Title: A Reunion of Comrades>Title: A Reunion of Comrades > >Author: Enigma Muraki: She's an Enigma, wrapped in a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, wrapped in CRAP. >Address for feedback: SFSDincher@aol.com > >Series: Cowboy Bebop > >Written: February, 2002 Iason: A day...err... month that will live in infamy. >Rating: NC-17 Muraki: Naughty Communist? Dee: Negative Chi? Iason: Necrotizing Chowder? Muraki: Nefariously Colloquial? Dee: Nihilistic Corn? Iason: Neglected Cockring? >Pairings: (Vicious x Gren) (miscellaneous others in background) Dee: What the...? Does it take place in an orgy? >Category: Yaoi Angst Romance Lemon Sap Blood Faye-Bashing Humor. >AU-OOC. Giftfic. Iason: [mutters] I hope you kept the receipt. >Archive: fanfiction.net [author: "E-sama the Llama"], All that Jazz: > http://www.angelfire.com/blues/spacecowgirl > >Spoilers: Session 12: Jupiter Jazz, part 1 (see Notes below) > >Warnings: yaoi, angst, romance, lemon, sap, blood, both literal and >figurative Faye-bashing, occasionally rude humor, coarse language, >obvious yet unnamed guest stars, lots of series continuity, Dee: Compared to what? An episode of the Care Bears? >an actual plot, Muraki: Provided you have an electron microscope with which to find it. Iason: And latex gloves with which to dispose of it... >fluff, and general silliness. AU-OOC. Dee: Uh-oh. We're in for it now, aren't we? Iason: Oh yes... >Giftfic for Ryoko. Dee: Well, it was a present. That's kind of nice. Muraki: So was the Trojan Horse. >Disclaimer: Cowboy Bebop is the property of Sunrise. Iason: And, oh man, are Apollo and his Golden Chariot going to be pissed off if you fuck this up. >This unauthorized work of fanfiction is intended for entertainment >only; kindly do not sue me, I have no money. > >Lemon Disclaimer: Kindly note that in the Real World, Dee: [snicker] This is the story of seven cartoon characters... Muraki: ...picked to live in a house... >"safe" sex should be practiced at all times. Iason: Right! That means safety helmets should be worn and at least two experienced spotters should be present. Dee: What are the quotation marks for? Is she being ironic? >However, this is an "Enigma Yaoi Romance Lemon" and all bishounen Muraki: Since when is Vicious a bishounen? Dee: ...what? Muraki: I'm serious. Pale, scary-ass S.O.B., I can see. But... bishounen? Dee: Are you going somewhere with this, pretty boy? Muraki: I'm just saying... >in question are hence magically protected against the dangers of >sexually transmissible diseases, therefore they can skip the condoms >-- and they know it! Dee: Also, you are a lazy smut writer -- and we know it! >Notes: This story follows the series timeline up until the scene in >Jupiter Jazz, part 1, opening with Faye in the bar with Gren playing >sax on stage. The plot then takes a radical 90° turn Muraki: --involving fucking. >and ignores it thereafter Dee: --so the characters can fuck. >even as it observes what a single change Iason: --namely, fucking. >does for one key character. Muraki: It gets him fucked. >Furthermore, since this is a giftfic for someone who happens to like >happy things, Dee: Might I just maybe possibly table just one little question for discussion here? If that's true, then... WHAT THE HELL POSSESSED YOU TO WRITE HER A STORY ABOUT VICIOUS?! Muraki: ...wow. Dee: Grr. >Vicious is definitely more gentle than many people might expect him >to be here Iason: Damn those small-minded people for having expectations that coincide with things established by the canon! >and Gren is a little more feminine for the same reason. Muraki: Yay! Disgusting out of character lemons with no point and a complete disregard for characterization make me ever so happy, too! >Don't shoot me, I'm just the messenger of my muses. Dee: Okay, we'll shoot them instead. >Summary: Vicious reunites with his Iason: --bird? >lover, Iason: Same thing. >Gren, whom he hasn't seen since the war on Titan and romance and >angst ensue. > >{{flashback}} > >***** Muraki: Heh, look, it's the prologue to a gay porno. >In a darkened booth of a smoky bar in a dingy city, Dee: --on a bump on a log in a hole in the middle of the sea. >a dangerously >handsome man with white hair quietly sipped his glass of Barton's >Canadian Whisky Iason: [announcer] Yes, whiskey! The drink preferred by four out of five dangerously handsome men with white hair in darkened booths of smoky bars in dingy cities the world over. So try whiskey today! Muraki: This fanfic brought to you by the Booze Council. >over ice Dee: You mean he didn't just guzzle it straight from the bottle? Wimp. >and enjoyed a haunting melody performed by someone he hadn't seen in >three long years. Iason: Jennifer Connelly? Muraki: Ace of Base? Dee: MTV personality Chris Hardwick? >The slender man on the stage played the saxophone Dee: Or at least he would have, if only he'd been able to put down the ducky. >with a passion borne of years of suffering and a life which had been >forced off-track when he was betrayed by someone he had trusted, yet >it wasn't whom he had assumed it'd been at the time. Muraki: ...what? Iason: Look, Ms. Enigma, it's not that hard a concept to explain. I see no reason why trying to decipher that sentence needed to be the single most painful experience of my life! >Grencia Mars Elijah Guo Eckner had been told it was his first lover, Dee: ...but he couldn't remember back to when he was, like, eight, so he settled for blaming Vicious. >a man whose only name was an adjective which meant "cruel," Iason: It was Unpleasant Jones! I knew it all along! >that had placed a signaling device in a gift and thereby set him up >for a prison term. Muraki: Well, it's not like it was all that bad. He didn't mind the prison showers... Dee: So uncalled for. >Nothing could be further from the truth. Iason: "Reading that paragraph did not just slaughter a legion of braincells." Muraki: ...except for that. >In fact, it had been another soldier in their battalion who was >jealous of the obvious love and affection they shared that had seen >to it that Gren left the hell of Dee: --this exposition. >the battlefield and went straight to the hell of Dee: --the lemon. >prison. But that was neither here nor there now, he was a free man >of sorts in the city of Blue Crow on Callisto and life was good. Iason: Well, yeah, except for all that stuff he just finished bitching about. Muraki: That wasn’t him, that was the omniscient narrator. Dee: We get a lot of those around here. Somebody ought to put out some traps. >A young emerald-eyed waiter approached the table where the >white-haired man had just lit a cigarette and asked him Iason: -- "Are you a Marlboro Light? Because I only smoke Marlboro Lights." >if he needed another drink. Muraki: [Vic] God, yes. And, listen, you went a little light on the nerve toxin in the last one... >"In a minute," Vicious answered, his voice as deep and gravely as >always. Iason: Deep and gravely, eh? So is that an adjective meaning "in a grave-like manner"? Muraki: I think it's just missing an L. "Like gravel." Dee: How do you know? It might be missing a Y. "Like gravy." Muraki: Or an E. "Like an engraving." Iason: Maybe we should just stick with "deep." >Then he reached into his pocket and drew out some cash Muraki: --and also some Dewey Dell, and a little Vardamin. >and a sheet of paper with a pen. Iason: The sheet of paper waved the pen around menacingly before driving it deep into Vicious' arm. "Keep me in that mildewy pocket, will you?" it cried. >He jotted a few words on the paper Muraki: [Vic, writing] Request transfer to new fanfic immediately. Fire agent with extreme prejudice. Pick up milk and birdseed. Dee: [Vic, writing] Dear Gren, I like you. Do you like me? Circle yes or no. >and handed it and the money to the boy who waited patiently and >said, "I'd like to make a request of the musicians. Dee: FREE BIRD! >Can you take care of it for me? I prefer my privacy, so don't >indicate who asked if you'd like a larger tip next time, >understand?" Muraki [waiter] Umm, sorry, I don't speak Babbling Moron, Sir. >The boy brushed unnaturally long auburn bangs from his eyes, Iason: So... how long *is* unnaturally long? Muraki: Who cares? Iason: No, really, I want to know. Are his bangs, like, down to his knees? And is it *just*his bangs that are long...? Muraki: Look, it's just a useless adjective. She's padding the story. Get it? Iason: ...oh. >saw the amount he was being offered and nodded with a shy smile, Dee: [waiter] I'd tell him he just handed me a bunch of Monopoly money... but he's just such a hottie. >"Yes sir, I'll be glad to take care of it for you." > >"Very good," Piercing violet eyes regarded the boy and he added, >"I'll take that drink after the song, all right?" Iason: [waiter] Got it. One Pink Lady with extra whipped cream coming right up. >"Certainly, sir, I'll be back with it then," the handsome youth >strode away, dropping off the request with the pianist who could >talk more easily than the man who was still performing Dee: --oral sex. >a soulful rendition of an original piece. Dee: Yeah, same thing. >Vicious' eyes followed the waiter, Muraki: --and he followed after his eyes, desperately trying to grab them and pop them back into his sockets before they bounced away. >curious if his request would be granted or not and unintentionally >found himself distracted by some of the other people in the bar. Iason: --when really he should have been looking for his errant eyeballs. >After the accompanist nodded his understanding of the request, the >waiter made his way to the bar where he joined his partner, an >exotic Chinese boy with the powerful build of a long-time martial >artist. Muraki: Ahh, a young Bruce Lee struggles to make a name for himself in the entertainment business. >The two gazed meaningfully at one another for a moment before the >waiter bent down to whisper something in the ear of the oriental boy Dee: [waiter] Psst! We need more pointless diversions from the plot. The author almost had to write something that someone gave a shit about. >who was busy preparing a Zombie Iason: I was wondering what he was doing hanging around the Umbrella Corporation. >for a bespectacled man at the bar. A look of stunned amazement Dee: This fanfic brought to you by the Department of Redundancy Department. >crossed the youthful bartender's face and then he laughed slightly, >whispered something back, and the taller of the pair blushed a >furious red before vanishing into the back behind a curtain. Muraki: You know, maybe she's hoping that if she just puts in enough inane unessential information, eventually our eyes will dry up and rot out of our heads and we won't be able to see how terribly written the story really is... Dee: Ha! Like we'd be that lucky. >Chuckling to himself, the Asian boy delivered the drink to the >patron who tipped him generously and then disappeared behind the >curtain as well. Iason: Umm... ick? Muraki: [cringing] Employees must wash hands before returning to work! Employees must wash hands before returning to work! >The man at the bar sipped his flavorful and overly-strong drink Dee: Girl drink drunk! >then returned to watching the woman at the end of the bar with a >certain amount of amusement. > >He'd brought with him the latest issue of Newtype, yet it sat on the >barstool beside him untouched, the sole female in the establishment >was far more entertaining than the latest anime news. Muraki: [news anchor] This just in! Fourteen people injured today when Tokyo Tower exploded for a record eighth time this week. Investigators suspect foul play may have been involved when ludicrous Christian imagery was found at the scene… Iason: Four-woman manga team CLAMP had this to say about the incident: “Umm, no way, we were, like, out of town when that shit happened.” >Perched on a bar stool and seemingly in danger of falling off of it >at any moment, was a busty woman in far too little clothing for a >cold moon like Callisto. A "barely there" Dee: --plot? >yellow vinyl shirt fit her too tightly and made her breasts look >like overripe grapefruit ready to fall from a tree instead of the >feminine and attractive things they might have been in a more >tailored garment. Iason: Like a barrel. >The cheeks of her ass hung out from beneath her matching yellow >vinyl hot pants and left an unattractive band of naked flesh above >thigh-high stockings Dee: She hadn't shaved her legs in a while. >which were grotesquely last season. > >Chortling to himself as the girl tried to order another drink from >no one since the bartending bishounen had yet to return, Dee: He was in the back trying to figure out what language this story was supposed to be in. >the man studiously ignored > Muraki: Studiously? Can you take Ignoring 101 at the Community College now? >small, sensual noises coming