Part 1
Title: The AJCS Gang Visits the Laundromat, 1/?
Author: Scribe
Fandom: Xena/Hercules
Pairing: Eventually implied Ares/Joxer, Cupid/Strife
Rating: R
Summary: The title is pretty self-explanatory
Archive: Mailing lists, Beyond Canon, WWOMB, others ask
Feedback: poet77665@catlover.com
Status: WIP
Sequel/Series: I guess this can fit in with my Oh, Bugger! Series
Disclaimer: I did not create the characters here, I don't own them. I derive no
profit from this effort. I mean nothing but respect for the creators, owners,
and the actors and actresses who portray them. TW and Iain are real people
(though they probably wouldn't act EXACTLY as I portray them), and appear with
their permission. Well, TW's permission. I think Iain just drooled.
Websites: http://www.angelfire.com/grrl/scribescribbles and
http://www.angelfire.com/grrl/foxluver
Warnings:
Notes: This can be traced all the way back to a 'how would Strife react to
modern food?' challenge. I started Grabbin' Groceries With Xena, TW started The
Gods vs. Winn-Dixie, and someone said something about taking the gang to the
laundromat. Suggested images started flying, and I *cough* succumbed in order
to save TW from the plot bunny. Yeah. That's what happened.
Translations: 'No' in English, Russian, Armenian, Blackfoot, two from Breton
(Brittany, France), Cantonese, Chechen, Cherokee, Choctaw, Comanche, Creole
(Haiti), Danish, Estonian, German, and Greek. I could have kept going, but the
site listed over 520 languages. :)
The AJCS Gang Visits the Laundromat
by Scribe
*Scribe is found digging determinedly through her undies drawer*
Scribe: "Where are they? I KNOW I have another pair of panties in here
somewhere. A-ha!" *pulls out bundle of red cotton cloth* *shakes them open*
*they aren't panties* "Oops! Well, to be honest, I KNEW I didn't have any red
underwear. Not cotton ones, anyway, and the lack of black lace trim should have
alerted me. How did a pair of guy briefs get into my lingerie drawer, and those
of you out laughing at me for calling stuff that would look at home on a 1950s
Catholic convent schoolgirl 'lingerie'--stuff it." *thinks* *gets sheepish, but
happy, look on her face.* "Oh, yeah. Things got sort of frisky that time that
Jim and Blair visited me, and Jim ended up going home commando." *hee hee hee*
Scribe: *shuts drawer* "Dammit, the washer is on the blink, and hand washing
won't cut it. Well, there's no avoiding it. It's time to..." *shudder* "go to
the laundromat."
*FLASH*
Strife: "What's a laundromat?"
Scribe: "Cripes."
Strife: "Those belong ta Ellison? Gimme." *snatches briefs* *sniff*
Scribe: "STRIFE!"
Strife: "Ya don't mean ta tell me ya put 'em in yer drawer with yer drawers
without washin 'em?"
Scribe: *eyes shift* "Of course not."
Strife: *tucks briefs in his shirt* *hey, you've seen his outfit--does it LOOK
like he has a lot of pocket space?* "I'll see that he gets these
back--eventually. So--laundromat?"
Scribe: "No. Nope. Uh-uh. Nyet. Voch. Saa. Nann. Ket. Mhai. Dac. Tla.
Ickshow. Kai. Non. Nej. Ei. Nein. Ochi. That's Greek--you should
understand it. Ochi, ochi, --OCHI-- !"
Strife: "Great! I heard that TW needs ta go, too."
Scribe: *desperate* "Strife, TW is in Florida. She isn't going to want to come
all the way to Texas to do laundry, especially not now that she has a baby."
Strife: *sticks tongue out at her* "Nice try. I happen ta know her an' J took
a vacation an' brought tha progeny here ta show 'im off ta ya, an' they are even
now watchin cable at tha no-tell motel. Be right back."
*FLASH*
Scribe: *sigh* "Some people live in war zones--I'm favored by the Greek gods."
*FLASH*
*Strife, TW, and Iain appear* *Iain is in a carrier* *TW has the carrier under
one arm and a stuffed duffle bag under the other* *Strife has one arm around her
waist* *A second duffle bag is tucked under his free arm* *the really
interesting thing is the baby bag dangling from a strap held between his teeth*
Scribe: "Sometimes I think we have better luck training him than Cupid does."
*Strife lets go of TW and takes strap out of his mouth*
Strife: "Hey, it ain't tha first time I've had a strap between mah teeth. Of
course, things are usually a lot more INTERESTIN if it's reached that stage,
knowhutahmean?"
Scribe: "Save the details for when I have time to take notes. Hi, hon. I'm
sorry about this."
