Thanks. Although I totally made my "No Fic" pledge the "No New Taxes" of 2004. I'm just hopelessly fic-fixated.Dr. Rosenburg could probably find a group for me, too.(She's probably a really great therapist, is probably the weird part of it.)

So I've been experimenting with dialogue-only fic, even though it feels very much like cheating, because it's so fun and quick to write. And I've been working my way through various cliches in assorted fandom. Here we have Werewolf Sex:

Return to Oz

"Huh"

"Huh? This only merits a 'huh'? I know you're king of the laconic people, but I've got to say I really think this is the kind of occasion where a person might want to crack open a can of polysyllables. Or at least some excitable punctuation, you know? Because 'huh' doesn't really do this one justice, if you ask me."

"Xander."

"That's my name. These are my arms, these are my legs, this is the Xander belly and this is my good friend – and now yours – Xander Junior. You getting the picture yet? Thinking about maybe joining me here in the world of Freaking Out?"

"Nah."

"..."

"..."

"Nah? Just – nah? That's all you've got? Not 'what?' or 'how?' or 'why?' Just 'nah'?"

"Yep."

"..."

"Well, 'what' is 'sex', 'how' is 'in several positions, although with a bit of difficulty because of the height thing' and 'why' is 'because we wanted to.' That about cover it?"

"I – you – I – huh."

"Yep."

"..."

"..."

"So – you're okay with this? 'Cause I was thinking that the alcohol maybe blurred your thinking. Or a spell. Or – you know. Something. What with the me-not-being-a-girl, and the you-not-being-a-girl, and the sex-having. And our previously unbesmirched heterosexuality. I was kind of expecting – some surprise."

"Wasn't drinking."

"What?"

"Well, drinking, yes. But not drinking. Not alcohol drinking. Don't touch the stuff these days."

"Oh. So – oh. It was just me with the drinking, then?"

"Yep."

"I see. Right. Right. Was it by any chance – was it just me with the previously unbesmirched heterosexuality?"

"Also yep."

"Huh. Well. So you got me drunk and had your wicked way with me, then, you lothario?"

"Not so much. I seem to remember you were already quite – merry – when you arrived at my door."

"Merry."

"It means happy."

"I know that! Merry, joyful, blithe, ebullient, these words I know."

"Gay."

"..."

"..."

"So – I can't convince you that it was out of fear you'd wolf out, what with it being close to the Full Moon, and I'd heard that werewolves never attack their mates?"

"Nah. Wolfing out not so much a problem now, with the impressive self control. Also, not Full Moon for another four days."

"There is that."

"..."

"I'm not – well. Gay. Hmm. I wasn't. I never – hmm. Does thinking about it count?"

"Were you naked when you were thinking?"

"There may have been nakedness."

"Yep. Counts."

"Damn."

"You having a moment of regret, then?"

"No! I – huh. No, actually. Well. Because it was really – I mean. Not that I want to swear off girls, now, because they're all curvy and they smell nice and there's the prettiness and, and – but – huh. But I dig you, man. And it was – it was really good."

"Cool."

"Yeah."

"So, you up for another go?"

"I – well. Oh. Guess that would be a resounding 'yes' from Xander Junior there."

"Certainly feels that way."

"You okay with this?"

"You need some convincing?"

"Maybe a little."

"I can do that."

FAY! Now THAT is how to wake up - nice little werewolf action.

Fay, have I truely expressed how much I adore your spicy brains - cause I do. I am ready to start a new cult based on your fic alone.

Mwah! Glad you liked it, love!

Ooo, Fay, nummy. I've not read much Xander-Oz all by themselves, but that was sweet.

(giggling like a loon)

Fay, you are so very much my kind of pervert.

Wrod.

And I'm excited about posting this drabble because it has some source material Buffistas know...despite being inspired by a L&O book challenge. Picture the Princess Bride with a minor casting change...Lennie Briscoe playing the Falk part.

The Grandfather sits on the bed, relieved he’s left his gun at the precinct. “Hey, kiddo, heard you’re sick.”

“Yeah. My throat hurts and everything.”

“Tough break. Brought you something.”

The boy rips the paper off. The grandfather wonders if he’d ever been that excited by anything, sober.Nah, people drink for a reason, probably. He smiles fondly.

“It’s a book.” His face and voice fall.

“Well, don’t get too excited all at once. Your mother will kill me if you have a relapse.”

“What’s it *for*?”

“Well, Smart Guy, I’m going to read it to you. Cheer you up. Maybe.”

(curses self for not knowing all these damn crimeshows. stupid self.)

