"One...Two...Three..."

"Ten...Eleven...Twelve..."

"Twenty Two...Twenty Three...Twenty Four..."

"Thirty Nine...Forty...Forty One..."

"AGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The figure that had been asleep in the 
bed Duo was sitting on suddenly sat up, knocking the Gundam 
Deathscythe pilot to the floor.

Duo threw his hairbrush at the other pilot. "You made me lose my 
count! You KNOW how I have trouble with numbers."

Heero hopped off the bed and over to the mirror. He stared at his 
reflection in horror and demanded loudly, "Why?!?"

"Well, I think it’s mostly because of my lack of formal education, 
stemming back to being abandoned as a small child and left to the 
mercy of the streets..."

"Not you! ME!" 

Duo glanced up. Heero grabbed the blanket off the bed to cover his 
head and shrieked, "Don’t look at me!!!" 

Duo shook his head, "You look fine."

Heero choked back a sob, "Fine? FINE?!? I’m *supposed* to be shonen! 
No, bishonen! And I...I just...want normal hair!"

Duo pondered this for a moment and than shook his head, "You lost me."

Heero shrugged off the blanket and pointed at his head, "It’s perfect! 
Not a hair out of place! Why? WHY!?!" He ran his fingers through his 
hair, mussing it up a bit, and checked his reflection again. "NO! I 
still look like a thirty-something business man! All I ever wanted 
was bed head, but that has been cruelly and purposefully denied me! 
How am I supposed to save the world looking like this? I’m not 
dangerous! I’m pathetic!"

Duo suggested cheerfully, "Maybe it’s the lack of spandex..."

Heero nodded an affirmative, grabbed a pair of pants and shirt off 
the floor, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Duo picked up his hairbrush and started again, "One...Two...Three..."

Quatre walked in and waved cheerfully at Duo, "Hiya Duo! Could I maybe 
use the sink in your bathroom?"

Duo could hear sobs coming from the other side of the door, "Heero’s 
in there...you can use it when he gets out though."

Quatre nodded and sat down. Duo couldn’t quite put his finger on it, 
but Quatre seemed to be different somehow. It wasn’t his outfit: the 
black jeans, too-tight black t-shirt, or the fact that he was wearing 
Ray-Ban’s indoors, Duo hardly noticed that. It was something else...

"Aren’t you supposed to be...ah...blonde?"

At that moment, Rasid came in, carrying three full gallon containers 
of bleach. He looked at Duo like he was an idiot, "Master Quatre is 
Arabian!"

Duo nodded understandingly "Sure!" He paused, glanced at Quatre's jet black hair, 
and continued with his original line of thought,  "So, Quatre ISN’T blonde?"

Heero came out of the bathroom, whistling, and Rasid dragged 
Sandrock’s pilot inside. "Give me twenty minutes, and he will be."

"Okay...anyway, Heero, ya feeling better?"

Heero turned, revealing hair that was perfectly messy. He ignored Duo’s 
question, and instead walked over to the room’s full-length mirror.

"I’m gorgeous! Green tank top, black spandex, and this MARVELOUS hair!" 
The pilot of the Gundam Zero beamed at his reflection and began to 
sing in a falsetto, "I feel pretty! Oh so pretty! I feel pretty, and 
witty, and-"

Duo was beginning to get nervous. He watched for a moment as Heero 
sashayed around the room. It was amazing how different Heero acted 
when they were alone...still, Duo was glad they had been able to meet 
up with other Gundam pilots at one of Quatre’s large homes. It was fun 
to have so many people to talk at.

"Heero, I’m gonna go see if there’s any breakfast!"

As Heero absently waved him off, Duo turned, bounded down the 
stairway, and entered the kitchen. He went to make his daily morning 
shake of Surge, Mountain Dew, and triple chocolate ice cream when he 
noticed a weird "whirring" noise coming from behind him. He quickly 
grabbed a few cans of caffeine and turned around.

"Trowa?"

