The boys were all gathered in the library at one of Quatre’s dirtside mansions. Trowa, Quatre and Wufei were busy playing blackjack, Heero was writing something that looked a good deal like homework and Duo was at it again with his copy of the latest issue of Playboy magazine. Quatre looked over at Duo and began to laugh as he saw the material the braided fifteen-year-old boy was so engrossed in.
“Duo, what’s that crap you’re into again?” he asked good-naturedly. “You’re practically drooling all over that thing. Is Relena Peacecraft in it or something?”
Duo gagged before his face cracked into another brilliant grin. “Hellfire, no! If she was I’d have burned it by now. And who says I’m reading it, anyways? I just enjoy looking at the models.” Quatre laughed a little harder, Trowa hid a small smile, Wufei looked half-scandalized and Heero just paused the movement of his pen long enough to spare Duo an annoyed look.
“You mean your face would be burning, not the magazine. Which models are you looking at, anyways, the boys or the girls?” Quatre shot back. Before Duo could reply, Heero snorted.
“There’s only one set of models he’d be that interested in, Quatre. Maybe he’s jealous.”
“Nani?!?! I am not jealous, Spandex-Boy! For your information I happen to like the female models!” Duo’s cheeks flamed as Heero’s shrewd hit set everyone laughing, even wrenching a chuckle and wry grin from stolid Trowa. “Heero, you are not getting away with that remark… Besides, you’ve got more reason to be jealous of the girls than me!” Wufei just rolled his eyes. Quatre, of course, was near rolling on the ground laughing. Heero’s eyebrow lifted as, once again, he stopped his moving pen.
“Oh, really, baka? I’m not the one with the extra-long braid for a tail. Can you say ‘rat-tail?’”
“RAT-tail?!?!” Enough was enough: Duo’s pride had been pricked enough for one day. Rising from his spot where he lay, curled up in the sun on the couch in a posture that very much resembled a cat even to the position of the “tail,” Duo was going to just go find a quiet place to ogle the models. Unceremoniously he dumped the magazine on top of Heero’s writing and goosed Quatre as he walked by. The blonde pilot squawked in alarm, causing Trowa to tense protectively and Heero only glanced at the departing American, now thoroughly annoyed. As a parting shot to Heero, he simply told the four, “Hey. The models do have some clothes. What Heero ‘Mr.-No-Such-Thing-As-Hormones’ Yuy’s writing, even I’m afraid to ask!” So saying, he turned on his heel and flounced out of the room. Of course, he was no quicker than Heero, who immediately began shuffling papers and tapping them together with his habitual neatness. The three playing blackjack were staring at Heero as he, too, abruptly rose and departed. Trowa glanced at the tabletop where Heero had been sitting.
I wonder what happened to that issue,” was all he said: Quatre was certain he caught the smallest hint of a smile even when he found his and Wufei’s eyes jerked incredulously to that spot. They looked at the table, looked at each other, looked at the table, looked at each other…
“He didn’t, did he?” Wufei asked faintly.
“Duo is pretty good at sleight-of-hand…” Quatre trailed off and Trowa shook his head.
“And I was a circus clown. I’m fairly certain I would have seen anything of the sort.” His eyes, when they met the cornflower-blue ones of the Arabian, were twinkling with the suppressed laughter that only Quatre Winner was allowed to see.
END OF PART ONE