Pairings: 13 + 5
Summary: Wufei breaks into an Oz base. Trieze has sad pickup lines. Humor.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, they are not mine.
“Why do I—“
Duo cut Wufei off in mid-rant with practiced ease. “We’ve been over it many times. It’s a disguise.”
“But why do I have to wear a *dress*?” Wufei stared down at his ‘disguise’ in outrage. The other pilots stared at it appreciatively.
It was a really nice cheongsam. The deep maroon silk shimmered and rippled interestingly whenever he moved, and the rich color complemented his dark coloring well.
“Nobody will be expecting a female,” Duo coaxed. “It’s the best disguise!”
“But why do *I* have to wear the dress?” Wufei asked plaintively.
“Because you’re our best close combat fighter,” Trowa stated bluntly.
Wufei eyed the other pilots with deep suspicion. Something was wrong somewhere, he knew. He just didn’t know what or where. His eyes dropped to his outfit again. “And why does it have to be so …tight? And the slit!”
The Chinese pilot twisted around as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, trying to see if the slit was too revealing. The cheongsam was sleeveless and hugged his torso tightly — up and down and over the fake padded bra — until his hips, where the slit was. The slit ran up the right side of the slinky dress, all the way to his hip, where a frog button knot capped the apex. He was completely unaware that such a posture made his chest and butt stick out appealingly, emphasizing and exaggerating the dip of his lower back and camber of his hips as he twisted and wriggled. The other pilots were *very* aware.
“You do want to be able to execute your high kicks, don’t you?” Heero asked with a deadpan expression, the first to recover. “Maybe we should have gotten a cheongsam with two slits for easier movement?”
“Uh, no…” Wufei shook his head hurriedly.
“So can you move easily in it?” Quatre asked, thinking that came out more suggestive than what he meant.
Wufei took a step back and after a deep breath, snapped his right leg straight up in a high kick. The others inhaled simultaneously as well when they caught a flash of a silky black fabric when the skirt flipped up.
“Movement’s ok.” Wufei put his leg back down, utterly clueless. “Are you sure I can’t wear my pants under this? I mean, it’s perfectly all right for women to wear pants under a cheongsam…”
“No!” Everyone insisted. Their eyes ran down the long, long slit. Wufei has fantastic creamy skin, bare and smooth. Like most Asians, he had almost non-existent body hair.
“Let’s go. We don’t have much time left. The next guard shift is in an hour,” Duo said hurriedly, before Wufei changed his mind.
Treize waited impatiently, suspiciously. A piece of plain white paper sat on the desk in front of him, a simple typed message on the surface. It stated that there will be an attack, and even stated the date and time of the attack. But not just any attack. It will be an infiltration mission by one of the Gundam pilots, and only *that* pilot.
Treize frowned. Normally, he would have placed all his guards on high alert, certain that it was a trap. But it was *him*… Treize wasn’t sure how anyone knew of his fascination with that pilot, but….
Oh! It’s time!
Trieze leaned forward, almost bumping his nose on the monitor, eyes widening in shocked delight. A lithe figure sauntered up to the gate, the delicious sway of hips entrancing not only the guard at the gate but also the stunned general at the security monitor.
Gods! That dress!
Trieze’s breathing quickened. Some infiltration mission — he would *know* pilot 05 anywhere. He may be dressed as a woman, but he still strode like a man. Rather than looking crude and out of place, it gave a certain *sexy* attitude; one that was emphasized by the calf-high soft boots — Trieze tried to imagine high-heeled boots, the kind with lot of buckles, and groaned — and the generous flash of skin as the slit in the Chinese dress gaped. The silky black hair was now caught up in a high ponytail, a little tendril escaping to curl down one cheek.
‘She’ spoke with the guard, producing a pass, and had apparently been expecting entry. The guard wasn’t convinced and a brief argument ensued. Trieze wished there was audio. The gate guard sounded the alarm and another two guards ran up, but ‘she’ dispatched them easily.
When the figure gave a high kick, Trieze gave a low moan. He was so, so glad his security cameras were of the highest quality, and very importantly, they had a recording function. And zoom. And multiple cameras.
