"That's a good look for you, Stryfe."

A soft growl echoed in the small room adjacent to the main bar area of the Subreality Cafe. Lestat grinned lazily at the growler, and sipped his blood. "Works well on you, too, Spike."

There was no growl this time, merely a two-fingered salute followed by the sound of liqour being consumed.

A fourth occupant of the room glanced at Lestat, "How come you're not afflicted?"

The vampire grinned at Cable, "I haven't been mentioned yet, dear."

Nathan raised an eyebrow, "I was unaware you had to be mentioned to receive honorary Fluffy Bunny Evil Guy status."

"I've been... ignored, carefully." Lestat replied.

"Forgotten, more like," Spike sneered, his eyes glittering evilly. "You an' that poncy Louis, left alone and unread 'cause some bitch said she didn't want stories written about you."

Stryfe snickered, "You tell 'im."

"Right. I will." The blond vampire pointed an unsteady hand at Lestat. "You ponced around with that angsty twit--and wouldn't 'e give Angel a run for his broody money?--and excshec--expect--"

"Oh, shut up, do." Lestat waved a languid finger, "You're not making sense, dear."

"Am, too." Spike muttered, becoming reabsorbed in his alcohol.

Silence fell for a time, the four men companionably occupied in drinking. Nathan had a small neat whiskey, taking occasional drops as he cleaned and reassembled several guns. Lestat had blood, of course. Spike was downing shots of tequila followed by blood chasers. And Stryfe was attempting goldschlagger. And succeeding.

Lost in their own thoughts again, they stopped paying attention to the ridiculousness of the attire on Stryfe and Spike.

Nathan was used to Stryfe looking silly, anyway. Anyone who wore spiked shoulder-pads had at least one screw loose.

But, really, that he'd gotten Spike involved with his latest fashion endeavor was amusing.

To say nothing of the amount of fluffy white fake fur that must have gone into the outfits. Nathan was beginning to find himself more than highly amused. Idly, he wondered if someone might have left a camera around. After all, this state of affairs might not last too long. Too bad no one else was here to mock them.

He didn't have long to wait before someone wandered in... "Why the fuck are there two giant bunny rabbits in here?"

Lestat looked up from his blood at Faith, "I assume that's a rhetorical question."

She shot him a Look, and straddled the bench across from the afore-mentioned rabbits. "Oh. It's just the Chaos-Bringer and lovesick Poet-boy."

Two fingers appeared from one of the 'rabbits', and a bleary eye opened. "Fuck off and die."

"N'thanks." She glanced at Nathan. "So what happened?"

"There's a debate," Lestat replied lazily, "Someone said that all villains are turned into fluffy bunnies. The results," He waved a hand towards the two. "Are amusing."

Faith snickered, "Very true." She leaned over and rescued the tequila bottle from Spike. "You're getting blood in it. Bitch."

"Shrew."

She snickered harder, "Letting that Poet out, are you, Spikey?"

"Fuck off--"

"You already said that, sweetie." She took a shot, "Aaaaah. Very nice. Hey, Lestat, think we'll have to get them fixed?"

The Frenchman blinked, "Fixed?"

"Yeah. Spayed, neutered--we don't want a hoarde of little bunnies appearing if they decide to act like rabbits."

Stryfe straightened and tried to look dignified (this is very hard when you look like a giant white rabbit), "Shut up and never say anything ever again."

"Make me."

He started to wave a hand at her, then blinked, "I'm all furry."

Faith nodded, "I'd noticed that."

The Chaos-Bringer glared at her, "If this is your fault, woman--"

"Nuh-uh. Not mine."

"Oh." He straightened again, realised he was already sitting as straight as he could, and decided to try sliding down. The slide took him under the table. "Why's it suddenly gone dark?"

Faith stared under the table for a moment, then looked at Nathan. "Cool. Someone else who's a cheap drunk."

"I am not a cheap drunk," Nathan said dryly. "I'm an expesnive, quick, drunk."

"Ah. I stand corrected."

"'S not what Dom says," Spike slurred, reaching for his glass of blood and missing it entirely.

"Domino is entitled to her opinion," Nathan replied mildly.

