Warnings: Shounen ai (1+2, 3+4), language (how repetitive...)

Our Lady loves us. She watches over and adores us. Our Lady Mary, mother of Jesus Christ the Lord. Glorify his name to all the world. Speak to Him for me, that I may see His face beyond my death.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, bless'd art thou amoungst women..."

My hypocritical faith. Who's to say I have no faith? Of course I have faith. I just don't have the kind of faith that is usual in your typical 15 year old. Sure, I was orphaned to a church, but it dosen't mean I'm a monk. Ha! God! What a funny thought.

Could you imagine how you would truely feel to know some devine entity were watching and listening to your every action and thought? Would you feel untrusted? Useless? As the preists always say: God dosen't need us. He just wants us here. We're his toys to play with.

God is heartless. Shinigami agrees with me.

After nearly an hour's work, Duo Maxwell had managed to somewhat gather himself from the floor, and pull himself onto the couch. His ankle was hurting rather badly, and the flesh tone was leaning towards that of grape. It wasn't very pretty.

He relieved a sigh as he relaxed onto the couch. The twist wouldn't hurt so much in an hour; he would just wait it off with some TV.

Just as he reached for the remote, he let out a groan. Damn Heero Yuy. The remote control was laying ontop of the TV.

Now, thinking completely seriously for a moment: What kind of sick, sad, sorry, person lies their remote on the top of the TV? Does this not betray the purpose of having the device in the first place? So you don't have to get up and manually adjust the TV? What in sane hell is wrong with people and them thinking that tidiness should come before liesure? A remote is there so you can change the channels from away the TV, damnit! Stupid Quatre and his quirky way of house cleaning!

Duo muttered a few curses as he made an attempt to lift from the couch. "Fuck you, Yuy... Gr..." The pain in his ankle seemed to throb and pulsate up to his midshin. He was probably going to need a doctor for this. There, something else wrong with the world: Doctors. Does it not disturb you the least bit to know that, that white suited man doping you up with pills and toxins, and looking around inside your body with sharp pointy objects calls this his "practice"? The braided pilot let loose a shudder at the thought.

He painfully made it across the room to the TV, and grabbed the remote. Turning again, he made his way back to the couch, cursing like a sailor. He propped his leg up on the mahogany coffee table before him, and sat back, clicking the power button.

Nothing.

The American blinked and began to hit the button continuously. Anger was growing in his eyes and showed clearly on his face. He turned the remote over pulling off the battery hatch to find the area empty. He stared in anger, squeezing his fist, just trying to crush the device in his powerful grip. Unfortunately, his muscle wasn't that of a weightlifter and the device was still intact after Duo's three minute attempt at crushing the thing.

Duo's anger was getting quite unbarable with the pain in his ankle and his futile attempt to crush the TV remote; to add to that Heero had just been a complete ass to him, and had offered no help to him in the hallway. The braided pilot, without thought, hurled the remote control at a lamp against the wall, across the room. It hit, knocking the lamp off to shatter on the floor, and a large dent in the wall behind. He had forgotten, that Quatre had spoken of it being a waste to have a functioning TV in the parlor, where the only one they ever used was in the den.

He couldn't help that, now, as his anger was subsiding, he just wanted to weep in agony; like foolish child. Of course the braided pilot was much too proud to do such a thing, and could admit that he had been through worse, but we all know how it is in the frustration of the moment. Eventually, he calmed and laid back on to the couch in search of sleep; at least that way he wouldn't have to lay there and just feel the pain until Quatre or Trowa got back.

Though, if you haven't tried, it's not exactly easy to get to sleep when you've been awake for barely half an hour, you've run a few laps around the house, haven't eaten, and just broken your ankle. So, being the man he was, Duo lay back and began to make Heero's life even more hellish than it already was.

First he began with singing a quick verse or two of Starfuckers, Inc. by Nine Inch Nails. His voice was loud and unmelodic. "AND WHEN I SUCK YOU OFF NOT A DROP WILL GO TO WASTE!! IT'S REALLY NOT SO BAD, YOU KNOW, ONCE YOU GET PAST THE TASTE!!!" He took a shallow breath, "ASSKISSER!!! STARFUCKERS! STARFUCKERS INCORPORATED!"

He then moved onto some less explict lyrics, "WHY DO GIRLS WANT TO PIERCE THEIR NOSE!!! AND WALK AROUND IN TORN PANTY HOSE, OH YEAH! SO GIVE ME ONE GOOD REEAASOOOOOON! WHY WE NEED TO BE LIKE THAT!!!" A little bit of Blink 182 to lighten his mood.

Heero still hadn't made any responce from his room, and so Duo continued with his lungs of steel; this time we're trying some pop, "IF I COULD FALL, INTO THE SKY, DO YOU THINK TIME WOULD PASS ME BY!! BECAUSE YOU KNOW I'D WALK A THOUSAND MILES IF I COULD JUST SEE YOU!!" Another shall breath, "TONIGHT!!" The lovely talents of Vanessa Carlton, as performed by Duo Maxwell, ladies and gentlemen.

There was no responce from Heero.