The pilot of the Heavyarms looked up. He was seated, arms crossed, in 
front of a large fan, but had his back to it. The fan was pushing his 
hair forward, and five Maganac Corps soldiers were spraying "Extra 
Firm Hold" hairspray in the general direction of Trowa’s head, while a 
sixth styled the hair to fall over Trowa’s right eye.

"What?"

Duo sighed, "Nothing, just wishing for a rich boyfriend. Nevermind."

Trowa stated sagely, "You are a Gundam pilot."

Duo wasn’t exactly sure where this was going. "Uh-huh."

"I will help you."

"Oh, really? Sugoi! Thanks! Wait-with what?"

"The most important thing to any self-respecting Gundam pilot."

"Uh..."

Trowa turned to the Maganac pilot spritzing his hair with PeachBerry 
Herbal Essence spray. "Make sure Duo gets the same kind of treatment I 
do."

"Okay, but, I’ll have to run up to the Master Bedroom and get the-"

Trowa turned bright red in an uncharacteristic show of emotion, "Not 
*that*. The *other* treatment."

The Maganac Corps pilot nodded, "Oh! The hair thing! I was wondering 
what Master Quatre would think if we-"

Trowa interrupted quickly, "Nevermind. Just do it."

The soldier nodded, and at that moment, ten females danced into the 
room. They led a thoroughly confused Duo out of the room, into the 
hall, and to the den. The violet-eyed pilot was seated in a large 
plushy chair, and each of the girl’s produced a special hairbrush. 
They had long, slender black handles, and the bristles were the same 
bright green color as the beam scythes. From somewhere a zither was 
heard, and each of the girls began to brush out a different section of 
Duo’s unbraided hair.

At that moment, Heero was on his way to the kitchen. He decided to 
investigate the strange noises, pushed the door to the den open, took 
in the situation with a quiet sort of calm, and quickly shut the door 
again. 

Hell hath no fury like a jealous Gundam pilot.

Heero pulled a gun from his shoulder-hoister, "The next one of you 
stupid enough to get near him dies."

Duo glanced up, "Heeeeey! That’s MY line. Kinda...and besides, this is 
fun!" He grinned and absently tossed a second empty can of Jolt over 
his shoulder.

Heero took aim, and shot the can in mid-air. Before it could even hit 
the floor, the girls had run past him, screaming, and out the front 
door. Heero actually smiled a little as he heard the front door slam 
shut. 

On the other hand, Duo watched the females flee with regret. "That was 
so uncool! Now how am I gonna get my mandatory 1000 brushes in?"

Heero moved forward, and picked up one of the discarded brushes.

Duo moved backwards warily, "No way Heero! You YANK !"

Heero shrugged, and before he could respond, the door suddenly slammed 
open.

"YOU INFIDEL!"

"Wufei? What’s wrong? Your face is turning blue..."

Wufei hissed at Duo, "Quiet you, friend of this most vile heathen!" He 
pointed at Heero, "YOU! You are weak, a defender of injustice, and 
even more abhorrent, you used the last of my hair gel!" He held up an 
empty jar and shook it in Heero’s face. "I shall smite you in the 
manner of my clansman!"

Heero blinked. Duo developed a large sweatdrop. Somewhere in the house, 
Quatre could be heard singing a strange rendition of, "I’m a Little 
Teapot."

"My immobile hair represents the strength of my convictions! Its shine 
represents the glory of the battle! You have taken that from me! 
Nataku will never forgive me! NATAKUUUUUUUUUU!" Wufei fell to the 
floor, curled up into a fetal position, and began to bawl.

Duo glanced at Heero, "Having an urge to herbal can be damn dangerous." 
He carefully tapped Wufei with a steel toed boot. "Uhh...Wufei? We 
still have some Raspberry and Cream scented gel..."

Wufei sobbed indignantly, "No! That is not nearly manly enough! I 
demand Pine Scent! That is the only thing that will appease the 
spirits of my honorable ancestors!"

Duo rolled his eyes, "Okay...well, just stay there. I’m going into 
town anyway, I can grab ya some on the way back."

Wufei gave a slight nod and immediately his body went limp. Duo shook 
his head, and stared down at the fallen Shenlong pilot in amazement.  
"I STILL don’t know how he does that. Suspended animation...wow."

