Disclaimer: All things "Gundam Wing" and "Alice in Wonderland" belong to their respective owners. Featured song lyrics is "Mouth" by Merril Bainbridge (1996)
A/N: inspired by a conversation within the BI forum and by fellow BI'er White Witch, you're still awesome.
Prologue
"Zechs," she started to say, "Just how long have we known each other?"
"For much too long."
"We've been close friends ever since the academy, right?"
"Yes."
"Best friends, right?"
"Yes."
"You'd even die for me?"
"…Yes?"
"Good. Then take off your clothes."
Checkmate
Part One
"I feel like I've been blown apart, there are pieces here - I don't know where they go. I don't know where they go…"
At precisely 6:43 am the radio came on and it plucked out a very bubbly, sugar-sweet tune. The alarm had been set to the Oldies station, and the song that preceded the early morning traffic report was one of those wake up-and-listen sleepyhead genres. It also happened to be a tune that could haunt a person for the rest of the day and throughout the night, the rhythm caught in the head like a bad chocolate almond addiction, and it refused to let go until something better came along.
But for now, it was sugar-coated peanuts for him.
Was that a bad thing?
The song lyrics matched the liquid sunshine that peeped from beyond the full length curtains, visibly exposing a private deck for a perfect July morning, if not a tad early for sunrise.
"Quiet," someone muttered unpleasantly. A very muscular and well toned arm reached out to slap the snooze button in what one would call ungraceful.
His thumb managed to hit the target button while the rest of his hand knocked the radio off the countertop, leaving it dangling in mid-air by a very constrained electrical cord. Furthermore, the persistent device decided to screw up its reception and initiated the buzzer alarm in loud retribution.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP
Milliardo swore excessively into his pillow before he pulled the plug completely from the wall.
Crash went the machine as it hit the floor and he winced in irritation. That would leave a mark on the wood. Further cursing was called for.
No silence for the waking dead, or something like that.
As he attempted to resume his sleep pattern, it evaded him. Hence, he rolled over and tugged at the covers so that he could hide under them, to escape the sunlight which threatened to creep in. Stupid alarm, stupid song, stupid sunshine that just won't let his face or his eyes alone. He heard the birds sing brightly from beyond the windows and Milliardo grumbled even more, he had lost his dream about Alice in Wonderland.
He sighed for sympathy. Today was a rare day. He was given the opportunity to sleep in, and yet he couldn't. What else could go wrong?
Oh well, the dream didn't make much sense anyways. It was all a hazy mix of coloured bottles, chess pieces, riddling twins, and cards. The noises outside made him frown, if he couldn't be happy, no one else should be either.
"What the hell does a guy have to do to get some shut-eye?!" he burst out suddenly like a woman experiencing PMS. For a brief moment, the Earth stopped.
But then she decided that it was much more fun to aggravate him.
"Arrr…" he groaned and grabbed the nearby pillow to throw over his ears. What a headache. But suddenly he realized that he wasn't the only one complaining.
"Mm, that's my pil-low." A female voice muttered sleepily. "Give baa-yawn-aack…" Additional movement on the bed confirmed his confusion.
Milliardo shot up in bed and threw the black 'n' white checkered blankets over the edge of the mattress as his mouth dropped open in shock.
"Hey, I said not to tak-" the voice continued, her violet eyes squinted in the sun, her hands fumbling for the non-existent sheets.
"NOIN?!"
"Zechs?" She blinked slowly and repeated what she had just said. "Zechs?"
Obviously, with her brain half-functioning, she couldn't perceive the gravity of the situation, unlike him.
"What are you doing here?"
"I… don't… know…" he replied with equal length, looking down at the state of dress that they were in, or undress as some may call it. His gaze was drawn to a particular spot and he fell strangely silent. That was definitely an interesting thing to wear to bed. Err, to sleep.
But then she woke up and her eyes widened in shock.
"ZECHS!?!" she screamed aloud. His eardrums popped. Milliardo lost his concentration and winced, an action she become immediately aware of.
"What the HELL am I doing in your BED?!" Lucrezia looked down, gasped and grabbed a pillow or two to cover herself.
He wasn't aware that he sighed in disappointment over the lost visual, not until it was too late to cover it up with a fake yawn. A raging fire gleamed in her eyes and he found it rather appealing at the moment. Smiling at her was his second mistake.
