The Vacation Fic (alternately titled Help! I’m Vacationing And I Can’t Get Up!)
Author: Chester D.
Rating: R (M) for basically anything and everything you can think of.
Summary: Trowa wins 5 tickets out of a box of Major Munch® to a Caribbean island vacation resort, and everything pretty much goes to hell from there.
Disclaimer/Warning: This fic contains crude humour, excessive vulgar profanity, implicit homosexuality, and various other low-brow shenanigans. Sunrise/Sotsu/Bandai owns Gundam Wing and all characters, places, and ideas therein. I only own this fic.
Feedback: Pretty please with roaches on top?
Author’s Notes: This was my first ever GW fic (first written c. 2000). As bad as it was (and probably still is), a [very] few dedicated people have requested I continue it, and so I shall, even if it’s half a decade in the works.
 

Day Two: Sunburn & Sobriety

Needless to say, morning came too soon for Duo and the others involved in the Mad Spider Escapade of the previous night. Trowa’s personal alarm clock went off at six thirty and stayed on until seven fifteen. Duo awoke, rolled off the TV stand and onto a sharp suitcase lying on the floor. Taking his gun in hand, he fired the last shot at the clock on the floor, sending its entrails of sprockets and springs onto the wall. The gunshot caused Heero to snap upright from his position draped across the top of the bureau as Quatre, Trowa and Wufei all were startled awake as well.

Tossing his gun away, Duo crawled onto the TV stand again and went back to sleep. Heero shook his head and closed his eyes, hoping for a few more minutes of much-needed rest.

At 8 AM, sunlight filtered through the cheap curtains, falling right on Duo’s eyelids. He opened one eye and felt his pupil shrink down to a pinprick, causing him to grimace. “I see the light,” he murmured, “and it’s pissin’ me off.”

“You can always draw the curtains,” came a voice from below, and Duo looked over the side of the stand to see Quatre lying on his back, one bamboo bed leg clutched to his chest like a rifle, looking as if he had spent the whole night staring at the ceiling. The mattress, or what remained of it, had been dragged across the room, and that was what Quatre was currently lying on. Smears and smudges of dried blood were all over his clothes and the mattress cover.

“What happened to you?” Duo muttered.

“Oh, it’s not my blood, it’s his.” Quatre nudged Trowa, who was laying beside him, apparently still unconscious.

Duo squinted. “Quatre,” he said slowly, “are those… tampons? In his nose?”

“Yes. He wouldn’t stop bleeding, I had no other choice.”

“Where did you get tampons, Quatre?”

The blond haired young man let his eyelids fall half closed. “I packed them in case I started my period.”

For a moment Duo looked as if he didn’t know if he was joking or not.

“The ladies’ room, you retard. Honestly.”

“Alright, jeez, sorry. My bad. Happy fuckin’ morning to you, too.” Pause. “Seriously, though. You might want to change ‘em. They look nasty.”

“Em Why Oh Bee, Duo.”

Just then the bathroom door opened and Wufei emerged, neatly groomed and primly dressed and looking very rested. He spotted his friends and said with a small grin, “Ah. So you are alive.”

Oozing down off the TV stand, Duo replied, “Har. Har. Does this dump serve breakfast or do we have to go chop open some coconuts with our hand-made machetes?”

“They serve a continental breakfast in the dining hall a short walk from the visitor’s centre.”

“You gonna eat with us?”

He shook his head. “I already ate. I didn’t feel like waiting for you lazy slobs to wake up.”

“I’m awake,” came Heero’s hoarse voice. “I just can’t move my body.”

“I told you not to sleep on that thing,” Quatre mumbled. “It’ll give you cramps.”

“And you’d know all about those, wouldn’t you?”

Quatre, still lying prone on the mattress, raised his arm high enough that Heero could see it and saluted the young Japanese man with his middle finger.

Just then Trowa stirred and sat up groggily. “Whud happ-ed last nide?” he groaned. “Add why am I talkid fuddy?”

