"Nuh-uh. I need to get you under cover, then get you under the covers. Do you realize that if we count that stinkin' cruise it's been almost four days since I had any Scribenookie? I'm going nuts here."

"What do you mean 'going'? For a long time you've been nuttier than a mixed bag of Snickers, Paydays, Almond Joys, and Mars Bars." She pinched his cheek. "Gotta admit, though, you're almost as sweet as that, too."

"C'mon, Scribe. Let's find somewhere private and we can play 'horny but cluelessly innocent teenager and wise, compassionate, experienced older woman'."

"That would hardly work, since my frickin' virginity renewed again, once we were over here."

"So act."

"Xander, I got a question for ya. Does it snow in California?"

"Uh, well, I think there are some mountains that might get a dusting now and then. Why do you ask?"

"Okay, is it safe to assume that those mountains are nowhere near the coast?"

"Last time I looked."

"And we just landed, so we should be at the coast, eventhough at the rate you've been dragging me it is now out of sight?"

"Yes."

"Then why the fuck are we now slogging through knee deep snow?"

"Huh?" Xander looked down. Sure enough they were in a couple of feet of snow.

"And since I've drawn your attention to that, perhaps I should mention that it's snowing--hard."

"Oops." Snow was beating down. That's right, not drifting--beating.

"And we appear to be on a big ass mountain, surrounded by other big ass mountains."

Xander looked around. "Fuck."

"Exactly."

They both looked up at the sky and yelled, "Motherfucking geographic anomalies!"

Scribe sighed. "It doesn't do anything productive, but it makes me feel better."

"We better move before we're buried."

"Xander? Don't mountains like this have deep, dark, dangerous crevices that swallow unwary mountain climbers alive?"

"Uh, yeah, they genterally do. But we're wary mountain climbers."

"Xander, we're mountain climbers only because somehow our butts have landed on a mountainside and the last couple of steps we took were up instead of down. We're more clueless than Alicia Silverstone!

"Oo, I liked that movie. Lots of cute guys, and at least one of 'em canonically gay. You should write some crossover slash with that. I could be a transfer student..."

"Do you see a frickin' laptop around here? Xander, I'm freezing my tits off. As fond as you are of them, I thought you might like to do something about it." He quickly reached over and covered her bosom with his hands. She slapped them down. "That doesn't help--your hands are cold, too. Do something."

"Well, if this was a fan fiction..."

"And it is." Scribe saluted the readers.

"...it would be time for a rescue party of some sort to arrive."

A trio of figures swathed in serious cold weather gear (including caps, scarves, and goggles that left approximately three millimeters or facial skin on display) appeared out of the snow, clomping toward them.

"God, I love fanfic timing!" said Xander, and he clomped toward the trio quickly. Scribe followed a bit more slowly, having had extensive experience with people who appeared unexpectedly.

"Hi!" said Xander brightly. "We're hoping that you can help us get out of here before we get either eaten or raped by a Yeti. I have no objection to some body hair (I'd jump Blair Sandburg in a heartbeat), but we do have to have limits."

Two of the figures pulled goggles up and scarves down to reveal one good looking guy and one good looking girl. The girl said, "What are you two doing up here dressed like that?"

The man said, "I think the operative question is 'what are you doing up here?', never mind the wardrobe. I wasn't aware of any other parties making an ascent right now."

Scribe arrived, shivering. "It was spontaneous."

The young man frowned. "How the hell do you climb K2 spontaneously?"

"It isn't easy, but someone has to do it."

The girl said, "They do?"

Scribe shrugged. "I suppose so, or we wouldn't be here. Excuse me, but could you tell me what the hell fandom we've fallen into? I don't recognize this at all. My first guess would be Cliffhanger, but I haven't seen Sly Stallone around, and I'm not sure I've ever run into any fic..."

The unmasked man said, "We're wasting oxygen, talking like this. When you reach the verticle limit..."

"Bingo!"

The second man said, "We need to get these people to shelter before something important freezes and falls off."

Scribe squinted at him. "You sound familiar. Let's see... who starred in VL? Um... I'm not really familiar." The young man lifted his goggles. Bright green eyes, and there was a few whisps of dark hair peeking out from under the cap.

Scribe grabbed Xander. "Oh, shit! Xander, save me!"

"Scribee, what!? He looks like a perfectly nice guy..."

"Xander, you love me, right?"

"Well, duh?"

"Do you love me enough to throw yourself between me and a vicious, devious, triple crossing, gorgeous, sneaky, sexy, switch hitting, perpetually horny secret agent pawn of extraterrestrials? It will possibly mean a beating, and almost certainly mean molestation."

Xander looked at the mountaineer. "Okay."

The mountaineer frowned. "You must have me confused with someone else."

"Don't try to con me, Krycek!"

