Birthday fic - All Wet
For 
keswindhover
Title: All Wet
Author: Miss Murchison
Rating: G
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. Only the lame plots and dialogue herein are mine.
Summary: Sequel to my Tara/Anya stories, Resistance is Useless and Sitting on the Dock of eBay. When I left them, Anya was excited about a new money-making scheme. Things are turning out about as successfully as Tara feared. About 1300 words.
"Tara?"
"Yes, Anya?"
"I know this was my idea--" Anya balanced precariously on the flatbed of the truck they'd rented as she pulled a lid over the child's wading pool set atop it. "--but I'm seriously rethinking the idea of bounty hunter as a profession."
Tara gave a high-pitched yelp as a slimy appendage wormed its way out of the pool and thrashed around, slapping her on the butt.
"You squeaked!" said Anya. "You never squeak. You're always so brave."
Tara shoved the tentacle back under the cover, shuddering. "I never liked the dangly bits."
Anya was securing the cover to the sides of the pool, making liberal use of duct tape. The creature rose up again, punching at the thick plastic, but the tentacles slipped away without harming it. Then it floated to the top of the water and started to morph into human form, its face pressed against the cover, gasping for breath in the tiny gap between it and the surface of the water.
"No!" Anya bopped the thing on the head with her fist and it collapsed back onto the bottom of the pool, its limbs turning back into tentacles and its head to a bulbous knob with two glaring eyes. "No mutinying against the bounty!" Anya stretched a bungee cord over the top and fastened it to the bottom of the flatbed.
Tara stepped back. "I don't think there's enough air in there to let him stay in human shape long enough to punch a hole through that plastic." She pushed damp hair away from her forehead. "Honey, can we get him to the police station and get this over with?"
****
They plodded into the station, leaving little puddles behind them with each step. Tara had hoped to slink in, get Anya's paperwork processed, and slink out again, but there were a half dozen police officers standing behind and around the front desk, observing their progress. Most were male, and all of them were exhibiting jaws dropped so low Tara could have counted the ones who'd had tonsillectomies.
"Hey!" Anya snapped. "Eyes up!"
"Sorry," said the desk sergeant. "But it's not every day a wet t-shirt contest of this quality walks in all by itself."
Anya whipped around, glaring until all the snickers that had greeted this comment subsided. She pushed her sopping locks out of her eyes and announced, "I am a professional!"
"Um…" Tara spoke up before someone made the obvious comment and got decked by Anya. "She means she's a bounty hunter and we have a bounty outside that we've, uh, hunted."
Anya nodded. "Paddy Cephalos. He's worth seven thousand dollars."
"Cephalos? Really?" The desk sergeant looked impressed. "He's a slippery one."
"You have no idea." Tara glared at one of cops who'd invaded her personal space. "He's outside. In the back of a truck."
"What, have you got him in locked in a refrigerator truck?" The only female cop led the way outside. "I read a book once where--" She stopped when he saw the wading pool tied to the back of the flatbed. "Did you drown him?"
"You can't drown a -- " Anya stopped as Tara nudged her. "I mean, of course not. We are responsible bounty hunters and a benefit to society, not murderers, even when the bounty is really, really slimy." The cover of the pool was bulging out and falling back. "Just all of you officers of the law be ready to grab him because I've done enough of that tonight." She and Tara ran around to the opposite side of the truck
By now all the cops were on the pavement and several had drawn their guns, but they retreated a few paces as the cover bulged again. Anya and Tara released it while giving the contents of the pool a good shove towards the police officers. When the deluge that ensued slowed to a trickle, a body lay on the pavement.
A very large naked man rose slowly to his feet, giving out a bellow and looking around as he did so. Tara and Anya ducked down out of sight as the police subdued and cuffed him, not without considerable difficulty.
Anya winced as the bellowing continued. "I've always heard that you can hear the ocean when Cephalos talks. I didn't know they meant in hurricane season."
When they reentered the station, Cephalos had been taken to a cell, but the desk sergeant was staring at the puddles of water on the floor. "I'd really like to hear the story of how you two little girls happened to capture Paddy in the altogether."
Anya frowned. "Would you have paid the reward if we'd only brought in part of him?
"I meant--" The sergeant paused, remembering past encounters with Anya. "Never mind. And I've told you before, it's not us who pays the reward, it's the bail bondsman. I just give you a receipt." He handed one over.
