Hey-o, and welcome to my Lil' World of Weirdness!!

I state for the record that I don't own Gundam Wing, or the wonderful characters that will be gracing this story. This story is dedicated to my ever wonderful Beta-reader, the Bluegoo, my new beta reader, Clow'd9, and to everyone who helped me out, or wrote to me, reviewed me to tell me to come back during my various stages of depression!

Okay, that's the legal stuff out the way!!

//Thinking//

"Speaking"

*Stress/Emphasis*

~*~

**PlayTime**

By Doctor Megalomania

Okay, so this is a series of little ficlets, there's no time line, no real point, nothing that links them, except for the fact they all came to me during various times when I was messing about with my mates . . . yes, I do still like to play with my friends, I am a child at heart and hope to forever remain so! Please R&R!! Oh, and you have to guess which point of view it's from, since it's one pilot's POV about another!

Zero One: Gun Completely Crazy

My Wing Gundam - 01.

I raised an eyebrow and stared blankly at the massive red and white foot of the Gundam and the black, tiny, white lettered strip label attached to the metal appendage just at eyelevel. My frown grew deeper as just below the label, another read: My Wing Gundam's Left Foot - 01.

What in the hell?

I have to admit my curiosity got the better of me and I walked around to the other foot. Hmm. I glanced around, for – oh, say about five seconds before spotting the same tiny label. My Wing Gundam - 01. My Wing Gundam's Right Foot – 01.

Oooooooookay.

I sucked in my bottom lip and glanced up. Surely he hadn't. He wouldn't be so childish.

. . . he wouldn't . . .

Would he?

Okay, so five minutes later I was running over the gangway and leaning dangerously over the railing to peer at Wing's big bad-ass gun's handle. I couldn't frigging believe it! Heero Yuy had labelled his friggin' Gundam's gun! Holy mother of Moose! He'd gone loopy with that label machine! I snickered involuntarily as the image of our darling little Heero running around the place with a label gun and shooting stuff with it. What next? The frigging light bulbs in Wing's cockpit?!

. . . yeah, actually yeah. He would label the light bulbs in his Gundam . . . I sighed and clambered down the gangway so I could get over to the hanging Cockpit Access Rope. I was just about to step onto it when I spotted another label.

My Wing Gundam's Cockpit Access Rope - 01.

I slapped my forehead. The boy misses nothing.

Up in the cockpit – which by the way, I did *not* pick the lock, nor did I force my way in without permission . . . no, I discovered after jury-rigging the access panel and blowing out the locking mechanisms, the doors flipped open and I decided, as a good friend and fellow pilot, to manfully brave the great unknown and step into the cockpit with great stealth so not to alert any other intruders to my presence in Heero's Gundam . . . Damn nice of me, I think. Anyway, up in the cockpit I stared around in awe as I took in the true depths of Heero's childish petty streak. On the back of the chair was the label, My Wing Gundam Cockpit Chair - 01. The seatbelts were labelled, the steering gears were labelled, the door was labelled, the missile launchers were labelled, and the pedals were labelled. I glanced up and true to form, the light bulbs *and* the lamb panels were labelled. I squinted at the various buttons and found . . . yup, he'd labelled the Self Destruct Button.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I peeled that one off and stuck it to my forehead.

Now *I* was 'My Wing Gundam's Self Destruct Button - 01'!! Mwhahahaha!!

Wandering out of the cockpit by the, of course, My Wing Gundam's Exit/Entrance Door - 01 and down My Wing Gundam's Cockpit Access Rope - 01, I walked back to the small – Schyeah, like anything Quatre procures for us is small – safe house and nodded to the giant picture of . . .

Hold up.

I squinted at the small dedication plague underneath the picture of Our Mother Mary.

My Mother Mary - 01?!

Heero labelled the picture of the holy mother of Christ?!

That . . . that . . . that . . . of all the petty, childish things!! I looked at the table that was just under it and picked up the flower vase.

My Vase of Flowers – 01.

