<Cum, they told me, pah-rum-pa-pum-pum...>

"Stop that."

<...me and my bum.>

"I'm going to get even with Luminosity for teaching you that."

<What? You don't like that one? Okay, how about this one, it's a slash classic...Oh cuuuum, all ye faaaa-ithful...>

"Methos, If you *must* do that, could you at least find one key and stick with it?"

<Bah, humbug.>

"Shut up and come over here and make yourself useful."

<What do you need me to do?>

"Put your finger here and press hard."

<Ooohhh, Suze--and all this time I thought we were just friends!>

"One more smart-ass remark and you can wrap your own damn presents."

<I'll be good.>

"Yeah, right. I never believe that unless there are ropes and lubricants involved. Hand me the tape."

<I'll do the gift tags. Which one is this?>

"From you to Amanda."

<I'm curious. What exactly did I get the lovely Amanda this year?>

"If you'd left the eggnog alone and finished your own shopping, you'd know that."

<I could always open it and find out...>

"Put that down. It's what she asked for."

<I'm giving Amanda her own Blair Muse? How did you fit him in this little envelope? Must be the inflatable version.>

"It's a gift certificate. Personalized."

<A gift certificate? That's sooooo boring.>

"Don't worry about it--she'll love it. It's for...a female thing."

<Ahh, a *female* thing. That certainly narrows it down. No really, what's it for? Lingerie? Perfume? A new leather g-string?>

"Nope. More personal than that."

<More personal than a leather g-string? I'm intrigued.>

"It's a custom made coupon. Redeemable for...well, let's just say that Duncan agreed to it on your behalf."

<Duncan agreed on my behalf? Do I want to know the details of this deal?>

"That depends. Do you like your Bandaids removed in a series of agonizingly slow tugs, or ripped off with one quick, excruciating jerk? Sorry, I forgot--what do Immortals know from Bandaids? Hand me that green envelope."

<And the tag for this one?>

"From you to Kronos."

<It had better not be another Duncan-approved gift certificate.>

"Relax, Methos. Would Duncan do that to you?"

<In a hummingbird's heartbeat. What is it?>

"What he asked for. Another gift-certificate. This one's redeemable for a guest appearance in your next flashback."

<Shit! Another Kronos flashback? Do I at least get lube this time, or is blood going to have to suffice *again*? Do you slash writers have any idea how *tired* I am of bending...>

"Methos, stop ranting and think about it."

<What are you talking...Oh.>

"Un-huh."

<You don't write flashbacks.>

"You're catching on."

<Sneaky. You're getting good at this muse handling business.>

"Thank you. I live for your approval."

<And cheap too. Of course, he's going to be really pissed when he figures it out, but that's not *my* problem. By the way, where is the tattooed wonder?>

"He took Richie and Byron caroling."

<Caroling? *Kronos* has gone Christmas caroling?>

"That's what he said."

<And you believed him? I take it back. You know nothing about muses.>

"Of course I didn't believe him. They're out somewhere chasing skirts and getting loaded."

<And does Duncan know that you let Richie go out debauching with Kronos and Byron?>

"Yep."

<And Kiltboy *approved* of this expedition? I'm starting to worry about Amanda's gift certificate again.>

"They negotiated. Duncan let Richie go with them, and Kronos promised to lose Byron's damn goat while they're out."

<That's my Duncan. What's the next tag?>

"From you to Zen and nan's Blair Muse."

<You're bullshitting me, right?>

"Methos, you've picked on him all year. You need to do something nice for him for a change."

<No, I don't.>

"Yes, you do."

<No, I... I don't get any say in this, do I?>

"Not really, no."

<Fine. Great. What am I giving him?>

"Flannel pajamas."

<Boring. But in this particular case, boring is good.>

"In the MacLeod tartan."

<Well...okay, I can live with that.>

"One-piece pajamas."

<With feet?>

"And a button-flap in the seat."

<God, I'm good.>

"I thought you'd like that. Hand me the red bag."

<What's this one?>

"From you to the ladies on the ROG-L and the DMSG lists."

<Why?>

"What do you mean 'why?' Do you realize how many hours of their time those people devote to you? How much effort? Do you think that continually coming up with new ways for you to piss off Duncan so the two of you can have hot, juicy, bed-bouncing  make-up sex is *easy*?"

<It is for me. What am I giving them?>

"Inspiration. Fantasies. