"In
& Out"
a Gundam Wing Fanfic
by the Princess
**Warning--foul language, shounen-ai, characters frequently OOC...**
~Part 2~
Day Four
>Wufei<
7:33 p.m.
"Bukkorosu!" I shrieked as Duo cut another doughnut in the parking lot. We were just outside of The Bunghole, a bar he'd found by flipping open the Yellow Pages and randomly pointing, but if Duo didn't stop, the Jeep was going to flip and we were going to fry in this damn deathcan. The baka left two neat, steaming circles of bubbling rubber on the asphalt as the Jeep nearly tilted on its top. Quatre was shrieking and had a stranglehold on the nearest stationary object--Trowa's bangs. Trowa, who'd had the bad luck of getting the middle seat, was visibly in pain and his fingers were digging into the upholstry. His mouth was a hard line of pain an inch long. Hiro, riding shotgun, raised his hand to club the braided lunatic, but he'd forgotten to buckle up and found himself with his face splayed over the windshield. I had thrust my sword into the floor halfway to the hilt (not THAT one--oh, danijoobu desu), and I clung to it for leverage as I bitched.
"Urusai, you back-seat-driving puss!" Duo crowed in glee. "I'm havin me a real good time!"
"Slow down, you pecker-breathed weasel, or I'll frag your worthless ass!"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
My mouth snapped shut like a mousetrap as I hung on for dear life. The car screeched into another turn. Quatre screamed again--it was a queer scream, like a girl who'd just broken a nail--and got a two-handed deathgrip on Trowa's hair. The assaulted boy said nothing, but he bit his lip hard enough to bleed. Hiro had calmly peeled his face off the windshield, and again he moved to break Duo's neck, but his hand froze midair. A sudden green color bloomed in his cheeks, like sick roses; he quickly rolled down the window, stuck his head out, and exploded his guts all over the side of the car.
"Shitsukoi naa!" I screamed. "Bukkorosu!" I was revolted at my new lovely view of Hiro's dinner--ramen with shrimp and soy sauce--sprayed on my window.
"Yer startin to sound like Hiro!" Duo slurred, full of lunatic good cheer. "What you need is--"
Duo was suddenly pummeled on all sides as Hiro punched him in the jaw, I socked him on the back of his skull, and Trowa (wrenching free of Quatre) calmly reached foreward and gave him a vicious pinch on a neck nerve. Duo fell unconscious immediately, and the car happily tipped on its side. We all wound up in disarray. Hiro flew out of his seat and wound up sitting on Duo's face. Quatre thumped his head on the window and whined: "Itai, I got a boo-boo!" Trowa wordlessly clamped an iron fist over the smaller boy's whiny mouth. I, still clutching my sword for all I was worth, managed to stay in my seat.
"I am going to get so fucking plastered," I hissed.
"*You* are?" Trowa, whose hair had visibly thinned, muttered.
"I think Duo already has one or two under his belt," Quatre offered uselessly as Bang-boy released his mouth.
As if to drive the blondie's point home, Hiro's cobalt-blue eyes suddenly grew to roughly the size of two satellite dishes. He shrieked in a way I've never heard him shriek before--a queer, babyish noise, just like Quatre--and his body spasmed straight up, like a bottle-rocket. He shot through the window above his head and landed somewhere outside the car, in the crowd of people which had gathered to watch the wreck.
I heard Duo's giggling, like a child gone mad, and couldn't help but agree with Quatre's statement. Even the American wasn't *naturally* stupid enough to make the following claim:
"I leared two things about Hiro tonight. It takes precisely 15 3/4 rounds of doughnut-cutting to make him toss his cookies, but only one tongue caress in a sensitive area to make him jump like an electrocuted frog!!"
