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"The Winner Walk-in of Doom"Written By: Dentelle_noir Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing AC or the
characters. GW belongs to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. This
is a work of fiction and written for fun, not profit Rating: PG 13 Warnings: AU, Quatre Duo friendship fic Pairings: None Summary: There are some things that only certain
people are trusted enough to do... "The Winner Walk-in of Doom" Quatre surveyed the gigantic monstrosity with a glare. He had tackled middle eastern peace talks, dodged grenades, been a double agent, stared down the heads of rival companies, but looking at this monstrosity was something akin to torture. And he had no one to blame but himself. He wasn't even about to beg Trowa to help because he knew what his lover would do, and he wasn't quite ready for the 'throw it all out and buy new things' stage. These were his things. His closet. His clothes. About twenty minutes into staring at the closet (shaking in his boots) he picked up the cell and called for help. The only person he could trust with a chore like this... "Duo?" Quatre whined as a hello. "...are you injured?" he asked first, which Quatre replied with a no, "Are you in trouble" which Quatre replied with a yes. "Is the trouble life-threatening in any way?" And, as much as Trowa would kill him if he didn't get this closet done by the time he got home from his swim, Quatre drew the line there. He couldn’t answer yes when it wasn’t exactly life threatening. "I need help cleaning out my closet..." he said in a little voice, hoping that it would soften the impact. It didn't. Duo still made a strangled-cat sort of sound and pretended to go into convulsions on his side of the phone, "Dear God... Not the Winner walk-in of DOOM! I know we're friends but, how could you ASK that of me! I don't know, Quatre..." Quatre looked at his closet.... 360 degrees of fabric. Some matching, some hideous... It didn't really matter. Trowa's clothes took up no less than one foot of space, squashed-in as it was, and Quatre had the rest of the massive walls to go through. "Half of it doesn't fit me... Some of it's not even mine..." Was that a wedding dress? How did that get in there? "Then send half off to the Orphans in Somalia and give the other half back to their owners and have a good time, I'm going out for lunch." Duo said (despite it being nearly 4pm and Quatre knew very well that Duo could never go past noon for lunch. Ever.) He knew he had no choice.... He started playing dirty. *sniffle* "It's just...so daunting... and I'm all alone... Trowa said he'd throw everything out, even my suits, if I didn't do it today." he sniffled again just for good measure. Duo began to waver; Quatre could hear it in his breathing! He kept going, "And, I would hardly know where to send it... I'm sure there are orphans here who'd be better served with my Armani Kid! clothes, and you would know..." Duo was really on the fence now, "But Quatre.... Trowa was nearly killed in that closet when your shoes fell on him a few days ago! I SAW the black eye!" Okay, the sniffles were softening up the target, it was time to go in for the kill.... "O-oh...okay Duo, I- I'm sorry for asking. It's... it's all my fault that my closet is this bad. I won't bother you again. I'm sorry." And that was it. Within twenty minutes, Duo was at his house, pulling his sleeves up and running full tilt into the closet beside him, grabbing the first thing he saw, "Hey! That's MY wedding dress! THAT'S where it went to..." ....Quatre wasn't even going to ask....
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