A Gundam Wing Fanfiction

By Cabbitshivers






Something was wrong with Wufei.


Duo Maxwell couldn’t put his finger on what particularly it was that the Chinese pilot had done than had ticked him off to the fact that there was something slightly…not-quite-right about him, but there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that there was something plaguing the slight Gundam pilot.  That it had nothing to do with the most recent events, the braided teen didn’t know, but he had an inkling that the self-destruction of the L5 colony and Chang’s justice-slash-revenge mêlée that had followed only had a small part to play in what was now occupying and wrecking havoc on the stoic Asian pilots’ psyche.


Trying to keep his covert glances from being noticed by the recipient of said gaze, he shifted his position in the armchair and again turned the page of the hard backed novel he was bogusly reading.  It was a failing attempt to maintain the façade that he wasn’t interested in anything other than the printed words on the yellowed paper that were truthfully barely even registering in his mind.  Failing because it was impossible for him to sit still for any prolonged amount of time outside of a mission, and also because every one of his fellow pilots knew for a fact that unless there were no other members of the human race within the immediate vicinity, Duo Maxwell would not spend all afternoon in a neglected safe house’s stuffy library reading some trashy twentieth-century novel that could only be flatteringly classified as ‘sex with scenery’.  Even if it was raining.  The Chinese pilot should start to become suspicious if Duo didn’t do something characteristic of the ‘braided baka’ routine within the next five minutes.  It was already worrying enough to Duo that the sloe-eyed boy curled in a corner of the couch beneath the window hadn’t noticed any of the concerned glances he’d been directing his way already.  Usually Chang was the most observant of all of them, almost to the point of being considered paranoid; this nonchalant haze of unawareness that the boy had cocooned himself within was frightening in the way it was so… atypical.


Of course, he could just be ignoring him, or really caught up in his book; but Wufei never passed up an opportunity to glare at him and at least do something to make him feel inferior – no matter what subject he was reading about.  The guy sitting just across from him was not acting like the Chang that he’d come to know over the past two months.


Duo knew Wufei liked to read.  He’d peeked in on his fellow pilot’s room after they’d first shifted into the communal safe house and had almost been literally floored by the amount of books that the Chinese pilot had carried with him.  He’d come across him reading many times between missions since, usually ensconced in his room with the door partially open or in a quiet corner of a seldom-occupied room where he was guaranteed to be undisturbed, but Duo had never, ever in his whole history of housing with him, entered into the same room as the Chinese boy without being on the receiving end of at least a very annoyed glare.  Usually aforementioned glare was accompanied by a dismissive snort or an infuriatingly indifferent annunciation of the word ‘Maxwell’, that more often than not gave the braided pilot from L2 the insane urge to crawl under the nearest rock and die, just so long as he was no longer anywhere near the vicinity of that gaze and scorning voice.  Chang Wufei of the Dragon Clan never lost himself in a book to the point of becoming vulnerable amongst his surroundings.  The word ‘vulnerable’ just wasn’t in his vocabulary.


He hadn’t been prying or anything, when he’d stumbled across the mini library in the Altron pilot’s bedroom.  Okay, so maybe he had been - but it wasn’t intended to be an invasion of anyone’s privacy.  He’d just wanted to catch a glimpse of part of the life that was hidden behind the array of differentiating bangs, glares, and wistful smiles of his housemates.  Chang Wufei just happened to be the first name on his list.  And unfortunately, the first one home to catch him in mid-conspicuous snoop. 


Now, Duo Maxwell prided himself on being the best of the best when it came to snooping, and he never intruded for just any reason; a room could tell a lot about a person, and he was determined to not be caught blind-sided by his team/house-mates in whatever conversations might arise between the five of them.  What he had not been planning for, however, and had failed to include in his initial inspection of the L5 pilot much to his eternal disgust (but what could possibly be blamed on lack of experience with such people) was that Chang Wufei was a martial artist.  Martial artists walk very lightly.  Martial artists make no noise at all when they move.  In fact, martial artists are even sneakier in stealth mode than the best of the best of the thieves from the L2 colony.  Meaning Duo Maxwell, self-proclaimed (but well-deserving of the title) Shinigami, had been caught unawares on his hands and knees, butt up in the air, translating the Mandarin on the book spines when a slightly furious Gundam pilot had glided – yes, glided.  He made absolutely no damn noise at all – into his bedroom.  To say that he’d received a glare would be an understatement.  To say that he’d wanted to wither and die on that damn immediate spot was a little closer to the truth, but still nowhere near the way he’d felt when the stoic Asian boy stared expressionlessly at him for what felt like five minutes, his sloe eyes burning with emotions just too hard to separate into anything recognizable.  Duo Maxwell felt like he’d just crucified God’s son and was awaiting the angry omnipotents sentence. 