When poking Wufei cautiously a few more times elicited no response, 
the American pilot simply shrugged and gave up. He bounded to his 
feet, twisted his hair into a messy ponytail, and smiled at Heero.

"Anyway, I’ve gotta go pick up some things. Ya need anything?"

Heero shook his head mutely, and turned to head out the door. Behind 
him, Duo yelled loudly, "Yo Quatre! Let’s go already!"

From upstairs was heard an off-key crooning, "Here is my gun, my spout 
is for pouring, and my gun is for fun!"

Rasid dragged the now blonde Quatre downstairs. Sandrock’s pilot waved 
merrily, "Hiya Duo, Heero! Wanna hear my song?"

Before either could respond, Rasid held Quatre out at arms length, 
"Hey! No black jeans! Go change! NOW!"

Quatre whined pitifully, "But...we’ll be late!"

"I don’t care. No Master of mine is going to be Gothing around like 
some death obsessed little teenage freak! Now, GO!"

Duo vaguely wondered if he was being insulted, but shrugged it off. 
It was just so hard to concentrate with Heero in spandex...

While Duo daydreamed, Heero glared at the still form of Wufei. Wufei, 
perhaps sensing that he was an object of attention, began to snore 
loudly. Heero rolled his eyes in exasperation, and turned to nod a 
greeting to Trowa, who had just marched into the room. 

Quatre reappeared a few minutes later, now both blonde and wearing his 
usual pink and khakis combo. The Arabian pilot latched onto Duo’s arm 
before Rasid could say anything else, and announced loudly, "We’re 
going now! Someone had better have called a taxi!"

Rasid grumbled, "My Master won’t be using a taxi like some common 
vagabond. We happened to find a nice pink limo and promptly stole it 
for you, Master. The driver, too."

Heero glanced at Trowa, who shrugged. The two pilots watched their 
respective love interests leave. 

Turning back towards the house, Heero happened to notice Trowa’s 
particularly dour expression. He thought to himself, "Trowa never 
shows emotion...something must be really bothering him." The Wing Zero 
pilot idly wondered what horror could possibly make Trowa look so 
grumpy. "Perhaps some deep dark secret from his past. The death of 
innocents, the loss of his childhood, maybe something even more 
awful..."

A few feet away, Trowa mourned quietly, "I wish Quatre had kept that 
shirt on...kawaii!"

***********

"SIT."

Trowa and Heero blinked up at the normally laid-back Rasid with
apprehension. Ever since Duo and Quatre had left that morning, Rasid 
had been watching them. Although Heero didn't like to admit it, Rasid 
gave him the creeps. Trowa, from continual visits with Quatre, had 
developed a kind of immunity from the Maganac leaders harsh glares.

Now they were being ordered to sit in a limousine. Trowa blinked up at 
Rasid. "Is something wrong?"

"You’ll find out when we get there."

"There?"

"SIT." Rasid unsheathed his giant saber. Heero quickly glanced at 
Trowa, who shrugged and sat down. The Wing Zero pilot followed suit. 
Rasid flipped a stewards hat on his head with a sneer. "The things I 
do for Master Quatre..."

As the limo sped away, Heero noticed that Trowa was shivering. Heero 
poured him a drink from the in-car bar, which the Heavyarms pilot 
accepted gratefully. "What’s wrong, Trowa?"

"I’m cold. I’m scared. Something’s coming...for us."

Heero would have replied (okay, he probably wouldn't have) but the car
screeched to a stop. The juncture in question was a dank, smelly bar 
called "The Cha-Cha-Maru". A sign in the window proudly advertised 
cheap karaoke.

Rasid harumphed and prodded the two silent Gundam pilots forward, "I 
can’t believe Master Quatre chose this...this...hole! This is all that 
long haired hippie-kid’s influence..."

Heero and Trowa remained quite, and resolutely marched in, brave 
soldiers prepared to meet their fates.

Which were destined to be odd indeed.

On stage was Catherine, resplendent in her pink dress augmented with a 
white feather boa.