Suddenly Duo grinned, he knew what would get to the Japanese boy. Let's try some opera, "IN SLEEP HE SANG TO ME!! IN DREAMS HE CAME!! THAT VOICE WHICH CALLS TO ME!! AND SPEAKS MY NAME!! BUT DO I DREAM AGAIN!! FOR NOW I FIND!!" He heard a door slam and heavy footsteps heading down the stairs, "THE PHAAAAAAAAAANTOOOOOOM OF THE OPERA IS THERE-"

The singing pilot was most rudely interrupted as a pillow was thrown into his face. "Hey! That was uncalled for!" He moved the pillow and pouted at the Japanese pilot standing by the couch.

With the Yuy death glare� still in it's proper place, the boy sunk to his knees, wrapping his hand around Duo's exposed neck. He leaned over, his voice a dangerous, but still monotonious, low. "You will shut up, now, or suffer the consequences."

Duo poked his lip out, cutely, and blinked at Heero with large bubbly eyes. "But I got bored, and there are no batteries in the remote, and I had nothing to-"

"Duo."

"-do because my ankle hurts really badly and I can't move to-"

"Duo." The Japanese pilot dug his fingers into the soft flesh of the American's throat, quieting the braided boy and getting his complete attention, "You're over-exaggerating. You tripped on a rug; you didn't fall down the stairs. Your ankle will be fine."

The pilot frowned, "But it still hurts..."

"You'll just have to get over it. Now, stop yelling, and just go to sleep or-"

"But, I can't go to sleep! It hurts!" Almost immediately as the words had escaped, everything went black and he felt himself falling into temporarily unconsciousness.

Heero moved his hand from Duo's neck and quietly escorted himself back to his computer, upstairs, leaving the braided pilot to sleep off his pain.

The first to see Duo in his condition, besides Heero, was Wufei. The petit Chinese man entered the parlor on his way to the kitchen and laughed at seeing the American's position on the couch. Duo's head was drooping from the seat, his braid curling upon the floor before him. His neck was very clearly in view and his body position showed it all to obvious. He outright laughed himself down the hallway. 'So Yuy finally took to just knocking him out. He must have been quite a bit more annoying than usual... He'll be dead by the end of the year, at this rate.'

He slipped into the kitchen, calming his laughter as he opened the refrigerator door, and then he stopped all together. Empty. 'Damn that braided baka! It was his turn to do the grocery shopping, and he didn't do it!' He growled deeply, and glared at the door to the hallway, "I'll have his braid for this." He muttered under his breath.

He was, of course, stopped by a tiny voice in his head, 'Only weaklings like the American would go to such extent at someone's trivial carelessness. Your weak enough, Chang, don't seep down to Maxwell's level.'

The Chinese man calmed himself and quietly headed to his room for some much needed meditation.

Quatre and Trowa finally arrived home from their shopping trip. Upon their entrance to the kitchen, they noticed the emptiness of the refrigerator and decided to go out and get the supplies themselves. The two both looked rather fragile and tired as they entered the kitchen. Quatre hadn't had his morning tea; nor Trowa his coffee. They both also looked rather sore when walking, but we won't dabble into that.

You could have counted on the fact that Duo, had he been conscious, would have snickered upon their entrance with that all-to-familiar "I-know-what-you-did-last-night"-look in his shimmering violet eyes. Oh damnit, I said we wouldn't, be we just dabbled further into it. No further shall we go!

As he entered the kitchen the blond boy was almost unnerved at the silence of the house, other than a distant tapping of keys in Heero's room. There had been no food, and yet Duo wasn't yelling, screaming, blasting music, or anything. He subconsciously wondered back down the hall to the doorway and yelled, "We've got food!"

All was silent in the house.

"Is anybody here?!" Quatre called again into the house.

A door closed somewhere upstairs, and a groan came from the parlor. The parlor doorway, being right beside him, Quatre stepped in to see Duo out cold on the couch. A worried expression crossed his face as he walked over quickly to the couch, checked the man's eyes, and tapped him. Yes, the American had been knocked out.

The Arabian stepped back into the hallway just as both Heero and Wufei were heading into the kitchen, "Halt."

The Japanese boy quirked an eyebrow but lowered it again, seeing it was just Quatre, and Wufei blinked.

"Which one of you did it?" Quatre pointed into the parlor and narrowed his eyes at the two before him.

Wufei snickered and continued his walk into the kitchen, "I have new honour for your actions, Yuy."

Heero glared passively and then focused on the blond before him.

"Heero." Quatre shook his head, "You can't just go around knocking out your friends. Duo gets a bit hyperactive every once in a while- er... It's just his personality. You can't penalyze people for being themselves like this; it's a sign of predjudice. Don't ever do this again." The blond's stern face and set jaw showed that he, indeed, was completely seriously as he walked in again to Duo's side by the couch.

The Japanese boy narrowed his eyes at the sight of Duo on the couch, unconscious. "He said his ankle hurt and he couldn't get get to sleep. I was just helping-"

"Well, next time don't. Give him a sleeping pill or something. Just don't knock out your friends." Quatre shook his head walking past the Japanese boy and back into the kitchen to find some ice and cold water for Duo.

"...Fine." Heero casually walked on into the kitchen with the others.

Quatre had entered the parlor, leaving Trowa to do the cooking on his own. The American before him was just beginning to wake, with a headache, that kept him from reacting when Quatre began to lift Duo's ankle and yelled. "My God! What happened?!"

There was a sharp twist to his fragile ankle, Duo felt as the blond lifted it, and suddenly his voice was back, "JesusfuckingChrist!"

To Be Continued...

Notes

None.