*** So, exactly *how* do these fics pop into our heads? Take one crappy finale (well, one crappy finale scene), two women who spend *WAY* too much time yacking, a particularly despised crapweasel, a celebration on livejournal (LJ) and, well, you get cracktastic fic! No one is immune...even the Fleigler 2000 ***

*** I don't know what to tell you about this other than we laughed our asses off writing it, and it's pretty true to character...IPS characters and us! We don't own anyone in this fic, fictional or real. Wiz, Kitty, Random, Fly, Vega, RJ_lupins_kat, Greenstuff and Kostgard are friends on LJ...sucked under the sink against their will :) ***

*** Here's my command: If you read it...review it! Just click the link to even say "This sucked serious rocks...you two have issues!" Yay! We love it! Going for a review record for a one shot...c'mon...help us out! ***

"All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel. The monkey thought 'twas all in good fun. Pop! Goes the weasel."

- nursery rhyme

There was only a half an hour left. Thirty minutes until the gut churning excitement of the day came to a nail biting conclusion of 'will they or won't they?', 'will we laugh or cry?', 'were the rumors true?'. The two women had been speculating all day. Fingers flying as questions, answers and pleas to the Powers That Be were submitted to email and chat.

The Midwest contingent had a bad feeling about the whole thing. There were too many indicators of turmoil to ignore. Too many signs that the event would end up on the wrong side of not supposed to be there. She prepared to be angry, sad, disappointed...some emotion that would likely prompt angst and poorly spelled rants later in the evening. She was counting on the other participants to echo her words and thoughts if things went bad. Some soothing balm from the throngs. Pouring a good, stiff drink, she made sure the kids were tucked in with a movie before settling in to wait.

The lady in the East prepared also. Less excitable through the day, she tried to reassure her friend that no matter what the outcome, they could fix it. Apply the right words to any twisted darkness to make the whole thing palatable. "Relax," she said, "at least we know there will be violence...that's good!" She now set about readying herself. Pouring a generous glass of vintage Cabernet, she exited the kitchen to glide towards the great room. Setting her glass on the table, she walked quietly upstairs to check on the children. They were adorable, of course. Tucked in like cherubs as their nanny quietly studied in the next room, alert for any stirrings of her charges. The woman knew they'd sleep well into the morning, giving her time for a quick massage after her morning run before meeting them for a brilliantly prepared breakfast. The plasma TV called, and she heeded its song.

Roar: - Whoa, cowgirl, just who are these two women? Cause I know you're not talking about us, girl. You spent all day dreading the finale between meetings and conference calls. Then there was the swimming, karate, dance class, maybe a bite to eat at some point, before threatening the kids to be quiet and grabbing the remote with a minute to spare.

And as for this East Coast mamma, I'm drinking table red with a twist off top while I let these far from cherub little people hijack my bed in hopes that just maybe they won't wake up screaming in the middle of the shoot out. As for the nanny and the morning after, I don't think there is a rating high enough to allow my comments on those subjects.

Bujyo: What? It's fic! I thought you'd enjoy the status boost there! C'mon, if I can write Marshall doing Mary from behind with only his boots on, I'm sure I can spin a few plausible upgrades.

Roar: Yeah, well, maybe you should think more along the lines of reality TV; The Single Mothers of In Plain Sight. Hey, I bet Mary McCormack would watch. Hell, maybe we can even get her to produce it.

Bujyo: I bet she WOULD watch! All we need to do is duct tape something to our thighs, then end up imprisoned in a foreign country. We could have Rose the Overlord guest star and do a mini-cage match with all the kids! This has potential, girl…definite potential. I'm trying to think of something exciting we could open with. Yeah…still thinking. I shaved my legs today…does that count?

Roar: On second thought, our lives are pretty boring. Can we get back to the show already?

Bujyo: Seriously…it was a twin blade too...the carnage potential was high. *sigh* Fine. Fast forward…

Fifty six minutes after it started, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse rode the trails of streaming electrons into their living rooms. The women could only stare in horror as the scene unfolded. The surreal events began to pick up momentum. Ocean waves, room service, a red dress that hugged curves…

Bujyo: I swear to God, I'm going to spork my eyes out! He better not be there!

