Title: Caffine Addiction
Author: Sailor Seraphim
Archive: FanFiction.Net, l.e.t.h.a.l.t.h.o.u.g.h.t.s., any others, please inquire... I'll probably say yes!
Category: fluff, humor
Rating: PG
Warnings: Yaoi/shounen ai and implications thereof. Need for caffinated beverages. Free love. 1x2x3x4x5 (and combinations thereof) implied.
Spoilers: There are no spoilers for this fic, though general knowledge of GW would be helpful.
Notes: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its related characters. If I *did*, the series would be chock-full of shounen ai goodness. I do, however, own the situations which occur in this fic.
Feedback: :::sobs in happiness:::

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Quatre stumbled into the kitchen blearily, a huge yawn nearly causing him to run into the wall.

"COFFEE..." he verbalized, scratching his head and leaving a trail of blue glitter in his wake. He and the others had barely fallen asleep a few hours before, despite the fact that they had all tumbled into bed in a tangle of arms and legs rather early in the night. Why the blond boy was currently shivering in the kitchen of the safehouse, Quatre had no idea. He always woke up at the same time, no matter how tired he was. As Quatre finally opened his eyes enough to see what he was doing, he was still not conscious enough to anything but watch the coffee drip through the machine and into the pot. He rubbed his bare arms absently and shifted his position enough to cause the black pants riding low on his hips to slip a fraction farther down.

There was a scuffle and a thump and Duo weaved into the kitchen unsteadily.

He was wearing a familiar pair of spandex shorts.

And nothing else.

And his hair was down.

Long lengths of messy chestnut hair fell across his bare back and shoulders, spilling down to brush the backs of his knees. He, too, collapsed on the counter by the coffee machine. After a moment, he cast a weary glance at Quatre.

"Those are my pants."

"So?"

"Those are my pants."

"And?"

"I'm not Hee-chan. I don't like spandex."

"Then tell me where my shorts are and I'll give you back your pants."

Quatre's Little Little Shorts stumbled into the kitchen. They were attached to Heero.

"Those are my shorts."

"Those are *still* my pants."

"Hn."

Wufei wandered in. He was swallowed up by the green long-sleeved dress shirt he was wrapped in. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the rest of the shirt brushed his upper thighs, only half of the buttons done up. Wufei brushed inky black strands away from his face as he yawned.

"Coffee ready?"

Quatre and Duo and Heero looked at the percolating machine.

"No."

"Hn."

"Those are still my pants."

Wufei swore in Chinese and collapsed into a chair. He jumped up just as quickly, rubbing his bottom. "Ow! Dammit!"

Duo snorted from where he was leaning against the counter.

"Why d'ya think I was standing up, 'Fei?"

"Shut up, Duo."

"I hope no one really minds that I can't remember what happened last night."

There were three grunts of affirmation.

"It might be on tape. I'm not sure." Quatre was still cradling his head in his hands and didn't even bother to look up as he spoke.

"I'll be sure to destroy the original," a new voice answered softly. Trowa finally appeared unsteadily, clad only in a short robe that he was having difficulty tying. He looked around the kitchen.

"That's my shirt."

"That's my robe."

"Those are my shorts."

"Those are *my* shorts."

"Well, y'all better enjoy me in these shorts 'cuz NONE of you are getting NEAR my ass in a long time."

There was a muted laughter and then a low groan of pain.

"Coffee done?"

-- Owari --