Trieze wiped the drool from his chin.
That slit! That sinful, heavenly, simple parting of material. Trieze’s pupils were dilated with lust. It flashed and enticed teasingly, revealing and yet concealing. He wondered what that boy was wearing under the dress — surely it was too tight for boxers, and briefs would spoil the line of the dress…
Trieze stared *very* hard at the rear view of the pilot 05 as he slipped into the base. Even through the monitors, annoyance fairly *radiated* from the darkly scowling boy as he stalked through the corridors, the cameras following his path. One hand occasionally patted his hip as if he expected to find his sword. Trieze thought it adorable. His dragon had *no* espionage skills at *all*.
Trieze had no idea what the boy pilot was looking for. He seemed to be taking the scenic route all around the Oz base, well, scenic for the appreciative general at least. Every time the Chinese boy came to a large important-looking door, he would stop. Trieze also just realized how deplorable the security locks on his base were. But the boy obviously didn't find what he was looking for because he would emerge from the room after a while, swearing sulfurously.
Obviously, he had not been briefed thoroughly as well. Trieze snickered.
A few times, the Chinese pilot was almost caught, but he was too quick and nimble. Once, he had a really close shave, but at the last second, he leapt up to the ceiling just before the guard rounded the corner. Nimbly, the boy clung to the corner of the ceiling literally by his fingertips as the guard passed below him, tawny limbs splayed akimbo to brace himself, muscles taut and quivering.
Trieze swallowed, eyes bulging.
There was another of his tiny security cameras in the opposing corner. His dragon was really very, very clueless.
Trieze really didn't know why the delicious boy was carrying out his mission in that kind of dress, but he certainly wasn't complaining. He sighed dreamily.
Then, he realized that the corridor the boy was currently sneaking along was just outside his personal quarters. Grinning like a shark, he hurried to his attached bathroom. A quick check of perfect teeth and hair, a spritz of cologne, and he was ready for his dragon.
Wufei cursed softly as he turned around yet another corner. The base was *huge*! He was absolutely sure that the other pilots — or the doctors — had supplied faulty information. He knew he was in the correct wing but he simply couldn’t find the room Duo described. Too embarrassed to call Duo to check, he simply broke into every room that has a fancy door. He *had* thought that there couldn’t be too many higher officials.
He stopped in front of this latest door. It was the fanciest one he has seen yet, literally. The stout rosewood door looked old-fashioned and out of place amidst the concrete and metal of the base. The polished brass handle gleamed warmly in the light, and beautifully carved roses bordered the door. Wufei grinned. Maybe this was the room Duo mentioned. It certainly was unusual. He looked around but there didn’t appear to be any electronic pad. How was the door locked? Surely…
He twisted the handle and gaped when the door simply opened. Tsking in disapproval at the lax security, Wufei crept into the room.
Wall scones cast honeyed light around the room, which was done up in shades of ivory and red and gold. The thick-pile carpet, heavy window drapes and tapestries muffled any sound and made the room seem very quiet and removed from the bustle of the base. A heavy desk stood in the middle of the room, and bookcases lined the walls. This must be a study; there were a couple of doors that probably led to the bedroom. Soft classical music played in the background and for a horrible moment, Wufei wondered if the occupant of the room was in.
Then he rationalized that even if she was — this sort of girly room *had* to belong to some lady, probably some general’s wife — he shouldn’t have any problems handling her. That’s probably another reason for his current disguise as well.
Someone gave a polite cough behind him. Someone very male.
Wufei gave a mortifying squeak of surprise. Whirling around, his eyes widened at the tall figure standing behind the door. Trapped! Then the figure took a step forward and when the light fell clearly across his features, Wufei gaped in horror. Discovered!
Trieze Khushrenada! Damn and damn! Of all the bedrooms to stumble into…
Mind racing, Wufei tried to salvage the situation. The general had only seen him but once. Maybe he could bluff his way out. He ducked his head, letting some strands of hair fall to further hide his face, and tried to look lost.
“Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I must have entered the wrong room by mistake, it wasn’t locked you see.” Wufei tried to keep his voice high but it only came out breathy and husky, and damn, he was aware he was *babbling* nervously.
Trieze was momentarily stumped, and then a knowing smirk tugged at his lips. Oh, so his dragon wants to role-play! How deliciously wicked!
Briefly, he considered. His dragon was obviously going for a demure, blushing virgin role; should he be a gentleman or a rake? He eyed the Chinese-styled dress that covered from neck to ankles and yet was slit all the way up to the hip.
He gave his most rakish smile, purring. “Oh, that’s quite all right.”
The boy sidled towards the door. “I really must be going…”
“Oh no, please stay a while.” Trieze shut the door firmly. “I mean, it’s surely a sign that you entered my room by mistake. We were meant to meet!”
The boy’s head shot up, eyes wide with alarm. “Uh…”
“What’s your name, my dragon…nette,” Trieze caught himself at the last moment, remembering that the role-play.
“Wufei...” Wufei slapped a hand over his mouth. Shit! The automatic, honest response slipped out before he could think. He had been so unnerved by the general’s behavior that he was actually stunned. *Why* was that madman calling him his dragonette??
“Wufei,” Trieze purred scarily, rolling his name around in his mouth and caressing the last syllable and Wufei gave an involuntary shudder. That crazy general was molesting his name!
“You have a lovely name.” The tall man gave a courtly bow. “My name is Trieze Khushrenada.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Wufei’s eyes darted from side to side as he searched for an escape route. He inched backwards.
“The pleasure is all mine.” Trieze inched forwards. “So Wufei, tell me more about yourself. What is a beautiful lady like you doing in a base like this?”
Mad. Definitely bonkers. Wufei thought fast as he inched backwards faster. “Oh, well, I’m the new Chinese ambassador.” That should afford him some ambassadorial rights, whatever they are.
“And you’re here to improve relations with my country?” A suggestive wriggle of those forked eyebrows.
“Yes…” Wufei then realized he fell *right* into that one.
“I would *love* to improve relations with you.” Trieze was advancing on him with a decidedly predatory gleam in his eyes.
Wufei panicked. And *tripped* backwards, right onto the sofa that appeared behind him. Damn sofa!
Trieze prided himself on his iron self-control, he really did. But when Wufei fell back seductively over his sofa, landing on his butt with a cute ‘oof’ and tangled skirt; *that* was beyond the limit of any mortal man.
“Wait! Stop!” Wufei gave a little squeal of alarm, squirming most enticingly. Trieze kissed that pretty mouth. No makeup, and that was even better because while he hated the gunk women put on their faces. Wufei was more than pretty enough, anyway.
And he tasted so good; he tasted of boy and fresh innocence, of sunshine and of the mint chocolate ice-cream he clearly had before he came for the mission.
The door banged open. Startled, Trieze fell off the sofa.
pilots crowded around the hand-held screen, which showed the general’s bedroom.
“Wow. Um. Like, should we go in and save Wufei or something?” Quatre asked, blue eyes wide. They watched as Trieze not-so-subtly chased Wufei around the room and cringed at his very lame pick-up lines.
“Nah.” Duo’s features danced with mirth. “Told ya T-chan has a *major* crush on ‘Fei.”
They shared a collective shudder.
When Wufei fell onto the sofa, Heero spoke up. “We better go save him.”
“Aw…” Duo was clearly having too much fun.
“Yeah. Come on, mission’s over.” Trowa said firmly.
Trieze sniffed sadly. The other pilots *had* to ruin his time with his dragon. He poured himself a glass of burgundy and walked back to his desk. When he noticed the folded piece of paper, his heart rate quickened. It couldn’t be…
He sat down and unfolded the paper with trembling, eager hands. An ecstatic smile broke over his face. Oh, his dragon would be back in three weeks! He sighed blissfully. And he now knew his beloved dragon’s name.
After a while, he carefully kept the paper in his drawer and switched on his monitor. Until then, he’ll always have his videotapes.