And then the Chinese boy had opened his mouth and very politely, in a slightly uneven voice that sounded remarkably how Duo thought God’s voice should sound, asked him to leave.  Well, actually; “Get out, Maxwell.” Was what he’d really said, but it was polite as far as Duo was concerned and details were rather unimportant when it came down to the emotions involved.  And Chang Wufei refused to show any of them.


Glancing once again at the obstinately oblivious pilot over the lip of his book, he noisily made a show of turning another page.  Wufei didn’t even blink, causing Duo to scowl behind his cover of ‘Valley of the Horses’ in annoyance.  His patience was starting to wear thin.  He’d been hanging around in the unventilated library on an under stuffed chair - which was doing only God knows how much damage to his tender behind - all afternoon and he hadn’t even received a single ‘Maxwell’, yet.  It would almost be depressing if it weren’t so worrying.  Something was most definitely not right.


“Damnitt, Chang!” He burst out after another five minutes of being silently ignored. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”


His heart almost skipped a beat when he witnessed Wufei start with surprise, almost dropping his book onto his lap.  He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, preparing to gnaw on it for when the incensed rant came, but let it drop in shock from between his poised teeth when the other pilot just turned a narrowed glare towards him and sniffed. 


Duo Maxwell’s eyes widened to magnanimous proportions.  Wufei Chang just sniffed at him.  Sniffed.  That was something he kind of expected from someone like ‘Miss Relena Peacecraft’, but Wufei? Nah-uh.  What the hell was going on? His dazed indigo eyes narrowed suspiciously as they meticulously followed each of the Asian pilot’s movements while he straightened himself and returned back to reading his book.  There was nothing within his gestures to betray that there was something wrong with him - they were still as smooth and consciously graceful as ever.  However, the fact that Mr. Chang had just missed a perfect opportunity to rant stridently at Mr. Maxwell was very concerning.


Slamming his book shut and throwing it to the side, Duo’s aim was that he would rise gracefully from the armchair to his feet and stalk over to the other boy to do the same to the book he was reading, but that plan was laid to waste when removing himself from the padded jaws of the armchair proved to be more difficult than he’d first assumed.  Limbs and braid flailing wildly, he managed to detach himself from the wooden and upholstered monstrosity somehow labelled under the subject ‘furniture’ with only a small amount of swearing and twisting of various body parts.  Standing free of the emaciated evil sitting apparatus, he spared a moment to glare at it before spinning to face the Chinese pilot……….’s empty seat. 




Blinking in bewilderment, he raised an arm to scratch at his head and wondered when during his struggle to free himself from evil furniture that the pilot of Altron had made his exit from the stuffy library.  Boy that guy was silent.  Almost too silent.  It seemed to him as though he was purposely trying to avoid drawing attention to himself.  But he was in a sanctuary – a Safe House – there was no need for him to be so covert about his movements.  Sure, this was only their third shared safe house with all five pilots together (before Peacemillion they’d never even been in the same room as one another save for the occasional cell or two) but they’d gotten to know each other well enough during the battles and such blatant avoidance was a bit too out-of-character coming from Wufei, who up until now had seemed fine with the idea of staying with the other pilots, although a little insistent on having his own room.  What was he hiding, Duo wondered.  And why? Did it have something to do with the destruction of L5? He’d lost his whole colony, and if anything gave someone the right to act weird that was it, but maybe there was something more to it all… He’d seemed rather sane when on Peacemillion, as far as Duo could tell, which, he had to admit, wasn’t very far at all seeming his experiences in dealing with the Chinese pilot were fairly limited.  He hadn’t been acting at all beyond what was understood to be standard behaviour for pilot 05, however, so what was bothering the guy had to be fairly recent… either that or he’d bottled all the previous months’ events inside and was only just now letting them register…


Sparing a glance out the window to the grey sky and sheeting rain that obscured the dowdy scenery beyond the glass pane, he silently hoped that the stoic pilot hadn’t dared to venture out into such weather unprepared.  Though, judging by his recent unWufei-like behaviour, he wouldn’t put it past him.  He frowned slightly, the smooth inch of flesh between his brows furrowing with worry.  Why did Asian pilots have to be so damn vexing?


