"I just realized something."

They were all flying, Scribe clutched in Cupid's arms while Xander and Quinn dangled from the belt that was attached to the one around her waist. "What's that?" Cupid asked.

"Xander and Quinn are in a perfect position to look up your kilt."

Cupid glanced down, giving her an amused look. "Shall I find an updraft?"

There was a moment's pause, then she heard Xander say, "Coooool."

"Not necessary, Cupe. Quinn, no comment?"

"I'm not really interested in mythical characters," he replied.

"Oh, yeah? Did you know that he's a dead ringer for Aragon in Lord of the Rings?"

"What?"

*oof* "Damn, man!" groused Xander. "Watch the fucking elbows. Quit squirming--there is no better view--believe me, I'd've found it. And I don't know why you're so excited. I mean, Aragon was hot, but that Legolas guy..."

"Xander," warned Scribe, "remember to keep the drool factor down. You don't want anything to end up slippery while you're dangling in mid-air."

They drifted down, settling through the open roof of a large marble building. Quinn and Xander, dangling, landed first, and Scribe said, "Hey! How come you guys are non-weightless so soon?" She looked down at her own feet, which stayed on the floor, "when I'm just now earthbound again?"

Xander hugged her. "You're incompetent as a witch?" *smack* "Ow. Okay, I take it back--you're a world-class witch." *smack* "Ow! Crap." He looked at Cupid. "Do you have any Pop Tarts? She's in a pissy mood, but a Pop Tart will snap her out of it."

"How dare you indicate that I'm so shallow and easily appeased," snapped Scribe. "It takes two Pop Tarts to bring me out of a funk."

"Strife might have some--he's the junk food junkie in this marriage," Cupid replied.

Quinn blinked. "Marriage? Doesn't that, like, require a woman?"

Cupid stared at him, then looked at Scribe. "What universe did you pick him up in?"

She shrugged, then elbowed Quinn, hissing, "Stop it--you're embarrassing me."

Cupid raised his voice, calling, "Honey, I'm home!"

Strife came into the room. He grinned insanely. "I see ya remembahed ta stop an' pick up what I asked fah." He gave Cupid a kiss, and squeezed his butt. "Yer so thoughtful."

"So you'll take off the chastity belt now?"

"I promised, din't I?" Strife twiddled his fingers, and sparks whiffed up from his waistband.

"Wait a minute," said Xander darkly. "Did you cut him off till he brought you nooky?"

"Yah."

"I have to remember that to deal with Scribe."

She snorted. "Right. First, you'd never be able to hold out. Second, hello? I can get all the sex I want... er, more than I want. All I have to do is stand still and breathe."

"Actually," said Strife, "If that Dennis Skinner guy who looks like Joxer was around, even tha breathin part could be optional." He started stalking toward Scribe, smiling. "Me--I like 'em squirmin."

"Whoop!" Scribe bolted, with Strife right after her, cackling madly.

Cupid smiled at Xander and Quinn. "So, what do you two suggest we do while we're waiting for them?"

Quinn and Xander exchanged looks.

A few minutes later Scribe came sneaking back, giggling. "Hey, guys. He forgot about the living water plants in Hera's goldfish pond, and I pushed him in. He's got greenery from neck to knees, and goldfish down his pants. Actually, I think he likes that last part, but I'd still better disappear, so if you two are coming..."

*groan* *groan*

"Not yet," panted Xander, "but soon!"

Scribe blinked at the trio that was doing something that looked very athletic on the floor. "Damn, you guys are fast. I wasn't gone ten minutes."

Cupid, voice muffled (not surprising, considering where he had his face) said, "Hello? Love God here. Rapid passion is my specialty."

Quinn said, "Scribe, you know that I worship and adore you, but would you please stop distracting him?"

"Sorry." Scribe sat on a convenient, near-by sofa. "Damn, if only I had some snacks. And quit reaching for my foot, Cupid. I can see you."

Very damp arms went around her neck from behind. "Well, peeka-fuckin-boo to you, too."

"Eep. Uh, Strife--that was an accident, you know. I was, uh, I ran back here to get help for you."

"Yah? Didn't see no 911 crews runnin ta my rescue."

"Well," Scribe pointed to the still vigorous activity on the floor. "Everyone is kind of busy. How the heck did you get loose, anyway? I thought I relieved you of your dagger when you tried to turn this robe into fringe."

"Chewed my way out. It's amazin what ya can do when yer horny an' frustrated. I prob'ly have more green in my teeth than I did tha last time I hadda eat spinach. An' that goldfish ended up in a very interestin place. Luckily there was enough tail showin fah me ta make an extraction, but I'm gonna need a personal hygiene spray ta get ridda tha fishy smell. I owe ya thanks fah givin me that idea, hon. Generations of women will try ta smell like a flowah garden below tha belt."

"Don't mention it."

"I'm still wet, kiddo. Ya got any idea how hard it is ta peel yerself outta wet leatha?"

"You can just think yourself into new clothes, can't you?"