Roar: Shhhh. Damn it, Mary. I said a staycation! What the hell about that did you not understand? Wait, maybe she's by herself…Don't be an idiot, Mary…don't do it!

An all too familiar face emerged from the back of the suite, fluffy white towel wrapped about his waist. He smirked, offered a weak piece of trivia, then moved to pour the wine.

Roar: No! NOO! noo!

Bujyo: No! NOO! noo!

They watched the screen through their fingers, hoping the nightmare would end…badly…for the half naked, hirsute man. The dialogue set their teeth on edge.

"I can't believe I'm in Mexico with a guy that lets his drinks breathe."

"You know what…give me a break."

"Wait, you want me to give you a break?"

"Yeah, I want you to give me a break."

"God, you're an idiot."

"Oh, shut up."

"No, you shut up."

Bujyo: What the frickin' fat fargin' fuck kind of dialogue is THAT? Are they in junior high? I can't believe this!

Roar: Is it done? Over? I may hurl…Where the hell is Wiz with the bleach? Wait, isn't she in charge of Random's sink while she's away? Because I'm crawling in and hiding with the fwellers.

Bujyo: Well, move over chicky-poo, 'cause I'm squeezing my fat ass in there with you. Hey! Whose hand is that?

The credits rolled as the women cowering under the highly regarded sink shuddered. They had been betrayed, sucker punched, led to believe greatness was in the plan. But, no.

Bujyo: The horror…the horror…Two damn minutes ruined the whole episode.

Roar: Where's Marshall? My God, I need to find Marshall before he hears about this! She already stomped on his heart once in this episode. How much is the poor man expected to put up with.

Bujyo: And look at that…look at that Covert Affairs show. Do they think we're idiots? Ted! I know what you're up to! You can't just throw a gorgeous, bad ass blond together with a geeky, cool sidekick, give them secret government jobs and alliterative names and think we'll fall for that! Where's Vega? She can rip Ted a new one for us…

Roar: "Yeah…you need less coffee…seriously.

Bujyo: No…no…I'm good. It's good. Gotta rein in the Malkavian sometimes. Okay, we've got to seriously rectify this situation. I believe it's time to put on the warm jammies and fuzzy slippers, my dear. And as much fun as I'm having being felt up by a random fweller, here, the muses are threatening bodily harm unless they are fed Faber sacrifices. Kitty probably has about 18 fics posted already, so we've got our work cut out for us…how does she do that?

Roar: I have no effin' idea how she does it. No Doz? Diet pills? The crack from under the sink? Who are we kiddin', we'll never compete? *unfollows theStevenWeber out of spite*

Bujyo: I'm not a violent person (hey, Miss Lupins_kat…you hush, you!), but I'm just imagining bits of Faber all over the place. Preferably Marshall strewn, but any mechanism will do for right now. Let's see, you've got some nice knives out there, don't you? I've got a couple of swords and a staff..hmmm. Oh, Christ on a bike, we're not supposed to advocate character death, are we?

Roar: Hey, you didn't hear it from me, but I think Pip and Anna said fic was a free for all. But still, I mean, do we really want to wish death on anyone? I mean, I know he's a doucheboat, but still.

Bujyo: Well then, how 'bout humiliation? Oh yeah…


He had wined her and dined her, and Mary was now just getting impatient. Faber was a hell of a lot more loquacious than she had hoped…the fact that he opened his mouth at all other than to use his tongue on her was more verbiage than she wanted. She tossed back another glass of wine as Mike waxed poetic on the enthusiasm most Mexicans displayed towards their holiday celebrations.

"Take Dia de la Candelaria, for example," the man said, showing off his accent, "there's parties, bull fights, processions…for what? Blessing candles and seeds."

"Mmmm, fascinating," Mary murmured, trying to look interested. She was suddenly transfixed by a small mole on his neck that had one lone hair sticking out of it. Why hadn't I noticed that before? she wondered. Watched it bob with his Adam's apple as he continued to talk.