“I swear. These guys are gonna make me look old before I’m twenty.” He muttered, watching the small river of water that spewed from a hole in the spouting splash against the window.  “If the war doesn’t kill me first, that is.”


First of all there was Heero ‘Omae o korosu’ Yuy, who set his own bones, spoke entirely in monotone and pointedly ignored him whenever the opportunity arose – which it often did, much to Duo’s chagrin.  Even if the whole ‘Perfect Soldier’ routine wasn’t as wearing down on the nerves as it was, it would still be near impossible for Duo to spend long periods of time around the Japanese pilot due to the wholly irritating way in which he saw everything he did as a mission – even if by chance the Japanese pilot from L1 ever happened to let him near him.  And then now there was Chang ‘Justice Freak’ Wufei, who was acting very strangely, sniffing at rather odd moments and actively avoiding confrontation by pulling a rather well executed Deathscythe-Hell vanishing act.  Shrugging nonchalantly, he figured that it would be better for his sanity, and Chang’s future well being, if he hunted down the escaping pilot and flushed him out of his hiding place to demand an explanation out of him.  After all, if he couldn’t get anything out of the tight-mouthed pilot from L5, no one could.


With the new, self-appointed mission in mind, he flicked his braid back over his shoulder and strode purposefully from the room.  Heading left down the hall towards the stairs that lead up to the second story, he contemplated the possibilities and search parameters.  There were really only two places the Chinese boy could’ve gone to in the hopes of achieving the peace and solitude he so seemed to crave.  His bedroom, and his Gundam.  Though, concerning the distance between the back door of the safe house and the entry hatch in the green Gundam hidden away beneath camouflage nets in the meadow a kilometre away, it seemed far more likely to be the former location out of the two. 


Wasting no time with hesitating about if he should really bother Wufei or not, he took the stairs two at a time, his medium lanky frame swaying side to side with the wide strides he ascended them with, his braid swishing like a pendulum behind him.  He bounced over the last step up onto the second floor landing, continuing with his long, purposeful strides up the hall that bisected the second story.  Two doors lay to each side of the hall – three of them bedrooms, one a bathroom.  He came to a stop at the final door on the left, almost directly opposite the bathroom with its invitingly open door.  Wufei’s door was shut.  Probably locked, too, if Duo could say he knew anything about the Chinese boy at all. 


Squaring his shoulders determinedly, suddenly feeling as though he were approaching a very dangerous OZ official in an Alliance uniform, he took a deep breath, and knocked.


There was no answer.  That didn’t deter Duo in the slightest, however.  He knew the stubborn boy was in there, so he knocked even louder the second time, and for longer too. “Wufei? C’mon, man, open the door.”


He pressed his ear to the door and, sure enough, heard the slight shuffling of someone moving about in the room.  The sounds didn’t appear to be growing louder, however, which only meant that the other boy was going to ignore him. “Open the door, ‘Fei, please? I just wanna talk to you…”


Nope, still weren’t getting closer.  All right… “Let’s see if you can ignore this, Mr. Impervious.” Duo muttered, taking in a deep breath and squaring his shoulders.  Lifting his hand, he rammed the flesh of his curled fist into the wood of the door solidly, and loudly repeated his call. “Open the door, Wufei.  Come on, man, I just wanna talk to you.  Yanno, exchange pleasantries, and stuff.  I know you’re in there so don’t think that I’m just gonna give up and go away, ‘Fei, ‘cause it ain’t happening.”


There was a soft padding sound on the other side of the wood, then another, and as Duo recognized them as footsteps he pulled his head away from the door and waited patiently for it to open.  A moment later he heard the click of the lock disengaging and then the handle was turned and the door swung open.  Duo was met with a dark glare that lasted a few seconds before the other boy turned around and walked back into the murky dimness of his room, giving Duo leave to enter and shut the door.


“So, ‘Fei,” He started, closing the door behind him and turning to face the oriental boy who was sitting on the edge of the rooms lone bed. “What’s up?”


He received another glare for his troubles.


“No, really.” Duo avowed, his voice suddenly becoming serious as he took another step into the room. “What the hell’s wrong with you? You’re not acting like yourself, man, even I can see it. So I wanna know what’s up.”