"You depraved loony!" she continued to bellow, completely infuriated with him, "Get out, get out, get OUT!"
He was going to die, Milliardo was sure of it.
When she pointed a finger commandingly at the door, Milliardo didn't hesitate. He jumped off the bed and ran away in his black silk boxers, his survival instinct kicking in. The door slammed shut in his wake and Lucrezia quickly dropped the pillows to take a good look at herself.
Good lord.
The press would have a field day.
Just outside, Milliardo leaned against the door and pinched himself to make sure that he was awake.
"Ow."
He was awake.
Absolutely befuddled, he looked around his apartment and found it in chaos; it seemed that Lucrezia was moving in with him, and by the state of his surroundings, that time was now. Boxes, suitcases, clothes and other feminine belongings lay littered around his place, not to mention a few other awkward things that were either wedged between the couch cushions or dangling from the fireplace grate.
He wandered over to the grate and picked up something from off the heath rug. It was scarlet, sheer, and had lace trimmings. It was also soft to the touch. He dropped it immediately.
Coughing in disbelief and embarrassment, Milliardo sprinted for the kitchen and looked for a bottle of beer to drown his sorrows in, but all he found were tiny shots labeled, Drink me.
Goddamn it, this had to be a set-up, it had to be, there was no other logical explanation to all of this.
Besides the obvious, of course.
Holding the bottle in his hand, the partially-dressed man would have drunk without any further hesitation if the light of the answering machine hadn't caught his eye. A blinking red button confirmed that he had incoming messages. It turned out that the whole disc was full of babbling invoices.
He left the bottle in the fridge and made his way over to the telephone stand, unsure and expecting the worst. He pressed the button and held his breath.
BEEP
"Hello, you have reached the Peacecraft- and Noin-residence. We are not home at the moment, but if you want one of us to call you back, just leave your name, telephone number, a brief message and we'll get back to you once she's done in the shower. Thank you."
Wait.
That can't be right.
Milliardo re-set the disc and replayed the welcoming message. This was wrong, freakishly wrong, since when had his house become a dual-residence? And since when did he say he-
Ahem.
Rubbing his temples with excessive force, he started taking mental notes after every invoice, hoping to piece together any hints that may come his way, hopefully less scandalous than the first one.
"Um… hi, Noin."
Hint one: Lucrezia has officially moved in, with my consent or else she never would have made it to the introduction. The others know too.
He groaned.
"I wasn't going to help, but Relena…"
Hint two: your most hated enemy knows where you live and has unfortunately gotten together with your sister, he shall be punished. After breakfast and a shower.
An image ran though his mind.
Make that a cold shower.
The messages kept rambling on.
"Maybe WuFei and I shouldn't come today…"
Hint three: Noin's best friend knows about the moving. This was not a spontaneous act and has been planned very carefully, with disastrous results.
"Heero won't return her stuffed animals…"
Milliardo visibly quirked an eyebrow and a muscle twitched in the left part of his jaw.
Why the hell would Relena ask an obsessive-compulsive man to bring someone else's stuffed animals? Seriously. If someone had handed him a box of Trowa Barton's hair products, they'd never see it again.
"No more games for Duo, really, no more games. I promise."
The blonde man knew who was to blame, it was a dead giveaway. Only someone with that sense of humour would attempt something like this, but he wasn't even sure what this was.
"Have you heard from Quatre since last night?"
No, and he didn't care. Not unless Dorothy Catalonia had some part to play in this whole ordeal, he wouldn't put it past her to try something that would wreck havoc. It ran in the family.
Hint number four.
But the last one really caught his attention.
"So, who won the game?"
Bingo.
Milliardo shut off the answering machine and grinned proudly to himself, crossing his arms and letting out a breath of smugness. He had a lead and he had confessions. To erase the disc of the messages would rid him of the only evidence he had regarding the past 24 hours, which he assumed at first glance a heist in the making. His mind was turning gears so quickly that if it was able to make noise, it would have echoed throughout the kitchen. It was just a matter of time before the whole story came out; it was time for that beer now.
He wondered how Lucrezia was faring, or more specifically, what she was wearing.
Then he slipped on a spoon and smacked his head against the cold tabletop.
Damn karma.
