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:
16th October 2004
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! ~*~

 

 

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