"…are the only two Mexican holidays that truly cross over into other cultures." Faber paused and Mary's eyes flicked back to his face guiltily. He was waiting for a response.

"Which two? I got confused by the accent," she cringed at her own lame excuse. Poured some more wine.

"Cinco de Mayo and Carnaval." Mike took her glass, stood and pulled her up from her chair. "But I don't think we need to wait for either to celebrate."

Finally! I thought I was going to dry up. Mary stepped into him eagerly, reaching for the hem of his shirt to seek skin.

He nipped and suckled her neck, her collarbone, and Mary purred as she reciprocated with her own slow tasting of the man.

"They pull practical jokes on each other on St. John the Baptist Day," Mike murmured as he pushed the straps of her dress down over her shoulders.

"Hilarious," Mary sighed, divesting him of his shirt.

Faber filled his hands with her breasts and she urged his head down. "They let animals into the churches on the feast day of San Antonio de Abad." His voice was muffled by her cleavage.

"Beastly." She almost smacked him for that one.

The couple stumbled back into the bedroom, Mary only in panties. She pushed him onto the bed and climbed atop, finally undoing his pants to push them down his hips. Lips against his, she let her hand wander to the prize. Stopped.

Pulling her head back, Mary raised an eyebrow as she drawled, "Let me guess, we're celebrating Dia de los Muertos?"


Roar: OMG! Dia de los Muertos! That's some funny shit, but I think you're being way too nice. I mean, not getting it up *is* humiliating, but it's not like it was public humiliation. And there didn't seem to be any pain involved either.

Bujyo: I think Mary would inflict pain of a kind only she is capable of! I just can't even see what she would want from that guy…all that hair. I mean, I appreciate a hairy chest, but he just seemed…furry. *shudder* Geez, put him in a Speedo and he'd be a chia pet smuggling grapes. Mistaken as a wild animal by the pygmies of Southern Mexico…or the pygmies in your story…yeah!

Roar: Maybe we could borrow the zombies? Of course, I doubt even the zombies would want to eat Faber's brains, too bitter. Maybe we send him off to Greenstuff's biotech lab. Not our fault if he was accidentally blown to bits.

Bujyo: Hmmm…biotech lab. I see the headlines now…'Secret Agent drinks purported love potion at chemical plant. Quest for true love goes tragically wrong!'

Roar: Okay, okay. I have just the thing…


She pulled him into a kiss in order to make sure he'd shut up. Verbal sparring was something Mary secretly loved, but she'd always associated it with another man; a man she was in Mexico desperately trying to forget.

"Take it easy, Tiger," Mary said, breaking the kiss and pulling away. "Food first, then sex."

"Seriously?" Faber questioned, surprised by her reaction. "You prefer food over sex?"

"It's not a matter of preference, but of priorities. And you'd be wise to remember that the only way into this girl's bed is through her stomach."

He watched in awe as Mary piled her plate high with food and headed to the balcony, fork in hand and a smile on her face.

"Um, okay," he said, grabbing the wine bottle and pouring himself a glass before joining her. "Would you like a glass?"

"mmn nn," she mumbled with a mouth full of food. Swallowing, she added. "Eat now, drink later. Aren't you going to eat?" Mary couldn't believe that someone would choose only a glass of wine when all that food was spread on the table for their consumption.

"This will do nicely while I wait for dessert." The innuendo was not lost on Mary as he held up his glass as if to toast her before taking a long sip of the burgundy liquid.

"Suit yourself," Mary shrugged as she turned her attention back to her plate.

Faber was on his third glass and slightly disgusted by how much Mary had packed away. He couldn't imagine what kind of workout routine she had in order to eat that way. He waited, patience waning, until she eventually left the empty plate on the food service cart without digging in for more.

Mary was full and feeling very content as she made her way toward the bed. Nothing satisfied her the way food did, well, almost nothing.

'It's about damn time,' Faber thought as he grinned in response to her finger beckoning him to join her. Someday all that food may start taking a toll on her body, but he didn't plan on being around at that point. Setting down the half empty glass, he made his way toward her, shedding his towel and letting it drop to the floor.