Wufei opened his mouth to speak, stopped, clenched his teeth and deepened his glare.


Duo pounced on the opportunity. “See! That right there is a good example. You didn’t say anything. Usually you snap at me, or say something extremely scathing or sarcastic.  In remaining quiet you’re practically shouting that there’s something wrong.” In seeing the darkening countenance he softened his voice and moved closer to the boy sitting on the bed. “What’s going on, Wufei? You can tell me.”


The dark haired boy just clenched his jaw even tighter, grinding his teeth as his brows drew down into a sharp point above his nose.  He snapped his head from side to side only once, and stubbornly remained silent.


“I see.” Duo muttered, looking away, slightly wounded by Wufei’s continuous silence. “You don’t trust me.”


There was an unexpected startled grunt from beside him, and he turned his head around to find Wufei staring at him with wide, shocked eyes, as if he was amazed to have made the sound at all.  Quickly, the previously silent boy blinked and the stunned look from his eyes vanished, the serious stare returning to their ebony depths as he shook his head again.


Duo blinked. “So you do trust me?”


Wufei watched him for a moment, with his dark eyes unwavering, hesitating, almost, before finally, he nodded.


Duo felt a warm flush of pleasure at the response that he couldn’t deny, and it bloomed into a smile on his face. “I trust you too, ‘Fei.  With my life.”


The sudden expression that surfaced upon Wufei’s face was as ambiguous as it was fleeting.  A startling wave of emotion that washed over his features like a tsunami before withdrawing back into the schooled mask of indifference almost quicker than the eye could catch its passing.  Duo watched then, as the unnamed emotion was replaced by the much darker-looking expression of annoyance that followed each time he purposely mispronounced Wufei’s name.


“Yeah, yeah.  WU-fei.” He muttered, grinning and waving his hand to pass it off.  He was even more amazed when a sudden hint of a blush made itself known under the dark tan of Wufei’s cheeks.  He’d never seen the Wu-man blush before, and it was certainly entertaining to watch him fidget insentience on the edge of his bed.  Yep, he was right.  Something was wrong with Wufei.


Taking his eyes off the boy next to him, feeling him stop the uneasy shifting after his gaze had left his face, he dragged his now once again suspicious stare around the gloomy, but not stuffy, room.  His eyes fixed curiously on the drawn curtains, blocking out what light managed to get through the rain-laden clouds outside.  Why had Wufei drawn the curtains? Was he planning to go to sleep? He shot another glance at the bed he was sitting on.  It was neatly made, didn’t exactly have the look of ‘about to be slept in’ as most beds got when their owners turned down the covers or rearranged the pillows as they got ready for sleep.  Wufei himself didn’t look any different than he did that morning, still wearing his usual pants and long-sleeved over shirt.  Something else to puzzle over.  Maybe Wufei just liked to sit in the dark.


“So,” Duo started, setting his eyes once again on the silent boy beside him. “If you trust me… mind telling me what’s going on?”


When Wufei shook his head again Duo almost felt like crying aloud in frustration.  “Why not?” At Wufei’s continued silence, he continued. “You trust me, but you won’t tell me? What the hell is up with that? I just wanna help, Wu, aren’t I good enough for that?”


He watched as annoyance made its trademark stand on the Oriental’s features, quickly being replaced by anger, then by something stronger as he continued his tirade.


“That’s like – I dunno – like a clutch on an automatic! Am I that insignificant? Fine! If you don’t wanna tell me what’s making you act so unlike yourself then I’ll just go.  It’s not like you to--”


“Oh for-- Maxwell!” The Chinese boy cut him off in a guttural, broken voice.


Duo stopped speaking almost abruptly.  He stared at the other boy with slightly startled eyes, meeting his intimidating glare as Wufei swallowed convulsively a few times, quietly clearing his throat and then bending forward at the waist to let out a long stream of harsh, grating coughs.


Worry and sympathy immediately took precedence over any indignation he was feeling.  Quickly reacting to the gasping sounds Wufei was making between his bouts of coughing, Duo shifted himself closer to the other boy and began to rub his back in what he hoped were soothing motions.


“You sick, ‘Fei?” He asked quietly.


Wufei just shot him another daunting glare as if to say; ‘No, I’m just doing this because it’s invigorating.  Care to join me?’


Duo found it hard to fight a smile, even as the shoulders beneath his hand continued to heave in paroxysmal motions as the coughing persisted, though starting to abate.  “Why didn’t you just say so?”