I felt the blood rushing to my nose unbidden. Trowa quickly reached over and pinched my nasal cavity shut before it ruptured. At the same time, I felt both a rush of gratitude, and a series of thoughts which flipped through my head like slideshow film and none of which I liked:
>Noin says we're gay.<
>Duo does a decidedly gay action while intoxicated.<
>He is therefore a fairy.<
>Noin was therefore right about Duo.<
>That means, therefore, that--good God, are the rest of us fairies, too??!!<
>Trowa<
"Oh dear," I muttered, and quickened my pace to catch up with the others. Duo's words had awakened the homophobic warrior in Wufei, the one who had sprayed my computer yesterday. This Wufei was chasing the other boy across the parking lot and waggling his damn sword. I wondered how effective I would be in saving Duo from certain death-by-dicing; Quatre had stayed back to help Hiro in the crowd, and I din't like the odds of facing a rabid, armed Chinaman alone...
"KUSO!!" Duo shriekd in pure panic as he crossed the parking lot in three nimble jumps. The Bunghole had a bouncer and a line of folks waiting to get in, but Duo apparently decided that the 7' Barret Wallace wannabe was less threatening than what lay at his back. He actually jumped up on one waiting dude's shoulders and hopped from skull to skull to bypass the line.
"GET *BACK* HERE, YOU KUN-MONGERING BUTTFUCKER!!" Wufei howled like a dog in pain, a furious flush in his cheeks; the depth of the threat was lost as his voice cracked on the words. I would have laughed if I hadn't been so winded; instead I sped up. He continued, nearly caught up with the line: "JUSTICE AGAINST--"
Two things happened simeltaneously: I clapped a firm hand on Wufei's queue and dragged him back, and Duo--falling off the shoulders of the first guy in line--ricocheted off the bouncer and laid spread-eagled and senseless on the cement. Before Wufei struggled too much, I hissed in his ear: "Do you really want to attract attention?"
Understanding what would happen if someone called the cops (or the hospital, or Channel 2), he let me take his sword and calmed down considerably. He even helped Duo to his feet and muttered something about a family dispute to the bouncer as I stowed his weapon in the Jeep. By that time, Hiro had awakened, and he and Quatre had the car on its wheels, the way God intended.
"Duo, omae o korosu," Hiro said, dead calm, as he started to march across the parking lot.
Quatre stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Let it go," he said. "He's already drunk; he didn't know what he was doing. He thought it was a joke--"
"I'll show that little chickenshit a joke--"
"Let's not draw more attention to ourselves," he pleaded, thinking the exact same thing I had. "Please? Before reporters find us out?"
That got him. Muttering something about drinking until he got alcohol poisoning, he pulled away from the Arab and marched up with us to the bouncer.
"'Ey," the bouncer said, looking at each of us in turn, "ain't you those Gundam pilots?"
"Hai," Duo said, giggling, then cried out when Hiro smacked him cross-eyed.
A grin broke out on the huge Barret Wallace-esque face. "I heard about you on th' news. Listen, don't let what those fuckin vultures say get you down. You all know who y'are, and that's all that matters, not what those goddam tabloid freakmongers spray on their pages."
>Duo<
It had to be the best fucking thing I'd heard in days. "Are you shitting me?" I drawled, gigging despite the hurt Hiro'd put on me. The four or five or maybe six Tequizas were having their way with my thinking process, burning it to bits like a Molotov coctail-drenched Panzer, and I desperately had to pee. If he didn't let us in in another 30 seconds, I would have to find a bush...or maybe just piss right where I was. Yeah, that was the ticket, just let fly right then--
"Duo?" The bouncer snapped his fingers (they were thick as pepperoni sticks, and fuck if he didn't suddenly get a craving for pepperoni and onion pizza) in front of my face. "You OK?"
"He's a touch drunk," Quatre said tastefully, like the pussy he was.
"'S'cool. I said I ain't shittin you. You fellas got a regular fan club here in the Bunghole. Tell you what. Y'all probably stressin over the yellow journalism, right? I'll spot you your first round and get you discounts on the rest. Feel free to get drunk of y'r ass."