"Looks like someone's been wanting to come out and play," Mary quipped as she assessed his assets for the first time. She'd seen bigger, but didn't jump to conclusions. If he knew what to do with it and what to do to her, than size didn't really concern her as much.

"You think you can handle me, kitten?" He whispered into her ear before licking at the sensitive skin on her neck.

"I think I'm the one that should be asking that question." Her voice was low and sultry and she felt him shudder as she grabbed the length of him, encouraging his growing erection.

"Mary," he groaned. "Mary, oh god, Mary." His tone grew urgent as he doubled over.

'What the hell? You have got to be kidding me,' Mary thought. 'Is he really getting off with just one touch? Great, a guy with an itchy trigger finger is not what I needed this vacation.'

"Oh, God," Faber moaned as he reached for the edge of the bed and eased himself onto it. "I think I'm dying?"

"What?" Mary said, pulled from her thoughts of pre-ejaculation and the realization that she would have vacationed alone if she knew she'd end up having to self satisfy her needs.

"My stomach, it hurts," Faber whined. "Could be that ulcer? Or a gall stone? Oooohhhh…ow, the pain."

Gross was Mary's first thought. What the hell am I supposed to do about it was her second.

"It couldn't be food poisoning, you didn't eat anything," she said, unsympathetically. "Did you drink the water, moron?"

"No! I don't feel nauseous," he panted. "It just….aaaaaaa!"

"I've known men with gunshot wounds that made less of a fuss than this," Mary spat. "Suck it up and call a doctor."

"I…oooowww…can you…" he moaned as he lay down in the fetal position on the bed.

"Jesus Christ," Mary complained as she grabbed the phone and held a curt conversation with front desk.

"Well, I have good news and bad news. The good news is someone is going to take you to the hospital," she paused before continuing. "The bad news is that they have no idea when. Turns out its Dia del Trabajo, otherwise known as Mexico's Labor Day, and seems that down here they take that pretty seriously. Emergency or not, nobody's working."

The fact that the man couldn't get any help did make Mary somewhat empathetic and she did her best to try and help him be more comfortable, offering aspirin and bottled water and whatever else she could find around the room. Her Mother Theresa routine lasted exactly 76 minutes and then she couldn't take it any longer.

"Of all that is freakin' holy, I get it! I know you're in pain, Mike, but shut the fuck up already!" she screamed. "You are obviously not hemorrhaging or you'd be dead by now. They will help you as soon as they can find a doctor, but until then, try suffering in silence."

"But Mary, you don't…"

Mary held up a hand and said, "Don't. I'm done. We both know this wasn't more than a fling and I don't do this Nurse Betty thing, especially not for some little girl that can't handle a few cramps. I'll stop by the desk on my way out and send Jorge to babysit you until help gets here."

With that, Mary changed into jeans and a t-shirt and feeling much more like herself, she packed her bags and walked out of the room. Reaching for her phone, she dialed and waited impatiently until the voicemail picked up.

"Hey Marshall, it's me," she said calmly. "I totally get it if you're not speaking to me right now, but I'm on my way home and I just wanted you to know…."

She didn't have the words to finish, not yet. But as Mary hung up the phone, she hoped that her partner hadn't vacated the space in her head just yet and would know what was she wasn't saying.


Bujyo: Awww…look at you, slipping Marshall in at the end there. Love it! I can't even imagine Marshall touching Mary with a 10 foot pole after this fucktastically stupid move. Ooooo, I wonder when Random's going to get back to see the finale? She's sure to hock a flaming lugie at that final scene. Talk about throwing a kitchen sink at the writers!

Roar: *heh heh heh heh*

Bujyo: *heh heh heh heh*…okay. Quit.

Roar: No, you quit.

Bujyo: No, you quit.

Bujyo: Hey, look! We just wrote a sequel to the final scene. Well, shit, Roar…we be writers for IPS!

Roar:Maybe spoon can convince TedonTV (who is so NOT on TV by the way) to hire us on at USA. Their theme is Characters Welcome, is it not? And they certainly seem to have their pick of characters around here. *eyes board suspiciously*

Hey, I didn't say Marshall touched her, just made her apologize, because seriously, that mess requires one hell of an apology.

