Mission: The Gap
by Persephone
Duo set his teeth and shoved his sleeves up to his elbows. He tapped his foot continuously to the peppy music playing on the store stereo system while he waited for Quatre to come out of the dressing room.
"Quatre? What’s taking so long?" Duo was a patient man, really, he was. But waiting fifteen minutes for one outfit was killing him! Maybe trying to diversify Quatre’s stuffy wardrobe wasn’t the best plan he had ever come up with. Granted, The Gap tended to be for the more adventurous group but desperate times called for desperate measures. And Duo was a desperate man. Hell, Quatre was desperate right now. Trowa still hadn’t spoken one civil word to him since his little...ah...trim. Duo chuckled lowly. It had been beautiful. The once long-haired, solid-banged Trowa was no more! Replacing the old Trowa was the new and improved stylish Trowa! It was Duo’s first piece of "art". Trowa no longer used gel to hold his hair down but to give it lift; body. Close-cut but not buzzed (for he had heard that story), it was perfect for a young man, upbeat and uptown. It worked for Quatre Raberba Winner’s young newlywed husband. Speaking of which... "Quatre! Come on! It’s just one outfit! Just lemme see!"
Quatre stuck his head over the top of the dressing room door and fire seemed to shoot from his eyes, "I hate you."
Duo plastered on his, "who, me?" innocent look and prayed for the best, "Aw, c’mon, Q! It was a great haircut. He secretly likes it, you know. Give it a couple more days and it’ll be fine." He flashed a brilliantly cheesy smile and crossed his fingers behind his back. If only he could get Trowa to give Quatre some, ah, extracurricular activities, then his life would be back to normal and his best friends talking to him. Well, at least, stuff he wanted to hear.
Quatre narrowed his eyes, "This is all your fault. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have to wear something like this!" He threw open the door and stomped out. He planted his hands on his waist and glared for all he was worth, "Look at me! I’m a man-whore!"
Duo cocked his head and looked Quatre over carefully. Maybe the cropped, see-through shirt with the low-cut, skin-tight leather pants were a little much. Maybe if you couldn’t see his nipples or the outline of his you-know-what, or his firm, developed stomach. Or the crack of his ass. Come to think of it, maybe if it didn’t cling to every inch of skin that it marginally covered it would be okay...nah! Quatre looked great.
He nodded an affirmative, "I like it."
Quatre’s shoulders slumped in resignation, "I can’t believe you. How am I supposed to go out in public like this? How is looking like I just walked off the street supposed to make Trowa forgive me?"
Duo sighed sadly. Quatre really didn’t know the art of give and take in a relationship. Good thing he was there to teach him. He walked over to Quatre and planted a brotherly hand on his shoulder, "Listen, Q, a relationship is like...ah...well..." He shook his head impatiently. He had no idea. "Trowa was humiliated and now it’s your turn, right? So you go from here to the house wearing that, Mr. I’m-so-conservative-I-have-a-stick-up-my-ass-under-my-tailor-made-linen-pants and Trowa will be sufficiently appeased that your relationship will go back to normal."
Quatre raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Uh huh, like Trowa works like that. He’s not that easily swayed, you know."
Duo laughed. "Quatre, man, look at your ass in those pants! It’s in the bag."
Quatre walked out of the store in his new outfit, cheeks ablaze and fully aware of every smirk, remark, and stare. He shut his eyes in relief when he made it to the limo outside and managed to block out the stunned expression of his chauffeur.
He leaned his head wearily against the expensive seat and sighed. This had better work or Duo was dead. He tugged at his uncomfortably tight pants and winced as they only seemed to ride higher. So much for payback! He was the one that had been shafted in the first place! And now, here he was, having to grovel to get back into his husband’s good graces. Life sucked.
He made it back to the house amidst whistles and leers and had to physically restrain himself by placing his hands in his pockets from taking them all out. That was a feat in itself and took nearly as much time finding his house key as it did walking up the driveway.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Quatre entered the house and walked into the kitchen. Trowa usually baked when he was upset and sure enough, cakes, pies, and breads littered the countertops. He winced when a particularly large thump echoed around the room. Feeling empathy for the soon-to-be loaf of bread, he knocked on the doorframe.
"Tro-love? Can I come in?" He tentatively stuck his head further into the kitchen and was rewarded by a gooey lump of dough flung at his head. Letting out a surprised cry, he managed to duck and was only showered with flour when it hit the wall above his head. "Ah, is that a no?"
Trowa turned to him, both eyes visibly blazing under the admittedly shorter hairstyle. "Bastard. If you don’t want the dough up your..." His voice trailed off as he took in Quatre’s outfit, "...very accessible ass! What the hell are you wearing?"
Quatre’s cheeks flamed and he ducked his head in embarrassment, "An outfit from The Gap! It was Duo’s idea to embarrass me to make up for your wonderful new hairstyle so we decided on something that I would never really do but I did it for you because I love you and I’m sorry!" He smiled tentatively when Trowa stepped closer to him.
Trowa tapped his finger against the counter, "Ah, I see. So you thought you could win back my affection by humiliating yourself. Am I right?"
Quatre lowered his eyes. Said out-loud like that, it really was a bad idea....damn Duo! "Well, um, I guess so?"
Trowa smirked, "Well, you want my verdict?" A nervous nod "You have a hell of a long way to go before you get any, Mr. Winner."
Startled eyes lifted to meet his husband’s gaze, "Trowa! What can I do? I’ve already apologized and humiliated myself and done everything I could think of for you! I’m lost here, Tro! Tell me what I need to do! I’ll do anything!"
"Anything?"
"Yes!"
"You know that dinner we have to go to tomorrow night?"
"Yeah, it’s for the new Prime Minister’s acceptance party. All the ‘important’ people in the country will be there. Why?"
A feral grin, "Guess what you’ll be wearing..."
Part Five of The Dangerous Missions Arc still to come!
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