"I don't think it's a good idea. Stealing the Sheriff's birthday cake isn't exactly what we do, especially if you only want to steal it to eat it yourselves," he pointed out.

"Oh, come on, Will! We're going to share it! Think of the children! They probably haven't had a proper cake in ages!" she countered, shooting him that pouting-pleading look that she seemed to have mastered.

"Besides, Will," he pointed out, "This is supposed to be from the best baker in all of Nottinghamshire! And Morgan's come up with a brilliant plan! It'll be worth it!"

Will shook his head. It wasn't worth it. He didn't care how amazing the cake was supposed to be; nothing was worth this. He suspected that once he got out of this mess, he was going to strangle two people. He would strangle Morgan for coming up with such a hair-brained scheme. Then, he would strangle Much for talking him into believing that it wasn't hair-brained at all.

Whether it was hair-brained or not, though Will was most certain that it was, the fact of the matter was that he was getting a bit nauseous, curled up in a barrel as it bobbed up and down in the water. He couldn't see what was going on, but he had felt it as the barrel slipped off of the cart and rolled into the water. He had felt as he moved down river. Those bits weren't unnerving. The unnerving bit was how he'd heard Morgan automatically cry, "Not my fault!" Just what had she meant by that?

O-u-t-l-a-w-s

"This was your idea! Yours!" Much accused as they padded down the river, not daring to take their eyes off of the barrel as it bobbed along with the current.

"I only came up with it because you were so determined to have some of that cake!" Morgan replied, biting her bottom lip, trying desperately to think of something. "Besides, you weren't exactly keen to stop me!"

"You were talking so fast that I only caught half of your plan! Had you been speaking like a normal person, I might've seen the madness in it!" he countered.

"Will you shut up?" Morgan snapped, "I'm trying to fix this mess!"

"I don't suppose it would do any good to tell you to hurry up, then?" Much asked, the fight suddenly gone from his voice, overridden by panic. Morgan noticed and peeled her gaze away from the barrel to look at him.

"No, why?" she asked cautiously. Much gently grabbed her by the face, turning her head so that she was looking further down the river.

"That's why," he muttered.

"Oh," Morgan managed weakly.

O-u-t-l-a-w-s

The Sheriff looked at the two men in front of them, amused by the difference in their demeanor. Gisborne was frowning, which was par for course for Gisborne, but it was made downright comical by the ridiculous amount of frosting and cake on his face and in his hair.

Allan, on the other hand, looked positively delighted. This was probably because he was completely devoid of cake, save for the piece in his hand, which he seemed to be enjoying.

"What's all this, then, Gisborne? Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?" The Sheriff asked. He saw Allan choke on the bit of cake in his mouth. The truth was, the former-outlaw had come up with the same quip, but seeing how Gisborne could have him killed, he'd kept quiet.

"Three of the outlaws robbed the bakery," Gisborne growled, flicking the icing from his shoulder. "We suspect that they were stealing your birthday cake, my lord. When we caught up to them, they were dispensing cakes throughout the city. When we tried to stop them, one of them threw a cake at me."

"A proper food fight broke out," Allan tacked on, "They disappeared in the chaos."

"Am I surprised? A clue: no. Get out of here," the Sheriff dismissed, "I have important business." With that much said, he began to paint his toenails. Allan tapped Gisborne on the shoulder.

"What?" the taller man snapped. Allan pointed at a relatively in-tact piece of cake on Gisborne's shoulder.

"You going to eat that?"

O-u-t-l-a-w-s

"Why do I have to go? It's your plan, you go!" Much argued, pushing the coil of rope back into Morgan's arms.

"I can't!" Morgan said, though she did tie one end of the rope to a very sturdy looking tree.

"Why can't you?" Much asked. "And don't say it's because you're a girl!"

"I can't swim!" Morgan admitted, handing the rope back to Much. "Now, go!" Much stared at her as he tore his shirt off, kicking off his shoes. She seemed very embarrassed by the fact that she couldn't swim, and he would've apologized for squeezing an answer from her, but now was not the time. Taking the rope firmly in his hands, he leapt into the river.

"It's freezing!" he reacted instantly, swimming out to the barrel and tying the rope firmly around, giving it a tug to signal to Morgan. She pulled at the rope, guiding the barrel to the bank of the river. Much climbed out of the water, shivering. He was freezing, and he'd only been in for a few minutes. He couldn't imagine how Will was holding up.

They pried the barrel open, pulling Will out. He was soaked from head to toe, shivering heavily, a blue tinge to his lips.

"What happened?" he managed as Much and Morgan carried him between them, speeding back to camp.

"Well, you know how we escaped by taking that cart and stuff?" Morgan started.

"We stopped by the river for a rest. We kind of forgot that you were in the barrel," Much confessed sheepishly.

"Until it slid off of the cart and fell into the river. Good job that we got you out in time," Morgan muttered, looking over her shoulder. Will followed her gaze, though his vision was blurred as sleep tried to take its hold.

"Is that a waterfall?" he asked groggily.

"No!" Much answered a little too quickly. "Not at all!"

O-u-t-l-a-w-s

The end! This was done on a request from RixxiSpooks, who wanted a oneshot with a waterfall and cake.

Don't worry, Will winds up fine. His girlfriend is a doctor, after all.