I put that down and opened the drawer. Staring with complete horror as I picked up some of the things in it. All sporting the same black, tiny, white lettered labels.

My pen - 01.

My paper – 01.

My receipt from the Grocery Store for Wufei's milk - 01.

My cellotape - 01.

My spare battery - 01.

My scissors - 01.

My rubber band - 01?!

This was getting out of hand, Heero was a menace! I closed the 'My Drawer filled with other stuff that is mine - 01' drawer and dropped to my knees. Sure enough there was another label.

My Little Hallway table with My drawer filled with other stuff that is mine, under My painting of My Mother Mary - 01.

That little monster! I shook my head and continued along to the kitchen . . . glancing up as I did, sorry, did I say THE kitchen . . .? I meant My kitchen -01. Shaking my head, I found Trowa staring at the fridge, his mouth haven fallen open and his dark green eyes wide with sheer horror. I swallowed. Surely . . . surely Heero hadn't . . .

I stepped toward Trowa and leant over the door.

The mind boggles as to exactly how much time Heero dedicated to this little mission. My Butter – 01. My milk – 01. My cheese – 01. All the strawberry and blackcurrant flavoured yoghurts sported a My Yoghurt – 01. The beers, the coke bottles, the lemonade jug . . . the bowl of last night's salad, the salsa dip, the ham box, the cucumber! Oh my god! He even labelled the box of leftovers that nobody quite remembers what or when it's left over from! Trowa straightened and opened the freezer, letting out a quiet gasp.

Heero had even labelled the ice cubes.

Yes.

The goddamn ICE CUBES!

Trowa glanced at me, his eyes wide then his gaze flickered to my forehead.

"Self destruct button?" He said quietly, his one visible eyebrow shooting up. "He labelled his self destruct button?"

"Yes." I murmured as I picked up the frozen peas and stared at the frozen label. "Think he's labelled anything else in the—"

"MAXWELL!!"

I jumped as Wufei's voice bellowed around the house. Spinning, I found myself face to face with a rather red faced Chinese dragon whose forehead now bore the Mark Of Yuy.

Then Wufei threw the mask at me and growled, "What the hell is that label?!"

"Hey!" I protested, "It's not me! Zero One means Heero!"

Wufei's eye ticked. I love it when it does that; it's just something that never fails to amuse me. It's just one little jerk just under the eye, a muscle tightening quickly, but to me it's one of the funniest damn things I've ever seen.

Anyway, his eye ticked and he looked around. "And the other labels?"

"All Heero. None are me at all . . ." We looked around in silence for a moment as other labels around the 'My Kitchen – 01' started to appear to us. He'd labelled the apples, the bananas, the fruit bowl. The bread, the bread bin, the cookie jar, the sink, the taps, the plug, the dishtowels, the washing up liquid, the washing machine, the laundry basket, the pegs, the peg box, the cooker, the hobs, the saucepans, the frying pan, the wok.

Wufei's eye ticked again at that one and I chuckled, earning an 'I'm going to stomp on you with Nataku' kinda glare.

Heero had taken the time to label the counter tops, the cupboards, the windows, the door leading to the garden, the floor tiles, the chairs, the table – twice – he'd labelled the kitchen phone, the answering machine, the notice board, the mission statements we kept on the notice board, the empty wine bottles, the champagne bottle Quatre was saving for the end of the war, the shopping list, the shelves, the spice rack . . . the spices *in* the spice rack . . . the knives, the forks, the spoons, the teaspoons, the ladle, the chopping board . . .

Trowa bit his lip and let out a small, "Uh-oh", when he found Quatre's favourite teacup had been Heero-ised.

. . . the onions and the potatoes, and pretty much everything the perfect solider could get his little steel bending hands on. It's kind of cute in a . . .

No, actually . . . it's not that cute . . .

I ran into the living room and found the living room was no longer for living . . . it was Heeroing. Beloved TV, beloved videodisks, beloved couch . . . all had fallen under the Mark of Yuy. It was like Heero had become some sort of dog and was spraying his scent all over the place. Hell, my computer gaming station was even labelled. Wufei's exercise hand grippy thingy was labelled; Trowa's flute case and the flute was label.