In the meantime, Lucrezia rubbed the sleep from her eyes and tried to get a hold of her surroundings. She pushed the thought away from her mind that Milliardo's bed was really quite comfortable. The room had a nice touch to it too, clean and neat.
The walls were a taupe, almost tanned color while the trimmings were purely white. Overall, the colour scheme reflected a homely and comfortable appeal, something that she could look forward to. On one side, there was the walk-in closet, plenty of room to put clothes and multiple shoes in. On the opposite side was the door to the patio outside. Lucrezia could see the outline of the steel chairs and glass table that must be a nice hideaway spot. There was also his choice of interior furnishings, a modern and contemporary…
Lucrezia kicked herself in the head and attempted to remember why she was here. Not her room, not her house, and definitely NOT her sleepwear.
But that chair…
She had to literally shake her head to clear the mind from all other distracting thoughts. She took a deep breath and gave a closer glare at what she wore: an intricate white lace corset and matching stockings.
Lucrezia's vision started to get hazy; where on this green globe did she get such things? Somewhere on the floor beside her, there was evidence of a very glittery, sparkling tiara. Her index finger ran along the fitted bodice and she wondered how anyone could breathe in this tight cylindrical object much less fall asleep in it.
Clothes. Sleep. Bed. Morning.
The colour in her cheeks rose as her mind wandered off to a less-than-decent place.
Bad Noin! Bad, bad, bad! She should be spanked repeatedly for her naughty mind.
Oh dear, that came out completely wrong.
Let's just ignore that last comment, shall we?
Lucrezia took a deep breath and tried to claim control over herself.
Did something significant happen last night? The mind told her that was a rhetorical question; of course something happened last night! All the clues were saying 'YES!' but why couldn't she remember? Well, things couldn't get any worse right?
At that point, she should have known better. The woman had signed her own death sentence.
Lucrezia got up on her knees and stretched her arms and legs out, the lace straps of her outfit conforming to her body. When she jumped off the high bed, her toes slipped on something cold and metallic and she lost her balance. Lucrezia grabbed the closest thing near her but still fell on her arse. The object fell against her arm. She stared at it and her face turned to an even deeper shade of red than before, enough to rival the Red Queen's. Now, was this object his or hers?
Forsaking breakfast due to the bad tasting beer, he got to the task of cleaning up the house. The worst part was the living room was he didn't feeling so peckish to tackle that area first, especially after what he found the last time he wandered over there. Instead, he would focus on the kitchen and throw that goddamn spoon into the trash compressor and wish it a very painful death.
Was it normal to hold a grudge against silverware?
It must be a side affect of that foreign beer in the fridge.
As it turned out, the kitchen was far less messy than the rest of his place; most of the bottles were on the table and not in splinters on the floor. His secret cache of ice cream and popsicles had been raided and all that remained of them were their wrappers and sticks. It wasn't too hard picking up the spoons, but he wondered how someone could eat a root-beer float with a spork.
It was better not to ask too many questions and just observe, take in what had happened and don't rush to conclusions.
"He's going to get the haircut of his life."
Noin ran into the adjacent bathroom and yanked open one of the drawers. She got out a pair of shears and held it menacingly in her hands, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Someone was going to pay for Lucrezia Noin did not do these sorts of things. As a former lieutenant of the OZ Corporation and commanding officer of the Preventers, she had her dignity and integrity to uphold.
The metal gleamed menacingly in the light of the bathroom fixtures.
No, that wasn't fair to him. This wasn't entirely his fault. Noin put down the scissors and leaned heavily on the sink, taking in deep breaths to slow her pulse down. She washed her face and used his towel to dry herself off. She brushed her teeth with a (new) spare toothbrush she found in the cabinets and used his cinnamon toothpaste. She chucked out his bar of soap, it was looking pretty grimy and it disturbed her, to replace it with a fresh new one. It was the colour pink.
Feeling refreshed, she rummaged through the side drawers and smiled. There was a bath basket full of soaps and bath bubbles and loofas and other luxury items. Unopened. Noin read the tag and laughed when she saw that it had come from Relena for his birthday present. She placed it on top of the toilet seat, feeling extremely happy with the colour. Yellow.
She also found his electrical shaver and wonder of all wonders, it was battery operated too!
She hid it.
Inside the bath basket.