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definewisdomTitle: It's Important to Accessorise
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Rating: PG-13 (because Duo has a dirty mind)
Pairing/Characters: 2+4 friendship, Rashid. Gen
Word count: ~1000
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, or Batman, or The Incredibles or anything associated with any of those things. I'm also not getting any profit from this
Warnings: unbeta-d, AU - ridiculously so.
AN: Written for gw500 prompt 298 - belt. I wanted to write something introspective and characterful, probably about Duo, but then Quatre wanted to be Bruce Wayne. No... really, he did. This was written in about an hour so it's a little sloppy.
“What is it?” Duo asked, although he already knew. The object in question was not in any way ambiguous.
“It’s a belt.”
“No, Quat, it’s not,” he said firmly. “A belt is just a strip of material which can be fastened. This is a… utility belt.” At least the billionaire had the grace to look a little guilty.
“Well yes, but we discussed this.”
“We discussed the fact that you were bored of spending your trust fund on things that didn’t make a difference in the long run.”
“I’m sick of siphoning money into charities that steal and cheat, but there’s no way to get the money to the people who need it, so I decided I would… put the money to good use.” Quatre’s blue eyes were narrowing in the way that meant he was preparing for battle – verbal or otherwise.
“By buying toys?”
“It’s not a toy,” Quatre insisted, beginning to pull some rather interesting things from the pockets and sheathes of the utility belt. “It’s a highly advanced and perfectly engineered piece of equipment. Not to mention that it’s an essential accessory”
“Accessory to what?” Duo asked, resisting the urge to drop his head into his hands. He had always known, ever since Quatre had practically adopted him, that the Winner heir, as the papers insisted on calling him, had wanted to save the world but when they had had that conversation about Batman Duo had never expected the idiot to do anything about it.
“I was hoping you would ask that,” Quatre beamed, his face lighting up with excitement. “Rashid,” he looked over Duo’s face and, sure enough, there his bodyguard slash butler stood, his face carefully neutral. Duo almost had a heart attack, he considered himself a master of stealth but somehow Rashid always got the drop on him. For such a huge man he was damn brilliant at sneaking around, but you never caught him at it. He just appeared and disappeared there were no awkward meetings where you found the guy on tip toes or sneaking out of a door.
“Yes, Master Quatre.”
“Could you fetch the suit, please?” Quatre asked, almost innocently, and Duo could feel his eyes bugging out of his head.
“Suit. Suit?” he asked, gaping like a land-bound fish at his friend. “Tell me you have not got a cape to go with that belt.
“Of course not,” Quatre said, shaking his head. “I’m not an idiot. I watched The Incredibles with you, remember. Capes get you dead.”
“But you do have some stupid spandex outfit with the underwear on the outside,” Duo said, groaning. He was going to need a drink in a moment, but he knew for a fact that the only alcohol Quatre would have on the premises was a decanter of single malt.
“I would never wear something so Superman,” Quatre’s smile had turned positively wicked. “I’m hardly Clark Kent.” No, Duo thought, just Bruce Wayne.
“So, what does that thing do, anyway?” Duo asked, indicating the belt. Quatre excitedly began to demonstrate.
“Well, there are lock picks, of course,” he said, sliding them out of a concealed pocket. “Thanks for teaching me to use them,” Duo waved off the gratitude. He was already regretting it after all. It had just been meant as a way to pass the time. “Wire cutters, There are some GPS trackers, fitted with electromagnets, throwing stars, wire, ultra-violet ink, in case I need to mark something invisibly, an alarm button that alerts Rashid if I’m in serious trouble, a knife, a paralytic,” a small vial was produced from one of the pockets, “a sedative and sodium pentothal.”
“Sodium pentothal,” Duo repeated, staring down at the small pile of items on the antique coffee table. The throwing stars in particular were calling to him, and that piece of wire. He could remember that conversation, it had been a few years ago when Quatre had realised that he carried things around in his hair and the three foot braid was not just a fashion choice. ‘Why wire?’ the blond had asked and Duo had just shrugged, ‘it comes in useful’ he had said, neglecting to mention that one of the more common uses was as a garrotte. He swallowed a little, wondering if Quatre had considered that when he had added the wire to his little ensemble.
