Murphy's Law (Part 1)
by Lorena Manuel

"Are you serious?"

"I am."

"I can't do that!"

"Yes, you can--what makes you think you can't?"

The boy gulped and hesitated. "Well--I've never done that before."

"Oh, I know that! But I wouldn't mention it to you if I knew you couldn't do it, Quatre. What do you take me for?"

"But I can't…"

Duo sighed. "Do you want my help, or don't you?"

"I just wanted to do something nice and romantic--like dinner and then maybe a quiet walk somewhere and…"

"Good lord. Are you trying to score, Quatre, or make him catatonic?"

"What do you mean?"

Duo leaned back in his chair, shaking his head almost pityingly as he stared at the now fidgeting boy before him. "Doomed to failure, kid. Trowa's been there and done that." He paused as he stared past the little blonde, clearly deep in thought. "Yup--he's gotten around, all right."

"Duo…"

He snapped back to the present and looked back at Quatre. "My point, Cat, is that with Trowa, you've got to be more aggressive and creative--a helluva lot more creative--even warped. Look, something as mundane as dinner and a shag ain't gonna cut it. You've got to push the envelope. Do something unusual--even daring. Risk getting arrested, for God's sake!"

Quatre stared at him, mortified. Here it comes--that insinuation again, one he'd been desperate to live down. Sweet little Quatre. Innocent little Quatre. Angelic little Quatre. Virginal little Quatre. It was a common perception that hovered above him like a black cloud, and it annoyed the hell out of him at times because he knew all too well it was true. Sometimes being with the others made him feel like a wretched nebbish, secretly envying their experience and sophistication and wondering why he couldn't be anything like them.

He wanted to be--well--to be hardcore, damn it. Especially now that he'd fallen hard for Trowa--maddeningly inscrutable Trowa--the stakes were higher. Hell, blowing people away in combat was nothing compared to breaking through Trowa's impossibly unbreakable exterior. It was like making love to the Rock of Gibraltar.

And that was the reason he found himself appealing to Duo for advice and some pep talk. Of course, if he weren't so damn virginal, Duo wouldn't be having a bear of a time instructing him.

He looked down at his hands, frowning. He's worth the risk--he's worth all you have, he told himself. Blow this chance, and you'll have to switch religions and live the rest of your life as a monk.

Somewhat buoyed by this, Quatre took a deep breath and looked up, cracking a little smile at Duo, who was watching him carefully. "All right then. I'll do it. Where do I get the chocolate?"

"Room service. Have them send up a fondue tray and insist that you get the fruit and chocolate sauce. All right?"

The boy reddened. "All right. Wouldn't that be too hot, though?"

"No, no--you've got to dip the fruit in the sauce before dipping it on whatever part of Trowa's anatomy you're interested in--uh--sampling. Oh, God, don't pour the whole damn sauce on him! You're supposed to tease, not burn him!"

"Did--uh--did that work for you?" Quatre asked, wishing that he'd stop blushing. It only made his inexperience more obvious. But, hell, this was so embarrassing.

Duo shrugged, giving him a lopsided grin. "Worked well enough. Got what I wanted." Then, chuckling, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he held the boy with his eyes. "Drove--Heero--nuts," he added in a low voice.

Quatre swallowed, his spirits quailing a little as he wondered if he could realistically pull this off. But a pair of brilliant emerald pools half-concealed behind a curtain of soft brown hair imposed itself in his mind's eyes, and he crumbled.

"What other things would you suggest?" he asked after clearing his throat. "What about a car? Is that too common?"

"Only if you end up in Inspiration Point. I suggest parking the car somewhere you don't expect anyone to go for a little hooky. Like--oh--in front of city hall or something. And be sure to strip--and I mean birthday suit here--I'm talking naked as a sheared lamb. That ups the danger factor and makes for a very fulfilling…"

"But I can't do that!"

A cocked eyebrow from his braided friend stopped him. The boy's shoulders slumped, and he nodded. "All right. What else do you suggest?"

"Public restroom. Get a stall to yourselves…"

"How will I get him to go to the stall with me?" Quatre cut in. "What do I tell him? 'Oh, Trowa, I think I'm going to need some help sitting on the toilet. Do you mind following me to the stall to make sure my backside hits the right place?'"

"Cat, I swear to God--you know, you can come up with something to get him there. Drag him, beg with him, sweet talk your way--hell, pay him if you have to!"

"How sordid."

Duo scratched his head, looking utterly lost. Then he froze as another idea hit him. "Okay. I've got two more tricks I'm sure'll work with him. Here's the first--go to a fancy restaurant and insist that you get a private little corner. Preferably one that's partly hidden away from the rest of the place by plants or curtains--a corner booth would be okay, too."

"And then what?"

"Get under the table and blow him."

Quatre gasped. "Duo!"

