Author: Sami-pi
Pairing: established 3x4x3
Rating: PG (for many bad words)
Warnings: none
Timeline: post EW
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing, its characters and its trappings, belong to Bandai, Sotsu, and... I was sure there was someone else in there... sorry! ^^;;; Anyway, this fic is not for profit, just for fun.
12:02
"Excuse me, Mr. Winner?"
"I'm busy, Christine."
"I know, but--"
"No 'buts', Christine. I told you I didn't want to be disturbed."
"I know, but, sir--"
"Out, Christine."
People just never seemed to understand that running a multinational corporation required work. They all thought he was some magical wizard or something, sitting in his posh office waving his wand and making everything run smoothly. 'Oh, but you were a Gundam Pilot,' they say. 'After that, this should be cake,' they say. 'How hard could this be," they say. 'Office hours are eight to five with one hour for lunch,' they fucking say.
Quatre couldn't remember the last time he got to eat lunch.
"Hey, Quatre--"
"I don't have time today, Duo."
"Oh, but I really think--"
"No 'buts', Duo. I'm sorry, but I really have to get this done."
"Okay, fine. But, Quatre--"
"Out, Duo."
God, he would have loved to go with Duo. When everyone had first started working, they'd always play hooky together, four Preventers and a CEO. But then it became just lunch together. And now it was just emails that he didn't have the time to answer. He'd tried hard to stay in touch with his old friends but it was getting increasingly difficult. Soon they wouldn't even bother asking him to come out anymore.
Stupid fucking dividend declaration. 'Classes' of shares? Who cared? What stock split? What AGM? The shareholders could bite his shiny blond ass.
He was going to personally buy back every single share of Winner Enterprises Inc. and then he was going to resign and live off the dividend payments. That'd show them. And then the AGM would be held in his fucking Jacuzzi.
"Winner."
"I'm busy, Wufei."
"You're always busy."
"No 'buts', Wufei. I really--what?"
"You're always busy."
"Is there a 'but' coming?"
"I was trying to figure out a way to word my next sentence without it."
"Right, Wufei. No 'buts', 'howevers', 'yets', or anything of the like."
"I really think--"
"Nope. None of that either. I don't' have time for this."
"Quatre--"
"Out, Wufei."
For the love of all that was holy, what did people not understand about 'I do not want to be disturbed because I have a lot of work to do'? Where the hell was Christine? Quatre had always assumed that a personal assistant's job was to comply with his wishes and keep people out of his office when he didn't want people coming into his office. Maybe that was too much to ask for.
He contemplated firing her.
But Christmas was coming and she was a pretty good assistant when she wasn't interrupting him like RIGHT NOW.
"CHRISTINE! WHAT DID I TELL YOU?"
"Sir, Mr. Barton is here and--"
"And you can tell him that if he's looking for blowjob, I'll bite it off."
"You'd regret that later tonight."
"I'm not in the mood, Trowa."
"Clearly. But, Quatre--"
"No 'buts', Trowa."
"I'm serious, Quatre, you--"
"Out, Trowa. And take Christine with you. Take her to lunch or something. Just get her out of my hair."
Really. His own boyfriend had no respect. What did these people think his job entailed? Did they think it was going to be all sunshine and roses and hard, sweaty sex on a sturdy solid oak desk? They weren't seventeen/eighteen anymore. Quatre didn't find it funny now to conduct a meeting with Trowa hiding under the conference table sucking his cock. This was a serious business and there was no room for tomfoolery. Every meeting counted.
Quatre still blamed Trowa for distracting him during that one meeting with HR and Facilities Management. Now all the men's rooms were "seafoam green" because apparently studies showed that it made for happier male workers.
Eight hundred thousand dollars to re-paint every single men's facility in the WEI empire.
Did he looking like a fucking "happier male worker" because of it?
"Quatre?"
"WHAT!"
A loud 'BOOM' shook the air, rattling even Quatre's solid oak desk.
"Duo told me tell you that he couldn't diffuse the bomb in that parking garage next to your building and that he was going to have to blow it."
Quatre blinked at Heero.
"He told me to tell you that if you weren't going to evacuate like the rest of your employees, then you should 'hang onto your hat'."
Quatre blinked again.
"Which is odd because I told him that you forbade the wearing of hats in the office."
For the first time that day, Quatre turned away from his desk to look out his window. From his office on the forty-fifth floor, he could see that the sky was blue, the sun was shining, and there was a fine haze of concrete dust floating up from somewhere below him.
"Oi, Quatre? You okay?"
Quatre turned back to the door to see a dust-covered, slightly frazzled-looking Duo standing behind Heero.
"You should be busy downstairs, Duo."
"Aw, c'mon. I just saved the day."
"But not the parking garage."
"Heero!"
Quatre watched his two friends bicker for a bit and he smiled.
Then he made an Executive Decision.
"Trowa and Wufei still downstairs? Let's head out. This day is done."
OWARI
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