Heero lifted his head and squinted at him. “Trowa, are those… tampons?”

* * * 

Everyone agreed that it would probably be in their best interest to grab some breakfast while it lasted and then sit around afterwards and argue about their embarrassing incompetence when it comes to taking care of a simple home invasion.

In the dining hall they sat down at a table for four. Aside from a few guests, the place was nearly empty. Wufei said he would rendezvous with them later and disappeared to perform a reconnaissance of the immediate surroundings, leaving Trowa, Quatre, Duo and Heero alone in the dining hall. Needless to say, the remaining four vacationers looked exhausted and harassed, and at least one of them looked like a ringside casualty.

Duo was still wearing his pyjamas, which consisted of a ratty Black Sabbath tank top that looked as if it had spent weeks in a heap at the bottom of his dirty laundry hamper and the same khaki shorts he had been wearing yesterday. He seemed a bit bowlegged after having a human skull smash his man-berries into jam, but he was recovering quickly. Balls of steel, he had said proudly, and then had to evade a kick aimed at his crotch since Heero wanted to see if they clanged when struck.

Heero himself looked slightly more tucked in than Duo, dressed plainly in jeans and a t-shirt, but his hair was pointing in every direction of the compass and he walked funny because of the way he had slept on the bureau. He still had a bruised eye and a busted lip from yesterday, yet he seemed to be coping well. Then again, Heero was programmed to cope.

Trowa looked as if he and Death had engaged in serious battle and he’d barely managed to escape; luckily his nose had stopped bleeding, so he had been able to take the cotton mice out of his nostrils. His uncombed hair nearly completely shadowed his face but, considering the way he looked with that bluish-purple shiner across his cheekbone, it was all for the better.

Quatre, who at least attempted to look decent, was wearing a white untucked button-down shirt, his favourite red vest, and a pair of Duo’s khaki pants since his own pants had been graced with several bullet holes last night. The pants were wrinkled and too big for him, and the only thing keeping them from falling around his ankles was his belt.

The waiter showed up with the menus and took their drink orders.

“Coffee,” Heero grunted. “Black.”

“Regular or decaf?”

“Supercaf.”

“Okay. How strong do you want that?”

“Chewable.”

“Okay. And you?” he addressed Duo.

“An extra large Mountain Dew.”

“For breakfast?” asked the waiter.

“I’m American.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

Duo folded his arms and laid his head down on the table miserably. Quatre ordered darjeeling and Trowa followed Heero’s lead and got coffee. The waiter then left and allowed them to make their breakfast selections.

Duo leaned over and whispered to Heero, “Doesn’t our waiter look like Tom Green?”

“No. And furthermore, did you brush your teeth this morning?”

“Uhh... I guess I forgot.”

Heero grimaced and waved his hand in front of his face. “God Almighty. Run a buzzard off a shit wagon.”

“Dragon breath,” Trowa murmured.

Duo and Heero gazed at him. “Pardon?”

“Dragon breath,” he repeated.

“I always called it Morning Mouth,” Quatre said.

“More like Monster Mouth,” Heero reiterated.

“I swear, our waiter IS Tom Green! His name tag said ‘Tom’, too! I wonder if he’ll sing the Bum Song if I-”

“Duo, could you please not talk? You’re making the wallpaper curl.”

“Speak for yourself, Mr Nocturnal Flatulence.”

The waiter who bore an uncanny resemblance to Tom Green showed up and took their orders. Quatre decided on French toast and a banana, Trowa chose the cardboard-flavoured oatmeal, Heero was content with a bagel and an orange, and Duo ordered two of everything.

“...and the pancake plate with the side of bacon, two hash browns (scattered smothered covered diced chunked flipped tricked pimped and punked), the Belgian waffle plate, a bowl of Major Munch, a whole grapefruit with sugar, toast with butter, toast with jelly, toast with cinnamon, toast with peanut butter, an apple bran muffin, a steak and cheese omelet...”