He tittered. "Yer so funny when ya try ta apply logic around here. If ya thought that dunkin was gonna cool me off..." He blew a raspberry. "Fat chance. Plus it qualifies as mischief, an' gave me an energy boost I'm just dyin ta work off." He peeked at the sweating, writhing figures on the floor. "Mind if I join ya, fellas?"

Scribe's eyes lit up. "Foursome! I did that in Medley, and it was..."

"Sure, doll," said Cupid.

Strife lunged into the pile. Since he still had his arms around Scribe, that meant she went, too. She squealed, "Hey! He didn't say you could bring a date!"

Cupid: "Hey, babe, you know the rule of orgies--the more, the merrier!" *grab*

Xander: "Hey! You're in the middle of something here!"

Cupid: *thrust* "Any complaints?"

Xander: "Noooooo."

Quinn: "I hate to point out the obvious, Cupid, but if you're talking, you can't be..."

Cupid: "Sorry, but I have my hands full right now." *squeeze*

Scribe: *squeak*

Cupid: "Don't I, hon? Still, I don't want a guest to be neglected. Strife, would you...?"

Strife: "Like I need ta be encouraged." *glomph*

Quinn: "Whoop! I gotta tell ya, you peoples' party entertainment rocks!"

Scribe: "Will whoever is on my hair please get off it?" *multiple shifting* "Ain't working, people. Someone has to get up."

Strife: *slurp* "I say everyone stays put. She can't run if her hair is pinned down."

Xander: "Sounds logical."

Scribe: "Hey!"

Xander: "I didn't say it was right, I just said it sounded logical."

Scribe: "Nice try. I'm cutting you off."

Xander: "Then I suppose I'd better get what I can now, huh?" *grab* *fondle* *hunch*

Scribe: "Shit! When will I learn not to warn them?"

*lots of rolling around, slurping, thrusting, moaning, grunting... You get the idea. The pile is so tangled that Your Author gets a headache even contemplating trying to sort out what is going on.*

Quinn: *panting* "Ya know, Scribe, you seem to enjoy the hell out of this, once it gets started. Why are you always running away?"

*activity comes to a screeching halt* Scribe: *she does part of the screeching* "What the hell are you guys doing stopping now?"

Cupid: "Sorry." *rapid activity*

Scribe: *yelp!* "Thank you. Sorry, fellas, but Quinn hasn't been around as long as the rest of y'all. Someone explain things to him."

Strife: "No one talks till tha nookie is ovah, or ya all get a month of tha nastiest surprises I can dream up!"

*more rapid activity* *concerted yelps and squeals*

Strife: "Okay, I'll explain. Quinn, ya gorgeous idiot--two words: plot driven. If she didn't run, tha series woulda stopped aftah tha first chaptah of tha first section, dig?"

Quinn: "Ohhhh. Okay."

Scribe: "Quinn, you're supposed to be a genius at, like, quantum physics, or some such other almost mystical science, right?"

Quinn: "Yes."

Scribe: "You've read the stories?"

Quinn: "Sure."

Scribe: "And you had to have someone explain that to you?"

Quinn: "Uh..."

Scribe: "Beautiful, but thick as a frying pan--cast iron."

Cupid stood up and stretched. Eyes did not actually pop out of skulls, but one or two of the room's occupants could have won a 'Keane Kids'* look-alike contest. "Okay, time for everyone to hit the bathing chamber."

Xander said, "I can wait. You guys go ahead, and I'll sit on Scribe for awhile."

Strife stood up, too. "Look, Cuddles, that wasn't a suggestion. My husband says we bathe--we bathe."

"But I'm not about to risk my neck in some narrow tub or shower because too many people..."

*zap*

Everyone was standing chest deep in steaming water in the middle of a standard sized pool. "Ya were sayin?"

"Never mind. Marco Polo, anyone?"

Scribe looked interested. "Gary Cooper. Gorgeous. I guess you could make an argument for classic movie slash with him and the Basil Rathbone character, but it would have to be pretty strictly non-con, and..."

Xander ducked her. "Will you give it a rest?" She didn't come up again. Xander paddled in the water, as if trying to push it aside. "Oh, damn! I drowned my mommy!"

Quinn blinked, even as he was also peering into the water. "Life guard! Life guard! Xander, Mommy? Isn't that a little more kinky than necessary?"

"So maybe I have some Latino blood!" He dived.

"Oh, that is so much work!" Strife snapped his fingers, and the pool was suddenly empty. The only people in it were the four men.

Quinn looked around wildly. "What? Where is she? She has to be here. How the hell could she get out of the pool without any of us seeing her?" They all gave him pitying looks. "Oh. Right. Well, where is she now?"

Scribe broke surface, spluttering. "Okay, who the hell grabbed my ankle?"

A dark haired boy popped up beside her. "Be grateful. There was a whole smorgasbord of handles I could have chosen from."

"Oz?"

He began to dogpaddle (Stop that booing. I have to get some more stupid humor in here. Believe it or not, I haven't met my quota for this chapter) around her. "Look, some weird-ass shit happens around here, but I have yet to see a flying monkey. The closest we've come is that time Fat Bastard hung Mini Me from the ceiling fan." He cackled. "That was pretty cool, except for the flying poop when he had the shit scared out of him."

