Title: Talk About Love
Author: Damnskippy
Email: damnskippytoo@gmail.com
Posted: 12-22-2007
Rating: PG
Category: AU, Humor, Holiday
Content: A/C, A/C/D Friendship
Spoilers: S1 AU in which Doyle didn't die which leads to this S2 AU scenario
Summary: Christmas is a time for giving – and getting.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: Justfic, AO, and anywhere else if asked.
Notes: This is a little dialogue ficlet for your Christmas pleasure. I hope you can tell who's talking without much difficulty, and I hope it makes you smile a bit.
Talk About Love
"I think I hear a single malt callin'."
"Stay where you are."
"Are ya daft, man? This is the kinda thing that'll get a poor half demon like myself killed. And I'd rather be drunk when that happens."
"Hey, guys, where'd you go?"
"Over here!"
"Oh, sure, help her find us. I thought we walked real fast with our long manly strides to lose her."
"Be quiet. If Cordy hears you, she'll definitely kill you. And *my* stride was manly. Yours was kind of short and skippy."
"I never. I may have tripped and leapt a few times..."
"Oh, there you are! Man, this place is like a maze. No wonder rats are so good at those things."
"Speakin' of rodents and lab experiments, I think I left my white, furry skin at home. I'll just pop out..."
"Doyle!"
"Doyle!"
"Fine. But I want it noted for the record that I was against this from the start."
"Noted by whom? The big court reporter in the sky? Nobody cares what we do. At least they didn't before today. But after this, they'll pay attention. Right, Angel?"
"Sure."
"See? Even Johnny Darko here thinks this is a good idea and that they'll have to do what we ask after this."
"You got all that from 'sure'?"
"I'm an actress. I read between the lines."
"Maybe if you read the real lines, you'd get a real job."
"And maybe if you kissed my..."
"Guys, guys, calm down and let's get this over with. Doyle, just read it. Cordy, stand by me and don't say anything unless I tell you."
"Pfft. Like that'll happen."
"Cordelia."
"Fine. Not speaking... He didn't mean you, Doyle. Get on with it."
"We beseech access to the knowing ones..."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Merry Christmas, Oracles!"
"Cordy, I told you not to speak!"
"We're dead."
"Don't be silly. We brought gifts. How can they kill us? Besides, you're their champion. Kinda stupid to off one of their own."
"And the grave just gets deeper..."
"What have you brought us?"
"See? I told you Dolce & Gabbana transcends all dimensions and skank levels."
"Yes, you did."
"We brought you these matching bags made of the finest, Corinthian leather by one of our fashion gods, oh holy and benevolent Oracles."
"You want me to dig you a trench so you can scrape and bow even lower, Princess?"
"Stuff it. I'm workin' here."
"Excellent craftsmanship. Do you not agree, Brother?"
"It will do, Sister."
"Do? Do!? I'll have you know that bag cost more than Michael Jackson's last five nose jobs *and* we picked those out specifically to go with your funky skin tone."
"Smooth, Cordelia."
"What she's trying to say is that she...we...hope you like our meager offering and will grant us a brief audience."
"Huh-uh, no way, buddy. Nobody insults the Dolce and gets away with it."
"Silence, lower beings. Your presence tires us."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Alright, so it didn't go exactly as planned."
"Hey, I'm countin' my blessins I've still got all my parts – and they mostly still work."
"Like you've got any use for them anyway. Angel, what do you think we should bring next time?
"Next time? Cordelia, I don't think...."
"One of these times they'll listen - I just know it - and we'll get that pesky curse issue taken care of in a jiffy. You do still want that, right?"
"Of course, I do, Cordy. I want to be with you more than anything, but..."
"That's all I needed to know. So, I think next Christmas we should go with sunglasses. Maybe they'd prefer Prada or Gucci."
"Who's ready for that whiskey?"
~ fin and Merry Christmas ~