The other three sighed heavily. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

They met up with Wufei in the bungalow after breakfast, which was even more of a disaster in full light. Wufei was attempting to straighten it up out of shame for his compatriots.

“You’re all a bunch of filth-wallowing pigs,” he muttered when they entered. “Our first night here and you turn the whole place upside down. I’ll bet room service will take one look in here and tape it off like a crime scene.”

Duo shrugged. “If anyone asks, we were just testing to make sure the structure’s sound.” And he hastily began to undress.

Heero examined his surroundings with dismay. “Chang’s right, Maxwell. I can’t live in this sty. You’ve got to learn to take- ohmygod.” He quickly turned his head away.

“Duo!” Quatre cried. “It’s not polite to expose yourself!”

“I’m just changin’ clothes. We’re all guys here.”

“Excluding Winner,” said Wufei. “But he’s just saying that because his vagina is really sensitive today.”

“Trowaa! Wufei’s making fun of me again.”

Trowa glanced up briefly. “Quatre, don’t whine. Wufei, knock it off. Duo, go change in the bathroom. Heero, quit blushing.”

Miraculously it worked: Quatre stuck his tongue out at Wufei. Wufei ignored him. Heero tried to hide the fact that he had been blushing. Duo skulked into the bathroom and made sure he slammed the door hard enough to dismount the hinges.

Heero mused. “Well, this vacation blows. I’m getting to work.” He pulled his laptop out of his suitcase and set it on the bureau, then dragged the TV stand over so he could use it as a chair. He began to type and ignored everything else around him.

Trowa turned to Quatre. “So. What do you feel like doing?”

“Something fun and dangerous and exciting.”

“Like last night wasn’t enough?”

“YOU’RE GONNA GET THE DANGEROUS PART IF YOU STAY IN THE SAME ROOM WITH HEERO!” Duo called from the bathroom.

Heero looked up and nodded. “He’s right, you know. I’m a magnet for danger. There’ll be secret agents and mutant killing machines busting through the windows in fifteen minutes, so you’d better think about leaving soon.”

Trowa and Quatre slowly began to inch their way towards the door.

Moments later, Duo emerged from the bathroom with a colourful towel thrown over his shoulder, dressed in swimming trunks bedecked with palm trees and pink dolphins, and proclaimed, “I’m headin’ out to the pool! Anyone wanna join me?”

“Uh, Quatre wants to go parasailing,” Trowa replied. “Isn’t that right, Quatre?”

“What? Oh. Yes! Paras… paraceiling. Simply have to. It’s my favourite hobby. So sorry, Duo. We’ll be back later!”

 Then the two bolted out of the bungalow so fast they left smoke in their way.

Duo turned. “What about you, Wufei? Cannonball off the diving board?”

Wufei blinked. “Relax? Here? Are you insane? I’m heading out to reconnoiter the whole island. Something isn’t right about this place, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”

“Right,” said Duo. “Tell Scooby and the Gang I said hi.”

“Up yours, Maxwell. Nice shorts, by the way. I didn’t know it was Pride Week at St Abalone. Congratulations on coming out.”

“There’s nothing wrong with these shorts!”

“Of course not. Just keep telling yourself that.”

And Wufei departed, leaving Duo standing there in his festive, flamboyant attire with Heero, who was typing on his laptop. In addition to his ammunition, Duo also wished he had asked Heero to leave the laptop that was more of a lifetop at home. He sighed, realising that the situation was practically hopeless, but decided to give it a try anyway.

“Oi, Hee-”

“No.”

That one went over as well as Pavarotti jumping hurdles. So, with his heart bruised and his feelings irreparably hurt, Duo dried his tears and left Heero alone in the bungalow.

Heero paused, poised, and listened to the footsteps fade. When he was sure that Duo was gone, he slammed the laptop closed and jumped up. He thumped his silver attaché case on the bed and clicked it open, taking out a pair of rhinestone-studded, horn-rimmed, shiny black sunglasses that were so dark and so slick and so cheap that they could have inspired a ZZ Top song. He slowly slipped them on and took a deep breath, then sauntered towards the door.

