There Once Was An Ordinary World...
by ALC Punk!

There's a smallish room off the Cafe proper. It's not a well-known room, mainly because it was abandoned long ago. But it's been recently claimed by a varied assortment of fictives, and redubbed the Plot Weasel Room.

Of the current lot who are in there, only Lestat never leaves. He's not allowed to, since there can officially be no writing of him in fiction. He's okay with that, it means more time for booze, blood and sex. And mockery. Especially of his fellow vampire, Spike, who currently has a chip in his head that keeps him from harming humans.

"Y'know, mate, I never pictured you as the hunter-gatherer type."

Slym shrugged at the vampire. "It's a living."

"Must be a boring one."

"Better than not being able to feed on humans," Slym pointed out.

"Hey. I can feed on dead ones."

"But I'm sure it's not as fun."

Spike hrmphed, and lit a cigarette. Nate reached across the table and grabbed it from him. "These are very bad for you."

"Die Hard. Bruce Willis." Lestat said lazily. "And, really, haven't you used that one enough?"

"Giant, furry lobsters?" Stryfe blinked out of the half-doze and stared at the others. "She's serious, isn't she."

Domino yawned and finished cleaning the ak47. "Of course she is." She sighted along the barrel absently. "I had to play checkers with Cal, remember?"

Slym coughed at the mercenary, "Mind aiming that elsewhere?"

"Oh. Sorry." A smirk touched her lips as she re-aimed it at Spike.

"Hey! Don't everyone all pick on the vampire!"

"But you're so easy."

"And yet not cheap." Nate said. "Funny, that."

"Hey, Nate, you gonna drink that entire bottle of scotch on your own?"

"Yes."

She raised an eyebrow at him, "Really."

"Yes." He took another mouthful and sighed.

"Nate's a bit depressed, apparently." Stryfe tilted his head at his sibling, "Thought you were getting written tonight."

"Don't wanna." He replied morosely.

"The man who has everything." Lestat opined, "Not wanting to be written. Oh, I feel for you." He snorted, "If only I could get written all the time--and so well, too--I'd never have a care in the world."

Spike lit another cigarette and sighed, "At least you're not getting bad slash written about you, Nate."

"I heard of Bobby/Cable the other day," Domino interjected, "Of course, it probably didn't have apple puckers in it, but you never know."

"Apple puckers?" Slym glanced between his son and Domino, and grinned. "Never mind."

"Smart move, Summers." She grinned at Nate, who had for some reason started to blush, "Sticky stuff, apple puckers."

"Blood is sticky as it dries. It gets this lovely tacky consistancy after a while." All of them looked at Lestat. He blinked at them. "What?"

Spike snickered at his fellow vampire, "Y'know, Lestat, Dru is insane, but she isn't half as boring as you bloody are."

An elegant shrug met his comment. "I should like to meet your lady, one day. She sounds much lovelier and more interesting than you." He tilted his head to the side, "I wonder if she would like the still-beating heart of a star of the Moulin Rouge..."

Nathan gave a dramatic sigh, and stared at the bottle in his hand sadly. "It's all gone."

"This should cheer you up, then." A new voice announced. She stepped into the light and posed dramatically, before snickering. "You are all so very pathetic." Two bottles of scotch landed neatly on the table, moved by unseen forces.

"You're a Mary Sue." Nate pointed out.

"Oh, yes." Marya dropped into the empty chair next to Stryfe and yawned, "Been there, done that. Wrote the book on it, got lost in time, AND, killed the universe. Next."

Domino tossed a bullet casing at her. "Buy me a drink, bitch."

Marya grabbed one of the bottles and waved it threateningly, "You want a glass?"

Stryfe and Nathan reached for the other bottle together. Nathan glared at his clone. "Mine."

"Actually," Domino aimed her glock at them, "It's mine."

"Night on the town?" Marya suggested, looking mildly interested.

"Could be fun." The female merc swiped the second bottle up, ignoring the glare three Summers' men were levelling at her. "Let's go."

Marya hopped up, her own bottle still in hand. "Right behind you."

"Bye, boys. Don't angst too loudly, I hear Angel got a happy moment last night."

"And you guys wouldn't want Angelus to come and irritate you, now would you?" Marya snickered as they left.

"The poof?" Spike groaned, "Keep him away. Please."

"Awww. Wheelchair Spike with Karate-action not pleased to see his grand-daddy?"

"Oh, great." Lestat sighed, "And I thought we'd avoid Angsters Anonymous tonight."

Angelus flopped into the chair Domino had vacated, "Awww. Poncy-boy must be missing his Louis." He smirked.