"I'm Tom McLaren."

Scribe wilted in relief. "Thank heavens. I thought Alex had finally caught up with me. Okay, you said shelter? Shelter is good for me. I don't suppose there's a nice cabin anywhere near here?"

"Hardly, but we should be able to fit one of you into each of the tents. Now, you're both looking like you've been rolled in powdered sugar. Let's go."

As they trudged off, Xander said thoughtfully, "You know, I've tried whipped cream, honey, chocolate syrup, and in an incident I decline to explain, gummy worms. But I never thought of powdered sugar." *pause* "Scribe..."

"No."

Xander took her hand and nibbled her knuckles. "Scriiiibe."

"No."

"Foot massage?"

*pause* "I'll think about it."

They arrived at two little, low tents, lamps gleaming inside. Tom said, "Okay, you two take Xander. Scribe will come in with me."

The girl frowned. "It's going to be crowded. Why do we have to have three in a tent and you have two in a tent?"

"Well, let me see... Five people, two tents. How many ways can we divide them up? Well, we could have five in one and one tent empty. We could have one person by their lonesome and four in the other tent, or we could have two and three. Gee, I wonder which makes more sense??"

Scribe looked at Xander. "This guy may be related to me."

"All right," grumbled the girl. "Come on." They all three crawled into the tent. Scribe could see their silhouettes thrown on the tent sides. Scribe watched as the Xander-silhouette pounced on one of the others. You couldn't tell the sex of the jumpee, But what the hell? It's Xander, does it matter?

Tom lifted a tent flap. "Ladies first."

"Lady? Who have you been listening to?" She crawled into the tent. It was dry and a good bit warmer. She could just sit up. "Mm. Cozy." Tom crawled in. And kept crawling, right over her. "Hey!"

"Have you got any idea how long I've been chasing your butt, Scribe? Poor Fox paid for my frustration." He looked upward briefly, then smiled. "Not that he didn't enjoy it, the lovable slut."

"Alex?"

He mimed a kiss at her. "You can call me Lexi."

"You said you were Tom McLaren."

"I lied. Does that surprise you?" *grope*

*slap* "It would surprise me more if you didn't lie. What the hell are you doing up the side of a mountain?"

"Trying to get lucky." *grope*

*slap* "Besides that."

"How the hell should I know? I don't think anyone, including the writers and Chris Carter really know what the fuck is going on on that show." *grope*

*slap* *slap* *Slap!*

"Hey! One grope, one slap!" *grope*

*wiggle* *squirm* Scribe managed to reach out the other end of the tent. *grab* *stuff*

"Yow! " Alex levitated almost to the top of the tent. Scribe quickly turned on her hands and knees and tried to crawl out. He landed on top of her, smashing her back down. "Oh, this will work!"

"Get off!"

"I intend to." *zip* "That was a nasty trick, stuffing the snow down my pants. Nasty, and very ineffective." *hump*

*squeak!* "So I feel! Damn, Alex! That should have cooled the ardor of a Viagra junkie."

*hump* "Fanfiction."

"Riiight." *twist* *buck*

"Yee-haw!"

"You're havin' a hell of a lot of fun for a guy who's on top of a woman who still has all her clothes on." *jerk* *peel* *Squeak!* "Why can't I keep my frickin' mouth shut?" *squirm* *wiggle* *buck* *move* *Thrash!*

"Hold still and I'll give you a Pop Tart."

*pause*

*humphumphumphumphumphump*

"Hey! I didn't agree!"

*pantpant* "Two Pop Tarts."

"A box."

"Scribe, being a mountaineer here I have access to lots of nylon rope. Hint, hint?"

*pause* "I want foreplay, and more than groping."

"My pleasure. Literally." *lift* *stroke*

"Gloves?"

"Sorry." *jerk* *jerk* *fondle*

"Cold hands! Cold hands!

"We're up around cloud level. What did you expect? Wait." *huffhuffhuffhuff* *caress* "Better?"

*coo*

"Yep, better." *stroke* *fondle* *caress* *licklick* *suck* *twiddle*

*purrrrrr*

"Okay, I think we're ready." *move* *thrust!*

*squeeeeeeek!*

From outside came the sound of Xander's voice. "I know that squeak! Scribe just got jumped! Lemme out of here!"

There was a chorus of a man's and woman's voice. "Wait a minute! You can't just leave in the middle of..."

"Out of my way! My maker is being made, and I should be there!"

Scribe's voice floated back to him, breathless and, um, I guess the term would be 'jouncing', like someone was bouncing up and down on her, because... well... Oh, hell! You know the drill by now, we don't have to play Pictionary. Anyway, Scribe called out, "For the last time, I didn't create you! Are you trying to get Carter to sue me? I don't have anything, but I wouldn't put it past the sharks to slap a lien on my cat." *moaaan* "Geez, Alex, where the hell did you learn that twirly thing?"