At the third glare promising him death at any more pointless questions, Duo did smile. “Right.  Stupid question.  You feeling better now?” He asked, still rubbing Wufei’s back as he tried to even out his unsteady breathing after the coughing fit had died down.  Wufei nodded, sighing as his breath returned to him.


“You want some water?”


Wufei shot him a grateful look and nodded again, tilting his head in the direction of his bedside table where a glass and jug of water already waited.  One look at the way Wufei’s hands were shaking in his lap, however, and Duo decided it was probably better if he held the glass while the other boy drank, though Wufei didn’t look too pleased at all when he refused to hand him the glass and placed it at his lips instead.


“I could always get you a straw.” Duo said, half joking, but Wufei took it to heart as a warning and drank the water offered with no complaint.  The whole glass was gone within a matter of seconds. “You want another one?” Duo asked, but put the glass back down when Wufei shook his head.


“So I take it your voice is going, or that it hurts to speak.  How long has this been going on?” He asked.


Wufei held up one finger.


“One day?” Duo asked, his brows drawing down.  One day was pretty soon for loosing his voice. Wufei nodded, but flattened out his hand and made a wavering motion. “Almost one day?” Wufei nodded again. “Did you wake up this way?” At Wufei’s third nod, Duo shot another glance at the windows with their drawn curtains. “Did you leave the window open last night?” He asked.  It was rather cold last night, and the rainstorm that was currently petering out outside had started up at about 3am.  If Wufei had left the window open all night he could have caught a cold.


Wufei frowned and shook his head.


“It must be a strain of the flue, then.” Duo surmised. “Did you wake up feeling really hot and with a headache?”


At Wufei’s nod he allowed a small smile. “Yeah.  I’m sorry to say but you’re gonna be feeling really rotten for a few days, if it’s the flue like I think it is.  I had it a couple of weeks ago and I still can’t stand the thought of macaroni and cheese.”


Wufei’s eyes widened slightly at the admission, the Chinese boy instantly recalling the mentioned incident at the dinner table when Duo had entered into the kitchen after returning from a mission, looking grey-skinned and red-eyed, just in time to see the macaroni and cheese meal being served up onto their plates.  The braided boy had taken one look at the pilot’s dinner, immediately clamped a hand to his mouth, and belted off to empty his stomach into the downstairs toilet.  Wufei at the time had thought he was not able to stomach the mission he had just returned from, he hadn’t even thought that he had been sick with anything…


Duo smiled and patted the Oriental boy on the shoulder, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Yep, for a while you’re gonna be looking like something that Wing dragged in on the sole of its foot.  Don’t worry too much, though.  I’ve still got some cough suppressant and non-drowsy painkillers left over.  Might need to get some more Ibuprofen, however, I’m pretty sure the bottle’s almost empty.  Have you taken any yet?”


Wufei shook his head, looking slightly lost.


“Aa.  I’ll bring the bottle in, then.  Hold tight and I’ll just go get it.” Duo smiled again, patting his shoulder once more and leaving the slightly startled-looking boy sitting on the end of his bed as he went to locate the medicine he had left-over from when he had had the flue.  It took a while for Duo to find where he’d left the bottles – his slightly messy room hindering his expedition – but after a few minutes he’d managed to find them hidden underneath a book bag full of manga, along with the measuring cup he’d somehow remembered to clean and the unopened pack of lemon and honey lozenges he’d forgotten were there. 


As Duo made his way back to Wufei’s darkened room, he mused over how it was somewhat relieving that all that was bothering the pilot of Altron was the flue.  After all, Duo knew how to deal with physical sickness; it was something he could handle.  Emotional sickness, however… if Wufei had been despairing over the demise of his colony, Duo would have been at a loss at what to do.  It would have been like the blind leading the blind.  How well could someone coax someone else out of mourning depression when they were still in mourning themselves? 