Just as he reached the threshold, he whipped around and said to the empty room, “Heero has left the bungalow.”

* * *

Trowa sighed contentedly as he laid down on his beach towel and latched his hands beneath his head. “This is the life.”

“You said that about the hotdog stand,” Quatre commented as he slopped sunscreen all over himself.

“Anything beats being in the circus.”

The sun was hot and the sand was scorching and the ocean was practically boiling out on St Abalone beach where we find our two heroes, Trowa and Quatre, stripped down to their swimming shorts and ready to do a whole lot of nothing for the next three hours.

“That was some nice parasailing you did back there, Quat.”

“Yeah. Until I hit the water going sixty miles an hour.”

“Still, for someone’s who’s never parasailed before, you were pretty good. I hope you didn’t get any salt water in your va-” Trowa stopped himself short.

“My what?”

“Your va… vaaaaaa. Vvvvvvvibrant blue eyes.” Somewhere on earth, a crowd cheered.

“Why, how thoughtful of you, Trowa. No, I didn’t get any water in my eyes, thank you for asking.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m flattered you think my eyes are vibrant.” He smiled brightly and rolled over onto his belly, kicking his legs in the air idly. “What else do you see? I’m curious.”

Trowa turned his head and looked like a small animal in the headlights of a monster truck. “Wha… y-your eyes?”

“Yeah! Look into them and tell me what you see.”

Trowa swallowed dryly. “I see… endless oceans of… water.”

Quatre giggled. “You’re funny, Trowa.”

“I’m a clown. It’s in the job description.”

“You know, I’ve never asked you this before: what’s it like working in the circus and performing before hundreds of people?”

“Well, it’s a lot like being a prostitute, only the pay is much worse. You see, when a carnie falls in love with a zoo…”

And that was how it happened. Quiet discourse on a warm, peaceful beach, surrounded by sparkling blue water and miles and miles of nowhere in every direction. Given all that had happened the night before, it would only have been a matter of time before the lack of sleep caught up to them both and they skipped off into Dream Land. But it caught up to them sooner than planned, and in one of the worst places to fall asleep:

The sun.

~Three hours later~

Quatre sat up groggily and yawned. That’s strange, he didn’t remember falling asleep. A fiery sensation suddenly seized him, like red hot nails being driven into his skin, and he looked down at his body...

* * *

Ten billion light years from Earth, a big green alien by the name of Maldaar was sitting down to tea when a human scream reverberated through his space pod, rupturing every glass object in his possession.

“” he muttered.

* * *

Duo was the first one back in the bungalow that evening. It looked as if someone had ransacked the place looking for something, but then he remembered that it had been left like that that morning. Now endowed with a ravishing new tan, Duo was relaxing on the one bed that still had legs beneath it, playing with the dancing hula girl doll he had won at the kiddy fair when suddenly the door opened, and Trowa and Quatre limped into the room, letting out little meeps and moans with every step.

Duo’s jaw dropped and he stared. “You assholes. I can’t believe you went to Hell without tellin’ me!”

Quatre had the worst of it by far, even though Arabians have thrived beneath the sun’s harsh rays for thousands and thousands of years without damage. Quatre was different because he happened to be an Albino Arabian, and therefore could get a sunburn from anything brighter than a 75 watt light bulb. The sunscreen had been broiled off of his skin after the first half hour. But it was too late to blame genetics; the boy was burnt to the hue of a boiled lobster, at least on the back of his body; he had fallen asleep on his stomach.

Trowa didn’t look nearly as bad as Quatre, although he was definitely red enough to be used as a stop sign. At least the ugly bruise on his face from last night had been roasted over like the rest of his skin on his front side. The two of them were going to have the weirdest tan lines in a few days.

Wufei arrived at the bungalow a few minutes behind Trowa and Quatre, and after a brief lecture about skin cancer and narcolepsy, had gone diving into his duffel bag in search of a lotion he said would help ease the pain. Duo had run down to the dining hall to fetch some ice since that was about all he was capable of doing without fucking things up.