Trowa let out another little, "Uh oh . . ." When he saw Quatre's violin, violin stand, bow, music book, music stand, violin case . . . even that sweet smelling resin stuff he puts on the bow now was liberally covered with the Mark of Yuy.

The bookcase, the books . . . Romeo and Juliet was now a famous play by My Book – 01.

Dear God . . . I sprinted over to my shelf – yes I have a shelf, but now it was My Shelf – 01. I gaped in horror and damn near trembled as I picked up one of my favourite things on the shelf.

My papier-mâché version of the Shinigami - 01

He got my papier-mâché version of the Grim Reaper.

Damn him!

I spent hours on that model!

I picked up my other models, all either handmade or assembled from kits and growled as I found the Mark of Yuy branded on each of them.

There was a quiet "Ahem" from the door, followed by bags being very carefully put down. We all turned to find Quatre, strangely – and rather frighteningly – calm in the doorway.

He was holding one of his favourite shirts, still damp from the washing line. He held it up and said very, very, very calmly, "Why did we let Doctor J send Heero a Label Gun for his birthday?"

We all glanced at each other and the only other sound in the room was Quatre's quick march out the room and Trowa damn near sprinting after him, muttering a third, "Uh oh . . ."

Later that night . . . after Trowa subdued Quatre in the hallway . . . I dunno what he did, I heard something whispered about rope, handcuffs and a slinky but thank god he got rid of that mad, Zero glint in good old Q's eyes. It still gives me the willies whenever it appears.

Anyway, I was watching My Television – 01 on My Sofa – 01, eating a My Apple – 01 and quite happily downing a My Beer – 01. I'd put on a random My Video Disk – 01, and was now hoping to drift off into happy land, dreaming of a place that wasn't labelled with the Mark of Yuy. There was a slight creak in the doorway as Heero came in finally. I glanced up as he looked at me, and went to open his mouth. Something though – maybe my highly pissed off glare at him . . . what? You expect me to laugh? He labelled my papier-mâché Grim Reaper Model!

Anyway, he promptly closed his mouth again, pulled off his wet coat and slunk off into the My Kitchen –01. I felt myself growl angrily. Surely he knew how much paint had come off the bottom of the Grim One. Granted he'd thoughtfully placed it on the bottom of the model out of sight, but still the principle of the thing!

When he came back, I stood, intent on giving him what for.

My mouth fell open as he unashamedly started typing something into his label gun. "Heero . . ." I began as he glanced at me, an evil glint in those steely blue eyes. "Heero . . . I'm serious . . . don't you touch me . . ."

He shrugged and levelled the gun in my direction. "I'm sorry, but I can't take the chance my control will slip. It will kill both of us, if I touch you . . ."

"Heero . . ." I held up my hands, soon I would too bear the Mark Of Yuy! I had to do something! "Don't do this!"

"I don't want to! I don't want to put you out of commission." He faltered for a moment, his gun lowering. "I need you!"

I . . . I'd never heard such words from him. I felt my heart leapt about, partly from the fact I was about to be blasted by his label gun, and partly because I'd always felt a little . . . you know, something for our perfect solider. Not that I go blasting the fact that lowly Gundam pilot wants Miss Relena's boyfriend around, but you know . . . sometimes things get a little . . . you know . . .

He closed his eyes, lowering the gun completely.

"I need you . . . I don't think I could have made it so far into this war without you . . . you've always been by my side, reassuring me always that there was a way out . . . even in the most impossible situation, you've always been there . . . glowing . . . like a light in the darkness . . ."

"Heero . . ." I could feel the blush crept up on my cheeks as he continued to spurt such poetry for me. "I honestly didn't know . . . I . . ."

"I keep fighting so hard, just to make sure I never use you . . . I always try to respect you, you have so much power over me . . . I . . . I can barely stand it sometimes." He glanced up at me through his bangs and growled, "I'll fight to the death to make sure nobody gets the chance to touch you before I do . . ."