"Hell, it worked for me. Still does, come to think of it. The first time I did it, I took Heero to this real swank restaurant and got this private little corner to ourselves. Okay--there I was, getting all mushy and sweet while we were looking at the menu, right? Then I notice that my date was all tense and wound up, and I couldn't figure out why because he wouldn't tell me a goddamn thing."

"Typical."

"Tell me about it. So anyway, I couldn't get him to vent, and he was getting all belligerent with me for being so pushy, so…" Duo stopped in mid-sentence and gave his friend a saucy grin.

Quatre waited, leaning forward in his chair, blue eyes growing by the second. "What?"

"Before the waiter came back to take our orders, I pretended like I dropped something on the floor and that I needed to get it back. So I slid down under the table--oh, make sure yours has a long tablecloth--and got him."

Quatre's jaw dropped. "No! How--how did--what did he--how did he--what happened next?"

Duo chuckled, stretching his arms way above his head and giving the boy a playful wink. "The waiter came back right before he was about to--you know--sail through the stratosphere. So there he was, half under the table--could barely keep himself upright since I had to pull him a little bit further down so I could get to him. He couldn't even talk--just cover his face with the menu and hyperventilate until it was all over. The waiter thought he was having an asthma attack."

"Damn." Quatre tried to imagine the whole scene, seeing poor Heero struggling to save face in a restaurant while Duo was loosening him up. Was it getting warm in the room, or was it just him? The boy squirmed in his seat.

"He said it was the best thing anyone's ever done for him," Duo whispered, leaning forward, and Quatre thought he felt his scrotum tighten.

"What's your other trick?" he said almost breathlessly.

"Do Trowa in a cemetery."

The boy stared at him, his jaw now firmly lodged in his chest. "No way--you mean to tell me…"

Duo nodded, this time standing up to stretch his legs. "Hell, yeah."

"How could being surrounded by corpses turn you on?"

"It's the gothic aspect of the whole thing, Cat. The whole set-up's just so surreal that you actually get this weird thrill taking him down on a marble slab."

"That's sick!"

Duo laughed as he bent down and held Quatre's face with both hands, peering into his eyes. "That's creativity. That's taking a risk. That's doing what you can to spark things up between you. Get it?"

The boy looked up at him, saucer-eyed. Do it, fool! a voice cried. Do you want Trowa or don't you? He swallowed and nodded. "Got it. "

At that moment, Heero emerged from the bathroom, covered with nothing but a blue towel, stray water from his hair dripping on his ivory shoulders and trickling in tiny rivulets down his chest, back, and stomach. He paused when he noticed a beet-red Quatre fidgeting in the couch.

"Oh, hello," he said. He was actually grinning. And relaxed. "I didn't know you were here."

Heero was way too laid back, and Quatre tried to hazard a guess as to why. And as his eyes flew from Heero to Duo, he quickly reproached himself. Get your mind out of the gutter, you!

"Yeah, he was just leaving," Duo piped up, and the boy suddenly felt himself being pulled out of the couch by his arm and firmly marched toward the door. "Little Cat just needed some company while Tro's out doing God knows what in God knows where." Then he whispered, "Sorry, kid, but nature's calling."

"But the bathroom's free…"

"I didn't mean that kind of calling. Get it?"

Heero, meanwhile, shrugged and continued to walk toward the pile of luggage near the window. "Will you be joining us for dinner, Cat?"

"No, he's not. He's got bigger plans, don't you, kid?"

"But…"

They'd reached the door at this point, with Quatre, now panicking at the thought that he was about to be left to his own devices, putting on some resistance as he dug his heels in the carpet as Duo pushed him.

"What about tonight?"

"Stay away from champagne. That's too common. Go for a great dessert wine--like Muscat. Let loose, and have a grand ol' time. "

Quatre was bracing himself against the doorframe. "We're underage! The hotel won't let us have anything alcoholic!"

Duo started to grapple with the boy as he fought to pry Quatre's fingers off the doorframe, finally tearing them off as he wrapped his arms around the boy, lifted him off the floor, and strode out into the middle of the hallway where he deposited his frantic load.

"Tell the staff that your family can have this hotel shut down if you don't get your demands," he said, panting a little. The boy had put up quite a bit of a fight. "Quatre, just do it, okay? You'll be fine!"

He then turned his heels and went back to his room with Quatre staring at his back, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"Hey, Cat, some of your clothes got mixed up with ours here," Heero called out from the room.

"He can pick them up tomorrow," Duo said. And as he closed the door, he gave Quatre another saucy grin. "One more thing--it's okay to scream. Hell, Trowa'll probably like that." He gave the boy a thumbs up and shut the door.