Just rewatched Heart of Gold and realised how much better I like it with my slash goggles in place.

Unexpected.

Love was quite the last thing that Inara had been looking for, but she found it just the same.

It was difficult to pinpoint the moment when she realised that she had given away her heart; perhaps when Nandy caught her eye during the tea ceremony and Inara felt her stomach muscles clench with a shared sense of the ridiculous that brought her right to the very brink of laughter; perhaps the first morning when she woke up in Nandy's empty bed and pressed her face deep into the pillow, seeking out the familiar sharp-sweet scent. Easy to say when she had felt the first feather of desire – Nandy's beauty was the least of her attractions, but Inara had still noticed her on the very first day, even in the midst of all the other girls and the handful of boys, everyone peacock-proud in their finery, flaunting their firm young bodies and smug in the knowledge that they had succeeded where so many had failed. Bright young things with beauty and wit and flexible flesh, but Nandy stood out like a falcon surrounded by songbirds, drawing Inara's eye wherever she went. It was something about the ways she moved, confident without seeming to care how others saw her. Or her mouth, perhaps – a deprecating quirk which said that you and you alone could appreciate the joke. Or the set of her jaw when she had a weapon in her hands. Nandy was passionate about everything she did, and honest to a fault. She followed nobody else's lead, took risks that left Inara reeling, and there was absolutely nothing she would not do for a friend. They were chalk and cheese, ice and flame, silence and sound; Inara found Nandy utterly irresistible. She spoke without thinking, and didn't give a damn about the consequences, where Inara thought without speaking, and was forever assessing the possible repercussions of her every word and action.

Oh, and the way she kissed – her kisses were addictive. They broke Inara's resolve and cut cleanly through all the careful layers of professionalism she was crafting. Lying with Nandy should have been simple, a matter of mutual pleasure and increasing their skills, no more meaningful than a duet or a duel - but instead Inara always forgot to think about what she should be learning, about cause and effect, about manipulating and pleasing one's clients. Lying with Nandy was the best thing in Inara's life, and between Nandy's sheets she forgot about her carefully planned future and her glittering career. She forgot everything but the wickedly laughing girl who had fallen into her arms and into her heart.

Lying to Nandy was something else again; Inara's smiles remained nothing more than friendly, her words simply affectionate, even as Nandy slowly but surely became the centre of her world.

So it was easy enough to pinpoint the moment when desire first blossomed, but the point at which it had altered horribly, immutably into love – now that was another question altogether.

Nandy utterly undid her, without ever really realising it.

She had always been too good an actress. Too good at hiding her heart, that was the crux of the problem, and now this was never going to change. In hindsight her innocence appalled her. She hadn't imagined for a single moment that Nandy would leave the Academy; their futures were mapped out and glittering – power, wealth, independence, success. Respect. Somewhere along the line Nandy had become indispensable.

Until the morning when she decided that she could dispense with the Academy, and with Inara. They announced her departure quite casually in target practice, and suddenly there was a hole in the 'verse and Inara's heart gently shattered in her chest. For once she couldn't shoot straight to save her life. She had actually thought – and afterwards she never knew quite why – that Nandy understood. That Nandy knew her. That Nandy saw through all the professional shine and the practiced reserve, heard the words she still couldn't shape with her smooth tongue, and loved her back.

But she didn't, or at least not enough. And with this realisation, all the joy leached out of Inara's world, and her ambitions were so much dust.

She had always planned to live and work in the core, building a network of clients and colleagues in safety and security. With Nandy gone, it all seemed oddly pointless. She graduated with flying colours and found herself drifting; she attracted excellent clients and was squired to the finest events, but she could neither taste the food nor appreciate the dancing. She felt like she was sleepwalking through her life.

And so she left her life.

It was Serenity that caught Inara's eye; the ship had an indefinable air of rightness to her. Nothing glamorous, to be sure – her colleagues would be appalled at her choice. And yet – it was a sturdy little vessel, and honest. And there was something about Mal Reynolds – perhaps something about the way he moved, with an unstudied air of competence and authority; perhaps the hint of a smile. She saw the danger to it at once, but knew herself equal to it. Thought herself equal to it. Gradually Inara found herself fascinated in a way she had not anticipated; Malcolm Reynolds was not like any man she had ever known, and this was both his charm and his irritation

She built a life for herself; and if it was not the life she had expected, still it was a life that gave her unexpected pleasure and a kind of freedom she had not known to want. And temptations that she did not want to know. But she was forgetting Nandy, or at least thinking of her far less frequently, and that was all to the good.

Until the distress signal came, and Inara realised that the 'verse was a surprisingly small place…