Anya took it, holding it carefully to avoid getting it wet as she read it through.
Tara tugged Anya's arm. "Let's go home. I want a quick, warm shower, followed by a long, dry stay under some warm covers." As they were about to leave, she turned and said to the sergeant. "Oh, and don't let Cephalos have a bath or a shower. That was your mistake last time."
As Tara settled into the driver's seat of the truck, she asked, "I wonder if we should explain just how he managed to pick so many pockets at that pool party without being caught."
"Oh, no. This way, he'll do it again and we can catch him again for more money." Anya squeezed a small shower of raindrops out of her hair before putting on her cap with "Bounty Hunter" emblazoned on the top. At least, it had been emblazoned. The cap had gotten wet along with everything else, and the words were now running together so it appeared she was a "Booty Hooter". But her spirits had been raised considerably by the receipt she'd gotten for Cephalos. "I knew our special skills would be invaluable in tracking the hard-to-track Sunnydale criminals. Of course, they're not really invaluable, because that would mean you couldn't put a price on them and in this case they're worth seven thousand dollars. My knowledge that he is weaker, if a lot more wriggly, in his wet form, and your ability to magic a small rain shower so we could wrestle him into the pool were worth seven thousand dollars. It is still hard to quantify exactly how valuable our skills will be in the future--"
Tara's weary voice cut into Anya's burbling. "I thought you wanted to quit bounty hunting."
Anya, who was bouncing up and down with excitement in the passenger seat, stared at her in surprise. "Oh, no. Why would we? Not when we're so much more intelligent than the criminal element, especially the Sundunce Kid. And, of course, Calamity Wayne, that man who's always trying to turn himself into a huge bat. But first, we should get the Wordman of Alcatraz before he steals any more rare books. The Fightstalker might be too troublesome for us, and Woosh Gassity is too smelly to be worth the fee. Perhaps we should extend the truck rental for a few more days--I'm sure I can talk them into a discount--and catch Jimmy the Diesel and Carface--"
Tara managed to resist the impulse to bash her head against the steering wheel. But it wasn't easy.
keswindhover
Title: All Wet
Author: Miss Murchison
Rating: G
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. Only the lame plots and dialogue herein are mine.
Summary: Sequel to my Tara/Anya stories, Resistance is Useless and Sitting on the Dock of eBay. When I left them, Anya was excited about a new money-making scheme. Things are turning out about as successfully as Tara feared. About 1300 words.
"Tara?"
"Yes, Anya?"
"I know this was my idea--" Anya balanced precariously on the flatbed of the truck they'd rented as she pulled a lid over the child's wading pool set atop it. "--but I'm seriously rethinking the idea of bounty hunter as a profession."
Tara gave a high-pitched yelp as a slimy appendage wormed its way out of the pool and thrashed around, slapping her on the butt.
"You squeaked!" said Anya. "You never squeak. You're always so brave."
Tara shoved the tentacle back under the cover, shuddering. "I never liked the dangly bits."
Anya was securing the cover to the sides of the pool, making liberal use of duct tape. The creature rose up again, punching at the thick plastic, but the tentacles slipped away without harming it. Then it floated to the top of the water and started to morph into human form, its face pressed against the cover, gasping for breath in the tiny gap between it and the surface of the water.
"No!" Anya bopped the thing on the head with her fist and it collapsed back onto the bottom of the pool, its limbs turning back into tentacles and its head to a bulbous knob with two glaring eyes. "No mutinying against the bounty!" Anya stretched a bungee cord over the top and fastened it to the bottom of the flatbed.
Tara stepped back. "I don't think there's enough air in there to let him stay in human shape long enough to punch a hole through that plastic." She pushed damp hair away from her forehead. "Honey, can we get him to the police station and get this over with?"
****
They plodded into the station, leaving little puddles behind them with each step. Tara had hoped to slink in, get Anya's paperwork processed, and slink out again, but there were a half dozen police officers standing behind and around the front desk, observing their progress. Most were male, and all of them were exhibiting jaws dropped so low Tara could have counted the ones who'd had tonsillectomies.
"Hey!" Anya snapped. "Eyes up!"