Bujyo: An apology, coffee for a year, lifetime supply of origami paper and fairly regular sex. That's a good start! Poor Faber…stuck in Mexico sick as a dog. Can you taste the oozing, putrid slime of false sympathy? He'll have to find comfort elsewhere. Hmmmm...


Mary had been fairly certain there was no way Mexico could get anymore colorful. She hadn't counted on the rainbows. Not the no-place-like-home rainbows…the solidarity-on-the-rear-window ones. Fascinated by the throngs of celebrants on the strip of beach set aside for the festivities, she watched as three outrageously dressed drag queens made a hut for garish tourist crap more…garish.

Initially puzzled with the plethora of booths, tables and music stages that had inexplicably sprung from the sand while she was in the spa, Mary caught a glimpse of a banner and all was revealed.


All was revealed…in Spanish. A few inquiries and three free drinks later, and she was completely caught up in Mexican Gay Pride day. She bought a rainbow sombrero for Marshall (she'd never tell him where she got it), averted her eyes to a particularly lewd version of the limbo and then got to dance…a lot. By the time she remembered she was supposed to meet Faber at the poolside bar, she was running over an hour late.

Anticipating another evening of well needed debauchery, Mary hummed softly as she perused the tables by the pool. No Faber. Wending her way through the scarcely populated seating area, she approached the bar and described the man to one of the waiters. He had gone back to the room about forty minutes ago.

"Jesus, Mike, just have a drink, sit back and wait," she groused, now heading up to the room in a less receptive mood.

The room service cart sat outside their door, and Mary smiled. Faber obviously had ideas on the same line as hers. Why dress up and dine out when you can dine in naked? She keyed herself in, tossed her belongings on the couch, and untied her halter while shaking her hair down. An odd noise through the bedroom suite doors put deeply trained senses on alert.

Still now, Mary cocked her head and listened, one hand holding her shirt in place. Another sound, and she was sure it was a moan. A moan with that hitch of breath on the end that usually only meant one thing. Wariness slowly morphed into simmering anger, and she stalked toward the bedroom while retying her halter.

"If that sonuva bitch thinks he's going to do some little senorita and get away with it…" her mutter trailed off as she twisted the doorknob.

Mary was certain the image would be burned into her brain for the rest of time. Faber stood beside the bed, experiencing room service from a whole other point of view.

"What the hell?" she shouted. The men scrambled for cover.

"Kitten," pleaded Faber, hopping on one leg as he yanked up his shorts, "it's not…"

"I swear to God, asshole, if you say 'it's not what it looks like' you'll be wishing Juan there would've bit down."

Mary whirled, stomped into the other room and began throwing Faber's things into a pile on the floor.

Mike trotted out behind her, zipping his shorts. "Mary, c'mon, it was spur of the moment…it just…happened. I've never done this before."

"And you're not doing this now," Mary gestured at herself. "Save your excuses for Tiger Woods, fuckwit. You and Jose have got about five minutes to vacate." She threw a pair of sandals at Faber and he caught them awkwardly.

Whining while he stuffed his things into his duffle, Faber kept a wary eye on the marshal, fleeing the room hastily as she took a menacing step toward him.

Mary snorted disgustedly as she turned back to the room, pulling up short as the other man stood staring at her. She had forgotten about him.

"What the fuck do you want, Eduardo? I told you to get out too."

The young man straightened his tie. "It's Enrique, Senora. You still need to sign for the dinner."

Mary grabbed a shoe.


Roar: Enrique. Eduardo, Juan, Jose…whatever your name is, Faber? Seriously, dude? You are selling yourself waaaayyyyy too short. Come to Nueva York, I know some nice boys I could set you up with.

Bujyo: Um, Roar, that really wasn't quite the point I was trying to make.

Roar: Point? There's supposed to be a point? Now you're just being silly. Did Fly put you up to that? A point, pfft.

Bujyo: And the moral of the story is - Jesus, Mary…screw your head on right and grab the gorgeous, smart and incredibly sexy hunk of Mann right in front of you and throw him down on the desk for wild monkey sex! Do it! Now! Ride him, Cowgirl…ride him!

