Xena and Gabrielle are owned by whoever bought them from MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. I dont intend to infringe on anyones rights and Im not making a penny off it. Im just havin a good time. Kinda at their expense.
Nothing terrifically graphic - sex or violence wise. I've tried, believe me, but I just start laughing so hard that I can't keep typing and besides that the pronouns are too damned confusing.
by Creme Brulee
My shot at a campfire scene.
Shes never gonna let me forget that thing with the horse. One slip and youre marked for life. Bards, theyre all the same, they never forget a damned thing. They write it all down, thats why. You say, No, I dont think it happened that way, Light of My Life. And she pulls out a scroll that backs up her point of view in black and off white. What am I gonna do? Point at a dent in my sword and say, See this here? That was the guy! I told you I killed him.
Shes a pain in the ass. Never has a clue what she wants. One season she thinks she wants to go to the academy, then shes an Amazon princess, after that she thinks shes a freakin saint, then shes got a bug up her ass about being a warrior. Ill protect you Xena! From what? An angry pygmy?
And the whole time Im supposed to be super-supportive of the woman who as much as got my son killed and spawned the devils child. Have I forgotten to mention that? This angelic looking creature, with the girl from the hut next door look, shes the mother of the kid who eats Furies for breakfast. Can I pick em or what?
In my bad old days I had to deal with some winners, true. But none of them did half the damage this chicks done. And all of it in the name of love. If any of my enemies had half a brain theyd leave us alone and let her finish me off in peace.
Take this morning for instance. We get attacked by a group of the most foul smelling thugs. I was feeling wakeful, so I kicked their asses before shes out of her bedroll. Im thinkin, Hey, points for you, Big Girl. Shes barely out of bed and youre in the black. Maybe shell make breakfast. Instead, she gets in a snit and says that Im always hogging the care taker roll and never giving her a chance. Like I should wait til shes awake and Im dead to give her a shot at full fledged co-dependence? I swear, she wants me dead.
And you can hardly say its true, that I dont ever let her help. There was that time my back went out and she went dervish on all of those Roman guys. I let her help out then. And it was a relief, I can tell you - that groovy, peace and love stuffs fine for Eli and his lot, but it was kinda creepin me out from her. It was nice to see her break out of it like that.
Its been a long day. Weve been through three villages. In the first one we had to convince a Gorgon to nest elsewhere. I hate dealing with mythical crap before lunch. In the second there was the Scourge of Imbecillia, who turned out to be a thug with an unfortunate method for terrorizing the populace (more on that later). And in the third, a freakin despot who claimed that he was Cesaer reborn and sent to bring Greece back into the Roman fold. Seeing as he was so big on Roman fashions, I introduced him to a couple of new shroud folding techniques that left him breathless.
So here we are, its dark. The fires jumping and popping. Ive finished sharpening my sword, Argos taken care of, the perimeters been checked... and I still cant look over there at her. Shes been writing in that scroll for a dogs age, I can hear her quill scratching away. Shes compiling more ammunition. I can tell shes writing about me too because shes all hunched over the parchment looking intense and kind of pissed. I have excellent peripheral vision. But Im not going to look over there. Not when Im so clearly getting the silent treatment.
If she hadnt brought up the horse thing after lunch when we were trying to rid that village of the Scourge, Id probably have gone over there by now. She said she didnt mean anything by it, that it was the Scourge thing that reminded her. This guys thugs are notorious for dragging their victims through the village behind horses before killing them in front of the village elders hut. When one of the villagers recounted the story, she flinched and said Ouch. But she was rubbing her elbow as she said it and glaring at me. She says that it still aches when its humid.
To play it safe and show my heartfelt remorse I let her knock off the first battery of thugs to enter the town that afternoon. Did that appease her? No. She comes slamming into the tavern where I was chatting with the local barmaid and asked me if I was done for the day and if I thought she should finish off the rest of the army whod pulled into town by herself? You cannot win with this woman. I went outside and helped with the rest of the Scourges bandits. I dont know what she was complaining about, there couldnt have been more than fifteen of them.
I cant hear the quill scratching from over there anymore. Im not sure when she stopped writing. Mostly its just the noise of the crickets and sounds of the woods now. I heave a sigh at no one in particular. Were stuck in a rut of some kind, she and I. Miscommunication, she calls it. Seems like. I cant stay over here forever - I hate sleeping while sitting up and wearing full armor - thats pouty kid stuff anyway. Im a warrior for Zeus sake, I can deal with this.
I steel myself and glance over at the bedrolls. Im met with an unexpected display. Shes lying there, not a scroll in sight, not a stitch either. Shes buck naked. Shes giving me a heated, glassy-eyed look. Im thinking theres a trap being laid. But like every damned time that came before it, Im going to walk right into it. Thats what heroines do.
I make a few swift calculations, execute a perfect somersault in the air, and land with boots to either side of the bedroll shes reclining on. She doesnt even flinch. Maybe we are in a rut. But shes still glassy-eyed, so I do the dropping the weapons with a thud thing. That always gets her going and tonight is no exception. Shes breathing harder. I release the clasps to my breastplate and let that fall with a thump as well. Shes working up a sweat now, having a tough time not writhing in anticipation. Shes so easy. Its one of her best qualities.
I go about undoing the rest of my gear and watch her get worked up to the point of agony. Shes writhing now alright (Im gettin some tonight!). Im in the midst of removing my last vambrace (I intend to leave the boots on even though she complains when I do - she doesnt look like shell even notice), when she says, Would you hurry up? Youve been driving me crazy all day. I need you now!
This, of course, I find confusing. Even more confusing than when Id looked over here and found her naked and wanting, when I expected clothed and petulant.
I usually wouldnt interrupt so urgent a moment and need, but I cant help but comment, You sure werent acting like it!
She tugs on my bootlace pulling me down so that Im straddling her stomach. Lucky me. She half turns and stretches to grab something out of her pack. Lucky me again. She turns back and hands me a scroll. Ive grown wary of this particular gesture. Its usually followed by an, I told you so.
I just wrote it. Read it, it wont bite you. She urges.
I give her the eyebrow look and she rolls her eyes at me. And you used to command armies?
Its a lot easier when people expect youll kill them if they make a false step.
She shrugs and tries not to make her, Poor Xena face. Its a sarcastic expression that I can live without.
I unroll the thing and look at it. Its a full scroll length of heated erotic poetry starring my body in epical type battles with every sort of mythical beast and thug. Lots of thrusting of swords and tensing of muscles. I look at her confused. But you spent most of the day naggin at me.
She blows out a frustrated breath. You were being an annoying git half the time. Hogging the morning workout, getting sulky in that village and flirting with the barmaid. Besides, I cant be beaming lust at you every minute of the workday. Wed never get anything done.
What about the horse thing?
Im not in the mood for that tonight.
I meant me draggin you behind my...
She puts her hand over my lips to halt my words. Its in the past. Lets be in the present... And if you so much as caress me lightly in anger again, Ill slice you into pieces and feed you to the Horde.
Works for me.
Well then do some work for me here will ya? I dont put up with all of your crap for your cooking skills.
We both know this to be true. So I lower myself to her and begin the kind of communication we do best.