"Sorry," said the desk sergeant. "But it's not every day a wet t-shirt contest of this quality walks in all by itself."
Anya whipped around, glaring until all the snickers that had greeted this comment subsided. She pushed her sopping locks out of her eyes and announced, "I am a professional!"
"Um…" Tara spoke up before someone made the obvious comment and got decked by Anya. "She means she's a bounty hunter and we have a bounty outside that we've, uh, hunted."
Anya nodded. "Paddy Cephalos. He's worth seven thousand dollars."
"Cephalos? Really?" The desk sergeant looked impressed. "He's a slippery one."
"You have no idea." Tara glared at one of cops who'd invaded her personal space. "He's outside. In the back of a truck."
"What, have you got him in locked in a refrigerator truck?" The only female cop led the way outside. "I read a book once where--" She stopped when he saw the wading pool tied to the back of the flatbed. "Did you drown him?"
"You can't drown a -- " Anya stopped as Tara nudged her. "I mean, of course not. We are responsible bounty hunters and a benefit to society, not murderers, even when the bounty is really, really slimy." The cover of the pool was bulging out and falling back. "Just all of you officers of the law be ready to grab him because I've done enough of that tonight." She and Tara ran around to the opposite side of the truck
By now all the cops were on the pavement and several had drawn their guns, but they retreated a few paces as the cover bulged again. Anya and Tara released it while giving the contents of the pool a good shove towards the police officers. When the deluge that ensued slowed to a trickle, a body lay on the pavement.
A very large naked man rose slowly to his feet, giving out a bellow and looking around as he did so. Tara and Anya ducked down out of sight as the police subdued and cuffed him, not without considerable difficulty.
Anya winced as the bellowing continued. "I've always heard that you can hear the ocean when Cephalos talks. I didn't know they meant in hurricane season."
When they reentered the station, Cephalos had been taken to a cell, but the desk sergeant was staring at the puddles of water on the floor. "I'd really like to hear the story of how you two little girls happened to capture Paddy in the altogether."
Anya frowned. "Would you have paid the reward if we'd only brought in part of him?
"I meant--" The sergeant paused, remembering past encounters with Anya. "Never mind. And I've told you before, it's not us who pays the reward, it's the bail bondsman. I just give you a receipt." He handed one over.
Anya took it, holding it carefully to avoid getting it wet as she read it through.
Tara tugged Anya's arm. "Let's go home. I want a quick, warm shower, followed by a long, dry stay under some warm covers." As they were about to leave, she turned and said to the sergeant. "Oh, and don't let Cephalos have a bath or a shower. That was your mistake last time."
As Tara settled into the driver's seat of the truck, she asked, "I wonder if we should explain just how he managed to pick so many pockets at that pool party without being caught."
"Oh, no. This way, he'll do it again and we can catch him again for more money." Anya squeezed a small shower of raindrops out of her hair before putting on her cap with "Bounty Hunter" emblazoned on the top. At least, it had been emblazoned. The cap had gotten wet along with everything else, and the words were now running together so it appeared she was a "Booty Hooter". But her spirits had been raised considerably by the receipt she'd gotten for Cephalos. "I knew our special skills would be invaluable in tracking the hard-to-track Sunnydale criminals. Of course, they're not really invaluable, because that would mean you couldn't put a price on them and in this case they're worth seven thousand dollars. My knowledge that he is weaker, if a lot more wriggly, in his wet form, and your ability to magic a small rain shower so we could wrestle him into the pool were worth seven thousand dollars. It is still hard to quantify exactly how valuable our skills will be in the future--"
Tara's weary voice cut into Anya's burbling. "I thought you wanted to quit bounty hunting."
Anya, who was bouncing up and down with excitement in the passenger seat, stared at her in surprise. "Oh, no. Why would we? Not when we're so much more intelligent than the criminal element, especially the Sundunce Kid. And, of course, Calamity Wayne, that man who's always trying to turn himself into a huge bat. But first, we should get the Wordman of Alcatraz before he steals any more rare books. The Fightstalker might be too troublesome for us, and Woosh Gassity is too smelly to be worth the fee. Perhaps we should extend the truck rental for a few more days--I'm sure I can talk them into a discount--and catch Jimmy the Diesel and Carface--"
Tara managed to resist the impulse to bash her head against the steering wheel. But it wasn't easy.