*smooths hair back* That was good for me…you?

Roar:Oh, that was definitely good for me. And it would be a perfect little follow up to this next section. Which definitely has a point, two actually. Eleanor, this is for you, baby!


Another message from Faber! Mary scowled and cursed the man as she tossed the phone aside and tried to concentrate on the paperwork in front of her.

She hadn't talked to the FBI agent since she returned from Mexico over a month ago and he didn't seem to be getting the hint. While he'd served his purpose as a temporary distraction and helped her avoid thinking too much for a few days, she had quickly come to realize that's all Mike Faber was good for. Maybe if the sex had been mind blowing, she'd have considered keeping him around longer; but it hadn't been, so she'd easily dismissed him after three days together.

Distracted, once again, Mary glanced at her partner as he hunched over his desk dotting the i's and crossing the t's on his own forms. It was New Year's Eve and the last person she wanted to be thinking about was Faber. Marshall was the man who occupied her thoughts, the man who made her think. She'd stayed in Mexico, alone, for a week before she'd been able to admit that to herself and returned to Albuquerque intent on making things right.

It hadn't been easy, she'd hurt him and he didn't let her get away with it this time. But little by little, she'd chipped away at the walls she'd forced him to build and they were nearly back to normal. What she'd come to discover, though, was that what they were was no longer enough. And tonight…tonight was the night she planned on making that clear.


Mike Faber strutted about the office wearing his most charming smile as those around him poured champagne and donned hats inscribed with the number 2011. What had started out as a small FBI gathering to celebrate the millennium, had become one of the biggest parties of the year for those that worked in the Denver Federal Building. No work was done after 3pm and the festivities lasted to well after closing, until the last person was running out the door in order to arrive at wherever they were supposed to be at the stroke of midnight.

Grabbing a bottle from the cooler and pecking the 60 year old office administrator on the cheek as she blushed, Faber headed back to his office. He'd sent a text to Mary Shannon several hours earlier. Even though she hadn't returned any of his messages since he left her in Mexico, he figured he'd give it one last try before saying goodbye to the year. He pulled a glass from his desk and popped the top of the champagne before reaching to his belt for his phone.

"What the…"

"Looking for this Mikey poo?" Janice said, standing in the doorway and holding his cell phone up the air between the finger and thumb of her right hand.

"Jan, kitten, I was just looking for you?" Mike said, reaching in drawer for another glass. "Thought we could toast the New Year."

Janice Nichols was a junior agent and Mike Faber had been screwing her since the first week she'd arrived in Denver, just over a year ago. She was almost 20 years younger than him, sexy and ambitious, yet just insecure enough when it came to men to believe that recurring sex was equivalent to being in a relationship. For Mike, the "relationship" was simply an open booty call requiring a few well timed phone calls, a pet name and the occasional meal at a fancy restaurant that he would then submit as a business expense. He was, after all, mentoring the young woman.

"Really? Is that what you thought, Mike?" she said, annoyance evident in her tone.

"There's no one else I'd want to spend tonight with, baby." Faber grinned boyishly as he sidled past her and closed the door. As he moved to shut the blinds, he laid it on thick, knowing that he had obviously done something to upset her. "I mean, look at you, kitten, you're the most beautiful woman in the world." Coming up behind her, he slid an arm around her waist and nipped at her ear. "No one gets me hot the way you do. I know it's a little early, but what do you say we ring in the year right now."

He was too busy concentrating on his seduction that he failed to see the uncharacteristic and mischievous grin that formed on her lips. She turned and pushed herself against him, reaching down to grab his ass in the process. His response was immediate and she wrapped her leg around his thigh, pulling him closer as he hardened against her.

"Looks like my little kitty wants to come out and play," Mike uttered in a low voice as he caressed her leg and glided his hand up under her skirt.

"Uh huh, tiger, not yet" she scolded as she removed his hand from her leg. Then, she reached down and rubbed the length of him through the fabric of his dress pant while she whispered, "First, Michael Faber, I am going to toot your horn."

