to mess up your focus by letting you stew all morning about something as trivial as Sphere Magazine's silly little popularity contest. Put it out of your mind, focus on your speech and we'll worry about this afterwards. Okay?"

Quatre couldn't help but smile a little. "You take good care of me, Adele."

"That's why you pay me the big bucks, Mr. Winner." She stepped back with a smile and produced a set of note cards from her coat pocket, which she held up between her thumb and forefinger. "You're on in ten. Knock 'em dead, sir."

******

"Gracías, Señora" Duo smiled, taking his bag of pan dulce from the lady behind the counter.

"De nada, Señor Numero Doce," she replied with a wry grin.

His face knit in confusion for a moment as he gave her a faltering smile in return - Señor Numero Doce? He stepped out of the little shop and onto the sidewalk, blinking at the false sunlight of Nuevo Los Angeles.

The streets in this neighborhood were among his favorites in the city - always bustling, keeping time to the orchestra of traffic noise, the Metrolink passing below the street, and multi-lingual conversation. Nuevo Los Angeles was the first of L2's Civic Improvement Projects, and had been carefully designed to mimic the original back on Earth, right down to the street names. But as he made his way through the Garment District to Howard's garage, he could swear something was a little off. It was almost as if...

It was almost as if people were whispering about him.

He stopped in his tracks and took a slow look around. As he did, he noticed people suddenly looking the other way, as if they'd been watching him and didn't want to be caught. A pair of older Korean ladies giggled to each other, looking over their shoulders at him from the doorway of their small shop. On the corner a pretty dark-haired girl waved at him, a flirty smile on her face, while her blonde friend cowered behind her chanting "Omigod, omigod, omigod!"

He waved tremulously back, not quite sure what to make of it all. As surreptitiously as he could, he looked down to make sure he'd remembered to put his pants on before he left the house.

The girl on the corner made a "come-hither" gesture with her right index finger. He looked around again before pointing to his own chest. "Me?" he asked, and immediately felt stupid for it.

She nodded an affirmative, her smirk widening, and he stumbled forward on suddenly leaden legs.

"You're Duo Maxwell, right?" she asked, lightly slapping her still-cowering friend on the arm.

"Um, yeah..."

She held out a magazine and a pen. "Can I have your autograph?"

"Huh?" He blinked and looked down at the proffered magazine, his eyes going wide as he recognized himself on the page. "What's this?" he asked, taking it from her gingerly.

"So, is the article correct? Are you still a bachelor, or has some lucky girl snatched you up by now? Because if you're available, I'd be more than happy to let you come kill me." The brunette's grin had turned decidedly feral, and the blonde behind her squealed. "Isela! Oh my God!"

"Article?" Duo looked down at the page again, wondering when exactly the world had decided to gang up on him and whether he had missed a memo about it or something. His eyes wandered through the text, growing impossibly wider as they did. When he finally looked back up at the giggling girls before him, something amazing happened - a truly amazing something that had not happened for at least a decade now - if not longer.

Duo Maxwell blushed, from the tops of his ears to the tip of his nose.

******

"Go away!"

Sally Po sighed the sigh of the very patient and knocked again.

"I'm pointedly ignoring you. Make my life easier and go away!"

"Wufei, open the damned door before I break it down."

A stubborn silence was the only reward for her tenacity.

"All right, fine. If you won't let me in, I'll just have to find something else to do, like, say...scan this article and e-mail it to everyone in the building, just to make sure no-one missed it."

A couple of seconds passed before the lock clicked open. Sally took it for the invitation it wasn't and let herself in.

"You're such a bitch."

"Thank you, I try. Are you going to sulk in here all day?"

"That's the plan," Wufei growled, leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed over his chest.

Sally rolled her eyes. "Don't you think you're over-reacting just a tad? There are worse things, you know, than having a magazine declare you attractive and desirable."

"Easy for you to say - you've never had it happen to you."

"Clearly you've never heard about my stint as Miss July."

" '...Chang Wufei may not breathe fire, but he's still smoking' - what did you say?"

She shook her head and smiled. "Nothing. Go on."