TW: "Hey, don't be. I had to get out of that motel room before I killed J.
Around midnight he found a station that shows nothing but anime, and he's been
binging on it."
Scribe: "You mean there's an anime marathon on the Cartoon Network?"
TW: "No. It's strange--they don't even really have commercials. He just about
busted a kidney waiting for a commercial break so he could go to the bathroom
without missing anything. Finally he gave up, but he still couldn't stand to
miss anything, so he left the bathroom door open."
Scribe: "Ack."
TW: "Yup. Not much mystery left in the relationship now."
Scribe: "I thought you'd snuggle with him while he watched the anime. You said
he's a champion snuggler."
TW: "He's also been eating salsa flavored Doritos by the peck."
Scribe: *eyes almost cross in sympathy* "Whew."
TW: "You said it."
Scribe: "You just can't lie about eating corn chips. Doritos, Fritos,
Cheetos... they all tell on you."
TW: "I only buy them for him in the snack size bags, to try to limit that, but
he got his hands on the jumbo family size." *looks puzzled* "He didn't go to
the store for it, and I know -I- didn't buy it. He muttered something about
finding it in the closet, I think. It's hard to tell--his mouth was full."
Scribe: "In the closet? Who would leave irritating junk food where he could--?
TW?" *points at Strife* *Strife is whistling and looking at the ceiling*
TW: "Strife, you absolute SNOT!"
Strife: *shrugs* "It's m' job."
Scribe: "Hell, it's hard to argue with that. Sort of like fussing at me for
writing smut. Still, I just hate to drag you to a laundromat if you didn't
really need to go."
TW: "Scribe..." *bounces duffle bag* "New baby? I ALWAYS need to wash clothes.
Since we brought Iain home, I don't think we've gone more than a half hour
without some form of baby mess--food, urp, or diaper stuff--on some piece of
clothing, ours or his."
Scribe: "Ooo, there's the bay-beee! Hey, Iain."
Iain: *squeal!*
TW: "He already knows what a complete sucker you are for him."
Scribe: "Him and every other baby, cat, and dog in creation. Okay, if we're
going to do this, I'd better get my clothes. Hang on." *leaves room*
*Strife looks around* *finds collection of cat figurines*
Strife: "Looka that! I ain't seen so many pussies since Zeus sent that stiff
breeze through tha Procession of Virgin Amazons. Boy, can those ceremonial
robes fly."
TW: "Don't use that sort of language in front of my kid."
Strife: "Wha? He ain't gonna know it was vulgah unless ya make a fuss--like ya
are now." *Strife leans over Iain and makes a face at him.* "Will ya, shrimp?"
Iain: *coo*
TW: "He likes you. God help us."
*Scribe returns, carrying a cardboard box of laundry products, and a garbage
bag* *she puts down the box, then shakes the bag open, drops it on the floor,
and opens the clothes hamper in the corner* *reaches for bag* *rustle*
Scribe: "Strife, get the hell out of that bag. I swear, does a thought ever run
across your mind that you don't speak or act on?"
Strife: "backs out of bag* "Not often." *hands bag to Scribe* *Scribe begins
hefting clothes out of hamper and stuffing them in the bag* *keeps loading bag*
*continues stuffing in clothes* *more of the same* *you get the picture*
Strife: "Damn, Scribe."
TW: *blinkblink* "How much will that thing hold, anyway?"
Scribe: "With me it's sort of like the Weasley house in the Harry Potter
books--there's a lot more inside than there should be, considering the outside."
*shoves in one last tee shirt* *ties handles, grunting and swearing (in obscure
languages, in deference to the innocent baby currently sucking on his fist)*
TW: "That has to weigh a ton."
Scribe: "It does. The real trick is carrying it." *shoves bag into Strife's
arms* "Luckily that won't be a problem this trip." *picks up purse and box of
laundry stuff* "Take us to that one next to the convenience store on the
highway."
TW: "They don't have one on mainstreet?"
Scribe: "TW, this is Winnie--hello? The highway IS mainstreet. We aren't just
talking small town, or even one horse town--we're talking one dwarf Shetland
pony town. We don't even have a Wal Mart."
TW: "You're right--this IS a wilderness."
Scribe: "And some people wonder why I spend so much time on the Internet."
Strife: "Say, d'ya think that while tha clothes are washin we could go ta Market
Basket an'..."
Scribe and TW: "NO!" *look at each other* *stereo again* "Deja vu."
Iain: *burble* *Translation: "With these women as major influences in my life,
I'm gonna grow up to be a very interesting person. I suppose my girlfriends
will get along good with my mom if they can discuss slash..."*
*FLASH*
tbc