"I don't miss anything, except a nice child, medium rare... Mmm. Delectable."

"Shut up, Lestat."

"Make me, Nathan." The vampire replied lazily, his teeth flickering whitely under the sudden smile across his lips.

"Boys, boys. Give it a rest. We don't need the whole table smelling like--"

Slym interrupted Angelus. "Stop that thought right there. We're going up to the kitchen, where I'll wash your mouth out with soap."

"You can't--"

The man from the future grinned, "I can, too. Redd?"

"Right here, lover." The redhead smiled at Angelus. "You have a very dirty mouth, young man. Time to teach you some manners."

Angelus stood, and tried to leave. He couldn't, as TK bands slid around his arms and legs, immobilising him. Seconds later, he was floating from the small room, leaving his erstwhile colleagues and enemies highly amused. Redd and Slym followed, chuckling.

As the laughter died down, randomness settled around the table for a moment, infecting Spike with a sudden and damning insight.

"Nate's an oar! Nate's an oar!" He announced, singsonging it so it echoed in the small room and out into the 'Cafe proper.

"Shut up, Spike."

"Nate's an oar!" The vampire repeated, giggling.

Stryfe shot him. "I take it someone put heroin in his blood?"

"Probably."

Nate sighed, looking tired. "Why do these fools come to plague me?"

"Because you're the Askani'Son?" Stryfe suggested as he sipped the cognac the waitress had finally brought.

"Why am I commiserating with my mortal enemy?"

"Because we're brothers?"

Nathan snorted. "Not a reason."

"For I am...." Stryfe stood, striking a very silly pose, "HappyFunStryfe!"

Lestat fell out of his chair, convulsed in laughter. Spike followed suit, though the convulsing might have been from the pain of the bullet in his chest. Nathan just stared at his clone, flabbergasted.

"Spike has heroin, what's your excuse?"

With a shrug, Stryfe sat down again, "Boredom."

"Next someone will tell me Domino is bonding with my mother." Nate muttered, taking another sip of his scotch.

Lestat snickered as he regained his chair. "Haven't you heard, darling? They are."

"Jean and Domino? Bonding?"

"God help us all."

Nate and Stryfe toasted each other, shivering.

"The only thing worse? Jean, Maddie, Dom, Aliya, and Drusilla bonding."

"Never gonna happen, mate." Spike decided, fiddling with the bullet he'd pulled from his chest. "Dru don't like hanging around those hoity-toity types."

"As long as Drusilla never ingests the Phoenix, we're all safe."

"Don't give people ideas!"

"Can't help it."

"Mom would be pissed."

"So would my sister."

"Drusilla looks lovely in flame-red," Spike mused. "With her ebony hair, my goddess contrasts so beautifully." He sighed.

"The street-brat is almost lyrical." Lestat sneered, "Fancy yourself a poet, do you?"

Spike glared at him. "Shut up."

"I propose a toast." Standing creakily, Nate smiled at the two combatants. "To the Plot."

"What plot?"

"Any plot."

"Lestat's plot."

Stryfe raised his glass, "To the plot!"

"The plot!" The other three chorused.

Nate nodded to his clone, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

They all sat down again, immersed in their respective drinks. A shoe sailed into the room, landing on the table with a thwack. A semi-drunken Glory followed it.

"Spike."

"God."

She flopped across his lap, and sighed extravegantly. "Life sucks."

"Yeah." He attempted to remove the Hell-God from his lap. She resisted, clinging to his shoulders and curling up like a cat. "Um, look..."

"Sssssshhh. You'll wake the world."

"Uh, Spike, you have a blonde in your lap, sweetie. A willing blonde." Lestat grinned lasciviously, "Might want to just go with it."

"She's a Hell-God."

Lestat shrugged, "Sounds intriguing."

Glory raised her head and looked at him, "You're cute, you know that? Pity you're a vampire."

"Uh, Glory," Spike began.

"I know. So are you. But, hush, because she's coming."

"She who?"

A hand clapped over his mouth. "Silence, lover-boy."

The door was opened again, and a slim young woman stood in the doorway. "Spike?" She caught sight of Glory wrapped around him, and hissed. "You."

"Me."

Drusilla stalked into the room and grabbed Glory by the hair, "Get off him."

"Ow. I'm--Ow!"

The Hell-God was no match for the vampire's surprise attack, and quickly found herself on the floor, clutching at the hank of hair that had been so mishandled. Spike stood, and caught Dru to him, "Hello, love."

