Title: Manly Brew
Author: Karen Cooper
kcooper27@aol.com
Feedback: Always appreciated, but not required. I'm really very mellow about such things.
Rating: PG 13
Warning: We're heading into slash territory, boys & girls. Implied, more than anything, but consider yourself warned.
Summary: Poker game. Alcohol. Hot British guys. That's all you need to know.
Disclaimers: They all belong to Joss. I'm just borrowing them in a selfless attempt to bring joy to a Bunny. The story's mine, though. Well, mine & the Bunny's.
Distribution: List archives; Morgana & Candy Kane are welcome to it; the birthday girl, if she wants it; any of my Club & AB pals may help themselves. Anyone else, feel free to ask.
Dedication: To Gunbunny, my favorite Buffy writer. Happy birthday, GB! She's an inspiration. Also armed and dangerous. Don't get on her bad side. : )
Notes: GB issued a challenge for her birthday. The elements I included were Spike, Giles, Ethan, Cordelia, vodka, whiskey, hangovers (no kidding), Ewan MacGregor movies, and a quote: "There is no other..." I would have loved to have used "Bloody matchbox. It's possessed, I tell you," but I don't know enough about drinking games to pull it off.
More Notes: I am not a vignette writer ordinarily, and this is the first challenge I have ever answered--see what I do for you, GB?--so I decided to have some fun with this & try an all-dialogue piece. There is another piece to follow this one, called "Evidence of a Good Time." They're both departures from my usual style, so I'm not incredibly confident about them...
MANLY BREW
By Karen Cooper
"What in hell've you brought for snacks, Ethan?"
"Finger sandwiches, caviar, an array of cheeses, pate, and French pastries."
"No pretzels? No chips? No HoHos? This is *poker*, man. A *manly* game. We need manly snacks to go with it."
"You've been spending entirely too much time with that Harris boy, William."
"Hey, I live rent-free, and he feeds me--junk food and the other. I'm a kept man and I quite like it."
"And just what services are you providing in return?"
"Don't leer at me like that, Ethan. Makes you look like an old subway perv. Who are you to talk, anyway? You're the Watcher's plaything. Everybody knows it."
"I was *your* plaything once, William."
"There isn't a man or woman in Sunnydale who hasn't been my plaything at least once, Ethan. Doesn't make you special*... Hey! Hands to yourself, man. You're pissed already, aren't you? I haven't even brought out the alcohol yet."
"I'm high on life, my friend. Ah, the alcohol. You got the brandy I asked for?"
"Beer. Whiskey. Vodka. Vodka. More beer."
"*Beer*, and *vodka*."
"And whiskey."
"Jack Daniels?"
"J.D. There is no other whiskey, is there?"
"Don't smirk at me, William. You've brought *tractor-pull* drinks."
"And you've brought poofy snacks. So far I've let you live. Consider yourself lucky."
"Have you forgotten who you're talking to, my boy? I can call forth all the demons of Hell upon you."
"I *am* a demon of Hell. It'll be a nice family reunion. Try again, Einstein."
"I'll turn you into a wildebeest."
"What the hell is a wildebeest?"
"I don't know. Something furry with four feet, I expect. When I turn you into one, you can see for yourself."
"If I hear *one* word in Latin, or any other dead or obscure language, I'll rip your tongue out and use it for sexual gratification, Ethan."
"Ripper! William's making threats against my person!"
"He threatened to turn me into a wildebeest first."
"Honestly, you two. Can't a man even go into the kitchen long enough to set up the sombrero chip and dip set--"
"No chips, Watcher. No dip."
"Oh, dear. You've brought poncey food again, haven't you, Ethan? I should've put you in charge of the drinks."
"No, 'cause then we'd have sherry and fruity things with umbrellas. We need *manly* brew. I've got Guinness, Jack, two bottles of Smirnoff, and good old American Budweiser. Tastes like hell, but the frogs are cute."
"Sounds positively wretched, William. We're choosing our beverages by what sort of animatronic beast advertises it, are we? And the food's not poncey, Ripper. It's *quality*. Your tastes have deteriorated alarmingly since you began associating primarily with children."
