By trixie





"I don't think I can do this."

"Well, I clearly can't," came the flat reply.

Duo sighed heavily. "But this is all your fault!" He turned his head a bit, and instantly regretted it. "Are you sure you can't get out?"

"Of course I can," Trowa sighed. "This is all part of my sinister plot to get out of work and spend all day playing with your hair."

Sarcasm was so tiring after a while. Duo picked up the phone. "You're doing my paperwork for a month to make up for this," Duo grumbled, ignoring the way Trowa was not responding to him. He dialed the number quickly, and closed his eyes, praying for her voice mail, but of course... not to be...

"Commander Une, Preventers, speak."

"Commander, this is Agent Maxwell, calling on behalf of myself and Agent Barton. We've, um, well... we're going to be a bit late today..."

"Agent? Is there a situation?"

"Well..." Duo tried to look up at Trowa, hovering over him. "Yes, I suppose... Barton's got his hands stuck in my hair."

There was dead silence on the line. He had to give the woman credit; at least she could keep her tongue.

"We'll be in as soon as we can."

"Good." The line disconnected, leaving him to only imagine her laughter. He sighed heavily.

"We can always cut..."

"Your balls off? Yeah, I'm thinking about it. In the meantime, get your fucking hands free," Duo growled.

"It was really sexy until this happened," Trowa very unhelpfully offered.

"I'm never putting my hair down for sex again, I hope you realize," Duo returned.

Even if it had been sexy... it wasn't worth this!