He groaned in ecstasy at her touch and innuendo. One of the reasons he kept Janice around was because he'd never been with a woman that could do the things she could with her tongue and she was always willing. He couldn't count the number of times she'd gone down on him in the office and he'd never been expected to reciprocate.

Undoing a few buttons of her shirt, she let him nuzzle her breasts while she undid his pants and let them drop to his ankles. She turned them around and backed him forcefully up against his desk, eliciting more moans of anticipation. Fondling him, she smiled as he urged her on, moving his hands into her hair in an attempt to hurry her along.

"Mike?" she asked softly, resisting his attempts to push her toward the lower parts of his anatomy.

"Yeah, baby, anything you want," he responded in jagged breaths.

Suddenly, she grabbed his testicles and squeezed as hard as she could, forcing all the breath out of his lungs and the pain to surge through his body.

"I wanna know who the fuck Mary is you douche bag?" she yelled, squeezing a little tighter for good measure. "I saw the texts on your phone. Are you fucking her? Are you?"

Mike gasped for air, but couldn't take in enough to speak. He was barely able to shake his head no.

"No!" she screamed, rage coursing through her veins. There was no way she was letting him get away with this. No man cheated on her. "No! I saw your little reference to Mexico. You expect me to believe that you went to Mexico with her, but you're not fucking her?"

"Kitt…" Mike squeaked out.

"Don't you call me that..that idiotic pet name! I can't believe another woman was stupid enough to fall for your bullshit. Well let's see how much she'll want you now that you're damaged goods." With that, she reached around him and grabbed the stapler from his desk.

'No! Please God no, not the Fleigler 2000.' It was the last thought Mike Faber had before everything went black.


Marshall's phone buzzed in notification of a new text message. Putting down his pen, he reached for the phone and leaned back in his chair to read the alert.

Mary returned from the kitchen with a Champagne bottle in hand and two glasses, only to find Marshall staring at his phone with a curious expression.

"No," she stated in his direction, setting the bottle on her desk with a thud. "Not tonight. What is wrong with these people that they can't just sit at home and behave themselves for one freakin' night?"

Marshall raised an eyebrow quizzically in her direction.

"What?" she barked in frustration.

"I think I'm the one that should be asking that question," Marshall replied, standing and moving in her direction. "Everything okay?"

"No, everything is not okay," she pouted. "I just wanted one night, one night to…so who is it? Collins? The Randalls'? Oh, it's not that moron Jerry Knox, is it? Because I swear to God I'll…"

"Mary," Marshall interrupted, reaching out and placing his hands on her upper arms to get her attention. "What on earth are you going on about?"

"The message you just got. It was about one of your witnesses." Seeing the confusion in his eyes change to amusement, she added quietly, "Wasn't it?"

"No," he answered, removing his hands from her arms and stifling a laugh. "There is no crisis or emergency that I am aware of and I'm hoping it will remain that way." Noting her curious expression, he knew she was not about to let it go and he couldn't help but wonder how she would respond. "I just got an alert. It seems that there was some sort of internal incident at the Denver Federal Building. There were no details."

"Oh, is that all," she said, relieved that it was nothing that would interfere with her plans. "I'm sure they'll sort it out. There is nothing in Denver that is of any concern to me. You?"

"Nope," he said with crooked smile, reassured by her statement that Faber was indeed out of her life. "Nothing at all." He leaned back against her desk, finally noticing the sweating bottle and glasses. "Planning a party?"

"As a matter of fact, I am," she said boldly. "And you, my friend, are the only one invited."


Bujyo: *wipes tears* Can't. Breathe. A more appropriate use for a Fleigler 2000, I cannot imagine! And then the luuuurve. Need a little Barry White in the background there? Set the mood?

Roar: I'd sing, but even on paper it might drive everyone away. If anyone is actually reading this crap. Good thing it's not a contest. And to anyone out there that may feel like judging on quality…

Bujyo: Ha! I say we sick Spockbear on them. He can shove a giant cookie up their…mmhmm.

Hey…this is like that Wayne's World movie. You know, they do that "doodleloo" thing at the end then switch to a different ending until they get the one they like. Dammit…I just really dated myself, didn't I? Yes…I'm old. Okay…move on people.