"I thought you *liked* me a bit looser, Ethan."
"The jeans are a nice change, I must admit--"
"If you two start snogging, I'm going home and taking the sauce with me."
"All right, all right. Can we just play, *please*?"
~~~~~~~~~~
"Just give me the bottle."
"Don't be greedy, Ethan. I thought you didn't like vodka, anyway."
"The more I drink of it, the more I like it. Now give it here."
"I'll take more of the whiskey, if you've got it."
"My pleasure, Watcher. I-- Whoops! I fell over! I like your shoes."
"Don't lick them, Spike. They're leather. Up with you, now. Oof. You're heavier than you look."
"A primarily liquid diet'll do that to you."
"Perhaps you ought to switch to Slimfast, then."
"How many cards this time, Ripper?"
"Oh, say... thirteen?"
"You've got it. What's wild?"
"Mmm... Face cards and seventeens?"
"There are no seventeens, Ripper."
"Oh. Sevens and tens, then."
"Right. Now, William, you were saying?"
"Keanu Reeves. There is no American action hero who can compare."
"Keanu Reeves can't act, William. No matter the character--he always plays 'Keanu Reeves' in everything."
"He was bloody good in The Matrix."
"The Matrix didn't call for any actual acting, William. Just a lot of acrobatics. I never said that he didn't have a fabulous, lithe body, now did I?"
"Down, boy."
"Jealous, Ripper?"
I don't mind as long as you don't mind my little thing for Ewan MacGregor, Ethan, dear."
"MacGregor? Doesn't sound familiar..."
"Shallow Grave? A Life Less Ordinary? Star W--"
"Ah, yes. The one with the large, lovely..."
"Light saber."
"The very thing. Thank you, William."
"My pleasure. Favorite MacGregor film, Watcher?"
"S'got to be Shallow Grave. Such a dark, disturbing work..."
"And you took one look at that brilliant work of art and thought, 'Well, *he* has got a body you could bounce quarters off of.'"
"Good job that we have you here, Ethan, to state the obvious in the crassest way possible."
"Oh, I can be far crasser and more obvious than that, Ripper."
"Sit down, Ethan. Ethan, I-- Mmph."
"Oh, God, put that thing away, Ethan. Watcher... I need more vodka."
~~~~~~~~~~
"Mmph. Wha...? What on Earth is that infernal racket?"
"Think it's your door, Watcher."
"Think you might answer it before my head shatters into individual molecules, Ripper?"
"God forbid that you should answer it, Ethan."
"'S not my apartment, Ripper. What will the neighbors think when I answer the door wearing... What *am* I wearing? Are these yours, Ripper?"
"They're mine. And I'll need them back. They were a gift."
"I seem to be the most... clothed. I'll get it."
"You do that, Ripper."
"Well, it's about time! I've been standing out here for*ever*. Didn't you hear me knocking, Giles?"
"Erm... Hello, Cordelia. I... Oh! Wait!"
"You know, Giles, you shouldn't answer the door with your shirt unbuttoned like that. People might think that you and I are, you know, special friends."
"Cordelia, I--"
"It's not that you're old, exactly. I mean, Sean Connery? Harrison Ford? I am *so* there. But you're, you know, not Sean or Harrison... And anyway, you're the school librarian. It would be *indecent*."
"Almost beyond description. Cordelia--"
"You know what you need, Giles? A date. I mean, I know you and Ethan... Well, eww... but you can't marry Ethan, now can you?"
"Well, in some states--"
"And children. You can't have children with Ethan."
"Cordelia, even if I wanted--"
"Not that there's anything wr--"
"Hello, Cordelia, love. My ears are burning."
"Giles. Ethan and *Spike* are naked on your rug. *Why* are Ethan and Spike naked on your rug?"
"It's really not--"
"It's very simple, dear girl. Alcohol, male bonding--"
"OK, eww."
"Bloody hell. Please, please, don't tell anyone about this."
"I can't promise you anything, Spike. But I can tell you that I feel a sudden, desperate need for some serious heterosexual groping. I'm Audi. Remind me never to come over here again, Giles?"
"You have my solemn word."
END