"Onee-chan?" Trowa gasped.

She tipped her brother a broad wink. "Here for the big show?"

"SHOW?" The two got up in unison. They didn’t know what the big show 
was, but Catherine made it seem about as appealing to a xenophobe as a 
mudbath to a neat freak. Heero turned around to exit-only to face 
Rasid's saber.

"YOU SIT DOWN!" He ordered.

"But-"

"SIT!" He pressed the flat blade against Heero’s throat. "This place 
is surrounded by Maganacs! Any attempt of either of you to leave the 
premise will result in a Code 37!"

Heero looked over to Trowa, who shrugged. "It means kill on sight."

"How did you know that?"

"That’s what all the codes mean."

"But-"

Any debate of the purpose of a code system where all the codes meant 
the same thing were stopped by a blackout. Heero sprung to the tabletop. 
"OMAE O KOUROSU!!!"

"You’re going to kill...who?" Trowa muttered.

"Um." Heero back down. "Whoever turned the lights out?"

They were both temporarily blinded by a spotlight. It quickly swung 
around the smoke filled bar, landing on the makeshift stage in the 
center of the room. "That’s my Heero, always overreacting! Isn’t he 
cute when he’s trying to kill everyone?"

"D-Duo?!?"

"Hiya, more-than-a-friend Trowa!"

"Quatre!"

The two blinked up at their boyfriends, who were now on stage in 
matching black tuxedos and top hats. This would have been perfectly 
acceptable, but the tuxedos were sequined, and joined by brightly 
colored feather boas (Duo's red and Quatre's pink). The overall image 
was one of Las Vegas style androgyny, coupled with a fair helping of 
bishonen worship. Duo strutted to centerstage and blew a kiss at 
Heero, who shivered a little. "We're here to pay tribute to a few of 
our favorite pilots, who shall remain nameless-"

Heero and Trowa sighed in relief, then were again blinded by the same 
spotlight. "But you all know who they are!" Duo crowed with a eerily 
girlish giggle.

Heero muttered, "They wouldn’t....this is a joke, ne?"

Duo grinned and waved furiously at Heero. Quatre smiled serenely in 
Trowa’s direction. 

Trowa shook his head hopelessly and murmured, "They did. It’s not. 
We’re screwed."

Heero sank back into his chair, trying to disappear, and wondering if 
surviving whatever Duo and Quatre had managed to come up with counted 
as some sort of new mission. Especially since he was *sure* he had a 
much better stage presence than either of his fellow pilots.

"Now, if the backup singers would just get their little hinders out 
here..." Duo tapped his foot impatiently.

"Right here, Duo!" Hilde strutted out, followed by Lady Une and 
Catherine. All were outfitted in short, sparkly dresses, with white 
feather boas.

Quatre turned to Duo. "I understand Hilde and Catherine...but Lady 
Une?"

Lady Une (in "Peacekeeper" mode) was too incapacitated by her goodwill 
for mankind to offer up much of a retort. She closed her eyes, a 
single tear dripping down her cheek. "If this will help Mr. Treize...
I will gladly spread his mission, through song!"

Quatre was still confused, "But, how will singing the Supremes help-"

The pacifist interrupted, close to tears. "I....I....I can’t read the 
words..." She put on her glasses. Immediately her face turned sour. 
She whipped a gun out of her boa, aimed in straight at Quatre, and 
hissed, "Shut the fuck up, blondie. Perhaps I am sometimes lenient as 
a soldier...but I’m a kick-ass karaoke singer and it’s about time the 
world knew it. I don't get enough screen time in the damn series 
anyway-"

Sandrock’s pilot started back, laughing nervously. "Alright Miss Une...
put the gun away..."

Lady Une straightened up, glared at Quatre once more, and than turned 
around to bark, "Assume Position One! NOW!" Her fellow backup singers 
fell in line behind her.

"Dance maneuver 27-B!" The dancers began to shimmy back and forth, and 
the music began.

Microphones lowered from the ceiling. Duo and Quatre grabbed them and 
began to sing, in something that *might* have been kindly called 
discord. "Nothing you can say, can tear me away from my guy..."