“Well, Fei,” He said as he entered into the gloomy room of the Chinese pilot. “It took a little perseverance and a search grid, but I managed to find all the things that are going to make this hell slightly more bearable for you.  Where do you want me to…” The braided pilot trailed off as his eyes finally settled upon the other boy lying curled up on his bed.  Feeling a small smile tweaking at the edges of his lips, he quietly approached the bedside, placing the medicines on the small table beside the water before moving closer to lean over the sleeping boy.  As Duo brushed back a strand of ebony hair that had escaped from the tight tail holding it back, he marvelled at how much younger the other boy looked in his sleep.  Though the slight furrowing of the ebony brows gave testimony to it not being one of the most peaceful of sleeps, all the stiff concentration and righteous anger that usually had presiding over the smooth, somewhat delicate features of the Oriental boy were absent, leaving his face meek and childish.  Duo felt a sudden, overpowering urge to protect the fragile, sleeping boy, and it took a great deal of control to remind himself that Wufei was in no way weak, nor was he fragile, and he most certainly would not appreciate being thought of as such.  What the Chinese pilot _was_ in need of, however, was having his shoes and hair tie removed and being tucked underneath the bed covers if the slight shivering he was doing was anything to go by.  With a great strength of will Duo managed to keep his fingers from burying themselves in Wufei’s hair as he unwound the tie, careful not to snag any strands on the elastic band and wake the pilot up.  The shoes weren’t a hassle, being no more than hard leather slippers, and with those removed he tugged the covers free from under Wufei’s relaxed body and pulled them up, effectively putting the sleeping boy in bed, and not just on top of it.


“Night, Fei.” He murmured as he started to close the door. “Peaceful dreams.”


The bedroom door clicked quietly shut behind him, and Duo checked the time on his wristwatch, feeling slightly hungry and wondering if it was time to start making dinner yet.  It was nearing five-thirty, so if he started making dinner now it would be ready around six.  There was only he and Wufei in the safe house – the others wouldn’t start returning from their missions until tomorrow, and with Wufei sick there was only need to cook for himself.  If he started putting together a soup for Wufei while he was making his own dinner, however, it would probably be ready by the time the sick boy woke up.  He hadn’t taken any painkillers before he fell asleep, so his rest was guaranteed to be brief, and the cough syrup he’d brought needed to be taken after food.  Only problem was, what sort of soup did Wufei like?


Duo mused over this as he made his way down to the kitchen, coming up with and discarding ideas as he ran through a list of things that he’d seen the Chinese boy eat before.  It wasn’t until he passed the carved jack-o-lantern, sitting and grinning from the corner of the bench in preparation for All Hallows Eve, that he remembered what Sister Helen used to make for him and the others when they were sick.  Checking the cupboards, he found all the necessary ingredients, and grinning to himself in perfect parody of the hollowed pumpkin on the counter, he set about making his and Wufei’s dinner.


“All right! Pumpkin and kumara it is!”






--- --- --- ---


WUFEI:  (blandly) You made me sick.


CAB:  That’s not a nice thing to say.  Besides, I had to make you something.


WUFEI:  Angry would have sufficed.


CAB:  You’re always angry.  Angry was getting old.  I needed something else wrong with you other than your touchiness about going to anger management classes with Trowa.  Besides, this is a Nightingale fic, meaning, someone _has_ to be sick so someone else can care for them and ultimately fall in love with said sick person.


WUFEI:  Your ideas are what is sick, onna.


CAB:  No nookie for you, mister.  Or Trowa either.  I was planning on having him sick later on, so that YOU could have someone to fuss over.  I suppose I’ll have to throw that one away. (screws up a piece of paper and throws it over her shoulder) Alas.


DUO:  Good one, Fei.  Now I don’t get any.


CAB:  Who told you that?


DUO:  (instantly perky) You mean I do?


CAB:  Mmmmmmmaaaybe.  No.  Not really.  Wufei’s just going to have to be stared at by Heero. (grins and has an excited little shiver) My next favourite pairing! The House of Boys has been realized!


PUNKFAIRY:  Hey, no advertising your other fics! You’ll get the reader’s hopes up that you might actually finish a story!


CAB:  (growls) But it’s a good one! It’s 1x5! Heero and Wu-Wu!


DUO:  (glares at Wufei) No pumpkin soup for you, Wu-Wu… (glares at Cab) And don’t you dare! (glares at Heero) Grrrrrr…


HEERO:  (ignoring the current discussion and growling) What’s a kumara?


QUATRE:  I think it’s a potato.


MUMU-CHAN:  Sounds like a soggy green thing to me.


CAB:  It’s a kumara!


PUNKFAIRY:  (looking a little lost) It’s a sweet potato.  And I think I need to watch more Gundam Wing.


CAB:  Damn right!


TROWA:  (nods)


MUMU-CHAN:  (sings) On my knees, help me baby, tell me, what can I do, electric blue…

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