from behind the curtain, it really >wasn't any of his business. Iason: Come to think of it, the author's weird diluted masturbatory fantasies aren't any of our business either, so how about getting back to the PLOT? >On stage, the saxophonist stopped to get a much needed drink of >water and Vicious' attention was once more riveted on the man he'd >come so far to see. > >The pianist was explaining the request Dee: FREE BIRD! >and the long-haired musician Iason: Alanis Morisette? Muraki: Umm... a young Adam Duritz? Dee: Peter Steele of Type O Negative? All: Mmm... Peter Steele... >was nodding contemplatively and was clearly interested in who had >asked for a song he hadn't performed in years. Iason: [Gren] ‘Sunglasses at Night’? The hell? >He looked out over the audience wondering who had asked for it, yet >Vicious was deliberately concealed behind a cigarette generated >smokescreen and he smiled to himself secretly, enjoying the look on >Gren's face as blue-green eyes scanned past him. Muraki: So it's a one-way smokescreen. Transparent from Vicious' side, but from Gren's side, totally opaque. Dee: I wonder if I can get one of those for the locker room at my gym… >With a shrug, Gren licked his lips before placing his instrument in >his mouth and beginning to blow into it, Muraki: Too bad he was playing the xylophone, or else he really would have rocked. >once more creating the soulful sounds Vicious longed to hear. > >As "Space Lion" filled the air, Vicious' thoughts went back to the >time they had met and he smiled to himself as images of younger >versions of themselves manifested, sitting together on the >curry-colored sands of Titan between sorties against the enemy. Dee: Nah, really? I thought they might just be hanging out whispering sweet nothings while everybody else was off getting disemboweled. Muraki: [sings] Pad pad pad the fic... >{{flashback}} Iason: Aren't we already in a flashback? Muraki: [Vic] I remember back when I was remembering that time on Titan... >Initially, Gren had reminded him of an old movie about Lawrence of >Arabia, Dee: But later on, he reminded him of an old movie about The Three Stooges. >his neck scarf hanging from a jauntily worn headpiece. With the >flick of his lighter, Vicious offered the attractive man a light and >joined him in a cigarette quietly, not talking together, Muraki: Yes, hence the "quietly" part of the sentence. Since when is it a viable rhetorical device to say everything three or four times in a row? >simply enjoying the rare peace in a sea of conflict. Eventually, >he'd shared a tune on the tiny music-box Iason: How did they both fit on a tiny music box? Dee: I think it's a philosophical prompt. You know, how many babbling morons can dance on the head of a plot device? >he'd brought with him, a gift from a woman who had betrayed him with >the help of his one-time best friend. His two former lovers having >left him deliberately in the most dangerous position they could >imagine. Dee: [Julia] No, really, Vicious, just stuff these raw steaks in your pants and climb into the wolverine enclosure. It'll be totally hot! Iason: [Spike] It's supposed to increase sexual potency tenfold. >When the ocean-eyed youth expressed an interest in the small >instrument, Muraki: [Vic] Look, it's not usually this small, all right? It's just... cold out here. >he'd gladly given it to him, no longer wishing to be reminded of a >woman with lustrous hair of gold and a poisonous heart of lead. A >look of delight had filled Gren's eyes and Vicious decided then and >there he wanted to see that expression more often. As he rose to >leave the man his heart was telling him he should never Iason: --have met in the first place. >allow out of his sight, he spotted a deadly Titan scorpion making >its way silently towards his new friend. With an anger that >surprised even him, he brandished his knife, pressed Gren's head >against the rock he was leaning on to insure that he didn't flinch >into the path of the blade, and ended the insect's life without a >second thought. Iason: Oh, bravo, bravo! Such stunning courage! Triumph over the tiny scorpion! Muraki: You don't understand, that was no ordinary scorpion! It had huge, nasty, sharp... It could jump about... Look at the bones! Dee: [Gren] I've soiled my armor! >Blinking in shock like a kitten who has discovered the ball of fluff >he was playing with was actually a frightened field mouse, Gren >stared up at Vicious and barely found the words to thank him before >the mysterious violet-eyed man walked away. Iason: [Gren, wistfully] Having conquered the scorpion with unprecedented daring, the mysterious stranger strode off into the sunset, and I never knew his name. >It had taken all of Vicious' self-control that day to actually step >away at all, but he knew the company commander wouldn't forgive him >if he missed a battle planning session and so he went. Dee: What if we slide our little pewter cavalrymen into Outer Mongolia? Muraki: And try to take Asia? My God, are you mad? >That night, as he lay alone in the tent left half-vacant by the >death of the Muraki: --scorpion. They had been bunking together, much to Vicious' annoyance. Dee: He was tired of finding its things on *his* side of the tent. Didn't scorpions know there were rules? >former platoon leader whose position he now held, a mournful tune >drew his attention and he rose from his bedroll and stepped into the >starry night. Iason: Until gravity resumed its normal functions and Vicious plummeted to his death. The End. Muraki: If only... >Not far away from his tent, sitting by a campfire alone and looking >decidedly lonely, Gren was playing a harmonica he'd borrowed from >another soldier. Sadly, it was the soldier who would eventually >betray him and he'd thought the loan of the mouth organ might aid in >his quest to seduce the lavender-haired man Dee: --but young Zelgadis only had eyes for Gourry. >yet it didn't. Instead, it only provided an excuse for Vicious to >join Gren. Iason: Enter the plausible plot device. Dee: [soldier] You used my harmonica and didn't pay me with oral sex, you bastard! >Once more the pair sat in silence for a moment before Vicious pulled >out his cigarettes, lit two at the same time and offered one to Gren >who accepted it gratefully, surprised and pleased by the lingering >taste of the other man's lips when he took his first drag on it. >Blowing smoke slowly Muraki: --up my ass. >into the night sky, the usually shy musician had asked why Vicious >was awake at such a late hour. > >The white-haired man had merely shrugged, and asked the same thing >in return. > >The conversation was utterly forgettable Dee: Translation: The author does not know how to write dialogue. >after the initial breaking of the ice, but by dawn, the pair had >mutually agreed to see what there could be between them should they >both survive the coming battle. Iason: Translation: The author has no idea how to develop a relationship. >The conflict that day had been hard-fought with heavy casualties on >both sides. As platoon leader, Vicious had been in a terribly >vulnerable position and had suffered a serious wound when a bullet >crashed through the sleeve of his uniform, Dee: No! That sleeve was so young! It had so much to live for! Muraki: Vicious, I'm afraid we may have to amputate... your sleeve. >passing through it cleanly after missing the bone, Iason: And since that's the only part that matters in yaoi, I don't see why we have a problem. >and sending twin bright red flows of blood showering across the >saffron-colored sand. > >With a scream of fury, Gren had come from seemingly nowhere and had >ended the gunman's life with greater anger than he himself had >thought he'd ever feel. Dee: [Gren] Gee, Vicious, it was the least I could do, seeing how you killed that deadly scorpion for me with your bare, er, sword. You're my hero! >Vicious was stunned by the slightly older soldier's actions and >willing allowed the man to pull him away from the frontlines to the >rear, where Gren tore the sand scarf from around his neck and turned >it into a bandage for the bleeding arm, growling angry words against >the enemy the entire time. The white-haired man was surprised but >not entirely shocked Muraki: --but still *kind of* shocked -- just not utterly astounded or anything, even though it did somewhat hit him like a ton of bricks. Or, well, just a couple of bricks, really. But very heavy ones. >when the other man insisted that he remain out of the battle and >then got up to leave intending to fight on behalf of both of them. > >A single pale hand lashed out and grasped a tanned wrist and pulled >him back. Dee: [tanned wrist] Why must you always lash out at me? Let me go! Iason: [pale hand] Never! Can't you see we're meant for each other? We even wear the same size glove! >Vicious gazed up at his rescuer and stated coolly that if he wasn't >going back to the frontline, neither was Gren. Muraki: What *if* they held a war and no one came? >The slightly shorter man cocked his head Iason: Pardon me? >in curiosity, unsure why he was being stopped, Muraki: [Gren] I'm sorry, could you repeat that with quotation marks around it? >didn't Vicious as platoon leader want to see them win the battle? > >Vicious shook his head and stated quietly that even winning the >entire war would mean nothing if Gren was lost as he feared he might >be, the tides were shifting against the allies. Dee: What is this? Are they speaking in sign language? Iason: Maybe the author's quote key is broken... Muraki: Or they’ve spontaneously developed telepathy. >Amazed, the ocean-eyed man stood there a moment and then the sound >of shouts of retreat echoed through the troops and a sudden stampede >of humanity Muraki: A sudden what? Iason: I don't know... I mean, I think "humane stampede" is an oxymoron... Dee: No, no, not a humane stampede. A stampede of humanity. I think that's when an innocent buffalo gets trampled by an enraged crowd of pro-life activists. >bore down on them. > >Scrambling to his feet, Vicious kept his grasp on Gren as they >joined the mass exodus from the field of conflict. Dee: No one will be seated during the bone-chilling Hauling Ass Out of Here sequence! >They ran side-by-side, rifles bouncing against their backs, fear for >each other in their hearts even as overhead artillery finally burst >into life, shelling the enemy into a retreat of their own and >leaving the allies to escape to freedom. Muraki: Er... was that just the stupidest battle scene ever? Dee: Yeah, I think both armies just turned around and ran away from each other at the same time. >Returning to the base camp, virtually all of the survivors of the >battle simply collapsed wherever their feet stopped, soldiers laying >sprawled about on the ochre sand uncaringly. Iason: That's such a rude way of lying sprawled about on the ochre sand. I mean, they really ought to take some consideration. Muraki: No, they're *laying* about. Dee: --a dozen eggs. Muraki: [dryly] Hah. Dee: That’s right. Feel the weak joy of that pun. >Field medics rushed about tending to the wounded and by the time >they reached Vicious, he was unconscious from Iason: --reading this story... >blood loss. > >Gren stayed by his side throughout a brief session of suturing and >disinfecting, then patiently held aloft the bag of synthetic type O >negative Dee: It really *is* Peter Steele! He’s come to rescue us from this fanfic! Muraki: We’re saved! >blood Iason: She told us... his blood type. Are we collecting baseball cards now? Was that really necessary? Muraki: Was this fic? >that flowed into the ashen-faced man's body, replenishing his fluids >and restoring him to awareness. Exhausted and pain-filled violet >eyes opened slowly to peer up at the face of a worried angel. Dee: Woo-hoo! He died! Iason: And then the angel bore him up to heaven, and the fic ended. Muraki: Actually, down to hell. Too many naughty thoughts had passed through his mind in those last few moments before death. Dee: And besides, he was actually the little-known Arachnid Serial Killer, responsible for driving fear into the… er… circulatory organs of scorpions the world over. >Relieved beyond words, Gren had foregone the ritual of asking if the >other man was all right, preferring instead to show his gratitude to >Vicious for awakening with a quick, chaste kiss. Muraki: Damnit. I think he's still alive. >Growling as his uninjured arm rose suddenly and wrapped itself >around the other man's neck, Dee: What he growled was: "Whoa, there, uninjured arm! Where do you think you're going?" Iason: What is it with these people's wayward appendages? Hands, arms, necks... The characters' various body parts are more intimate than they are! Muraki: Careful, that could be taken the wrong way... Iason: [dryly] Oh. Darn. >Vicious pulled Gren back down for a