"My guy-" The girls echoed in perfect, fearful harmony, under the eye 
of Colonel Une.

"MY guy!" A pushy, annoying voice broke in from the entrance. Everyone 
(save the Gundam pilots, who were too either entranced or horrified by 
the spectacle before them to notice) turned to see Relena Peacecraft, 
arms crossed. She marched up to Heero. "Heeeeee-ro! Why haven't you 
killed me yet?!?"

"Omae...um....eh." He waved his hand in a dismissive motion, 
fascinated by Duo's gyrations. She snorted in anger, completely 
misconstruing the situation. "You like the dancing girls, eh? DOROTHY!"

"Yes, Miss Relena." A girl with long blonde hair and extremely odd 
eyebrows marched in, carrying two microphones. They ambushed the 
stage, shoving Une and her efficient dancing corps out of the 
limelight. Relena then took off her buttoned down white dress to 
reveal a pink miniskirt and fringe top. She began to trill madly, 
singing to the tune of the music 
"Heero-Heeeeeero-HeeroHeero-Heero-Heero-HeeroHeero-Heeeeeeeeero-Heero, 
Heero, HEERO!"

"Heero..." An exhausted Dorothy repeated from the audience.

Duo was not pleased when Relena climbed onto the stage and even less 
thrilled when she tried shove him off the edge of it. The violet eyed 
pilot would have thought it obvious that you didn’t mess with the God 
of Death, but than, Relena had always struck him as being a tad dense. 

Duo yelled angrily, "Who the hell do ya think you are? Why are you 
ruining my act?"

She glared at him. "I am Relena Peacecraft, sovereign of the world, 
and I’m here to serenade my love-"

Heero shuddered, "Hn."

Somewhere, the spirits of Wufei’s honorable ancestors were laughing at 
Heero’s punishment. This would teach him to deny Wufei his natural 
botanicals.

Duo smirked. "'Sovereign?' In that top, you look like a pissed off pink 
wombat." He paused to reconsider. "No...wombats aren’t HALF as 
obnoxious..."

"Why, you-"

Quatre sniffled. "She’s ruining the sooong!"

"So she is." With a whirl, Duo's cord was laced around Relena's neck. 
He resumed his gyrations to an utterly enthralled Heero, each twitch 
making the cord tighten a little more.

"HEERO! HEEEROOOO!" She squeaked. "Kill meee!"

"We've been over this." Heero snapped, trying to peer around her at 
Duo. "I can’t kill you-"

"I can." A gunshot rang out. Everyone looked to Lady Une, who pushed 
her glasses back up her nose and lowered the revolver. She stepped up, 
untangled Relena's prone corpse from the cord, and kicked her body off 
stage. "I am NOT going to allow some two bit, peace-loving, world 
leading bitch take my solo. Any objections?"

The audience, as it was, shook it’s head. "Good. Troops, MOVE OUT!"

"You mean, continue dancing?" Catherine asked.

"One more word and you’re court-martailed."

"Court-martialed?!? We're backup singers!"

Trowa examined the situation. Having experience with prima-donna 
performers in the circus, he knew the struggle between the backup 
girls would not be solved any time soon. He looked over to Relena's 
remains, which Dorothy was poking with a stick. "She okay?"

"No...but now we can have a war!"

Trowa nodded. He walked to the end of the stage, where Quatre was 
snuffling pitifully and chewing on one end of his boa. "I just wanted 
to make you a nice surprise, Trowa-chan..."

"It was nice." Trowa took his hand and smiled at Quatre. "Let’s go 
home."

"Okay." The Sandrock pilot hopped down, clinging to Trowa as they 
made their exit.

"Quatre?"

"Yes, Trowa-chan?"

"Have you ever considered wearing those skin tight jeans a little more 
often?"

And so the performance disintegrated. (All except for Duo, whose 
dancing had quickly degenerated into an early-Madonna style strip tease, and 
Heero, who was using every fiber of his being not to jump his lover.)

Somewhere, the spirits of Wufei's honorable ancestors were sad they 
missed the show.

~Owari!~