"Arigatou for your permission," Hiro said, and the guy let us inside. I skipped ahead, chortling with glee, all rational thought pretty much blown away to the winds. I tripped and fell facefirst on an empty table, and I tried to get up, but I realized that this table was the most comfortable thing I had ever laid on in my life, and I quickly fell into drooling sleep.
>Quatre<
The staff was very generous. Duo was propped up in a corner, and a bowl was placed under his chin to catch the spit. A bassist--a thin, grunge-style man called Tim Blianchi--provided fine entertainment; our waiter provided fine drinks; and we all drank and listened. It was a fine time.
On my third "non-alcoholic margarita" (what the waiter insisted on calling a glass of water), the other three drunk pilots were beginning to scare me. Wufei kept trying to tell me about some woman named Margaret Cho, and Hiro and Trowa were both alternating between laughing obnoxiously and banging their heads on the table. I wandered away, to the stage, where Tim was wrapping up a song about being (sort of) a geek. When he finished, he saw me and seemed to recognize me. He hopped off the stage, bass in hand. "Hey, I don't believe I've seen your face before," he said, extending his hand. As we shook, I noted that some hefty roadies were working to remove Tim's stool, amp and other objects which indicated his existence.
"I haven't been here before," I said, smiling politely. He seemed like a nice enough guy. "My name is Quatre."
He snapped his fingers in recognition. "That's right! That's why I wanted to talk to you! You're one of those Gundam pilots, aren't you?"
"Hai."
"Your friends are looking a little tipsy."
"They've been slamming tequila for a while now."
"So, all that talk on TV...what do you make of that?"
"I know who I am," I said, taking strength in the bouncer's words.
"Soonano? You sound like the Queer Wonder. He's our bouncer. Look, I don't care what you do on a Saturday night, but I'm not on that menu, you get me? So nothing within a ten-foot radius of me, thanks very much."
I dropped my glass of water, which bounced--it was plastic--and sloshed water all over my shoes. I knew that I must have looked just as bad, if not worse, than wehn I read what people thought Trowa and I did..."on a Saturday night". "'Menu?'"
"Sure. This is a bar for people like you. That's why the bouncer was so friendly. He's taken a shine to you and Duo, in particular."
"'People like you?'"
"So-dane. You know, the old song: 'you wanna go where everybody knows you're gay.'"
"CHIGAUYO!! Oh, my God! We're in a gay bar?! Oh, my God! I'm gonna kill Duo! Oh, my God! The media will eat us alive!"
I sumbled back to the table, ignoring Tim Blianchi's questions about why the hell I was protesting. The others had to know, and quickly, before the lunacy spread!
>Hiro<
My.
Everything was going...swimmingly.
My body was feeling warm and loose, like I'd just gotten a good massage, and a pleasant hum had replaced all rational thoughts in my head. I laughed gaily, and realized I hadn't a care in the world; a very happy feeling indeed. Trowa and Wufei joined me in my laughter, going on in peals of giggles until I pissed my Spandex shorts and hit my head on the table. "Itai!" I growled, not putting any heart in the very bad swear, making the other two laugh at me even more. "Sh-shizukani sh-shiteyo!"
"You're so silly, Hiro!" Trowa giggled.
Wufei said gravely: "'All ovah tha world, people aare gay! Why don't you talk to Mommy about eet? Yo friend, Trowa, he call, do he got tha gay?? Then they is tha Ass-Mastah, he very dark aand masterious, yah, he named Heeero, aand he enslaving poor widdle Duo!'"