“OWCH! That hurts!” Quatre cried.

“Hold still! You whine worse than a woman,” Wufei snapped as he applied the clear lotion to Quatre’s already blistered shoulders.

Trowa was sitting on the unbroken bed, rubbing the gel onto his chest. “What is this stuff anyway, Wufei? I hope it’s got morphine in it.”

Wufei replied, “Ancient Chinese secret.”

Trowa just barely smiled and tried not to be surprised that Wufei did indeed have a sense of humour. A small one, just small enough to be frightening, but a sense of humour nonetheless.

At that moment, there was the sound of somebody crashing into the door... and they very nearly took it down. The bolts on the hinges popped out and the doorframe cracked.

“Damn it,” Wufei muttered. “Maxwell forgot how to use a doorknob again.”

There came another full-bodied crash followed by a burst of raucous laughter. The three young men stared as the door finally slammed open to reveal a very drunken Heero Yuy dressed in nothing but a lizard skin loin cloth, several animal tooth necklaces, and a slew of red paint streaked across his bare chest.

Quatre, Trowa and Wufei were speechless.

Heero grinned lopsidedly, holding up a coconut cup in one hand and a cooler full of bottles in the other. He was swaying like a palm tree in a hurricane, and his eyes couldn’t seem to stop crossing themselves.

“Yu godda try shumma thish stuff,” he slurred. “Id’ll sock yer knocks off-!” He had only managed to take one step forward before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed on his face.

Duo appeared at the door, breathless, with a bucket of ice. He stepped through the threshold and over Heero’s body. “Sorry it took so long, but the door was locked in the vending area so I had to go around and-” He stopped in his tracks and turned around. “-Jesus Christ. When did this happen?”

“Just now,” Wufei said as he stood from the mattress on the floor and went over to kneel down by Heero’s side.

“Holy shit. Is he drunk?” Duo set the ice on the nightstand and went to help Wufei drag their inebriated comrade onto the unbroken bed.

“Is he conscious?” Quatre inquired as Duo leaned down close to Heero’s face. The intoxicated teenager slowly came to.

“Duo...” he grinned happily, and Duo had to turn his head when his eyes began to water. “My tomochadi chomodotty tomodaaaaa-”

“Goddamn! Don’t nobody light a match near him! Heero, how much have you had to drink, man?”

Heero sat up quickly. “Noddie nuff. Motto motto mot-” He looked around with red, bloodshot eyes before screaming, “BAKERU! WHUDDIN TH’ HELL’DSHOO BASHTARDS DOOWIMYE ALCLOHOL-”

Duo clapped a hand over his mouth and hissed. “Dude, be quiet! You have any idea what time it is?”

Heero nodded crazily. “Timefer anudder round. DRINKSH’RE ON ME! KAMPAI!” He raised his coconut cup to pour what remained of the liquor on himself but-

“Oh no you don’t!”

Wufei and Duo shoved Heero back down onto the bed. He struggled weakly and began gibbering about what a wonderful island this was and how nice the people were. Wufei studied the sloppy red paint markings on Heero’s body with a dark expression.

“I don’t like this. These marks mean something bad-”

“Ya like ‘em?” Heero blathered. “Thish onna lady preddy lady...” His face went blank. “Where wush eye?”

“Pretty onna lady.”

“Oh yeah. And this preddy onna lady in a preddy... thingie... painded me in the trodin-tarajed-tradiginal naydiv way.” And he nodded firmly.

Duo, with a hopeless look, took Heero’s hand in his own. “I’ll pray for you, Heero.”

“Y’ look lika preecher anyway with that stupstid uniform on. AHA HA! Otousan! Fodder Duo in black jodhpurs! AHA HA HA! AHA HA HA! AHAHA! AHAHA! JOE SHEEZUS MATTSU I’M GONNA BARF SO HARD’LL ASS MY LAFF OFF!”