Quatre swallowed. He didn't even know if he'd be able to remember everything Duo had told him, being much too overwhelmed by the monumental task that lay before him. Of course, he could always revert back to his original plan of a quiet dinner and so on, but, damn it, that was just too blah as his friend had noted. He needed to go out on a limb tonight. He needed to be daring. If he wanted to win Trowa…

…he needed to be hardcore.

A noise to his left arrested his attention, and he saw Wufei step out of the room he was slated to share with Trowa. His friend gave a small start when he became aware of him standing forlornly in the hallway.

"Everything all right with you, Quatre?" Wufei asked, closing the door behind him.

The boy nodded. "Yes, yes--everything's fine."

"I had to get my sweater from Trowa's bag. Everything's all confused here--who packed our stuff? Some of his clothes are mixed in with my luggage, too."

Quatre shrugged, smiling a little, feeling some of the weight lift off his shoulders. "Where's Trowa?"

"In my room, sorting through my bags for his stuff. It's a mess." Wufei moved on to his room, which was at the other side of Duo's. Then he paused and glanced over his shoulder to Quatre.

"By the way, there's something wrong with your bathroom door," he said. "The lock gets jammed, and you'll have to play with it for a while to get it to unlock. You'll have to call the front desk and tell them about it before something drastic happens."

Quatre nodded and hurried into the room, making a beeline for the telephone. He quickly ordered for room service, going all out in his selection of dishes and drinks. He threw himself in this mindlessly, forcing himself to get over his more prudish inclinations. And within minutes, he was done with the call, and he felt a shot of pride in himself for taking the first step in this daring little scheme.

His confidence level shooting up by a notch, he then went about preparing himself for an evening of romantic excitement. All his bags had been unpacked and his gear stored, unlike his friends', and he happily sorted through his clothes, chose a decidedly sexy number--that is, one that could easily be torn off him in one move--and jumped into the shower, taking care not to lock the bathroom door as per Wufei's warning.

He was busy combing his hair when Trowa returned to their room, looking--well--unreadable as ever. He glanced at the boy, his eyes roving up and down Quatre's person blankly.

"What's going on?" he asked, moving on to the bed to dump an armload of shirts he'd taken from Wufei's room. "Are you going somewhere?"

To the stratosphere if I play my cards right. Quatre took in a deep breath as he braced himself. This was it. The curtains had been lifted, and he was on center stage. Then he turned and casually walked out of the bathroom, hands in pockets, humming carelessly.

"I'm celebrating the New Year--with you," he said. Damn, that was hard. "Unless, of course, you've already made plans."

"No, I haven't." Trowa paused, eyeing him strangely. "Are you all right, Cat?"

The boy's heart dropped. "I am. Why'd you ask?"

Trowa continued to scrutinize him and then shrugged, a ghost of a smile playing up his lips. Quatre zeroed in on them, wondering what it would be like kissing such a sublime pair.

"Nothing. I just thought there was something different about you, that's all."

The boy looked down at his clothes. Oh, no, he thought. Do I look too slutty? He quickly rallied, though, reminding himself that this was the night for him to brazen it out.

This was the night for him to be hardcore, damn it!

"Oh, well--just letting loose for once, " he replied with a playful grin, and Trowa smiled more broadly now.

"What's the agenda for tonight?"

"Uh--it's a surprise," he said. It'll be more than a surprise if I pull this off. It'll be a miracle.

Trowa's grin slowly changed to a more flirtatious half-smile, sending Quatre soaring to the heavens at the notion that he'd just made Mr. Unreadable sustain a smile for more than ten seconds.

"All right then. I'll get ready," Trowa said and began to rummage through his bags. "Something dressy?"

"Anything you want. I don't care."

After another moment of searching, Trowa finally pulled something out and, giving the boy another coquettish smile, disappeared in the bathroom. Quatre congratulated himself quietly at his success so far and would have gone on hugging himself had room service not appeared at his door.

He directed the steward to position the cart and gave the man a generous tip before practically shoving him out the door. Then he walked over to the gloriously arrayed cart, inspecting every item, making sure they were done to his specifications. Everything seemed to be--except for the drinks. Try as he might, he couldn't convince anybody to send up a bottle of Muscat, and he had to grudgingly settle for a couple of Cokes. He grimaced at the thought of seducing Trowa over a glass of soda, but he realized that the wheels had been set in motion, and he needed to proceed as planned.

He nodded with a satisfied smile at the tray of candles that sat on the bottom shelf of the cart. He'd specifically requested a dozen candles to be sent up to serve as mood lighting. And after scanning the room and mentally noting where to position the candles, he pulled one out and took the hand torch that came with them and began lighting away.

Too bad the torch didn't work.

It was an archaic-looking thing that resembled an oversized curling iron. And despite all attempts at playing with the switches on it, he couldn't get it to work. All he got was a little puff of smoke coming from the tip, a wheezing sound, and the vague smell of lighter fluid. Quatre shook, rolled, waved, and prayed to the damn thing, but it wouldn't light up.