This was the funniest thing I had ever heard Wufei say, and we all laughed some more, until I pissed myself again and decided it was time to stop. I looked down at my crotch, which was burning hot but uncomfortably wet (how'd it get like *that*??), and duly noted that I had the single biggest erection I had ever experienced. The very thought of playing Ass-Master with Duo was making the little soldier in me rise to attention, as it had jumped up (sleeping at the post, are we?) when Duo's tongue had gone exploring, God forgive me because I knew if I kept thinking like this, my moral surety of my sexuality would explode, or maybe *I'd* explode right here, yeah, that sounded like happy fucking days, if only I could get Duo to oblige me with the use of his tongue for five minutes, his *lip service* if you will, and that thought made me laugh again, laugh at the fact that the magical worm-bottle had shown me the facts which I could not/would not face while sober, I was horny as hell and it was over a BOY and the thoughts I was having were so insanely NAUGHTY that I ought to be spanked, any good priest would have me exorcised, and all I wanted in that second was to feel Duo, to smell the sweetness which must cling inside his insanely gorgeous hair and feel myself inside of him and all around him,and then suddenly Quatre had shoved his way to the table and slammed a fist down on the table, breaking me out of my drunken revierie, shocking us all sober, and I had to apply a good amount of willpower to stop my wild hands, which were crepping slowly up my loosening thighs, wanting to kill the urges that the thought of that achingly beautiful boy had started in the only way possible.
Sober.
Wake up.
Kuso.
Iie.
I started to fuzz out again, my passion wilting, when Quatre's next five words hit me like hot coffee poured on the lap, jolting me awake for good.
The blondie said: "We're in a gay bar."
The moisture evaporated from my mouth instantaneously, like my mouth had suddenly turned into molten glass. I stared at the blondie, the alcohol frightened out of my system, and I pissed myself again in shock. I was suddenly very much aware of the acrid smell and hot feel of urine in my chair, and I flushed considerably. Hooked into that realization was the thought of my N.O.E.* over Duo, and how the *fuck* did I get so plastered that I had lost that much control over myself?? Everything I'd done five seconds ago felt like sins several lifetimes in the past.
"Crap," I muttered, then: "Nani?"
"We're in a what? A what? WHAT???" Trowa stammered, his visible eye wide with numb shock. His face had gone the color of curdled milk.
"E?" Wufei blinked twice, hard, like he'd just been shown how and was trying it out. "Chotto matte. A...a...a what? Did I hear that right? Are you real, Quatre? Or are you one of them pink elephant dipshizzles I've seen wandering around?"
"Allow me to straighten out this misconception," I stumbled into the conversation. I always started talking like a nerd when I was more drunk than I wanted to think I was. "In our valiant search for a suitable arena in which to celebrate the proverbial Miller Time, we have found ourselves perfectly snookered in an establishment where homosexual men gather in order to meet other fellow homosexual men and engage in one or more of the two hundred possible ways that one can perform sexual intercourse?"
"Hai, but who's counting?" Wufei put in, a blush rising furiously in his cheeks.
"Like I said," Quatre responded, "we're in a gay bar. Tim Blianchi told me. Guys, if we're caught in here by reporters--"
"We're good as skinned, salted, spitted and grilled," Qufei finished sourly, looking green.
"Beautiful analogy," Trowa growled.
"Nani sunno?"
I answered him. "We get the hell out of here before they find us, what else?"
Quatre nodded eagerly, then a worried look creased his brow. "But, where is Duo?"
At the mere mention of Duo's name, a burning blush settled in my cheeks. "I don't care."
"We can't just leave him here! What if--"
"Wait a second." The Chinese boy pointed a shaking hand at the stage, where a group of roadies were hanging something from the ceiling. "What is that?"
We all turned and looked, and I sucked in a breath, a sweat breaking out on my body.
My worst fears were realized as the opening strains of "Play That Funky Music, White Boy" started blaring over the speakers, and the disco ball the roadies had hung up started spinning and winking shards of light all over the room.
This was worse than a gay bar...
It was a gay disco bar.