“And…” Quatre opened another pocket, but shut it again.
“And what?” Duo asked, teasing a bit. “Is that where you keep your lube or something?”
“Duo!” Quatre glared at him.
“Condoms? Lipstick?” he asked, fingers darting forward to snag the belt from Quatre’s grasp. “Come on, you’ve already shown me your utility belt, what could be so embarrassing.”
“It’s my utility belt,” Quatre snapped, pulling it back and Duo let it go, still smirking.
“Fine, but if it isn’t lube then I’m going to be highly disappointed in you,” he said, making a face. “What’s the use of being a billionaire playboy crime fighter if you don’t get the guys?”
“It’s not about getting the guys… and I’m not a billionaire, my father is.”
“And what does he think of you spending your money on utility belts and sodium pentothal?”
“Like he’d notice if I danced naked on the moon.”
“Quat, the moon’s a little far away for anyone to notice.”
“You know what I mean. I get my trust fund and my house and in return I don’t embarrass him in the tabloids. That’s our little arrangement. As long as I don’t do anything to jeopardise that, then he won’t even notice.”
“And dressing up in a stupid costume and indulging your Bruce Wayne complex won’t get you into the tabloids.”
“Maybe me, but not the name Winner.”
“Ah.”
“Anyway,” Quatre said calmly, “it’s not a stupid costume.”
“What is it then?” Duo asked. He started as Rashid suddenly appeared at his side again. If he didn’t know that Quatre would have told him immediately, Duo would have thought that the Winner Enterprises labs had come up with a working teleportation device. He turned to look at the huge man and gaped at what the butler was holding.
“Your body armour, Master Quatre,” Rashid said.
Quatre couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on Duo’s face.
-
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Rating: PG-13 (because Duo has a dirty mind)
Pairing/Characters: 2+4 friendship, Rashid. Gen
Word count: ~1000
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, or Batman, or The Incredibles or anything associated with any of those things. I'm also not getting any profit from this
Warnings: unbeta-d, AU - ridiculously so.
AN: Written for gw500 prompt 298 - belt. I wanted to write something introspective and characterful, probably about Duo, but then Quatre wanted to be Bruce Wayne. No... really, he did. This was written in about an hour so it's a little sloppy.
“What is it?” Duo asked, although he already knew. The object in question was not in any way ambiguous.
“It’s a belt.”
“No, Quat, it’s not,” he said firmly. “A belt is just a strip of material which can be fastened. This is a… utility belt.” At least the billionaire had the grace to look a little guilty.
“Well yes, but we discussed this.”
“We discussed the fact that you were bored of spending your trust fund on things that didn’t make a difference in the long run.”
“I’m sick of siphoning money into charities that steal and cheat, but there’s no way to get the money to the people who need it, so I decided I would… put the money to good use.” Quatre’s blue eyes were narrowing in the way that meant he was preparing for battle – verbal or otherwise.
“By buying toys?”
“It’s not a toy,” Quatre insisted, beginning to pull some rather interesting things from the pockets and sheathes of the utility belt. “It’s a highly advanced and perfectly engineered piece of equipment. Not to mention that it’s an essential accessory”
“Accessory to what?” Duo asked, resisting the urge to drop his head into his hands. He had always known, ever since Quatre had practically adopted him, that the Winner heir, as the papers insisted on calling him, had wanted to save the world but when they had had that conversation about Batman Duo had never expected the idiot to do anything about it.
“I was hoping you would ask that,” Quatre beamed, his face lighting up with excitement. “Rashid,” he looked over Duo’s face and, sure enough, there his bodyguard slash butler stood, his face carefully neutral. Duo almost had a heart attack, he considered himself a master of stealth but somehow Rashid always got the drop on him. For such a huge man he was damn brilliant at sneaking around, but you never caught him at it. He just appeared and disappeared there were no awkward meetings where you found the guy on tip toes or sneaking out of a door.
“Yes, Master Quatre.”
“Could you fetch the suit, please?” Quatre asked, almost innocently, and Duo could feel his eyes bugging out of his head.
“Suit. Suit?” he asked, gaping like a land-bound fish at his friend. “Tell me you have not got a cape to go with that belt.