"First few times I did it with Fox. Had to learn to hit a moving target." *pushpushpushpushpush*

*yelp* *clamp*

"Damn, Scribe! For someone who exercises as little as you do, you sure do have strong thighs."

"What the hell do you mean, I don't exercise? With all the running I've done lately, I could've completed the Boston Marathon, though I gotta admit that most of the entrants aren't nearly as cute as the one's who've been chasing me."

"You can still talk. I must not be doing this right. C'mere, butt!" *grab* *pumpumpumpumpump*

"Howl!"

Xander stuck his head in the tent. "Damn! Missed it by that much!"

Scribe twisted her head to look over Alex, back at him. "Quit quoting Maxwell Smart and get inside. You're letting out what little warm air there is."

Xander crawled in, shutting the tent flap. "I always thought that a slash with him and Hymie the Robot could be interesting. I mean, Hymie could be like the ultimate sex toy. Or he could do it with what was his number? Thirteen? The one who was always hiding in weird places? I mean, authors are always looking for unusual places to set sex scenes, right? I think he showed up in a mailbox once, and..."

A white, snowcovered, fluffy rabbit wiggled under the tent flap. Scribe, still trapped under Krycek, couldn't dodge, and got a sharp nip on the hip before the snickering animal wiggled out again. Scribe thumped the ground with her fists, and Xander said, "I'll be damned. That's the first snowshoe plot bunny I've ever seen."

Scribe sighed and rubbed her eyes. "I'm gonna have a backlog of fics that's gonna fill my hard drive by the time I get home."

Alex rolled off her, but pulled her into a snuggle. "Put them on floppy before you go back home."

*grope* "Hate ta tell ya, Lexi. There does not appear to be floppy anythings in this universe." From the sky there came a *groan*. "Oh, stop it! As if you don't expect puns in these things! Alex, let me introduce you to Xander Harris, mega-cute, semi-dorky, semi-cool Sunnydale evil fighter and slut puppy. Xander, Alex Krycek. At least that's his most popular alias. Semi-sociopathic, ultra-devious triple crossing agent of shadowy conspiratiorial groups too secretive to really have a name, Mulder-craving, sexually proficient rat bastard."

They shook hands. Xander said, "I've admired your work."

Alex said, "And I've been keeping track of some of your 'incidents'. The FBI has its head up its butt. The X Files should have been sent to Sunnydale at least a half-dozen times, but the authors seem to be too lazy to do crossovers." They both glanced at Scribe.

"Don't look at me! I'm the Crossover Queen. Just check out my Evil Series. Scott does everybody, as you well know, Krycek," she huffed.

Alex smiled angelically. "Lovely boy. I think he even has you beaten in the 'slut puppy' catagory, Xander."

"Hey!" Xander was indignant.

"Xander, he's made it in..." Scribe counted quickly on her fingers, "seven different fandoms."

"Seven times in X Files territory," Alex interjected.

Scribe shrugged. "What can I say? You, Mulder, and Skinner? Wall to wall opportunities. Anyway, Xand, I haven't plopped you in anything but the Buffyverse, except for that Swingers Series fic I'm working on."

Xander smiled happily. "Hubba hubba."

Alex looked interested. "Wait, that's with the Washington cops, right? Little and curly-headed, big and macho, both hump like bunnies with practically anything attractive?"

"Close."

"I want to know howcome you gave Mulder a playdate with them, but I haven't been introduced yet?"

"I'll probably get to it."

"You'd better. I know where I can get my hands on giant, hyperactive, mentally deranged plot bunnies."

"Oh, hell, Alex, you don't need to sic them on me--they find their way to me naturally."

"Scribe, are you through with him?" Xander asked impatiently. "It's cold, and I feel like generating some more body heat."

"Maybe later, Harris." Alex took another look at Xander. "Definitely later. But right now I'm not through with Scribe, so if you'll just..."

"Xander," Scribe said, "He has the cutest teeny little birthmark on the upper inside of his right thigh."

Xander's eyes started to gleam. "Really?"

Alex protested, "No, I don't!"

Scribe smiled. "You do now, cause I say so. Xander!" Xander snapped to attention. She pointed at Alex. "Seek! Find! Nibble!"

"Now wait a minute..." Alex said.

*pounce!*

As the two men rolled and thrashed, Scribe crawled out of the tent. "Ah, Attack!Xander, a little known, but very useful persona. Oops!" She reached back inside long enough to steal a pair of boots and a parka, donned them, and trotted off into the swirling snow. "Lessee, snow... snow... Where might I end up in snow? Geez, almost every tv show in history had one snowed in episode. And with all the shows that are being produced in Canada..."