My eyes widened as he took a step toward me, his voice still in a possessive growl.

"I want to touch you . . . you tempt me like no other, how can I resist you? I want to caress your hardness . . . capture your glowing for my own . . ."

I backed away from him, not from fear, but from that dark little smirk that built on his lips. My back hit the wall and soon he was leaning over me, carefully not to touch me, one hand pressing against the wall to stop my escape. I couldn't get away; his dark blue eyes boring into mine trapped me.

Yikes!

"One day, I want . . . to fumble in the darkness for you . . . want to seek out your smoothness . . . your hardness . . . I want to push you hard, pressing and pressing and pressing . . ."

I swear that little simpering moan was NOT from me. It was from the other lovesick teenaged boy with a braid, staring up at his heart's obsession as his fantasy began to fill his mind with dirty thoughts.

"And pressing you so hard you finally explode . . ." Heero licked his lips, daring to lean a little closer. Damn, he just knew what to do . . . I wanted to surge forward and paste myself to him. Relena can sue me all she likes, can use her high up thingymabobbies to get them to send me to wherever. Consequences be damned, I want to die kissing the perfect solider!

Just as my mind caught up with my body and I leant forward to snog the pants off him, he backed off very quickly and smirked at me.

"What?!" I demanded, knowing my face was blushing like hell and my eyes were betraying my emotions to him.

"Sorry." He said not so unhappily, "I can't touch you . . ."

"Why the hell not?!"

He nodded to the mirror and shrugged.

I stomped over to the mirror and stared at myself. Okay, so I was a little dishevelled, braid was falling out in places, my big ugly shirt – a present from Howard – was buttoned up wrong. My boxers were showing on one side of my very low slung, faded jeans . . . my feet were bare . . . maybe my toenails needed cutting but—

"You're looking too low . . ." Heero suggested, the damned smirk even in his voice. I snapped my head up and stared at my . . . face . . . oh. I get it . . .

I sighed.

I still had the damned My Wing Gundam's Self Destruct Button – 01 label on my forehead. He was talking about the button . . . not me . . .

He chuckled in a quiet version of his mad cackle as I turned, "Okay, wise ass . . ." I began but never finished as I suddenly heard a small hiss, a sort of Pur—chuck—Whirrrr sound and a sharp, quick, stinging pain on my forehead.

I idiotically crossed my eyes; trying for some bizarre reason to read what Mark of Yuy had been placed upon my cranium as Heero began to laugh again, lowering his label gun. Sighing, I turned and peered into the glass. "Why in the hell did J give you that goddamn label gun for in the first place?" I muttered as I tried to pull loose the hairs that had gotten trapped before reading the new label.

Heero appeared in the looking glass behind me and shrugged. "It's for when I self destruct, he said, because the number of times Wing gets blown up it just makes it easier to find, pick up and put back together again."

I closed my eyes for a moment and pressed my forehead against the glass, "And why exactly would you need the toaster when you are trying to put together your blown up Gundam?"

"I might get hungry?"

I opened my eyes and straightened, staring the boy with frank amazement. "You're one in a million, Heero . . ." I let my gaze flicker up to the label.

My Sweetheart Duo Maxwell – 01

I blinked again and again as I read the small backward message. Do you ever get a moment when a few simple words, maybe put accidentally, maybe not just comes off the thing they are written on and punches you in the gut? Well . . . like I said, the other love sick teenaged Gundam boy was the one who moaned quietly and let his eyes take on a glean of tearing.

Hiss.

Purr-CHUCK-Whirrrr.

"Ouch!" My eyes widened as I felt a sharp stinging pain across my left buttock. I spun and glared at Heero as he walked off, out of the room. The little Label Gun Maniac chuckling to himself as he ran up the stairs.

I glanced over my shoulder and stared at the latest addition of the Mark of Yuy.

Your Ass Is Mine, Maxwell – 01

 

Owari