T Minus 37 Minutes and Counting
"No, really, I've got it," Duo muttered from beneath the hood of the oversized barbeque grill. "Just a little adjustment and we'll be good to go."
Heero shook his head and reached for the phone. "I'm calling pizza."
"Come on, Heero! Just five more minutes!" Duo had been looking forward to this party for weeks, and now it looked like the great Gundam Pilot Reunion Barbeque would have to be scrapped in favor of Movie Night with Pizza. Again. Just like it had for the past three tries.
The first time, Quatre begged out. "Sick goat, sorry, guys."
The next, Wufei was nowhere to be found. Rumor had it he'd been arrested for verbally assaulting the staff at Starbucks.
Third week, Trowa: "Sick lion. Ate a bad goat. Sorry, guys."
And this week, Heero himself had put the kibosh on things. "No go. Grill's busted."
"What's wrong with it?" Duo had asked, ever hopeful.
"I was cleaning it in preparation for your weekly barbeque attempt and something fell off it. It was loud. Now it won't light."
"I'll be right over!"
That was two days ago. Duo had examined the grill, studied it from every angle, and searched Heero's home top to bottom for the little quadra-lingual owner's manual that he swore came standard with that model. Not finding it, Duo did what any self-respecting Gundam pilot would do.
He improvised.
"Done!" Duo wiped grime from his forehead, managing to smear it in a roguish streak across his face like some kind of drunken ninja. "I even filled the fuel tank for you." He stood up and began searching his pockets for a lighter.
"Fuel tank?" Heero scowled.
"Aha!" Duo exclaimed happily, holding aloft a half-empty cigarette lighter. It was his commemorative Rolling Stones lighter from their 10th Generation Clone Celebration Tour. Brandishing it like a holy relic, he flicked the catch and hollered, "Let's get this baby cookin'!"
"Duo, wait!" Heero yelled. "It's not –"
With a massive roar, the grill exploded like an overheated can of Spam.