deeper more meaningful kiss that >clearly established which of the two of them would be the leader of >far more than battle. Muraki: Would you call one man sticking his dick up another man's ass "far more than battle?" Dee: Well, if he's throwing grenades at enemy soldiers at the same time, I might call it "more than battle." Iason: If he's also walking on his hands stark naked, selling toffee apples, I'd call it "far more than battle." >Astounded, pleased, flattered, and suddenly aware of the many eyes >in the camp that were upon them, Gren blushed fiercely and pulled >away, warning quietly that Vicious needed to lie still and allow the >blood to enter his body Dee: It had all just gushed out of his nose... >before he tried to do too much. His partner chuckled darkly, warned >him that he expected to feel like doing quiet a bit more than simply >kissing him as soon as they'd eaten some of the dinner that the camp >cook was busy preparing, Muraki: Nothing says ‘I love you’ like dysentery. >and Gren nodded and blushed even more. > >That night they became more than comrades, they became lovers and >experienced a brief and intense love affair until the soldier who >felt he'd been unfairly rejected by Gren sought his revenge. Vicious >had been away from camp when the Military Police arrested the >long-haired man and he hadn't seen him since. > >{{end flashback}} Muraki: That wasn't so much a flashback as a choppy expository summary with profuse detail in brief and totally random places. Iason: Actually, I think the whole fic’s that way. >But, as the saying goes, that was then, this is Dee: --the Eighth Circle of Hell. >now, and here he sat, mere meters away from his former lover, >enjoying for the first time hearing the tune Gren had played on the >harmonica by the campfire so long ago. > >As the song ended, Vicious' thoughts focused back on the present and >he glanced up at the slightly tousled looking auburn-haired boy >whose shirt was misbuttoned rather amusingly. Muraki: How did you get that hooked to your Prince Albert, boy? >"Your drink, sir," the waiter offered, placing the fresh glass of >Barton's Canadian in front of Vicious Iason: [announcer] Yes, whiskey! The drink preferred by four out of five dangerously handsome men with amputated sleeves and type O negative blood. So try whiskey today! Muraki: This fanfic brought to you by the Booze Council. >with a slightly shaky hand. He ran his hand through the too-long >bangs and asked, "Was that the right song, sir?" > >Taking a sip of the smooth alcohol before reaching for more bills to >cover the cost of the drink as well as a generous tip for the youth, >Vicious answered, "Yes, it was perfect. Doesn't he include it in his >usual sets? It used to be one of his favorites." Iason: [Vic] Back then, we all listened to Frankie Goes to Hollywood. >The emerald-eyed boy smiled shyly and admitted, "I never heard Gren >play that one before, I liked it a lot. I'm glad you asked for it." Dee: It's amazing what one can hear while fucking in the back room. Iason: [gasps] Is *that* what they were doing? Oh, my! >Vicious merely nodded and sipped at the deep amber liquid again >before saying quietly, "So am I. By the way, you might tell your >boyfriend that hickeys really don't make a person as likely to >believe you're as old as you must be claiming you are to legally >serve liquor, son." Iason: Thanks, grandpa. >The waiter's hand flew to the side of his neck and he flushed >scarlet before making a small strangling sound and dashing off >intending to find the turtleneck he usually wore and silently >cursing his amorous lover who didn't seem to care about appearances. Muraki: Much as this fanfic doesn't seem to care about staying with the PLOT. >Chuckling to himself, Vicious watched as Gren thanked the audience >for listening to his performance, Iason: [audience] Huh? Was he saying something? Dee: [audience] What is this, one of them poetry slam things? >then packed up his saxophone and grabbed his warm leather jacket, >preparing to go out into the snow on his way home for a few hours of >rest before his evening sessions. As he walked past the >sleazy-looking woman at the bar, she sneezed three times in a row, Dee: Somehow I don't find any poetry in the alliteration of a sleazy, sneezing woman. >never once having the good manners to cover her mouth. > >Ever courteous even to those who didn't deserve it, Gren turned and >said, "Take care." > >The woman gazed at him stupidly, Iason: [Faye] Nuuhh… fanfic boring… Motor functions… failing… >not understanding the local version of the more familiar wishes for >good health like "Bless you" or even the German derived phrase >"Gesundheit." Muraki: Or the Muraki-derived phrase “Bite me!” >Realizing she was as clueless about being polite as she obviously >was about fashion, Gren added, "That was a close one." > >A brief discussion between them revealed that it was a local fable >that to sneeze thrice without someone wishing you well meant the >sneezer would become a fairy. Dee: [snicker] Gren knew the truth of this fable by experience. Iason: Hey, now. >The trollop insisted she already *was* a fairy, and it was all that >Gren could do not to laugh in her crimson-lipped face and tell her >she had obviously already fallen too far from grace to be such a >wondrous creature. Iason: Uh-huh. Fairies are really neat; fairies are full of meat… Go fairies? >Even as Vicious looked on from his dark booth, Gren gallantly >offered her his jacket for warmth, a kind gesture she eventually >spurned before flouncing out like the ten-woolong hooker she >appeared to be. Dee: This is so exciting. Completely irrelevant people are leaving the bar. Muraki: I’m on the edge of my seat… preparing to bolt out of the room. >Chuckling from his spot at the bar, the man with the glasses >finished his Zombie Muraki: Did he use a chainsaw, lawnmower, or the more traditional sawed-off shotgun? >and ordered another from the chagrinned looking Chinese youth whose >face currently bore the marks of a playfully light slap Iason: So, no marks at all, then? Dee: Well, it was a playfully light slap administered with a hot iron, of course. >intended to remind him that there was a perfectly good bed at home. >The older man looked at the younger one and muttered quietly, "Love >can be hell, can't it, friend?" Muraki: And so can… Iason: Just… don’t. It’s too easy. >"That's for damned sure," the bartender growled. He then gazed >longingly at the waiter who had just stepped out from behind the >curtain wearing a deep green turtleneck Muraki: Very deep. It was a turtleneck made out of shag carpet. >that covered the unsightly lovebite Vicious had noticed and he added >with a sigh, "But what can you do when the one you love is so >angelic?" Dee: I'm getting lost in the AU-ness of this fic. There are angels and fairies everywhere... >Nodding his understanding, the older man patiently awaited his drink >and noticed the white-haired man materializing seemingly out of >nowhere as Vicious rose from his dark booth and stepped up behind >Gren, saying, "It's been a long time, Gren." Iason: So, wait... how many people were actually in that paragraph? Muraki: I counted about seven. Iason: Seven? You must have missed Gren... >The musician's eyes went wide. The low gravelly voice was >unmistakable, the tone and timbre belonged to one man and one man >alone and hearing it for the first time in three years sent an >electric shock of joy through him. Spinning around, ocean-colored >eyes Dee: --got dizzy and fell over. Iason: What color *are* ocean-colored eyes? Muraki: Well, in some places they're a little on the gray-green side, but in others they're more aquamarine, and around the Hawaiian islands they're very blue. Iason: I think on Callisto they're a kind of muddy puce color. >met those like tiny shards of amethyst and he exclaimed, "Vicious!! >What are *you* doing here?" > >The musician's heart was beating like that of a hummingbird and he >thought it might explode Muraki: --as hummingbird's hearts are known frequently to do. Dee: Only when you feed them baking soda. >even as the other man answered simply, "I came here looking for you, >of course." Realizing they were drawing undesired attention as the >waiter, bartender, and the patron sipping his Zombie all stared at >them, he added meaningfully, "Why don't we sit down and talk, Gren? >Like I said, it's been a long time." Iason: --since this story started. It must have been *years*, seriously. >Swallowing thickly, suddenly nervous and yet feeling such >overwhelming joy at being in this man's presence again, Gren nodded >and simply held a hand out toward the bartender, two fingers >upraised to indicate he wanted Dee: --to give peace a chance. >a double of almost anything that was handy. > >Chuckling as he poured two shots of the Barton's Iason: [announcer] Yes, whiskey! The drink preferred by four out of five thickly swallowing men who want a double of almost anything that's handy. So try whiskey today! Muraki: [bored] This fanfic brought to you by the Booze Council. >that was still sitting on the counter, the bartender tried not to >speculate on the situation even as >Gren slid into the bench opposite Vicious and ran a nervous hand >through his loose pony-tail of deep lavender silk. Dee: I wonder if silk frays when you brush it... >After clearing his throat, Gren looked up into the scarred face he'd >fallen in love with in the middle of a war and asked, "How'd you >find me, Vicious? I didn't tell the Red Dragons where I worked." > >Sipping at his own glass of Canadian whisky Iason: [announcer] Yes, whiskey! The drink preferred by four out of five dangerously handsome scarred faces who-- Muraki: Oh, for God's sake, stop. >as the emerald-eyed waiter delivered Gren's with a small smile of >encouragement for them both, Vicious waited a bit before replying, >"True, you didn't tell the Syndicate much of anything. But by >contacting them and offering to be the middleman for a Lunar Red Eye Dee: Is that what you call it when you stay up all night playing Working Designs RPGs? >deal, I assumed that you were really just trying to get in touch >with me." He shrugged elegantly Muraki: [ballet instructor] Now be a swan... be as graceful as a swan... pirouette like a swan... shrug like a swan.... Iason: Elegance incarnate. >and added, "As for locating you here, it was fairly easy. There's a >large blond man who goes by the name of 'Julius' who performs more >than one service for money, you know." Dee: He’ll also detail your car for just 50 bucks. >"*What*?!" Gren exclaimed, angry to think he'd been betrayed yet >again, but before he could denounce the cross-dressing prostitute, >Vicious reached into his jacket and withdrew a tattered photo and >handed it to him. Peering at the image, the saxophonist immediately >recognized it as a copy of one he himself once foolishly tore in >half that was taped back together and prominently displayed in his >living room. Muraki: Er... In whose living room? Iason: *His* living room. Didn't you catch that? Muraki: *Gren's* living room? Dee: Only if the rules of grammar apply to this fic. And I think we can all agree that they clearly don't. >On the paper, in warm sepia tones, Gren's own face, three years >younger and not as world-weary as he was now, smiled at him, lines >of anti-glare grease smeared under his eyes. Behind him in profile >was a younger Vicious, not willing to look into the camera yet not >willing to leave his handsome lover's presence if he didn't have to. >The photo had been well-loved Dee: Nah, he just ran it through the washer in the pocket of his jeans a couple of times. >as evidenced by the tattered edges and small dots where it had >encountered unfriendly substances over the years. Muraki: Define unfriendly. Dee: On second thought... don't. >As he stared at the image, Vicious explained, "I told him I was one >of your comrades from the war, Gren, and that I wanted to see you >again. He was hesitant at first, fearing I might be a bounty hunter >looking for you to collect on the currently doubled reward. But >after I Muraki: [Vic] --offered to split said reward with him, he gladly obliged. >showed him that, Julius agreed and sent me here." > >"Ah, I see," the long-haired man nodded, grateful to know one of his >friends hadn't betrayed him after all. With trembling hands, he >returned the photo and sipped his drink, desperately trying to >decide which of the million questions he wanted answers to should he >ask first. > >"But that wasn't all he told me, Gren," Vicious spoke softly, his >voice unbelievably deeper Dee: Unbelievably deeper? Did it drop below the level of audible sound? Iason: Maybe the author is just pointing out the implausibility of his voice deepening? Muraki: Frankly, I'm incredulous in regard to this whole fanfic... Dee: