I'm not sure this is what you wanted but I hope you like it.
Unilkely
Quatre grumbled and sat on the sidewalk. "This is idiotic!"
"Unlikely," Wufei corrected, looking down at Quatre. "Highly unlikely, even, but not idiotic."
Crossing his arms over his chest, Quatre glared at the floor. "What are the chances of a bird pooping on my hand, making me lose my grip on my cellphone, which magically landed on the street without a scratch, only so a garbage truck could come down the road, miss the phone with the front tires, stop, and just as I'm crouching down to get it, start going again and crushing the phone with the back tires?" He took what was left of the phone from his front pocket and showed it to Wufei. "Trowa gave me this phone! I was talking to him before that stupid bird," he waved the phone desperately on the air. "Oh, this sucks!"
"They do say bird poop is good luck," Wufei commented dryly, but when Quatre directed his glare at him he conceded, "They could be mistaken."
Quatre was sulking, wiping his hand with a handkerchief, when Trowa arrived. "What happened?" he asked Wufei softly, so Quatre wouldn't hear.
Wufei held up a hand. "Don't ask."
Trowa frowned. "I was talking to him and suddenly--"
"Don't ask," Wufei repeated, this time louder.
"Status?" Trowa asked carefully.
"One destroyed cellphone, one dirty hand, and one very grumpy Quatre."
Trowa raised an eyebrow. "Procedure?"
Wufei smirked. "Take him home, ravish him until his good mood returns and replace the cellphone."
Returning the smirk, Trowa started walking towards Quatre. "We better get going, then. This could be a very long and hard mission."
Unilkely
I'm not sure this is what you wanted but I hope you like it.
Unilkely
Quatre grumbled and sat on the sidewalk. "This is idiotic!"
"Unlikely," Wufei corrected, looking down at Quatre. "Highly unlikely, even, but not idiotic."
Crossing his arms over his chest, Quatre glared at the floor. "What are the chances of a bird pooping on my hand, making me lose my grip on my cellphone, which magically landed on the street without a scratch, only so a garbage truck could come down the road, miss the phone with the front tires, stop, and just as I'm crouching down to get it, start going again and crushing the phone with the back tires?" He took what was left of the phone from his front pocket and showed it to Wufei. "Trowa gave me this phone! I was talking to him before that stupid bird," he waved the phone desperately on the air. "Oh, this sucks!"
"They do say bird poop is good luck," Wufei commented dryly, but when Quatre directed his glare at him he conceded, "They could be mistaken."
Quatre was sulking, wiping his hand with a handkerchief, when Trowa arrived. "What happened?" he asked Wufei softly, so Quatre wouldn't hear.
Wufei held up a hand. "Don't ask."
Trowa frowned. "I was talking to him and suddenly--"
"Don't ask," Wufei repeated, this time louder.
"Status?" Trowa asked carefully.
"One destroyed cellphone, one dirty hand, and one very grumpy Quatre."
Trowa raised an eyebrow. "Procedure?"
Wufei smirked. "Take him home, ravish him until his good mood returns and replace the cellphone."
Returning the smirk, Trowa started walking towards Quatre. "We better get going, then. This could be a very long and hard mission."
Wufei's lips curved. "I believe so."