Now, let's just pretend Faber's quest to hump Mary could be headed off before the whole debacle of Mexico. The crapweasel denied. Ready? Doodleloo doodleloo doodleloo doodleloo…

Roar: Stop it.



Mike Faber tempted fate. Not just in his job, or by dodging his ex-wives, but by doggedly pursuing the leggy, blonde temptress known as Marshal Mary Shannon. She was wily, sneaky and bossy, just the type of confident woman who pushed all his primitive buttons.

Want her…must have her…drag back to cave, his Neolithic ego grunted, dragging its knuckles on the ground.

A man ruled by his tea bag toting, external brain, Faber again parked in front of Mary's house in the early evening hours. Unannounced and uninvited. He knocked once, twice, then peeked through the side window. No movement, but the lights were on, and he could see Mary's purse on the floor near the entry way table. There were cars in the driveway…someone was home. Shrugging, he turned to wander back to the car when he remembered Mary mentioning she had a pool.

"Please let her be skinny dipping," he fervently prayed as he meandered around to the side gate.

The distinct sound of voices reached his ears as he approached the gate. Curious, he stood just outside the wooden barrier and listened.

"God, Marshall, I can't believe it's taking this long." Mary sounded slightly annoyed.

Great…Marshall. Obstacle extraordinaire. Faber mentally groused.

"It's a delicate operation, Mary," the tall man's nasally voice grated on Mike's nerves. "I've got to get the angle just right."

"Just stick it in," Mary advised. "I can't imagine you'll miss it."

Faber narrowed his eyes. What the hell?...

"Mmmmm…" Marshall's groan was prolonged. "It's pretty wet and slippery. I'd rather take my time and get it right the first time. It'll get messy if I have to keep going down there."

Shifting his weight, the agent leaned closer to the door to catch the muffled sounds. He was oddly turned on.

"God, you're such a priss," Mary complained with a tease in her voice. "There's nothing down there that's going to hurt you. Who knows, you might find something interesting."

"Just because my fingers are longer than yours, I have to do all the hard work," Marshall teased back.

She's seriously fucking Marshall? Faber was appalled and puzzled at the same time. That geek? Mike looked at his own hands critically. They weren't very big.

"Are you sure you're deep enough? Get all the way in there," Mary directed.

"I can't…wait, let me twist…oh, yeah…oh, I think that's it," Marshall's voice took on a excited air.

Not quite sure why he was still listening, Faber was panting slightly as he debated the wisdom of his eavesdropping.

"Don't let go! C'mon partner…bring it home to Mama," Mary purred, low and throatily.

Mike shoved his hands into his pockets, grunted and turned to walk away. He didn't need this torture, and the visual was just…disturbing. Suddenly, Marshall's crow of delight drifted over the fence, joined with Mary's hoot of pleasure. Faber trotted the rest of the way to his car, slammed the door shut and drove off with a scowl.

"Is somebody here?" Mary asked, brushing off her knees as she stood.

Marshall shrugged, "Probably next door." He stood to join his partner as he handed over the dirty, but precious, prize. "Merry Christmas."

"Next time, Mare, take your necklace off before you swim laps. The pool filter is not my favorite place to stick my hand."

She grabbed the jewelry. "For Chrissakes, you're such a girl."


Roar: This! Now this is a fic I can fully support. Faber denied, Mary not leaving Marshall and oh, the sexual innuendo. Of course, after all this, all I can picture is Marshall taking Mary from behind in only his boots. Thanks for that, by the way.

Bujyo: *grins* I live to serve, especially where smut is concerned. Hey, do you think kostgard would do a picspam of us?

Roar: Dude, that would be so cool. Shit, but there's no way I can get a hair appointment in time. Oh wait, you were talking about the story, weren't you?

Bujyo: Yeah…you're up way past your bedtime, aren't you?

Roar: Maaaayyyyybeee…

Bujyo: Well, I'm out. That's all I got. Done. Finito. Got anything more over there?

Roar: Let me check…nope!

Bujyo: Then you know what's left…

Bujyo and Roar: Bujyo and Roar punch Faber in the face!

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