Incredulous, huh? That’s a nice way of putting it. >and roughened by an emotion he hadn't expressed in years. Iason: Apathy? Muraki: Loathing? Dee: Ridicule? >"He tells me you've changed physically and that you're sick, is this >true?" > >A saddened countenance lifted and Gren nodded slowly, his own >questions washing away in the briefest of instances and he answered, >"Yes to both, Vicious, but please, could those topics wait until we >can go somewhere more private?" Blue-green eyes shifted from >side-to-side and despite the fact that they were being totally >ignored by all the other patrons in the bar, he added, "After we >finish our drinks, we can go to my place and I'll tell you all about >it, all right? Just not here, not in front of my friends and >coworkers." > >Vicious nodded slowly and agreed in a tone that said a postponement >was acceptable but trying to avoid the issue entirely was not, "Very >well, Gren, we'll let that wait for now. But I will not leave the >matter undisclosed for long, I'm not willing to allow further damage >to occur that I might be able to stop." Dee: He said this in what kind of tone? Iason: Yeah, wow. [Author] "I'm okay with it, but not completely," said Vicious in a tone that said he was okay with it, but not completely. >Gren looked up at him gratefully and accepted, "I understand. We'll >go there in a bit, and I'll answer all your questions then, Muraki: [Gren] Especially the one about where babies come from. >Vicious." He paused and recalled his own concerns and added more >decisively, "That is, I'll tell you what you want to know if you >agree to answer a few questions for me, too. There's an awful lot of >past history that never made sense to me Dee: [Gren] But the future history I think I’m pretty clear on. >and I hope you can clarify it for me." > >"Very well," Vicious nodded and then allowed the conversation to >drift somewhat as they discussed small matters of relative >unimportance like Muraki: --plot, characterization, grammar, dialogue... >the way he'd sent the ever-honor-bound Lin off on a fool's errand >earlier in the day Dee: [Vic] I told him to find me a Furby for Christmas. Haha! > and so forth. Gren relaxed and enjoyed the shifting topics even > as the waiter brought them a tray of food unasked, Iason: How come everything in this story happens "even as" something else -- which doesn't interfere in any way with the first thing -- is happening? Muraki: Maybe because the author was typing it even as her dissembled literariness asserted itself? >after his boyfriend decided that as bartender it was his duty to see >to it their evening's entertainer wouldn't get drunk before he could >get home and eat. The violet-eyed man glanced appreciatively at the >waiter and handed him yet another tip Dee: Jesus, the kid’s gonna be able to start a retirement fund with Vicious’ sweaty dollar bills alone. >before sharing the small meal with his former comrade and lover. > >***** Dee: Look, a Kouriba conga-line. >Meanwhile, several blocks away from the restaurant, the sleazy tramp >who fancied herself a tough broad, was bored. Iason: Well, maybe if anything happened in this fucking story... Muraki: Pay attention, Ms. Enigma, long strings of awkward adjectivals are *not* a substitute for a plot. >Unwisely seeking amusement and exercise by inciting a group of local >thugs into a street fight, Dee: Is that right? I seem to remember things happening just a teeny, tiny bit differently… >Faye Valentine called out to its leader, Iason: [Faye] Umm, hi. Have you seen 200 years of female suffrage, emancipation, and struggle for basic human dignities? I think Enigma forgot it somewhere around here. >a rough-looking man who had already lost one fight that afternoon to >a truly accomplished martial artist. The man growled at her and >indicated he didn't like women, a rather obvious statement >considering Muraki: The shirt he was wearing: ‘Sorry girls, I like the cock.’ >he lived in a town that didn't allow females to take up residency in >it Dee: No, I think that’s just what they said to Enigma when she told them she was thinking about moving in next door… >anyway, he began to advance menacingly. > >Pulling a glove from her pocket, Iason: Hey, I thought we were ignoring the ‘safe sex’ rule. Dee: Only for the men. You forget that women are much too foul and ugly and cruel and stupid and dirty and— Muraki: DEE! Dee: [snapping out of it] Ah! I’m sorry! Now I even feel like slapping myself… >the bimbo saucily proclaimed, "I might chip a nail!" Then she turned >and beckoned for the angry men to attack her. > >The fight that ensued was at first going in her favor. However, >since Gren was busy talking to someone whom he truly wished to be >with and was thereby unavailable to arrive like a knight on a white Iason: --cock. >charger Iason: [with a weary sigh] Same thing. >to save her reckless soul, she eventually found herself being >pummeled into a sniveling mess. Muraki: [abruptly] Someone hand me a spoon. Iason: Why? Muraki: Because I’m going to shove it up my ass. I refuse to be in this much pain and not be responsible for it! Dee: Oooh, Oprah calls that ‘empowerment’. >One final punch to her already bruised jaw split the woman's lower >lip wide open and sent her face first into the pavement, knocking >the wind out of her. Whimpering, she stayed put as the men threw >insults at her and then turned and walked away, leaving her like the >street trash she resembled nine days out of ten. Iason: [sigh] And the moral of the story? Dee: Umm… join the long, proud male tradition of victimizing women who voice their opinions? Iason: I’m ashamed of my chromosomes right now. >Dazed, Faye just laid Dee: --an egg. Muraki: Her dazedness was understandable. >there in a small pool of blood for several minutes before hearing >heavy, bulbous shoes that always reminded her of Bozo the Clown >stepping towards her. With a supreme effort, she rolled over and >peered up through her battle-tousled hair and saw Spike Spiegel move >to crouch down over her with a smirk around his omnipresent >cigarette. > >Pulling the cancer stick All: Eew! Dee: [Author] Writing terrible slash fiction: my Anti-Drug. Iason: As smoking rates go up across the country.... >from his lips, he asked teasingly, "What's the matter, Faye? Did you >break a nail?" Muraki: [Faye] Yeah, it was an unfortunate fisting accident. >"Fuck you, Spiegel," the tart growled and then whimpered as her lip >started bleeding again. > >The green-haired man laughed at his shipmate, Dee: [Spike] You’re bleeding internally. It’s funny. Haha! >then helped her to her feet. They stumbled back to the hangar where >the Bebop was parked where sooner or later, Jet would return and >bitch them both out for bleeding on the decks and not cleaning it >up. In the background, Iason: Earth to fanfic author! Real life takes place in three dimensions! Three whole dimensions! Things happen *behind* other things, not *in the background*! >an adorable wild child of a girl with Pikachu-cheeks bounded after a >dog, singing out some odd song with cat-like meows in the middle of >it. Muraki: In the future, the Meow Mix jingle will have become the stuff of legends… >After sighing a much put upon sigh, the large man would don his >apron, mop the floor clean once more, and then the ship would depart >in search of more lucrative things than rumored locations of evil >blondes. Dee: Muraki, you're in this fic? Muraki: If I was, do you think we'd be this damn bored? Dee: Good point. >***** Iason: Heh, that kind of looks like the stuff that's stuck in the drain after Riki uses the shower... >By the time their drinks and food were gone, both Vicious and Gren >were feeling more relaxed and they made their way through the now >heavier snow Muraki: Roughly equivalent by now to the amount of pure, uncut cocaine you would need to enjoy this story. >to the long-haired man's apartment in a god-awful ugly blue >building. After giving his guest a towel for his hair and getting >one for himself, Gren poured them both a round of Vodka warmed with >steaming hot water and they savored their drinks in companionable >peace for a few minutes. Iason: Until they realized they were drinking *vodka* and *hot water* and puked all over the place. Muraki: This fanfic brought to you by the Booze Council. >Inevitably, the subjects raised in the bar returned Iason: [Vic] Old Ray! Muraki: [Gren] New Ray! Iason: [Vic] Old Ray! Muraki: [Gren] New Ray! >and it was a slow and somewhat painful process of explanation as >they each bared their soul in the hope of regaining what they once >had. Dee: Dignity? Iason: I wouldn't bet on it. >Feeling horribly guilty for the weakness that led him on a >self-destructive path, Gren explained how the drug addiction he'd >developed in prison led to unexpected hormonal imbalances that >resulted in his developing decidedly feminine breasts Muraki: As opposed to developing masculine breasts, which would just have been gross. >and other changes. > >To his amazement, Vicious refused to condemn him. Dee: Oooh, he knows he's getting laid later tonight. >The Red Dragon member knew all too well the pull of a broken heart >to search for ways to ease the pain. He himself had returned from >Titan woebegone All: [snicker] Muraki: And ready for another installment of the Prairie Syndicate Companion. >and utterly lost in the miasma that surrounded him after the >military repeatedly refused him visitation rights so he could see >Gren in prison. Dee: Because he kept trying to smuggle in Disneyland in his ass. >Instead of turning to pharmaceuticals to soothe his pain, Iason: Dare I ask what pharmaceuticals these were? Muraki: Umm… this fanfic brought to you by the Viagra Council? >though, he threw himself back into the killer's lifestyle he had >thought he'd abandoned for good the first time he left the Syndicate >to join the war Iason: Wait... so, to avoid killing people he went and joined the *army*? How does this make sense on any level? Dee: Well, none of the rest of it makes any sense either. >where he had sincerely hoped to die an honorable death. Muraki: [rolls eyes] Oh, yes, would you just look at the honorable way he plants explosives on that opposing Syndicate member's ship. Iason: Yes, and the honorable way in which he becomes a crazy sociopath because his girlfriend jilted him. >Rapidly climbing the rungs of power within the criminal >organization, Iason: Vic, I didn't know you worked for Microsoft. >Vicious eventually felt what he thought was the last of his humanity >drain away when he fought his former best friend and one time lover Dee: Oh Vicious, honey... with Spike? I'm disappointed. >in the ruins of an abandoned cathedral. Muraki: Yes, the heavy-handed attempt at irony almost made me lose my faith in humanity, too. >As the pain of Spike's bullet in his shoulder barely registered, the >greater sorrow of watching him falling through the air to his >probable death despite Dee: --the fact that Vicious was the one who threw him out the damn window in the first place! Jesus! Muraki: [Vic] Spi~ke? Where are you go~ing? I just want to give you a hug! >Vicious' deliberately redirected katana strike which had meant to >spare the green-haired man sank in. Yet before even that searing >pain was brought into awareness, the clacking of a grenade against >the cathedral floor presaged what should have been the >katana-wielding man's doom. Iason: Was there a Quickening of which I was unaware? Dee: If a Highlander kills another Highlander does he inherit his poor grammatical skills and shoddy characterization? >Smiling despite the pain, Vicious had regarded the small explosive >device with gladness when he thought he was about to die at >relatively the same exact time Iason: "Relatively the same exact"? Dear lord, English teachers everywhere are taking up their pitchforks and torches... Muraki: And even physicists aren't sure they can celebrate in good conscience... >as Spike, yet Destiny is a hateful thing Dee: I dunno, Despair always seemed like the black sheep of the family to me. Iason: And Desire wasn’t exactly a barrel of giggles either. >and he survived the blast despite having third-degree burns over >much of his body. By the time he awoke from a coma much later, he'd >been given advanced medical treatment Muraki: So they didn't just slap a couple of leaches on him and chant. That's good. >that left him with only a modicum of scarring on his body, Iason: And me with only a modicum of interest in this stupid, contrived back story. Dee: James Joyce novels move faster than this. >and virtually an assured future as the crowned prince of the Red >Dragons. > >Vicious explained much of this story to Gren as payment in kind for >his own tortured revelations and then he inquired further as to the >saxophonist's illness. Muraki: [Vic] So, the herpes