>passive<
Ms. Kuruna Butsoyo, photographer for the International Enquirer, was buying a Slushy at the Quicky Mart when a shout across the street got her attention. Forgetting her thirst, she darted out of the store as she yanked her camera out of her pocket. She vaguely saw five weaving, drunken figures all hollering at each other outside of The Bunghole. Her curiosity piqued, she dodged traffic deftly and hid in the bushes next to the bar's parking lot, watching.
They were all thoroughly plotzed, except for the short blonde, who was doing his blessed best to calm his buddies down. Something about him struck her as weirdly familiar, as well as the one with the gorgeous braid, and the one with the huge uni-bang, and the one with the kawaii little queue, and then the last one in wet Spandex shorts...yes...very familiar.
"I want incriminating pictures, Kuruna. Get pictures of those Gundam boys having sex, or hugging, or shaking hands, or trying to kill each other, we'll make it a lover's quarrel I don't care what. Manufacture them if need be. But if I don't have the film on my desk by 5:45 AM tomorrow--"
>That's it!< she thought. >They're the ones who pilot the Gundams! Lover's quarrel, huh? I'll show you lover's quarrel!<
Fortunately for Ms. Butsoyo, there was enough light for her to forego the flash; otherwise they would have located her and killed her. She snapped a few pictures from where she was, then repositioned herself so that one could see the bar's logo over the boy's heads. She took the remainder of the roll, a total of 12 pictures, and good ones at that. Then, she returned to the Quicky Mart with her precious load and completed her purchase, satisfied with herself.
These photos would hit the covers of the yellow press by tomorrow, and copies could be sold to other news organizations to spread on the TV and Internet.
Anyone could get a piece of the action.
Tomorrow was due to be a busy day.
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Disclaimer
The Gundam boys and anything pertaining to Gundam Wing belong to the creators of the show, not to me, no matter how hard I wish. They are being used without permission for fun, not profit. If you don't know this, then you are a sad sack of shit. Go crawl under a rock and wither up and die. Also, "In & Out" belongs to its writer, and not me; any semblances between the plot of this fanfic and that movie were done very much intentionally. Don't worry, similarities are rarer than you'd think.
In contrast, The Bunghole, Tim Blianchi, the Queer Wonder, and Kuruna Butsoyo are mine, and may not be used without my permission (God only knows why anyone would want to use them, but...). QW and Kuruna are 100% mine, but there is a bar in Portland, ME called The Bunghole; there is no Tim Blianchi, but a bassist named Tom Bianchi does exist, and he does indeed have a song about being (sort of) a geek. I love you, Tom! :P
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Preview of Part 3:
Duo: "I did WHAT? I licked him WHERE?"
Hiro: "And if you ever do it again, you queerbait pusbag, you're gonna lose your ability to spread your seed."
Trowa: "Quatre? You know how we're all so sure that we're straight and everything?...Well, what if I suddenly wasn't so sure about that?"
Quatre: "NANI?"
Trowa: "I think...I think...Kirei dane...um...Quatre, aishiteruyo. There, I said it. Happy?"
Kuruna: "Look, I get paid to do this! You can't fault me for that!"
Wufei: "Watch me, busu! I'm gonna do more than 'fault' you, I'm gonna cut you up into little bitty pieces and turn your remains over to the local Spam factory! They're desperate for fresh meat, I hear!"
Zechs: "Stop, you baka, or the cops'll--"
Cop: "Wufei Chang and Zechs Marquise, you are both under arrest for attempted murder."
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Now, cuz you're special--Japanese!!!
Bukkorosu--I'm gonna kill you
Urusai--leave me alone
Shitsukoi naa--Stop it, that's annoying
kun--boy
Soonano?--Really?
So-dane--Sure, that's right
Chigauyo--That's not true
Shizukani shiteyo--Shut up
iie--no
nani--what
Chotto matte--Wait a second
Nani sunno--What are we gonna do?
Kuruna--Don't come near me
Butsoyo--I'm gonna hit you
*N.O.E.--near-orgasmic experience
On to Part 3
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