"An' a lot more, fr'm what I hear." Leering, the blond vampire leaned across the table towards Faith, "Y'know--" He swiped the tequila bottle and plopped back into his chair with a sigh, "Y're irritating."

"That's what they tell me." Glancing towards the door, she brightened, "Aeryn."

"Commander Sun, to you." The brunette snapped as she stalked in and claimed the chair on Lestat's left. "And I hope like hell you've got something to drink."

"In a moment, I will," Faith promised. She leaned across the table towards Spike again, "Hey, Poet-boy."

He glared blearily at her, "Wot?"

"Why don't you join the other rabbit under the table in a drunken stupor?"

"No."

She punched him, careful to catch the sudddenly loosed tequila bottle with her other as he slid slowly down and disappeared under the table. "That's better." She downed a shot, then flopped back on the bench and handed the bottle to Aeryn. "So, how's life?"

"I've been better." Aeryn gasped as she downed her first shot, "What the frell is this?"

"Tequila. Don't worry, the second shot goes down better."

"It frelling better." Suiting actions to words, the ex-Peacekeepers commander downed a second mouthful. "You're right," She croaked, "Much better."

"Third and fourth, you won't even taste."

Lestat giggled, "One tequila, two tequila, three tequila--floor!"

"Go back to thinking up ways to torture Louis, you idiot." Faith suggested as he reclaimed the bottle from Aeryn.

"Is this a private party, or can anyone join?"

Faith waved a hand at Domino, "I've got Spike's tequila."

"Lovely," the mercenary absently patted Nathan on the shoulder as she passed him, intent on the alcohol. Her first shot went down quietly as did the second and third. She sat down before the fourth, then handed the bottle to Aeryn. "So. Do I want to know why Spike and Stryfe are under the table dressed as rabbits?"

"Nah." Lestat waved a hand, "Of course, they could be doing what Mulder and Krycek do."

"Try to kill each other?" Faith asked, retrieving the bottle, "Really, Lestat. You'd think you actually paid attention to that show. Oh. Right. It's got to be at least as amusing as your soaps."

"Soaps." Came a voice from under the table, "I don't want Timmy to die."

Domino kicked, hitting something soft.

"Ow!"

Nathan glanced at the women, then looked under the table, "Stryfe?"

"Yes, Dayspring?"

"Why don't you, Spike and I go get a drink at the Bronze Menagerie."

"They don't like me there," Spike moaned. "Anya says I'm barred from ever showin' up again."

"Reeeaaallly," Faith interjected, eyes gleaming. "Spike, you realise you're dressed like a bunny, yes?"

"Like I'd forget. Bitch."

"Idiot. Anya is afraid of bunnies."

There was a silence, then. It was that kind of silence you get before much malicious and mad-geniusy laughter is heard. And a little cackling. Spike's head popped out from under the table. "You're not serious."

"Dead."

"Yes, he is, give the lady a prize," Lestat slurred.

"Lestat, didn't I tell you to go angst about losing Louis, or something?"

"Yes, dear, but I didn't bother taking you seriously."

Faith snorted and downed another shot of tequila, then handed the bottle to Aeryn.

Downing her own shot, Aeryn paused before handing the bottle back to Dom. Her fascinated eyes took in the now clean and re-assembled guns before Nathan. "Oh, those look fun."

"What about yours?" Dom gestured with the tequila bottle at Aeryn's holstered pulse pistol.

"It has a good range." she acknowledged, reclaiming the bottle from Domino. "Still, I'd love to test it against that big one."

"Y'mean Nate?" Dom leered at the man. "Sorry, but he's taken."

"The guns, idiot."

"Yeah, yeah." The dark-haired mercenary grabbed the tequila bottle, and blinked. "Damn."

"What?"

"It's empty."

"Well... Frell."

Faith gasped, "It's gone? Spike!"

"Shu'p."

She kicked under the table, connecting with rabbit fur covering spiked armor. "Ow." Choosing her aim carefully, she kicked again.

"Ow!"

"Spike, get out and go order up another bottle or two."

"Do it yer own damned self."

"No."

He glared up at her.

"You can always go find an Anya to frighten."