aren't contagious right now? Good. >With a deep sigh of finality and a shake of his head that sent loose >lavender tendrils Dee: Eek! Tentacle monster! Muraki: Maybe now things'll get exciting... >floating about him ethereally, Gren explained the slow degeneration >of some of his internal organs Iason: Apparently his spine was one of them... >and that the last time he'd seen a doctor, he'd been given only a >few months to live. Eyes the color of the ocean during a storm at >sea Dee: So... black. >rose to gaze apologetically at Vicious as he added, "That's why I >contacted you now. I wanted to see you one last time before I die." >Moving forward on the couch to reach out and gather Gren's hands in >his own, Vicious stated flatly, "I'm not going to let you die, Gren. >I have no idea how good the doctors are in this godforsaken, >polluted city, but I'm sure that the people who handled my burns can >help you." Muraki: [Vic] They're amazing plastic surgeons, the guys who patched up my burns. They can give you anything you need: collagen injections, a face-lift... Ooooh, right, the cancer... On second thought maybe we should get an actual specialist to look at you. >Holding Gren's gaze he added in an earnest tone that brooked no room >for argument, "When I leave Blue Crow, you're coming with me. You >shouldn't play your music for drunks and bimbos when you deserve to >perform in concert halls." Dee: --for rich drunks and bimbos. >Gren shook his head in negation, "But I can't *do* that, Vicious! >I'm a wanted man for the prison break I was involved in that allowed >me to escape when I did! Blue Crow is the only place I'm safe, don't >you see that?" Iason: [Vic] No, actually. I lost my eyes back in the bar, remember? >"No, I don't," Vicious answered flatly Dee: Even he's starting to lose interest! >and something entered his eye Muraki: ...sockets... >s that told Gren how dangerous and powerful his former lover truly >was. A mere glance from him now demonstrated how it was that Vicious >was the recently deceased Iason: --scorpion. He'd been lying all along! Dee: Scandal! Deception! >Mao Yenrai's heir apparent, he could command Death to stay at bay Muraki: Stay, Death! Good boy. Now heel... Roll over! >and the Grim Reaper would listen. With a conviction that was >unwavering, he explained, "The warrant for your arrest is about to >expire. That's why the bounty for you is currently double. Dee: [Vic] Ahem. Not that I was scoping out the bounty on you or anything. I’d never do anything like that. Yeah. >All we have to do is keep you hidden for another month at most and you will >be a free man, Gren. Dee: Yeah, until they find out he's been hanging out with members of organized crime. Iason: What is that, logic? That doesn't belong here. Dee: That's right. I knew I was forgetting something. >And since the medical treatment you may need might take that length >of time, Muraki: Yeah, right, or it could take several years of expensive and painful chemotherapy treatments combined with daily drug therapy for the rest of Gren's considerably shortened life! Ass. >it will be an easy enough thing to accomplish for both benefits. >Cost is no object, either, so you'll have only the best physicians >and I swear that you *will* be healed regardless!" Iason: [flatly] Praise Jesus. >Shocked and yet deeply gratified, Gren pulled one hand away and >brought it trembling to one moisture-laden eye to dash away his >tears as he asked, "You'd do all that for me? But we haven't even >seen each other in three years, Vicious." > >The white-haired man sighed and shook his head in mild anger >directed at himself, "I know how long it's been, Gren. Dee: [Vic] I can fucking count, thank you very much. >I've been searching for you since you escaped prison. I may be >powerful in Dee: --bed. >certain circles, Muraki: --circular beds. >but finding a man who wishes to be lost in the Solar System is >virtually impossible." Iason: Especially if you don't bother checking the city where all the escaped convicts go. Oops. >With a small hint of a smile, he added, "But you changed all that >when you made the initial contact for the drug deal. I knew where >you were and came immediately. Muraki: [announcer] Yes, drugs! A proud tradition of reuniting loved ones willing to spit in the face of logic and common sense. So try drugs today! Dee: This fanfic brought to you by the Heroin Council. Iason: [Author] Writing terrible slash fiction: -- Dee: We used that joke already. >Nothing and no one could keep me from your side once I knew where >you were. I've missed you and wanted you back." > >Luminous blue-green eyes searched smoldering violet ones and Iason: --arrested them for illegal possession of a several automatic rifles and an ounce of Maui Waui. >Gren asked in amazement, "You came all this way because you wanted >me *that* way? Muraki: [Gren] What a loser! >For all you know, I might be married or something. Why say such >things without knowing whether or not I'm in a relationship with >someone else?" Iason: [Vic] Well, I know it’s going to hard, but your just going to have to break it off with Rosy Palm and her five sisters. >Not uncertain in the least, Vicious merely nodded his head and said, >"I realize that, Gren. Before I arrived, I decided that if I found >you and you were with someone else and truly happy, then I would >wish you a long and prosperous life and then vanish like the ghost >many believed me to be when I returned to the Syndicate." Dee: What the... Who talks like this? >He gauged the other man's response carefully, then added, "However, >if you were even half as lost and lonely as I was, I fully intended >on convincing you to come back with me, to give what we had on Titan >a chance somewhere new. It was never just about sex, you know." All: [crack up] Iason: [wiping his eyes] Whew, good one, Vicious. You got us there. >Startled, Gren blinked at him as if he hadn't truly seen this person >before and in truth, he probably hadn't. Dee: Ben Affleck? How'd you get in here? >The man sitting in front of him and holding his hands clasped warmly >in his own was a Muraki: --babbling moron. >masterwork of contradictions. Muraki: That's a nice way of putting it. >The thin scars beneath Vicious' eyes should have rendered him ugly, >yet they only added to his rugged allure. Small intense violet eyes >should have given the white-haired man a sense of reptilian Dee: Violet: the color of reptiles across the globe. >danger but somehow they looked like fragments of jewels left afloat >in a sea of pure white ivory. White hair that held streaks of gray >should've made him look old and even more tired than he was actually >only added to his alabaster complexion's exotic beauty. Muraki: Arrgh! Why is she *doing* this? We know what the characters look like without a fucking refresher course! Iason: Well, you see, her vision here is so far removed from anything even vaguely Cowboy Bebop related at this point, that she feels she should remind us that we're reading a fanfic, and not just a piece of original fiction with some hauntingly familiar names in it. Muraki: Yeah, or she just likes listening to herself talk. Iason: ...that's also a possibility. >Physically, he was tall, wiry, and thin Muraki: No, really? I thought he might be mentally tall, emotionally wiry, and psychologically thin. Thank God that completely worthless adjective was there to correct me. Dee: [patting his hand] Deep breaths. >but still powerful thanks to years of swordsmanship which had >rendered him more deadly with an ancient katana than most men were >with a gun. Dee: Except when the target was, y'know, more than a couple of feet away from him. Then he was in deep poopy. >Gren's mind's eye recalled that perfection of form of that body >radiantly nude Iason: Somehow, that doesn't sound sexy at all... Dee: Yeah, more like Vic just hasn't been getting enough sun to cut down on the glare. >before him beneath a tent Muraki: [Gren] Help! Somebody get this fucking tent off us! >during a rare moment of peace granted by a sandstorm on Titan. He >further recalled how well-endowed the man was sexually Dee: It must be love! Muraki: I'm sorry I doubted you, Gren. >and it sent a shiver of desire through him as he envisioned feeling Muraki: He *envisioned feeling*...? Iason: I think it's a bit like hearing salty. Or smelling loud. Or feeling ocean-colored. >the incredible sense of fullness and safety he had only experienced >when his lover was within him. > >Noting the slightly older man's sudden tremble, Muraki: Okay, look, this is becoming absurd. Just call them by their names, will you? Dee: But why? What's wrong with the long-haired man telling the slightly taller man to put the violet-eyed man's hand on the ocean-eyed man's shoulder, even as the slightly older man's arm does spontaneous things in direct disobedience to the slender musician's will, at least in the white-haired man's estimation? Muraki: Stop! Oh, God, stop! >Vicious asked, "Are you cold, Gren?" In his concern for the man he >cared so deeply for, he forgot >that his own comments about those emotions had gone unanswered, Iason: Oh, that's right, they were talking about something several *hours* ago. Oh well, guess it must not be important. I mean, gawd, who discusses the way they feel about each other and what they expect from a relationship before they screw like weasels in heat? How uncool! Muraki: Pot. Kettle. Black. Iason. Iason: ...fuck you. >and he added, "We both got fairly well soaked in the snow. Maybe you >should take a shower and warm up." Dee: Ah, I see she has opted for Yaoi Plot Device B, variant 7. An excellent choice. Muraki: Don't encourage her. Dee: But... it's served all of us so well in the past. >Even though he started to deny the allegation and hoped to pursue >more of the discussion regarding just what it was *exactly* that >Vicious wanted out of this new relationship, Iason: What the hell? Did he have a list of demands? Muraki: [Vic] Item one: Bi-weekly foot massages. Item two: Access to the television from 7-7:30 pm on Tuesdays until the father of Scully’s baby is revealed. Item three: Eighteen free holes of miniature golf… >Gren's current state of arousal made him change his mind. He >answered seductively, "Actually, that sounds like a great idea, >Vicious." Unexpectedly, he leaned forward and placed a tentative >kiss on the other man's lips before adding, "That is, it's a great >idea if you'll join me?" > >Pleased beyond words that history seemed to be repeating itself, Dee: Except that now it was really cold, and there hadn't been any showers on Titan, and they weren't in military uniforms, and now Gren had boobies, and they were in an apartment instead of a tent, and it didn't make any sense at all... yeah. Exactly the same. >the younger of the two growled low in his throat and released Gren's >hands from his own so he could reach out and wrap them around the >other man's neck and draw him forward once more. Muraki: See what I'm talking about? Vicious was the agent of every verb in that sentence, and his name wasn't even in it! Dee: [singing] Ambiguous verb agent man… >After returning the kiss with greater heat and passion than even he >himself had expected, Vicious answered in his rumbling growl that >sounded like a hungry tiger's purr, "I'd like nothing better, Gren." Muraki: [Vic] Except for some nachos. I'd kill for nachos right now. You wanna go get nachos, Gren? >Sudden realization of the exact wording of his request hit the >ocean-eyed man and Gren flushed rose Iason: Well, I suppose it wouldn't have made much sense for him to "flush cerulean," but did she really need to explain... Muraki: I'm telling you, this isn't even funny anymore. >from high, well-defined cheekbones, down to flawless skin that >peeked out of his open-collared red silk shirt. Muraki: Argh! Not even funny! >Swallowing thickly, Iason: Eew! I warned him not to drink milk when he had a cold! >he nodded and then agreed to not only a shower but also to >everything else the amethyst-eyed man was offering him, saying, >"Same here." > >Standing, Vicious extended his hand and helped his once-and-future >lover Muraki: You know, if you're going to mangle T.H. White's "The Once and Future King," the *least* you can do is to read his stylebook and follow its very basic grammatical rules. Iason: I'd hate to find out what Ms. Enigma thinks are the elements of style... >to his feet before pulling him in for another deep soul-kiss that >wasn't hesitant as tongues immediately danced and dueled, lovingly >tasting what had gone untasted for too three years. Dee: It was two or three. Something like that. I mean, come on, could he really be expected to keep track of every single hermaphrodite he'd had sex with? Iason: So... what *had* gone untasted for too three years? Muraki: Must have been some