A/N: This next bit is once again dedicated to Kay, since it IS a present for her, after all. Happy un-birthday dude, and don't let the math monkeys eat you.

Warnings: Written while discussing the slashiness that is Billy Klippert and Ryan Malcolm (Canadian Idol third and first place contestants, respectively) and experiencing the symptoms of a rather annoying flu. I am not responsible for any mental damage this story may cause. If any does occur I am, however, really, really sorry.

Chapter Four: The Slaying of the Dignity Beast

"Gah..." Said David Levin. This wasn't quite what he'd meant to say, so he tried again. "Gah... lah..." He was getting closer, so he decided to give intelligible speech one more try. "Galahad?"

The other boy was staring at him with a look that was once part concern and one all out fear. "Yeah... Are you sure you're ok?"

He shook his head, realized what he was doing and stopped. Nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. You just-I used to know someone named Galahad." This sounded a little incriminating and he tried again, "I mean, that is I read this book and someone in it was named..." he trailed off helplessly, wishing he could impale himself on an espresso machine and end it all.

But this time Galahad smiled, "Yeah I know. The name threw Applegate off, too." He put out a hand and David actually had the presence of mind to shake it. "Sorry about that. Galahad Night at your service. Night without the K." He added quickly, seeing David wince a little at the pun.

"David Levin. It's-" he faltered, suddenly realizing he was still holding on to the other teen's hand. He yanked his own away, knocking himself off balance and nearly sending a row of decorative coffee mugs flying. "It's nice to meet you."

Oh when would this torturous, shitty day end?

"Nice to meet you too, David." There was a definite smirk in the other boy's voice. But he ignored this in favour of trying to stay on his feet while his knees turned to water at the sound of his name coming out in that voice. There was one of those long, awkward pauses that David always hated and then, finally, Galahad had the presence of mind to turn their conversation back to the real subject at hand.

"So, how do you turn on this coffee machine anyway?"

He showed him the switch on the side wordlessly. Much of the next hour passed that way, with him fielding most of the orders while trying to teach the other boy how to run the cash register, how to charge extra for foam and all those other great life skills learned only in the beverage service industry.

"So that's a mochachino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings." Galahad repeated, flashing a dazzling smile at the customer he was serving. The woman standing across from him turned bright red and nodded. It took David a moment to realize that their customer was, in fact, his English teacher. He was all set to run for the storage room door, when the trainee, who was still his responsibility shot him a horrified look and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "I think I broke the cash register."

He looked down at the register. And for the first time that evening a smile spread over David Levin's face. And he shickered. The snicker turned into a chuckle, the chuckle to a laugh, and very soon both of them were very near killing themselves with laughter while his English teacher looked on in disapproval.

Eventually he had the presence of mind to press the button that would add up her order, and was smugly satisfied to see the look of embarrassed admiration on Galahad's face. "So much for the perfect knight, hey?"

Any remaining tension between them seemed to disappear with that last self deprecating remark. And David decided he could get very used to this. Very used indeed.

"It has to be Senna's fault." Jalil said, thoughtfully chewing on a ballpoint pen. He and Christopher were sitting in the school library. Or rather, he was sitting and Christopher was crouched behind a rack of newspapers a few feet away, hiding from some guy in leather pants, who he claimed was stalking him.

"You think so?" The blonde hissed back at him. "Hey, it says here that we're at war." he held up a copy of the Chicago Tribune, "When did that happen?"

"Last year, idiot." He rolled his eyes and went back to the flow chart he was doodling in the margin of a copy of the New York Times. "Now, I've got this whole thing figured out. One: David leaves with Senna. According to him she leaves a few days later.

"Two: around the time Senna leaves, David comes up to you in the hallway and kisses you-"

Christopher winced, "Could you maybe say that a little louder? There might've been a couple of librarians who didn't hear you."

Jalil ignored him, in favour of adding the words 'extremely touchy' to the chart, "And three: you and I..." he stopped, coughed, turned an interesting shade of pink, then continued, "Well, your hypothesis that something unnatural is going on would seem to be correct. And who do we know that has been involved," he grimaced at the phrase he was about to be forced to use, "In paranormal activities?"

"Aside from a bunch of scary gods and Merlin?"

"Aside from them, yes."

"Senna, I guess." Christopher shrugged, looking back down at his newspapers. "Hey, when did they clone a sheep?"

He resisted the urge to kill the other teen, comforting himself instead with images of someone dropping a nice thick textbook on the blonde's head. Repeatedly. "Which means that the only way to break your so-called curse would seem to be to find Senna. Again. And force her to break her spell and revert things to normal."

"Does it ever seem to you like we're going around in circles?" Christopher mused. "Oh look, it says George Bush is our new president." There was a pause as the other boy appeared to think about something. "Did he clone that sheep before or after he started that war against IBM?"

"Iraq."

"Them too."

Senna sat with her feet dangling in the river, a few miles from Fairy Land. She had originally meant to go straight to Greece and wait for her pawns to catch up with her there. But then the idea for Christopher's curse had struck her. And she couldn't persuade herself to leave. Not when there was so much fun to be had.

It was better than fantasy novels.

And besides, she had found a could of dryads who had been interested in a wager as to how long it would take the blonde teen to break the curse. Not to mention how many people he would be forced to kiss first. Her own personal bet was 42.

She sat for who knows how long, kicking her feet in the clear water and enjoying the contemplative silence. She had scared away all the birds in the area hours ago. Of course, the contemplative silence chose that moment to be completely scattered, just to annoy her.

She looked up to see an almost impossibly large dragon, with a pissed off expression on its face fly by. And if she strained, she was almost sure she could here a rather terrified yelping noise over the flapping of its wings.

Looked like David had made it to Nidhoggr sooner than she had expected. Which was all well and good for him and his friends, sure. But it also meant that she owed one of the oak trees twenty gold pieces and a squirrel. Maybe she could just give them Christopher or Jalil instead.

Ugh. Never try to write when you're sick. It makes that plot-thing hard. _

But now that fairy land's out of the way we can get down to what's really important: Immortal bartenders and mortal coffee-lackeys.

There will be more next time. And it won't suck as much, I promise.