"Oh, no," he muttered under his breath, his fingers moving the switches rapidly from one setting to another. Yet nothing happened. "I can't believe this."

He replaced the candle on the cart and angrily threw the torch on the bed before taking the phone. He glanced at the bathroom door. The shower was now on. He needed to talk to the staff without Trowa's hearing him, so he pulled the phone out onto the balcony and called.

He watched the scene below him as he waited, taking in the growing crowd of revelers in the streets, awaiting the passing of the hours until midnight. It was going to be a glorious celebration this time, today being the first New Year since the end of the war. The city was crowded, and it was really a miracle that he and his friends had managed to find rooms in this hotel.

A voice presently answered, and Quatre found himself spending the next several minutes arguing with a harpy on PMS over the nuances of switching on a "state of the art" torch. The call ended with his finally convincing said harridan to send up another torch--that is, he'd threatened to have his family close down the hotel if she didn't meet his demands.

He bit his lip as he put the phone down, reeling at what he'd just done. "Damn--Duo's rubbing off on me. I can't believe I just did that."

With a sigh, he picked up the phone and turned around to walk back into his room. He raised his eyes, and the phone fell from his hands.

Directly before him, the bed was on fire.

The defective torch had leaked some fuel on the sheets, and depending on what setting the switch was on when Quatre left it on the bed, flames had finally sparked, igniting the covers. He didn't even know how long it had been burning as he was occupied with the phone call for some time. It obviously must have been the instant he stepped out on the balcony since the flames had spread rapidly, the fuel from the torch's reservoir feeding it. Right now, Trowa's clothes had already fallen victim to the conflagration.

"Aaaaaauuugghh!" he screamed, and he rushed in, tearing off anything made of fabric on which he could get his hands and throwing it on the bed.

He'd only managed to find a couple of extra towels he'd taken out of the bathroom and threw them over the fire. That didn't do squat.

"Oh, my God!" he cried over and over, his panic level shooting right through the Delta quadrant as he ran around the room, pulling at the sheets, frantically crawling on his hands and knees as he searched for more towels or blankets.

"Trowa, help! The bed's on fire!"

He heard Trowa's voice, but he couldn't make out the words as he continued his feeble efforts at containing the fire. The flames had now become a bright orange pillar that was about to reach the ceiling.

"Oh, no! Trowa! Please, help me!"

He heard the bathroom door rattle. "Quatre! What's going on out there? What--the door won't open!"

Quatre had forgotten to warn him about the door.

The boy flew to the door and tugged at the knob, twisting and turning it desperately, but the lock wouldn't give. Trowa was himself working with the knob but was failing just as miserably as he.

"Quatre, what's going on? Damn it, open the door!"

"I can't! It's stuck!"

"What do you mean it's stuck? Stop playing games, for God's sake, and open the door!"

Quatre turned around and spotted the phone and rushed to it. And when he picked it up, nuts, screws, coils, pieces of plastic, and whatnot popped out one after another with a loud twang, followed by half of the phone's inner mechanisms. Within seconds, the boy was standing with the receiver limply held in one hand and the shell of the phone hanging from another. The rest of it lay in a scattered mess around his feet. He'd completely broken the darn thing when he dropped it in the initial shock of the fire.

"Nooooo!"

The flames were now shooting up, making their way toward the sprinklers. Quatre ran to the wall that separated his room from Duo's and started pounding on it.

"Heero! Duo! Help!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

He ran back to the bed and continued to pull out the sheets, not even knowing if he were doing the right thing, crying out for help as he did. Trowa continued to bang on the bathroom door and yell at him. In the other room, he could barely hear his friends responding to his calls for help. He ran back to the wall and continued to pound on it.

He heard Heero and Duo laughing in their room. Then someone pounded on the wall in response.

"Hey! Yo, Trowa!" Duo called out, his voice a bit muffled. "Ease up on the poor kid, man! He's a virgin, for Christ's sake!"

"Duo!" Quatre screamed. "The bed's burning!"

"Are you doing some of that bondage thing in there? God, leave me out of that one!"

"Oh, you're hopeless!"

"Quatre! I'm not kidding! Open the goddamn door!"

The fire, miraculously enough, seemed to have concentrated itself in the center spot of the bed, but the torch's fuel, in conjunction with flammable materials used on the bed, fed the flames. They'd now reached the ceiling. And as Quatre stared at the flames as they danced around the sprinkler, he fell into a helpless stupor, and a phrase escaped his lips--one he'd heard Duo and Trowa say countless other times in the past--one he'd sworn he'd never, ever utter while he was alive.

"Oh, fuck."

The words were barely out of his mouth when he was suddenly mowed down by a blast of water.