very strong garlic. >When the kiss broke apart so they could breathe once more, Gren >moaned, "Oh, god! It's been too long!" Iason: [Gren] --since I could breathe! Jesus, Vicious, how about next time you don't stick your tongue into my trachea? >Despite his desire to see the man in his arms naked and writhing >beneath him as soon as possible, Vicious paused before attacking the >buttons on the red silk shirt and asked in a breathless growl, "What >do you mean, Gren?" Muraki: He means it's been too long, you twit! Dee: Be nice. Maybe Vic doesn't speak Babbling Moron either. >Anxious finger entwined themselves Iason: --through other anxious finger? Dee: --through anxious toe? Muraki: --beyond the reaches of the singular case? >in white hair as the ocean-eyed man admitted shyly, "I, well, I >haven't known another's touch since that last night with you on >Titan, Vicious." All: [crack up] Iason: [Gren] Nope, not a single other person's touch since then. Cocks on the other hand... oh, boy, I can't even keep track of how many of those I've known. Dee: I guess he was just friends with the large blond man who performs more than one service for money... >His eyes slipped shut and he shook his head, adding, "I never wanted >anyone but you. Muraki: [Gren] --or Brad Pitt. Or Guy Pearce, Orlando Bloom, Ben Affleck, Nanjo Koji, Antonio Banderas, the two guys back at my bar... Iason: [Vic] Umm... thanks. Muraki: [still Gren] Or Heath Ledger, Russell Crowe, Ryan Phillipe, David Duchovny, or the second through fourth Backstreet Boys. They're so dreamy. >And even when they told me you were the one who sent me to prison >and I felt as if I should hate you for leaving me in such a horrible >situation, I still didn't want anyone but you. I'm so pathetic, I'm >sorry." > >Feeling as if his heart was filled to overflowing with Dee: --bile. >an emotion he'd assumed would never be his again, Dee: Same thing. >Vicious answered by placing a swordhilt- Iason: That was one lame double-entendre. >callused but warm palm against the other man's silken cheek as he >stated, "You are *not* pathetic, Gren." Muraki: [Vic] You're whiny, feeble and useless, and if anyone says otherwise they'll have to answer to me. >As he saw the other man open his eyes once again he continued, >"You're not the only one who hasn't taken a lover in the last three >years. Iason: [Vic] Of course, I'm not talking about me or anything, but I'm sure somewhere out there is another big geeky loser who's still bearing the torch for somebody who can't stand him... >I felt the same way and for other reasons as well, I decided not to >pursue a relationship after we were separated. You're right, it >*has* been too long. For both of us." Dee: [Vic] I mean, it's not supposed to be blue and petrified, is it? >Vicious deliberately chose Iason: As opposed to accidentally choosing, or being deliberately forced... >not to mention that he had felt dead inside for so much of the time >they had been apart and dead men had no need of companionship Muraki: Great, now it's a Lexx crossover. Iason: [Kai] Dead men do not shoo-bop-a-loo-baa. >even when it might have meant their humanity might have been >preserved during an inhuman period. Dee: [announcer] Yes, sex! Providing you with the best in futile distractions from a cold and hopeless existence. So try some meaningless sex today! Iason: This fanfic brought to you by the Hooker Council. >His descent into madness, however, had come to a halt when he'd >heard Gren had been in contact with the Red Dragons and even now, as >they confessed their unwittingly shared periods Dee: Er...? Muraki: Well, it kind of makes sense. They've been acting so much like overemotional women since this fic started it's inevitable they'd end up on the same cycle eventually. >of abstinence, he felt himself returning to emotional balance. Iason: Yeah, the emotional balance of a 14-year-old girl! >Moaning softly as he realized that in many ways their impending >physical union would be a reawakening for them both, Gren begged >softly, "Then please, can we get out of these clothes and actually >*do* something about it? I've missed you terribly and I want you >inside me soon, Vicious. Muraki: [Vic] Well, let me check my PDA... How does a week from Thursday sound? >Please!" > >His answer was a low, throaty growl Iason: Come on, he's growled like ten times already. Get a thesaurus. >and nimble fingers moving to quickly unbutton the loose red silk >shirt which concealed Gren's greatest secrets Dee: [Gren] My "I Love Jet" tattoos! He must never know! >which he still feared might be less than enticing to the man he was >with, but he needn't have feared. Surprisingly, despite his history >of being in a menage a trois with the two people he once loved that >both betrayed him, Vicious was rather confused about his own >sexuality. All: [jaws drop] Dee: What the fuck was that? Muraki: Are we in hell? >He had assumed he was a bisexual in all senses of the word Iason: Oh, yes, that deceptive multi-layered term, 'bisexual'. >having enjoyed at least some of what Julia had offered, > Iason: Well... the sex. Dee: Oh, yes, of course, I'm sure he went all whacko and crazy and tried to kill every single person in the whole wide world because... he'd maybe had sort of a good time with Julia this once, or something like that. Christ! >yet now as he slowly revealed the silken roundness of Gren's >breasts, he had an epiphany. Muraki: [Vic] Whoa... I like titties. Dee: [Vic] Oh my God! It was Professor Plum, in the Ballroom, with the Candlestick. The Candlestick! It's brilliant. >Uncovering his partner's unique physique, Dee: [snicker] Is that like his odd bod? >the white-haired man moaned softly and took both soft mounds into >his hands, cupping them gently, lifting and massaging the firm flesh >and finding them to be infinitely erotic Muraki: I think I read somewhere that objects approaching infinite eroticness cease to exist in the observable time-space continuum. Iason: Is that why I’m not at all turned on right now, and doubt I ever will be again? >and desirable. Vicious glanced up from where his eyes had been glued >to the unusual shapes in his hands and admitted to Gren, "Gods, you >are so beautiful, Gren. I never imagined I'd see or even be allowed >to touch anything as wonderful as this!" Iason: You know... there are some things in this world that are just so wrong I can't even think of a proper way to mock them. This is one of those things. >There are no words that could possibly describe the sense of relief >and gratitude that filled the purple-haired man's heart Muraki: And there is something entirely too evasive about saying "the purple-haired man's heart." That's like borrowing the lime-green-jacketed man's book. Or eating at the dust-covered-tabled-man's restaurant. Dee: Or groaning at the disgustingly-incompetently-authored-fanfic's plot. Iason: ...the hell? >to hear such words in a tone so pure and filled with love. > >The few people who had been fully aware of his strange metamorphosis Muraki: When Gren Eckner awoke one morning from troubled dreams, he found that he had been transformed in his bed into an enormous bug… >had been mostly doctors who treated him like either a freak of >nature or an interesting research subject to be poked and prodded >yet never appreciated. To have a man as accomplished and worldly >wise as Vicious praising and petting him Muraki: [Vic] Good moob. Now sit… Stay… That’s a good moob. >in such a tender fashion >made him happier than he felt he had a right to be and tears filled >his eyes as he accepted the kindness in a trembling voice, Iason: Tsk. If he’d accepted it in Tupperware, it’d stay fresh a lot longer. >"Th-thank >you, Vicious. I hadn't dared to hope that you would even accept me >once you saw them, but to hear that you really like them makes me >feel so much better about myself." > >"'Like them'?" Vicious asked in mild amusement even as he continued >to fondle the man's chest, Dee: [Gren] Ow! Damnit, Vicious, they’re not load bearing structures! >thumbs caressing Gren's nipples and >coaxing them into a state of arousal. He couldn't prevent the small >thoughtful smile that crept onto his lips as he pondered the many >times he had wished Julia, traitorous bitch that she was, had been a >man with breasts yet had thought such a thing would be rarer than >unicorns. Iason: Eh-heh... well, this certainly puts the FUN back in dysfunctional. Muraki: ...I think I just puked in my mouth. >However, now that he held such a creature in his arms, warm, loving >and all his, he could more easily use a word he had foregone for a >long time, declaring, "I absolutely *love* them, Gren! Iason: [Vic] Really, like, your nails are *so* fab! Like, where *did* you get them done? >I've never seen anything more erotic or sensual in my life and all I >want to do is make love to you and feel them pressed to me as you >scream in passion!" Dee: [Gren] I LOVE YOU JUSTIN TIMBURLAKE! Iason: Wrong kind of passion. Dee: You sure? >"Oh, damn, *yes*!" Gren exclaimed, finally snapped back to reality >and urgent in his need once more. Losing much of his gentleness for >a brief moment, the transexual reached between their bodies and took >hold of Vicious' gray dress shirt in both hands and ripped it open >sending buttons flying across the floor, pinging as they encountered >bookcases and slipping from view. Dee: It's the shirt that goes "ping!" >Laughing as his own scarred yet still ruggedly handsome chest was >exposed to passionate fingers and a sweet mouth that wished to >re-explore him, Vicious asked tenderly, "No longer patient, my" he >hesitated only a moment, afraid to use the word twice, yet no longer >willing to leave how he felt unsaid he forged ahead, "love?" Muraki: [Gren] No, *shove*! As in "shove the story down a flight of stairs." >Disbelieving yet hopeful blue-green eyes gazed up at him and even as >Vicious unbound the loose pony-tail and allowed a cascade of dark >lavender hair to flow around them, Gren asked, "'Love', Vicious? Dee [Vic]: No, *glove*! As in "glove full of buckshot to slap the shit out of the story." >Is that what you called me, or am I hallucinating? Is this really >just yet another dream like so many I've had about being in your >arms again?" Dee: Ooh! Can I? Iason: Yeah, close enough… Dee: [singing] Is this the real life?/Is this just fantasy?/Caught in a landslide/No escape from reality… >"This is definitely *not* a figment of your imagination, Gren-love," >Vicious stated gently and threaded his fingers through the silken >hair that was everywhere now. Iason: Later he'd have to use one of those sticky lint-rollers to clean it all up... >"It feels like a dream come to life, yes, but it *is* real as is the >fact that I intend to take you away from this place to somewhere >safer that we can be together this way for the rest of our lives if >we want to be." > >Gren felt as if he might melt as he promised, "Oh, yes, I *do* want >it to be that way, darling Vicious! Please, I want to be yours and >only yours always!" > >"Then so be it," the amethyst-eyed man stated before bringing their >mouths together in a deep soul-kiss to seal the agreement in the >only way such vows of love should ever be sealed. Iason: This is like Shakespeare on LSD and Valium. Dee: But not Will Shakespeare. It's his lesser-known sister Gwendolyn Shakespeare, who wrote for Harlequin Romance. >They stood together lost in their emotions for only a moment, and >then the cool air on damp exposed skin Iason: Ah! Damnit! All right, which one of you guys went off early? >reminded them of where they >had been headed when they had left the warm glasses of Vodka behind. Iason: [announcer] Yes, vodka! The drink preferred by four out of five slightly short musicians with breasts. So try vodka today! Muraki: This fanfic brought to you by the Booze Council. >With a shared shiver as the heating system that wasn't doing much >but stir the too-chilly air around them turned on again, they >separated and quickly finished undressing. > >Stepping out of his slim, perfectly fitted pants pooled with >discarded boxers on the floor and standing before his lover once >more fully revealed, Gren bit back the desire to ask if Vicious >liked what he saw. His waist was now narrower than what was typical >for a man and his hips as well as had changed, becoming more rounded >than they had been on Titan. The hormonal imbalance hadn't failed to >grant more feminizing of other parts of his body than just his >chest, of course. Luckily, however, there had been no change in the >form or function of his most masculine of body parts Iason: What? It gets even more masculine that the breasts and tiny waist and hips and smooth shiny hair down to his ass? >and it was all Vicious could do to keep from gently but firmly >pushing the unique man to the floor