by Alleyprowler
Location: Some ratty old safehouse somewhere.
"Ah! Trowa! That hurts!" Quatre's voice said from behind the closed door.
Duo immediately plastered his ear to the splintery wood. He had just been passing by from the kitchen to the bedroom he shared with Heero when the call of pain had attracted his attention.
"Well, if you'd just relax, you'd enjoy it," Trowa said coldly.
"Relax?! How in the world am I supposed to relax when you--OW!"
"There, that's the spot." Trowa said smugly.
"Trowa, stop! Please!" Quatre begged.
"No, I'm not done yet. Hold still."
"That hurts! Stop it!"
"Stop being such a damn baby and let me finish!" Trowa said breathlessly.
Duo had been seeing red ever since he had heard his little brother's voice crying out in pain, but now he was in full Shinigami mode. He stood up from his crouch, gathered his body into a tight coil, and then kicked the door right in the middle where the ancient wood was the weakest. The door nearly disintegrated in a cloud of sawdust and insects.
Duo emerged from the cloud with his hands on his hips and his death grin firmly in place. "Say whatever twisted prayers you have to say, Trowa. You die today." He said in a dangerously calm voice.
"...", said Trowa.
"...", said Quatre.
Duo took another step forward. He raised his sidearm and aimed it at Trowa's head.
Trowa froze from his position over Quatre on the narrow bed. His clawed hands were suspended mere inches from Quatre's lower back.
Quatre was lying prone on the bed with the Heavyarms pilot astride his hips. He was frowning in pain.
Duo's finger was within milligrams of firing pressure on the trigger when a salient fact registered in his brain. "You're both dressed?"
"Fully." Trowa confirmed quietly. He indicated his dark turtleneck sweater, which was tucked into faded jeans, then swept his hand to show that Quatre was still in his khakis, Oxford shirt and dark vest.
Duo thumbed the safety of his pistol on and raised the weapon to his ear. "Okay...so why are you two in such a, um, compromising position?"
Trowa brought his thumbs down on a spot low in Quatre's spine. Quatre gasped harshly, and then moaned in pain. Trowa glared at Duo with flat green eyes. "Quatre has a muscle spasm in his back. I'm massaging it for him." He let a corner of his mouth curl up in a smirk. "What did you think we were doing?"
Duo's complexion went through the red part of the spectrum and he stammered like an idiot. "I-you-I mean-I heard-"
Quatre snickered. "You really should try to get your mind out of the gutter once in a while, Duo."
Trowa crossed his arms over his chest and tried to look hurt. "Yes, and since when do you find me capable of being such an asshole?"
"Dude, you're a terrorist!" Duo reminded him. "You're a professional asshole!"
"Good point," Trowa conceded, "but Quatre's on my side. Besides, last time I pissed him off, he damn near killed me."
"Oh, God, Trowa, I--OW!" Quatre had been about to melt into a puddle of guilt till Trowa pressed on the sore spot on his back.
Trowa smirked rather evilly, and then he aimed a glare at Duo. "Er, Duo? Some privacy, please? Your disgusting little mind has given me...ideas."
*Eep!* "Oh, yeah, right! I think I have urgent business elsewhere! See ya, have fun, bye!" Duo disappeared with a flash of braid.
"Now...where was I?" Trowa purred.
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