Quatre yelled, “Will somebody shut him up!”

“Working on it,” Wufei muttered, and with grim accuracy, struck Heero right on his pressure point.

A dumb look crossed Heero’s face, and before he flopped down unconscious he muttered, “Watch the... pineapples.”

There was a brief silence.

“Do I really look stupid in my uniform?” Duo asked.

“Yes,” they all answered, and their friend sighed heavily.

“Well, fuck you fine gentlemen, too. I have had too much for one night,” he groaned as he stood up. “Here, darlings. Your ice.”

“Thanks,” Quatre said as he took the bucket from Duo and turned to the other sunburn victim sitting on the mattress. “Hey Trowa, why don’t you lay down and let me rub ice cubes on your chest.”

Trowa’s eyes slowly widened and widened until he resembled a petrified owl. Then he abruptly stood to his feet and went into the bathroom, closing the door. They all heard the lock click into place. Wufei shook his head. Quatre looked confused.

Duo rubbed his finger on the red marks painted on Heero’s chest, looked at it closely, sniffed it, licked it, and spat it out. “Oh my God, it’s blood!” he cried.

Quatre gasped. Wufei gawked. “Are you sure?”

Duo dragged his finger across Heero’s chest and licked it again, smacking his lips thoughtfully. “Yeah, it’s blood alright.”

“Don’t lick it, Maxwell, you dumb bastard!” Wufei shouted. “It could be infected blood!”

“It could be menstrual blood,” Quatre added, and everyone stared at him. He frowned and pointed at them warningly. “The first person who says ‘vagina’ dies.”

“I did some research at the civic centre today,” Wufei muttered, changing the subject. “The natives once believed that a mighty volcano god ruled this island, and that if they did not appease him, he would destroy them all.”

“Huh. Nice guy,” said Duo.

“Once a year the natives would hold a celebration to honour the volcano god’s mercy, and select a virgin to be sacrificed in the fiery pit of Mount Wananokkalongdong, the largest volcano on the island.” Wufei looked down at Heero grimly. “They would mark their sacrifice by stripping them naked and painting the volcano god’s name on their body.”

Duo and Quatre stared.

“In blood.”

Quatre screamed in horror. Duo screamed also, but it was with laughter.

“What the hell is so funny, Maxwell!?” ranted Wufei.

“Hee-! Hee-!” Duo gasped, eyes watering. “Heero’s a virgin! Ah-haaaaaaaa! Ha ahaha! Hahaha! Aha! Aha! Haaaaaaaaa!” He slid to his knees and pounded the bed with his fist, wheezing and guffawing. The bathroom door opened and Trowa looked around worriedly.

“It’s not something to laugh about, you fucktard!” Wufei shouted, punching the American in the back of his head. “In three days the sacrifice must be carried to the top of Mount Wananokkalongdong and tossed into the molten lava, or else the volcano god will unleash his fury and the whole island will erupt. We’ve got to leave this place now!”

“We don’t know if that’s true,” Trowa countered from the bathroom door. “For all we know it could be a joke, or a lighthearted tradition that the native islanders use to boost the tourist industry. It’s not like Heero got lost in the jungle somewhere and came back with a cooler full of tequila.”

“Maybe he picked it up on his way back,” Duo suggested, rubbing the back of his head.

“All I’m saying is, we shouldn’t panic over something that we don’t know about. How about we just dump Heero in the bathtub for now and keep this to ourselves, yeah?”

“You’re so awesome, Trowa,” Quatre gushed, glossy-eyed in complete adoration.

“You’re wrong, Barton,” Wufei grumbled. “I’m telling you, we need to get out of here tonight. Besides, there’s no way Maxwell’s going to be able to keep Yuy’s secret to himself.”

“What’s Heero’s secret?”

“He’s a virgin.”

Trowa didn’t change expressions. “That’s the funniest shit I’ve ever heard.”

Continues in Day Three: The Wicked Whiff of the West