and taking him then and there. > >Growling his appreciation and need for Gren in a wordless expression >of desire, Vicious, kicked aside Dee: --by a stampede of humanity. Muraki: Viz., the readers of this fic. >his own discarded steel gray pants never once thinking about what >the sight of his own body might mean to the gentle man in front of >him. Dee: So what's the difference between a gentle man and a gentleman? Iason: I'm guessing the former sneezed thrice without a blessing. >Gren fought a desire to cry again as he took in the numerous scars >that decorated his partner's body. The burn scars though fairly >recent were indeed not too hideous, mostly confined to areas that >were difficult to heal under even the best of situations, but the >various bullet wounds and occasional slashing lines that indicated >survival of various sword-and-knife battles were hard to deal with. >Trembling fingers reached out and caressed the puckered skin in his >shoulder Muraki: [Gren] Damned delinquent fingers! Stay where you're told! >where Spike's vengeful bullet had penetrated before tracking to >lightly skim over some of the others. Iason: Whoa. So the bullet just kind of cruised around for a while? Dee: Guess this proves the Lone Gunman theory… >"Shh, don't worry about those, love," Vicious cautioned in a soft, >understanding tone, suddenly aware that he was causing Gren distress >during a moment that should have been filled with nothing but >passion and pleasure. > >"But, darling, there's so many of them," the ocean-eyed man gazed up >at his partner, the one-inch height difference between them suddenly >seeming greater. Muraki: What had looked like a bullet-wound was really an automatic platform-shoes-dispensing button. >"They aren't important, Gren," the gravelly voice assured, then >Vicious took Gren's hand and directed it to the marks on one arm >left behind by the field medic Dee: I would totally sue if the field medic left one of my arms behind. >and he added encouragingly, "Only this one matters, love. The one >that has reminded me of you every time I saw it day after day. It >kept me alive when nothing else could, simply because it made me >think of you." Muraki: [Vic] Every time I looked at the uneven, bluish, gross dead skin of my scar, it was like I could see your face. >"Oh gods!" Gren gasped, gently exploring the scars on both sides of >the arm before bending over and kissing them and saying, "Then I'll >be forever grateful that they were there and you came back to me, my >Vicious." > >The younger of the two ran a hand comfortingly through long silken >waves Iason: --crashing in his ocean-eyes. >before stating decisively, "Come now, Gren-love. Enough living in >the past, let's live in the present." > >Smiling once more, Gren dashed tears from his eyes and straightened >up saying, "You're right of course! Let's go get that shower." All: Ahhh! Muraki: It never ends! Dee: Just kill me now! >"Excellent idea," Vicious agreed and followed as Gren lead him to >the Muraki: --recurring disregard for the singular case. >tastefully decorated small bathroom the apartment boasted. Dee: [apartment] My tastefully decorated small bathroom could beat up your tastefully decorated small bathroom. >As the water heated far more quickly than Vicious had expected it would, >the lavender-haired man Iason: --soon boiled away into nothingness. The end. >busied himself selecting large bath sheets for after they were done >and arranged the inside of the shower enclosure to suit himself. Dee: I wonder if this is what Martha Stewart does before she gets lucky… >Once satisfied with his preparations, Gren pulled the curtain open >and gestured for Vicious to join him Muraki: [Gren] Gimme some sugar, baby. >as he stepped in under the >water. The white-haired man hung back for only a moment, enjoying >the sight of glistening water droplets running down his beloved's >unique form and dripping enticingly from the tips of those amazing >breasts. > >With a soft chuckle of delight that his lover truly did find him as >attractive as he claimed to, Gren turned and bent slightly to adjust >the temperature of the spray above them both. The sight of his >smooth back and firm, well-muscled buttocks brought a quick and >decisive response from Vicious who moved to press himself almost >flush to the body that called to him like a siren's song. Muraki: And like the other victims of the Sirens, he washed up on Gren’s beach and died of starvation. The End. >Running one hand up to cup a firm breast even as the other slipped >down the curve of Gren's ass, Dee: Why "even as"? I'm serious! Why? >the white-haired man growled softly, Muraki: For Christ's sake, she has fifty epithets for Vicious and not a single synonym for growling... >"What've you got in here I can use for lube, love? I don't want to >wait much longer." Iason: Yes! For God’s sake! Get it over with already! >An expression of need and desire crossed Gren's face as he handed >his partner a bottle of body wash that seemed gentle enough for the >purpose, Iason: --but strong enough for a man. >heaven knew he didn't have any actual lubricant in his apartment, >he'd been celibate too long to even consider owning any. "Will this >do?" he asked hopefully. > >Grateful that they had something to make their union easier, Vicious >thanked him with a kiss to a slippery shoulder and a wet finger >lightly probing his hidden entrance Dee: Oh my God. We're going to die. We're going to die right now. >as he said in a rumbling purr, "Absolutely, Gren-love. Are you ready >for more?" > >Moaning tremulously, Gren moved to brace himself with both hands >against the shower enclosure and spread his legs as well as he >could, then begged, "Yes, quickly! I *need* you now, Vicious!" Dee: Oh my God. What if... we *don't* die? >Feeling a tingle of pure need of his own, the white-haired man >accepted both the spoken and unspoken invitations and moved quickly >to grant his lover's request. Muraki: What about the written invitation? “You are hereby cordially invited to stick your wing-wang up my ass…” >Fingers slicked with body wash moved >with unforgotten skill to quickly stretch and ready his lover's >body, efficiently easing a tightness that was almost virginal in its >intensity. > >Within moments, Gren was thrusting back on the invading digits, Iason: I'm going to pretend he's just playing advanced minesweeper. Okay? Okay. >begging and pleading for more and Vicious granted it. Removing one >hand from its delectable position within the long-haired man's tight >entrance and the other from one rock-hard nipple on a satin smooth >breast, Muraki: As opposed to, say, a satin-rough breast. Dee: Or a sandpaper-smooth breast. >he quickly lubed his own ignored and dripping arousal in preparation >for entering paradise. Iason: So, wait… he did die? Dee: Is this all part of that weird flashback, then? Iason: It’s like a whole new genre, with the taut, psychological thrill of an episode of the Twilight Zone, coupled with the slimy pathetic desperation of scrambled porn. >With a possessive growl, Muraki: No. Look, just stop. >he pressed the broad tip of his cock against the slickened opening >to his lover's body and then thrust forward slowly, inexorably, >until he was fully seated once more within Gen's tight heat. Iason: That's funny. I've never been seated on something I was *behind.* Dee: Vicious bends like one of the aliens from The Arrival. >"OH, YES!!" Gren nearly shouted Dee: Ah, the dramatic capitalization and double-exclamation-points of nearly shouting. I recognized them immediately. >with joy as he felt the amazing sensation of being opened and filled >so perfectly in the manner only this one act could grant Iason: Well, this one act, or a dildo, or the neck of a beer bottle, or his saxophone... Dee: Let us die, oh, God... >and he moaned with even greater pleasure as one hand returned to its >earlier site and cupped one of his breasts. Despite being unable to >fully articulate his surprise, the ocean-eyed man noted with delight >that as his lover had prepared and then claimed him, his uniquely >feminine features Dee: [ahem] You know, at the risk of sounding like a complete pervert… Muraki: You’re already a pervert. Go on. Dee: What the FUCK?! This author seems to think that Gren is the only transsexual in the history of the known universe. Has she been living in a cardboard box under a rock in a cave in the uninhabitable regions of the Arctic, or something?! >responded to the arousing stimulus and he felt a tingly sensation in >his nipples and across his chest. Muraki: --and down his left arm. And then he died of a heart-attack, the end. >Growling softly, Muraki: [hopeless] It won't stop. It won't stop! >Vicious pressed himself fully against Gren's back, enjoying the >feeling of exquisite pressure around him and wondering how he'd >lived for three long years without it. Barely able to give his >partner enough time to adjust, he withdrew a few centimeters Iason: Eew. It sounds like we're checking to see how much Gren's dilated. >then slid back in forcefully and wrenched a moan from both their >lips. > >"Pl-pl-please!" Gren spluttered as he felt his body reacting much as >it had that first night long ago when Vicious, wounded and yet >unwilling to wait, Dee: [Vic] It was a good sleeve, but a man has to move on. >claimed him for the first time. > >With a darkly loving smile on his face--something his associate Lin >would've found terrifyingly bizarre if he'd been given the privilege >of seeing it which he would not— Iason: Run, Lin! For the love of God run far, far away from this place before the sequel! >Vicious began to move. Sliding in and partially out then back in >more firmly, the amethyst-eyed man moved, very slowly increasing the >pace since he was unwilling to risk hurting the man who was nearly >virginally tight around him. > >For Gren, it was heaven and hell both all at once to have that >unbelievably large erection buried within him Muraki: And for us, it's hell and purgatory and torture and horrible, painful *death* to have this unbelievably abhorrent fanfic printed indelibly in our helpless, innocent minds! >and he wanted this motion and friction, but most of all, he wanted >to feel that strange yet wonderful feeling of having that secret >point within him found. Taking a deep breath to keep from wailing in >need, he begged, "Oh, *please*, Vicious! Darling, I need it harder! >Deeper! Oh, damn, please! I want *more*!!" Iason: I think we should all bow our heads in acknowledgement that this author has indeed written the worst dialogue ever conceived since the development of human language. Dee: Can we keep our heads down and never look up again? >Vicious' heart echoed the sentiment and with a low snarl, he >withdrew entirely. As Gren drew in a deep, shocked breath, he felt >strong hands spinning him around Dee: -- and around and around and around, and then shoving him towards the piñata. >and the other man growled, "I want to see your face Iason: [spinning him] -- and then not see it, and then see it again, and then not see it... Whee! >when you come, Gren! Hold onto that!" > >Hungry amethyst eyes indicated the showerhead above them and Gren's >face lit up with a huge smile as one hand reached for the sturdy >metal even as the other placed itself trustingly on Vicious' >shoulder. Dee: --even as the readers committed suicide. Iason: I think the death joke is running a bit thin. Dee: What joke? >He lifted a long lean leg and curled it around Vicious' waist, >opening and offering himself as he moaned urgently, "Take me!" Muraki: He already thrust his entire lower body into your ass! What more could you possibly want from him? >"Gladly!" Vicious responded, quickly moving to bury himself to the >hilt back inside the tight heat that his body screamed with need for >and he himself moaned with delight as Gren's other leg moved to wrap >itself around him. > >Back pressed against the wall of the shower and body completely >offered without question, Dee: Usually he offered it with a brief but very difficult pop quiz. >the saxophonist thrust against Vicious and impaled himself further >and felt his lover's cock finally find the spot within him. >"VICIOUS!" He screamed with joy. Realizing what had changed within >their interaction, Vicious moved quickly to repeatedly strike the >spongy bit of nirvana within Gren's body, Iason: The spongy bit of... All: [gagging sounds] Muraki: This hurts me in the depths of my fractured, faggy demon soul. >urging him towards completion even as he felt a tension building >within himself. Growling with his own need as warm water continued >to wash over them both, he increased to an almost punishing pace Dee: The pace of this *fanfic* is punishing! Muraki: Everything about this fanfic is punishing... >and pushed them both over the edge. Iason: