A/N: Because for some reason this is the pairing(s) most perverts want Owen to be in. Or that's what I gather from the R-rated fan sites.

Spoilers: Eye of the Beholder

Warnings: sexual situations(kind of), nudity(not really), language(which is an actual thing that actually happens).

Disclaimer: Disney and Greg Weisman would be so mad at me right now... seriously.


April 1st, 2000

There was a persistent itch between his shoulder blades. It was the sort of itch that made one aware that someone was staring at them but Owen's office door was shut tight and there was no one else in the room with him. The blond sent a glance toward the security camera in the corner of his ceiling and tried to convince himself that that was the cause of his nervousness though he knew full well that the camera had never caused the nervousness before.

"Maybe its ghosts," Puck suggested helpfully. "Weirder things have happened."

Owen turned away from his computer and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a tired sigh. He spent a moment playing with the idea of going to the company employed mental health specialist and telling her that he had a little man living inside his head that would occasionally take over his body and do magic if only to see what sorts of drugs he'd be put on.

"That would be hilarious," Puck gushed, admiration evident in his tone. Owen immediately dashed the idea. "You never want to do anything fun. If I'd known I'd be stuck with you forever I'd have designed you with a better sense of humor."

The door to his office opened almost silently on well oiled hinges.

"You alright Owen?" Asked a familiar, husky voice as the door clicked shut again. Owen rubbed at his eye again and heard the click of heels (unusual for her, when she wasn't planning to go out) come up behind him. "You look tense."

"Typing quickly and efficiently with one hand is more difficult than one is led to believe," he replied wearily. Tilting his head to as far as an extreme as he could manage without hurting himself, Owen forced his neck to pop which did less to ease the tension than he might have hoped.

"Here," a warm, long fingered hand gently rubbed at the back of his neck. Fox, like her husband, had very selective understanding of 'personal boundaries' and Owen had learned to simply humor them. "How's that?"

It helped that the hand felt good.

"I like her," Puck felt he needed to point out for some reason. "I'm glad we stayed." Owen silently agreed and let his eyes shut as he relaxed.

He was so relaxed, in fact, that he managed to space out for the few brief moments it took the redhead behind him to loosen his tie and open the top most buttons of his shirt.

He did not, however, miss the part when her warm hands slipped under his collar.

"Mrs. Xanatos!" Owen was very rarely undignified but the way he leapt up from his chair and spun around to face the woman couldn't very well be described as anything else. "What-" and then his brain shut down.

"I've told you, Owen," the red head purred, smirking at him. "Call me Fox."

"Huh," Puck recovered first. "I guess we both knew when Davey told you to pick up that little number it was for Fox but it never really sunk in." Owen could not move. "Well hurry up man! Give her your jacket before she catches a cold!" Puck had never been a particularly sexual creature despite his love of tawdry innuendo. Owen shouldn't have been surprised by his obliviousness.

It wasn't like they hadn't seen her in less - the Eye of Odin incident came to mind - and he'd accidentally walked in on her and her husband (they really did need to learn to lock doors, or at the very least keep their activities to their own bedroom) more than once but this was different. This was deliberate.

"M-" Owen almost swallowed his tongue and looked up at the ceiling because it, at least, was decently covered. "Mrs Xanatos-"

"Ah ah ah," Fox chided. She sounded closer, he should look to check that she hadn't- and there she was, stroking his cheek with those long red nails.

"F-Fox," Owen forced out, finally meeting her eyes. "This is-" she stepped close and he backed up, his desk hitting the back of his legs. He may have leaned back. It didn't seem to make a difference. "This is highly inappropriate," he tried for a stern voice but that hadn't worked for her father so it certainly wasn't going to work for him. She pressed closer and he leaned farther back. "Mr. Xanatos-"

"Oh, I don't think David'll mind," Fox gave him a smile that Owen was more than certain should never be directed anywhere other than her husband and placed her hand on his chest. "He's never been the jealous type."

That was not helping. Neither was the way her hand was sliding down his abdomen.

Owen started sweating. This was wrong. On so many different levels he wasn't sure where to start. She was under some bizarre magical influence or drugged or

"possessed," Puck nodded sagely. "I'm telling you, it's ghosts."

"Fox please," very rarely was Owen denied when he asked for something, likely because he did it so infrequently and the Xanatos' liked to indulge him when he did decide he wanted something. He hoped it would work now. "This is- please stop."

He was considering whether it would be worse to "accidentally" knock her out with the flailing of his stone fist or to try and let Puck take over since CLEARLY something magical had gone horribly wrong in the castle without his knowledge when one of her long fingers caught one of his belt loops.

"DAVID!" Owen did not scream. Called, certainly. Yelled... bellowed perhaps. Roared even. But he did not scream.

The door banged open and Owen looked up, face awash with relief. And he froze.

David Xanatos - ex-villain, billionaire and happy father of one - stood in the door way, naked to the waist, pony-tail pulled over his shoulder like some sort romance novel cover model, grinning seductively.

"I thought you'd never call," the darker man said in a low, deep tone.

Owen may have possibly blacked out a bit.

When he came back to his senses he was still half on top of his desk and Fox, still dressed in little more than a whisper of strategically placed black lace, was howling with laughter into his side.

"David, David stop he's going to have an aneurysm," she was gasping into his crisp white shirt that would inevitably be stained with her red lipstick and dramatic eye shadow now that she was rubbing her face on it. At the doorway David was holding himself up against the wall - or at least trying to - laughing so hard that his eyes had begun to water.

"Oh Owen-" he cut himself off with another snort of laughter. "You should have seen your face!"

"Oh, oh damn," Puck had started laughing too, which was never a good thing. "They got us good. Take a look at the calendar, four-eyes."

Owen didn't have to look. His breath - which had been close to hyperventilation mere seconds before - slowed and his eyes narrowed. Without a word he pushed Fox (gently) away and stalked to the door.

"Don't worry," David was saying as Owen shoved him to the side and out of the doorway. "I made sure the camera was recording for this room."

Owen rarely slammed doors, but it gave him great satisfaction to do so now. The closed door did little to muffle the shrieks of laughter coming from inside his office.

"That was epic!" Puck crowed. "I love them. Best April Fool's Prank EVER."

Owen told himself to kindly shut the fuck up.

X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0XX 0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X

If we shadows have offended,

Think but this, and all is mended—

That you have but slumbered here

While these visions did appear.

A/N: I was on Ao3 the other night when I saw a David/Fox/Owen threesome. I read EVERYTHING whether I think I'll like it or not (it's called broadening your horizons or something. Sometimes I just enjoy being squicked *shrug*) so... yeah that happened. And if you don't adopt the stance that Owen's their surrogate brother (which is my preferred way to look at the relationship) it could totally work. I still find it silly though.