"Spare me. I meant Oz as in 'Buffyverse'?"

He stopped swimming, bobbing in front of her. "Ooo! Plays guitar for Dingos Ate My Baby!"

"So you do know him?"

He squealed. "Know him? I'm a groupie! You know," his voice lowered confidingly. "I've been told that we look a lot alike. Actually, there seem to be quite a few look-alikes for me out there. I ran into one guy named Duane, and I've heard about one who works on some sort of a puppet show, and..."

Scribe peered at him. "Scott?"

"You know, in a couple of descriptions, you have me claiming to be bi, but you've only written me with guys. I'm not complaining, now--I'm just curious. Why haven't I gotten any poontang?"

She winced. "Part of the problem might be your willingness to use the term 'poontang'. Look, Scott, I write slash--therefor you get guy playmates. I don't really write heterosexual sex unless it's an original fiction, or..." She slowed down. "um... I..."

"Finish the sentance."

"Unless it's, um, a MarySue."

"Bingo!"

Scott sprang at her, and she found herself standing chest deep in water, with a horny male slutpuppy wrapped around her, arms and legs both. She made an attempt to peel him off. "Lemme go!"

"Uh-uh." *humphump*

"Damn, I'm gonna be bruised!"

"Well, you haven't written a fic with me for awhile, and I've been saving up." *rubhunchrub*

She felt something brush her leg. Scott had his heels locked behind her back, but she asked anyway. "Was that you that brushed my leg?"

"Nuh-uh." *thrustthrustgrind*

"Scott, is this the pool we saw in your father's lair in the first movie?"

"Yep." *bouncepumprub*

"You did remove the mutated sea bass, right?"

*freeze* "Crap. I knew I forgot to do something."

"Are you going to get off me, or am I going to have to carry you?"

"Is there a mutated sea bass down there in the water?"

"There very well might be."

Scott inched a little higher. "Carry me."

She grunted. "If you weren't so cute..." She slipped her hands under his butt and started wading. "However, if I feel ONE tooth, I'm throwing you in as chum."

She made it to the side without disaster. It was a little awkward climbing out, since Scott still refused to disengage. Once she was standing beside the pool she said, "Look, I can't walk around wearing nothing but you. I need some clothes."

"I'd offer you some of mine, but I don't think you'd fit." *nuzzle* "Though I'd bet that you'd leave some real interesting bumps in my Tee-shirts. I'd say you could borrow some of my Mom's clothes, but there's the same problem there. Besides, I think I'd really have a problem with seeing someone I want to fuck dressed like my Mom."

"Gray isn't my color anyway. Point me toward Number Two's room."

"Hey, good idea! I can just picture his face when he's confronted with the makings of a threesome."

"Right. You just go on thinking that."

In Number Two's room she managed to peel Scott off through the method of goosing him unexpectedly (Author: yeah, right, I know--when is a goose ever expected?) Then she went into Number Two's walk-in closet, shutting him out.

He banged on the door. "C'mon, you gotta come outta there sometime!"

Her voice floated out? "Wanna bet? Check out ...you just might get it, section twelve. If I found a way out of a bathroom through an under-sink cabinet, this should be a cinch. Anyway, I wasn't planning on escaping that way." She opened the door. "I was looking for clothing."

Scott blinked. "Damn. You look better in that suit than Tooey does."

She straightened the lapels of the Armani she was wearing. "Thank you. I knew he was going to have a nice selection of ties, but I have to admit that the racks of eye patches took me by surprise. I considered the one with the floral pattern, but I didn't want to take his Sunday best. Now, then, y'all have a kitchen around here? I haven't had Pop Tarts since the last chapter, and swimming gives me an appetite."

"Sure, c'mon." They went out into the hall. "I've been addicted to them almost as long as you have, but I like to have a Twinkie appetizer first."

She patted his bare shoulder. "I knew there was a reason I liked you. Um, shouldn't you put on something before we go wandering around?"

"Why? I walk back and forth from the pool in my trunks all the time."

"Trunks?"

Scott looked down. *blinkblink* "I'll be damned. I thought for sure those were too tight to slip off. Oh, well. Mini Me and Fat Bastard are in town. Fat Bastard pays Mini Me to create a distraction so he can raid the 'all you can eat' buffets. They quit letting him buy, because he could eat it all. Since I don't have to worry about running into them, that only leaves..."

"Schatzie, who iss zis young man?" Scott groaned, stepping behind Scribe. Frau waved. "Ach, as if I haven't seen your winkie und hienie thousands uff times ven I changed your diaper."

"Yeah, Mom, but that was a long time ago, and I've grown up." Frau smiled. Scott stamped his foot. "Have so! Anyway, this isn't a young man. It's Scribe."

Frau looked at her more closely. Scribe twiddled her fingers. "Schcribe, eh? In drag?"

"Um, yeah, I know that the clothes are a little strange, but..."

"Nein, liebling." Frau had sidled closer. "You know, I haff always admired Marlene Dietrich." She pinched Scribe's ass.

"I vant to be alone!"

Scribe took off down the hall. Behind her she heard Scott yelling, "Damn it, Mom! As if my therapist isn't busy enough already!"