And they fell to their horrible spongy deaths. The end. Ahh! >"GREN!!" The swordsman's first true cry of joy in three long years >echoed through the small space and was answered by an inarticulate >rendition of his own name as their orgasms hit them both >simultaneously. Dee: No, I think those are the rocks we've been throwing. Nice shot. Muraki and Iason: [high five] >Hot seed jetted from Vicious' throbbing cock, shooting deep inside >his lover and claiming him once more as it warmed the slightly >shorter man from deep inside. Gren's trembling erection spurted >pulse after sticky pulse of passion Iason: He's coming like a machine-gun. Dee: A slightly shorter machine-gun. Muraki: A slightly shorter, one year younger, amethyst-eyed, silver-haired, katana-wielding, dangerously handsome… mind-obliterating, soul-swallowing, all that is good and decent in the universe-devouring machine gun. >which painted their abdomens ever so briefly before the shower >washed the fluid away without removing any of the love it >represented. Iason: Soul mates through anal sex, huh? I didn’t know people kept their souls where the sun don’t shine. >Both men stood there, bodies intertwined and clinging to one another >as they gasped for breath for several moments as their nerve endings >tingled and they shared that sweetly satisfying feeling of >post-coital bliss. > >The silence was finally broken when Gren sighed adoringly, "Oh, >Vicious, that was *wonderful*! Oh, darling, I *love* you!" Dee: [Gren] Like, wow! Now can we go shopping and buy that *adorable* frilly handbag with all the ribbons and little kitties on it? >He dropped his hand from the showerhead and trusted the younger man >to be able to keep them both from collapsing to the floor of the >shower as he wrapped himself completely around his lover. > >More than pleased to be so trusted by someone he had feared he would >never even see again, Vicious wrapped both arms around Gren and held >him tightly, reassuring him in wordless ways they both recalled >learning together far away on a saffron-colored moon. Trying to >remember that with this person he didn't have to be the mysterious, >silent source of fear he had become after his time within the Red >Dragons, Vicious answered quietly, "I love you, too, Gren. I'm so >very grateful you've allowed me to come back into your life like >this." Muraki: You know, all wet and sticky and pulsing and stuff. And without eyes. >Loosening his grip only enough to press a deep and loving kiss to >his partner's lips, the long-haired man responded, "No, Vicious, I'm >the one who is grateful." Iason: [Vic] No, I'm grateful! Dee: [Gren] No, I'm grateful! Iason: [Vic] No, I'm grateful! >He lifted a shaking hand and ran it though dripping wet white hair >and explained, "Without you, I was almost relieved to be told I was >dying. Life had no meaning for me for so long, I felt so hopeless. >But with you here now, everything has changed. Even if I wasn't >going to be treated for my illness, just being with you again >would've made dying easier, Muraki: Easier than when it was a relief? >I'd have died happy once more." Dee: [Gren] This will be the fourth time I've died happy. Muraki: [Gren] Sometime I should try dying sleepy, or grumpy, or dopey... >Vicious' eyes held a steely resolve within them as he declared >firmly, "Then there's no reason to look forward to anything other >than living 'happy', as you say, Gren, because I will not let you >go. You are mine and you will stay with me forever." Iason: [Gren] But what about mortality? >"But what about the Syndicate?" Iason: Or that. >Gren suddenly worried, "Won't they have a problem with you bringing >back a, um," he hesitated to say "spouse" or even "fiancé" since >that was what it seemed Vicious wanted him to be, but substituted >instead, "a comrade like myself? I don't want to cause trouble for >you, my darling." > >A low growl of power and determination rumbled through the >amethyst-eyed man's chest and he nearly snarled, "They will accept >you and embrace you as my chosen one if they want to survive, Gren! Muraki: Whoa. I think Vicious just turned into the Judeo-Christian God. Dee: I don't think so. I doubt anything ever rumbled through the amethyst-eyed Judeo-Christian deity's chest. >Like I said, I'm going to be the one in charge now that Mao is gone. >As soon as the Van accepts that fact, there will be none to gainsay >me and you and I Iason: -- and us and we and I and you and we and... what the fuck am I talking about? >together can lead the Syndicate in an entirely new direction if we >want to." Dee: [Vic] And we can transport it there in our very own handbasket! >Realizing that a discussion of the future of so many people might be >better held when they were not so intimately united as well being >under the suddenly cooling water as the apartment's water heater >began to empty itself, he added in a lighter tone, "But first, let's >get out of here and get dry, all right? I think we might want to >enjoy yourselves a bit more before we decide what to do next, don't >you agree?" Iason: Dear Lord. We aren't finished, are we? >Gren smiled happily, despite having his lover's generously-sized >cock buried within him felt so good, he knew his hair would be a >wreck if he didn't at least get some conditioner into it before they >retired to the comfort of his bed. With a nod, he answered, "All >right, Vicious. Let me fix my hair and we'll go to bed. I think I'll >need to call the club, too, and let the guys know their sax-man >isn't making it back tonight." > >Vicious recalled the look of encouragement on the young, >auburn-haired waiter's face before they'd left and even as he >withdrew from the tight clench of his lover's channel with a groan, >he remarked knowingly, "Somehow, I don't think it'll be a surprise >to them, Gren-love. I rather suspect that they had a feeling this >was going to happen." > >A faint blush crawled across the smaller man's cheeks as he quickly >poured some leave-in conditioner into one hand and finger combed it >through the long tresses. As Vicious watched admiringly, he added >with a shy smile, "Perhaps you're correct, love. They *have* been >urging me to find a 'nice man to spend some time with' lately." He >shrugged slightly, the gentle motion causing one of his breasts to >flex up and then down and wrenching a moan of need from Vicious' >lips before he added hopefully, "Come to think of it, I think >there's something I'd like to do when we get dry. All these years of >spending hours playing the sax has left me wondering what it would >be like to 'play' you, my dear Vicious. Would you like that?" All: [just stare, agape] Iason: Please, someone, poke out my eyes. >Amethyst eyes widened in amazement, and Vicious actually groaned >loudly, the hardness returning to his arousal with a speed he hadn't >expected and he asked in return, "Will it be a long song, Gren-love? Dee: Well, gee, that would be up to you, wouldn't it, Speedy? >I don't know what to expect." Muraki: The Minute Waltz in 30 seconds. >Finally more confident, Gren stepped towards him and slipped a >finger slick with conditioner from base to tip of his lover's >erection All: [squirm] Iason: Ahh... itchy. >and added hopefully, "I certainly hope so, Vicious. I think playing >*you* will be so much more satisfying than playing my instrument, >don't you think?" Muraki: First person to make an "organ" joke gets eviscerated after the MSTing. Dee: Damn! >"And afterwards?" Vicious felt compelled to ask. The gentle musician >had never been willing to go down on him while they were on Titan, >Gren never wanted to dominate him in any way and he wondered if >there was more to the offer than fellatio. Iason: Like Moon Pies. He loved those things... >"And afterwards, my love," Gren smiled promisingly, "I'll see to it >that you are right back where you belong Dee: Freaky Codependents Anonymous! >and you stay there all night long!" As he spoke, he took the >white-haired man's hand and slipped it between his legs, letting >Vicious feel his own sticky seed which remained in vague traces the >shower had missed. Iason: Or, more likely, had verily broken the laws of physics to avoid. >Vicious growled his delight Muraki: [despairingly] It's not even worth it anymore. >and instead of speaking his acceptance of Gren's admission that the >shift in sexual roles would be brief and limited, something both >were pleased with, Dee: Yes, by all means! The more brief and limited the better! >he merely kissed the teasing and beautiful man deeply. The other man >melted into the kiss and no further words were needed Iason: -- since melted pools of human flesh rarely do need words. >as they proceeded to explore the delights Gren had recommended. > >The reunion of two former comrades had lead to a greater reunion of >two previously lonely and desperate men. Muraki: --who on closer inspection turned out to be those same comrades! So, really, it had just lead to the reunion of two former comrades. >Their plans to remain together regardless of the powerful forces >they faced when they returned to the Red Dragons headquarters were >firm and not open to discussion. Vicious would allow no one to speak >ill of Gren and in turn, Gren would allow nothing to prevent his >efforts to bring joy back to Vicious' life. > >The road ahead would be a long one for the pair, with many twists, >turns, and challenges from those they had each known in the past. >But somehow, someway, they would remain together and their reunion >would never need a repeat for they would never part again. > >~Owari~ Iason: Oh, thank god, it's finally over. Dee: I don't think we could have made it through much more of that. Muraki: Now, as long as there's nothing stupid and irrelevant tacked onto the end of the document for no reason at all other than Ms. Enigma just really, *really* loves the sound of her own voice... >Author's Notes: All: NOOOO! Iason: My god, no one deserves this! Dee: [sobbing] How... how can she be so cruel? >[1] This fic is dedicated to Ryoko in honor of her 24th birthday. Dee: Holy crap, what did you get her last year? A dehydrated manatee dick? >Tanjoubi, kitten. Readers are encouraged to visit her delightful >Cowboy Bebop Yaoi Shrine, All that Jazz, at the URL listed above and >while they are there, I hope they sign the guestbook, it's such a >nice way to say you enjoy someone's efforts to create something fun, >ne? Iason: Or to tell them to stop inflicting every steaming pile of shit on their hard drive upon the unsuspecting world. >[2] This is my first fic for Cowboy Bebop, Dee: This is my first blindness for hysterical. >hopefully there will be more in the future with this pairing but >whether or not that comes to pass depends on my muses *and* if >there's enough reader support shown. In other words, send me >feedback if you want more. Muraki: [Enigma] Any feedback you want, just as long as it blows sunshine and pink bunnies up my ass. >[3] Regarding our supporting characters, they include two from >Gundam Wing and my brother” Dee: How much you wanna bet he's really hoping the DNA tests prove he's adopted? >the guy at the bar drinking Zombies” Muraki: --and praying for a quick end to his cursed existence. >who is the one who sent me the entire Cowboy Bebop series on DVD in >the first place and deserves a thousand thanks for adding these >bishounen to my stable. Oh, and he's the one responsible for me >being able to sit and type the angst-laden back-stories with >Vicious' theme song "Rain" and Gren's "Space Lion" from the OST 1 >playing on my computer, too! Sugoi! Dee: On second thought, let's kill him too. >[4] Muses on Parade: Erato, the Greek Muse of epic poetry, is my >lemon and romance muse and is responsible for most of this story, >obviously. However, it was Melpomene, the Greek Muse of tragedy Iason: --who made a tragedy of many readers' lives by allowing the author to write this fic. Muraki: I actually envy Oedipus right now. I really do. >and angst muse to me, who is proud as a peacock to have added an >"untold story" to the war on Titan and making Vicious join the ranks >of bishounen she's left bloodied in her wake. She also enjoyed >portraying the white-haired bishounen as suicidal in the reference >to Session 5: Ballad of Fallen Angels, the beginning source of so >many lovely, angst-ridden [(Vicious + Spike) and/or + Julia] >scenarios one of which is invoked with some hesitance >here.EnigmaFanficUpdates-subscribe@yahoogroups.com Iason: Wait… is that…? Could it be…? Dee: Oh my God! I think that was it! Is everybody still alive? Muraki: Let’s see… arms, legs lungs… Everything seems to still be operational. Iason: You guys, that made me yearn for the simple, earthy prose of Anne Rice. Dee: Yeah, and the sweet, dignified love scenes of Laurell K. Hamilton. Muraki: Hey… that’s not funny.