"You were going to take the world from me." She shivered and leaned into him, "But the Bouncer was so lovely. He tasted of peaches and cream."

"Uh, pet... You didn't eat the Bouncer, did you?"

"Just a little." She giggled, "And now we can find my Angel and rule the world."

"Uh, yeah. About that ruling the world thing, pet." He slung an arm around her shoulders, "Let's go have a drink and discuss that."

"You two kids do that." Glory claimed Spike's vacated chair, and smiled at Nate. "Chess, checkers, or poker?"

"Poker." He replied, not thinking about it.

"Good." Her smile turned cat-like, "I'm sure you won't mind it being strip poker, since we have nothing else to use for currency."

He blinked. "Strip..."

"That sounds like a fine idea," Lestat announced, leering at Nate. "I'd love to see you stripped."

He sniffed, "Who said I'd lose?"

"I do." Stryfe decided, pulling a pack of cards out of his pocket. They were unopened. "Although, I promise these are untainted. I stole them myself from the card shop down the road."

Glory grabbed them, and pulled the plastic off. "Awww. Naked men. Stryfe, you shouldn't have."

"But--" He glared at her, "No pulling any God-tricks while we play."

"No cheating." Nate said sternly.

"I don't cheat." She snapped. "I don't have to. But I wasn't about to play with Nude Aardvark cards."

"Aardvarks?" Lestat raised an eyebrow as he looked at Stryfe. "Something you're not telling us, O Shiny Armoured One?"

"They're a present." He muttered. "Deal, Glorificus."

She sent him a Look, but tossed the cards to Lestat so he could deal. "Five-card stud. No wilds. Normal strip poker rules apply."

"And aardvarks are animals. They don't wear clothes," The Chaos-bringer continued to mutter.

"You know, Stryfe, some writers would think your attitude is a perfect excuse to tie you up and dump you in a river." Lestat drawled as he dealt.

"They wouldn't dare," Indignation didn't work well on Stryfe, who was far too knowing by half. Still, he gave it a good go.

"Shut up, boys." Glory waved a card at Lestat, "Gimme one."

"Yes, mom." Nate tossed Lestat two of his cards, and grimaced.

Stryfe took three cards, and the dealer gave himself one.

"Full house," Glory announced.

With a sigh, Nate set his cards down, "Pair of eights."

Stryfe grumbled, and tossed his to Glory, "Ace."

"And I have a pair of Kings."

"Goodie." Glory smiled at them, "Lose an article of clothing, boys."

"Wait. I thought only the person with the lowest cards lost an article." Stryfe objected.

"I'm a God. Humour me."

With assorted grumbles, the three did so. Glory became owner of a cravat, a glove, and a boot. The boot wasn't her size, so she tossed it over her shoulder, and added the glove to her never-ending collection of bad clothes. The cravat looked sort of cute around her neck.

Time passed. More hands were dealt, won and lost. More pieces of clothing were traded. At one point, Glory had Stryfe's helmet on, while Stryfe had Lestat's cravat, and Nate sported nothing but gloves and his underwear. Lestat had suffered a bit more, and was down to his navel ring and a sock.

More time passed. Lestat regained a second sock, Nate got his shirt back, and Stryfe lost his pants. Glory added them to her steadily growing pile, and removed her left earing.

An argument began about whether earings were considered clothing. Glory won, since Lestat's navel ring was considered as such.

The game went on forever. Nate got dragged off to be written, wearing nothing but a scarf. And Spike wandered back in to take his place. He quickly lost everything but his socks. And then they, too, were gone, and he was left with nothing to cover himself with. Glory sacrificed one of the pillows, since she claimed he was NOT all that and a bag of chips.

A Pete wandered in, took one look, and fled the scene. He was reported to have downed a record thirty bottles of Guinness before passing out under a table.

With time, the day advanced into night, which turned into day again. And the plot weasels gamed on.

-finis-

Various notes: The Slym and Redd probably belong to Drea. I do know it was her comment about Slym and hunter-gathering that started this.
Giant fuzzy lobsters was a Timey concept. As was Dom playing checkers with Caliban. You should all go read it, it's good.
Nate is probably also Timey's, since he was being all mopey the other night, refusing to be written.
Apple puckers belongs to an as-yet unfinished smutfic.
The Moulin Rouge I'm reffering to is the real one, which Lestat probably frequented. Marya belongs to Suzy DeZorga.
Nate being an oar belongs to Lise, who said so in Orare.
Also, the Stryfe may belong to Drea. Which might explain him buying a deck of cards with aardvarks on them. Best not to ask.
The Room is just a Room.

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