Wufei stared at her for a second before continuing. "Anyway, it's embarrassing. How can I expect to be taken seriously when everyone in the building has seen this?"

"Honestly, Wufei, do you really think so little of your fellow officers? Sure, you'll take a little ribbing for it, but everyone knows you're a first-class agent. You're well respected, skilled at your job and an asset to the Preventers organization. Ending up on Sphere Magazine's eligible bachelor list doesn't change any of that."

His pout cracked for just a moment. "Do you really think so?"

"Of course I do," she said with an easy smile. "Now, don't you think we should get to work? Parliamentary session opens soon, and Une wants us in the conference room for Quatre's speech."

"Thank you," he breathed, straightening up from his slump and moving towards the door.

"No problem," she replied, and as he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, she reached out and slapped him on the ass. He whirled on her with a snarl and she couldn't help but smirk triumphantly.

"Pretty boy," she grinned.

He shook his head, turned his back on her and stomped down the hall.

"Bitch," he grumbled.

******

Heero sighed to himself as he waved his way past Relena's clerical staff and into her office. He pulled the door shut behind him and leaned on it with a "thump" loud enough to make her look up from her desk.

"Who did I scare this time?" he asked.

She blinked at him. "I'm sorry?"

"Everybody's staring at me today. A few of them are whispering. So who did I scare and what did I do to scare them?"

"Oh," she replied with a small smile. "I don't think you scared anybody, Heero. They're probably all talking about this." With that, she picked a magazine up from the corner of her desk and handed it to him.

He regarded it for a second before his eyebrow quirked up. "Quatre's on the cover of a magazine. So?"

"Look inside." She grinned a little more and made herself look busy by shuffling some files around.

He flipped a few pages before coming to a stop. She could almost hear his mind processing the text as he read and didn't miss the barely controlled snicker that passed his lips.

" 'Is it hot in here?'..." he muttered with a shake of the head.

"Keep going," she replied.

He glanced up inquisitively, quickly, and turned his attention back to the magazine, turning a couple more pages and stopping again. A few seconds passed and a louder snicker could be heard.

" 'Tiger in the sack'? Can they print that about him?"

"Apparently. Don't stop there - keep going."

Pages rustled and stopped once more, but this time came with the barest perceptible intake of a surprised breath. She looked up from her work and watched as his eyes scanned the page once - twice - one last time before he lowered it and turned his gaze to her.

" 'East met West and made a little magic happen'?"

She smiled. "Granted, that part is pretty scary, but at least it's nothing you did."

He blinked a few times, processing. "So everyone has seen this?"

"I think so, yes. If they haven't, they surely will by lunchtime."

"I see." He looked down at the page again, then returned his attention to Relena. "How am I supposed to feel about this?"

Relena shrugged. "I don't know. How do you think you should feel about it?"

"I guess I should be embarrassed, but I'm not." Relena thought he was looking at her as if he was seeking her approval. "I mean, it's just their opinion, right? It doesn't change anything about me per se..."

"That's true," Relena nodded.

"Hm." Heero lost himself in momentary contemplation, absently turning a few more pages before he stopped once more and began to grin. "Duo's in here, too."

"Yes, he is. So is Wufei - he's a few more pages back."

Heero turned some more pages, his grin widening just a little. "I came in ahead of both Duo and Wufei?" he half-asked, half-stated.

Relena rolled her eyes and gathered her files into her arms. "You are so competitive."

"I am not." He tried to sound indignant, but it came out rather boastful.

"Oh, please." She split the stack in half and shoved some files into his chest. "Session starts in fifteen minutes - help me carry these down, will you?"

"Sure," he nodded, still smirking.

They made their way out of the office and were passing her receptionist's desk when Heero turned to give the matronly woman that sat there that uncharacteristic grin.

"Did you see, Bonnie? I came in ahead of Duo and Wufei!"

She beamed at him. "I saw, Mr. Yuy. Well done!"

His grin widened again and Relena gave him a gently exasperated shove into the waiting elevator. As the doors closed, Bonnie heard her boss growl at her companion.

"Show-off."

******

*to be continued*