"Yeah?" He looked mildly interested.

"But, booze. First."

"Mebbe. What're you gonna pay me?"

"No more kicks today."

He pondered a moment, "Fair bargain."

She nudged him with her toe.

"Ow. I thought--"

"You haven't ordered yet, Poet-boy."

"Screw you."

"I'm not Buffy, sorry."

He removed himself from under the table, and straightened, swaying slightly. "Right. I'll sod off now and scare some luscious demon chicks. Coming, Stryfe?"

"Mrrrrr?"

"C'mon, Chaos-Bringer, me lad. We have wenching to do."

"Wenching?"

Spike nodded, then regretted it as the room began to spin diagonally. "Yes. You'll love it."

Crawling out from under the table, Stryfe slowly stood, swaying more than Spike, but less than a blade of grass in a hurricane. "Where?"

"The Bronze Menagerie." Spike nodded to Faith, "Capital idea, Slayer." He began meandering towards the door.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't forget the tequila!" She called as they exited.

Meanwhile, Domino finished showing Aeryn the rudiments of using one of Nathan's guns, "Really, it's point and shoot."

"Projectile?"

"Yep. Plasma, too, depending on which you need."

"Lovely." Aeryn hoisted one of the larger specimens, "Sure this isn't his compensation?"

"Trust me," the other woman replied, leering again at Nathan. "The main has nothing to be ashamed of."

"Except for his shiny wonky," Lestat announced.

"It is *not*--well..." Pausing for a smile remeniscent of a cat who's consumed a large quantity of cream, Domino patted Lestat on the shoulder, "It has been shiny on occasion, but not metallic."

"Oh."

"So, I aim like this." Bringing the gun around till it pointed directly at Lestat, Aeryn smirked, "And I squeeze the trigger gently, to get the targeting lazer afixed."

A small red dot appeared on Lestat's forehead. He stared at the two women facing him, and almost worried.

"Dude. Aeryn."

"Yes, Faith?"

"Can't shoot Lestat."

"Why not?"

Faith paused to consider this, much struck with the realisation that there really was no reason not to. "Um..."

"Because he's the permanent resident of this room, and if he's gone, it could shuffle away and disappear."

The three women looked at Nathan, while Lestat sighed softly. "Oh." Faith grinned, "So, since he never leaves, the room stays. And we can't shoot him because we want the room to stay."

"Exactly."

She looked at Aeryn and Domino, "Let's go find people we *can* maim."

"Good plan."

"Indeed."

Nathan watched them go, each carrying one of his guns. He glanced at Lestat, "That was a mistake, wasn't it."

"I'm not bailing them out."

"Yeah. I'm not, either."

A waitress stuck her head in, "There was an order for a bottle of tequila?"

Nathan smiled at her, "We'll take it." She handed it to him and left. He raised it to Lestat in a mock salute, "Down the hatch?"

Raising his nearly empty glass of blood, Lestat grinned back, "Top me off, first?"

"Sure." Nathan poured in several shots worth of tequila. "To... women. May they always be confusing."

"To Chaos, may it ever reign."

They drank, then Nathan chuckled, "And, to bunny rabbits. May they always propogate."

Lestat snickered.

A silver-haired man stepped through the door, he smiled genially at the bottle, "I believe I heard Chaos mentioned?"

"Ethan!" Lestat waved his blood, "Pull up a chair and a glass. We're drinking."

"Lovely." The chaos sorceror sank gracefully into the wing chair on Lestat's right. "Shall we toast again?" he asked, taking the glass Nathan handed him.

"Nah. Down the hatch."

"How... crude."

"But satisfying."

He chuckled softly. "Indeed."

-finis-

Hrm. The plot weasels were a concept started by Dia and AliMc. They festered into a room off the 'Cafe, wherein people from various places snuck in and talked.

Lestat is Anne Rice's, despite my dislike of her high-handedness. Spike and Faith are Joss's. Nathan, Stryfe, and Dom are Marvel's. Aeryn is... USA? Something like that.

The Cafe is KielleTapsStaffie's. The Bronze Menagerie can be jointly blamed on me and Hutch.

Back to my stories
Feedback
© 2003 ALC Punk!