Author: Kiarene
Fandom: GW
Pairings: 1 x 5 (mentioned)
Disclaimer: Sadly, the boys don't belong to me. But I'm sure they'll
have more fun if they did.
First Published:
Archive? Please ask first
Summary: A bit of silliness. A
random conversation. One-shot.
The Burning Question
"Haven't
you ever wondered...?"
Quatre
looked up from the —very dull— report he was reading. "Wondered
what?"
Duo
swiveled around on his chair, flipping a pen idly between his fingers as he
spoke thoughtfully. "Now that the shock has worn off... who would've
thought that *those* two..."
The other
two preventers nodded rapidly. The night before, after dinner, Heero and Wufei announced,
oh so casually, that they were together. Even now, the other three pilots were
still looking a little wild around the eyes.
"I
would have thought that Wufei would marry a girl," Quatre murmured in
confusion, putting down his papers. "He *is* the last of his clan, and he
has always struck me as very traditional and filial."
"I’d
always thought Heero was asexual," Trowa said with a perfectly straight
face. The clacking of keys from his keyboard stopped.
The others
dissolved in laughter that was almost hysterical. Duo leaned forward, wiping
his eyes. "But what just hit me..."
Trowa
raised his visible brow. Quatre waved his hand impatiently. "Yes?"
"Who
is the..." Duo paused dramatically, pointing his pen upwards.
"...uke?"
Trowa
blinked slowly. Quatre blushed. Duo screwed up his face in concentration,
looking somewhat constipated actually. "I mean, can you imagine those two
in bed?"
Silence.
The air-conditioner hummed on.
"First,
Heero would have to *take off* his twelve guns," Trowa said slowly.
"He's
too paranoid. Maybe they do it with the guns on," Duo quipped. The three
of them turn red again at *that* image.
"Then
Wufei would have to lay aside his beloved katana," Quatre added. The three
considered the symbolism for another moment.
"Now
that you've planted those images in my head — naked sans guns holsters and katana
hilt, and *what* images — I'll have to admit that those two can actually be
quite sexy. All that delicious rippling muscles and cold stares, and so very
military." Duo fanned himself theatrically. "Dammit."
"*You*
brought it up!" Quatre rebuked Duo, and then all three blushed again at
his unfortunate choice of words.
"And
it brings us back to Duo's question..." Trowa said softly, his visible eye
gleaming. He may be quiet and soft-spoken, but the tall ex-pilot can be as big
a pervert as Duo.
"I think
it's Wufei," Duo declared. "Long hair, heart-shaped face — definitely
uke."
Trowa
*eyed* Duo. Quatre giggled.
"What
are you insinuating?" Duo spluttered. He thumped his chest. "I'm 100%
hetero, 100% macho. I don’t bend for anybody!"
"And
I'm a bi," Trowa said laconically. The other two paused, mystified, and looked
at him. Till now, Trowa's orientation was still a mystery. Duo opened his
mouth, then closed it again, brows knitting in confusion. So was Trowa being
sarcastic, or...? Damnit, why can't he use normal euphemisms like "And I'm
the Queen of England"?
"You
can't base your conclusion on looks," Quatre protested.
"Of
course I can. Don't you know? The seme is always the taller or bigger-sized
one," Duo lectured.
Trowa
*smirked*, a queer twist of his lips. "But Wufei's taller and more solidly
built than Heero."
Quatre gave
a tiny shudder and shook his head. Sometimes, it's the quiet ones that are the
most frightening. "No, no. The seme is the one that has the dominant
personality; the one that takes charge. Heero has been trained to follow orders
like a perfect soldier—"
"—or
perfect pet," Trowa added sotto voce,
still smirking scarily.
"—and
we all know, uhm, strongly-opinionated Wufei is," Quatre continued, not
appearing to have heard Trowa. Duo looked at the Pilot 03, and scooted away.
"But
Heero's so... unemotional," Duo disagreed. "I can't see him as
uke."
"So
you think how one’s emotional temperament is a factor?" Trowa asked in his
usual dead tone.
The muscle
near Duo’s left eye began to throb in an irritated manner. "Which one do
*you* think is the uke, Trowa? You've been sitting on the fence and making all
sorts of unhelpful remarks so far!"
Trowa
shrugged, turning back to his computer. He pecked a few keys. "I don't
know."
"Come
*on*," Quatre wheedled. "You must have a guess."
"I
don't like to make uncalculated guesses. Sorry." Trowa stood up, inclined
his head politely, and left.
A few
minutes after the tall pilot left, Quatre abruptly looked up from his reading
with a gasp. "Oh!"
"What?"
Quatre
shook his head, scrambling up from his seat. "He's so sly. *He* doesn't
like to make uncalculated guesses..."
"But?"
Quatre
paused at the door. "What about calculated ones?"
~*~ Finito! ~*~