Title: Last Ditch Effort
Author: Diurnal (diurnal@magma.ca)
Description: Series started by an invitation to Two and Tracy's party. Pretty
much a round robin.
Disclaimer: In short, Spike's not ours and thanks goddess, neither is Riley.
Joss/Fox/SandDollar/Mutant Enemy/UPN own them. However, we all own our respective
bots and clones.
Distribution: Fanfiction.net, my yahoogroups (spuffy_fics and delirobins), DivaDelilah's
Domain, any sites I've okayed, including award sites and various lists. Hell,
just tell me where it's going.
Feedback: Come on baby, light my fire…
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Written by Diurnal, with the kind but vague permission of Deli and Lothario.
(That is, they ain't seen it yet, either.)
* * *
Lothario opened the door to see a smirking bot with a kicking, denim-clad woman
and a drape of blue cloth slung over his shoulder.
"Loth, mate, good to see you! Where's Deli at?" Loki asked, as he
brushed past into the house. More quietly, he murmured, "Stop squirming,
pet; you'll crush your pretty frock."
A slightly muffled voice drifted from behind him. "Hi Loth."
"''Lo, Di," Loth replied. "Your arse is looking lovely this evening."
"Yeah, well you can kiss it!"
Loth cocked one brow in question, but something in Loki's expression warned
him to let it be. "Deli's in the bedroom, supervising."
"Supervising?" Loki's grin slid into confusion. "Not like her
to sit one out."
Beset by happy memories, Loth couldn't help the smirk that claimed his features.
"Yeah, but there are enough bodies in there as it is. Raj and Fangy are
here, and who knows who else. They're setting up the new bed." Of the other
bot's look, he added, "King size. We had to upgrade."
"Good! Redecorating. That, I can do. Put me down, Loki, and we'll hang
out here until the party's over."
Loki slapped Diurnal's bum, eliciting a yelp and renewed kicking. "No can
do, pet." He winked at Loth. "Hang about, mate. Want to talk to you."
He continued toward the washroom with the upside-down and cursing Diurnal beating
futilely at his butt with a battered notebook. Her knot of dark hair, half undone,
trailed on the floor behind them.
The bot soon reappeared in the living room, freed of his burdens, and running
his fingers distractedly through his pale hair. Loth quirked an eyebrow at his
harried friend. "Trouble with the mistress?"
Loki growled. "He'd better not be; she's supposed to be getting dressed."
He slumped against the wall and grinned ruefully. "You've no idea. I'm
about ready to blow a chip or two. I'm only -- what? -- five weeks old? But
somehow I'M stuck being the grownup."
"I'd like to tell you it gets easier, mate."
"Listen, Loth --" Loki edged closer, lowered his voice to secret-sharing
levels. "I've been around for a while, done my time, so to speak."
He paused and glanced down the empty hallway. "Do you think, if I ask Lin
nicely, she'll give me the manual?"
A little thrown, but not about to admit it to the younger bot, Loth tried stalling.
"The owner's manual? What do you want with that?"
Loki's hands fisted at his sides. "I can't bloody take this anymore! I
don't know what I'm doing. Diurnal is completely different from one week to
the next, and it kills me to see her so upset. So I want the manual. How to
Deal with Crazy-Arsed Women, or whatever. I'm desperate, mate. I need it now."
Loth snickered and took his friend by the shoulders. Tempting as it was to string
the other bot along indefinately, the current situation in his own household
made him more sympathetic than he liked to Loki's problem. So he sighed and
looked him straight in the eyes. "Loki, I'm about to share with you one
of the truths of the universe. There. Is. No. Manual."
The stricken look on Loki's face was priceless. "No." He shook off
Loth's grip, and started pacing. "Bloody Hell! There's got to be something;
the murder-suicide rate isn't near high enough, otherwise."
"'Fraid not." Claiming a seat on the couch, Loth watched the other
bot with amusement. "See, every woman is different. No handbook could cover
every case. So it's every bloke for himself when it comes to coping with his
lady."
"Doesn't seem fair."
"No, but --" Loth trailed off with a sleepy grin, gazing past the
pacing bot at a vision in blue. "-- there are rewards for the persistent."
Loki spun on his heel to see Diurnal in the hallway, pouting and clutching a
froth of sapphire fabric in one fist, and her notebook in the other. "There,
are you happy now?" she asked. "I haven't worn a skirt in months;
you had to pick the bridesmaid's dress?"
Her bot's expression softened, and he stepped forward -- bravely, Loth thought
-- to take the scarf from her hand. "It suits you, pet," he said quietly,
lifting the dark cape of her hair to slide the shear fabric around her bare
shoulders. "Simple, deep, with room for fun."
She flushed from neckline to hairline and brandished the spiralbound notebook.
"I don't have time for fun tonight, Loki. I have to finish this --"
He folded his fingers over hers. "It'll keep, love." Loth couldn't
be sure from this angle, but it looked like Loki was giving her Earnest Expression
#2. He certainly seemed to have her attention. "You want me to be happy,
love? I'll be happy when you're dancing in my arms at the party."
Diurnal let him draw her forward a half-step. "You're a nut."
Loki took a small step of his own. "I'm your nut."
Step. "Brazil nut."
Step. The two now stood nose to nose. "Latin, then?"
Di closed the remaining distance between them, pressing their bodies together.
"Rumba," she purred, rolling the R.
"Done." Loki snaked his free arm around her waist and tilted his head,
only to have the woman slither out of his grasp, leaving him holding the notebook.
"Ha!" Di crowed, skipping to the middle of the room. "We're going
DANcing; we're gonna RUMba!" She did an impromptu little victory dance,
winking at Loth when her back was to her own bot.
Lothario didn't bother to stifle his laughter. Poor Loki looked completely flummoxed.
"What's going on out here? Di?" Deli took in the scene at a glance
as she entered, pausing to pinch Loki's cheek on the way. "They're so cute
when they're confused."
"These two were just -- negotiating terms, pet." Loth drew her onto
his lap and took a moment to indulge in the RIGHTness of it.
"Deli!" The other woman paused in her jubilant celebration. "You're
sitting. Why are you sitting? Okay, dumb question, 'cause who wouldn't want
to sit there -- but, get up! Let's go! Party!"
Deli stiffened in Loth's arms. "I don't want -- we're not going. You two
go ahead."
"Oh, but you are." Loki, having finally shaken off his surprise, came
over and swatted Di's bottom with her notebook. She reclaimed it from him and
snuggled into his side as he explained. "Three reasons. Intel," and
he held up one finger, then another, "and recon. With that Riley already
at Lin's place, plans are gonna have to change. You need information, Deli,
and everyone who knows what you need will be at that party. You're not going
to leave it all up to Shelby to do the scouting and schmoozing are you?"
Loth could almost smell the stubborn crawling up his mistress' spine. "That's
only one reason," she pointed out. "You said three."
"Right then. Two: you promised my girl a lift to the party. Wouldn't be
nice to back out at this point, ducks. And three --" Looki paused, looking
uncertain.
Di came to his rescue, piping up with, "Three: fuck 'em!"
Deli laughed. "Good point!" She hopped up and headed out of the room,
calling over her shoulder, "I'll think about it."
Though he was tempted to follow, Loth knew it was a bad time to crowd her. Instead,
he stood and bussed Di on the cheek. "Not to worry, pet. We'll get you
to your dancing, whatever Deli decides."
When she spun away, laughing and blushing -- did the girl never stop blushing?
-- he threw a companionable arm over Loki's shoulders and whispered, "If
it helps at all, mate, I think you're doing fine without the manual."