“Of course not,” Quatre said, shaking his head. “I’m not an idiot. I watched The Incredibles with you, remember. Capes get you dead.”
“But you do have some stupid spandex outfit with the underwear on the outside,” Duo said, groaning. He was going to need a drink in a moment, but he knew for a fact that the only alcohol Quatre would have on the premises was a decanter of single malt.
“I would never wear something so Superman,” Quatre’s smile had turned positively wicked. “I’m hardly Clark Kent.” No, Duo thought, just Bruce Wayne.
“So, what does that thing do, anyway?” Duo asked, indicating the belt. Quatre excitedly began to demonstrate.
“Well, there are lock picks, of course,” he said, sliding them out of a concealed pocket. “Thanks for teaching me to use them,” Duo waved off the gratitude. He was already regretting it after all. It had just been meant as a way to pass the time. “Wire cutters, There are some GPS trackers, fitted with electromagnets, throwing stars, wire, ultra-violet ink, in case I need to mark something invisibly, an alarm button that alerts Rashid if I’m in serious trouble, a knife, a paralytic,” a small vial was produced from one of the pockets, “a sedative and sodium pentothal.”
“Sodium pentothal,” Duo repeated, staring down at the small pile of items on the antique coffee table. The throwing stars in particular were calling to him, and that piece of wire. He could remember that conversation, it had been a few years ago when Quatre had realised that he carried things around in his hair and the three foot braid was not just a fashion choice. ‘Why wire?’ the blond had asked and Duo had just shrugged, ‘it comes in useful’ he had said, neglecting to mention that one of the more common uses was as a garrotte. He swallowed a little, wondering if Quatre had considered that when he had added the wire to his little ensemble.
“And…” Quatre opened another pocket, but shut it again.
“And what?” Duo asked, teasing a bit. “Is that where you keep your lube or something?”
“Duo!” Quatre glared at him.
“Condoms? Lipstick?” he asked, fingers darting forward to snag the belt from Quatre’s grasp. “Come on, you’ve already shown me your utility belt, what could be so embarrassing.”
“It’s my utility belt,” Quatre snapped, pulling it back and Duo let it go, still smirking.
“Fine, but if it isn’t lube then I’m going to be highly disappointed in you,” he said, making a face. “What’s the use of being a billionaire playboy crime fighter if you don’t get the guys?”
“It’s not about getting the guys… and I’m not a billionaire, my father is.”
“And what does he think of you spending your money on utility belts and sodium pentothal?”
“Like he’d notice if I danced naked on the moon.”
“Quat, the moon’s a little far away for anyone to notice.”
“You know what I mean. I get my trust fund and my house and in return I don’t embarrass him in the tabloids. That’s our little arrangement. As long as I don’t do anything to jeopardise that, then he won’t even notice.”
“And dressing up in a stupid costume and indulging your Bruce Wayne complex won’t get you into the tabloids.”
“Maybe me, but not the name Winner.”
“Ah.”
“Anyway,” Quatre said calmly, “it’s not a stupid costume.”
“What is it then?” Duo asked. He started as Rashid suddenly appeared at his side again. If he didn’t know that Quatre would have told him immediately, Duo would have thought that the Winner Enterprises labs had come up with a working teleportation device. He turned to look at the huge man and gaped at what the butler was holding.
“Your body armour, Master Quatre,” Rashid said.
Quatre couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on Duo’s face.
-
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Date: 2010-05-01 02:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-01 07:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-02 02:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-02 03:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-02 06:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-02 03:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-02 05:23 pm (UTC)ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS! Their friendship is very poignant, too! I loved it! Both of them had very clear, strong characters, and the way they worked together was wonderful! Great fic!
(now I want to know what's in that pocket)
And the Rashid vanishing? HAHHAA! Amazing!
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Date: 2010-05-02 06:14 pm (UTC)I had to stop eating in fear I'd laugh Fritos all over the keyboard X3 Loved it...and yeah, wanting another, even if this was posted as a one-shot...if only for the sake of that secretive pocket! And getting to see Quatre in action!
no subject
Date: 2010-05-04 12:23 pm (UTC)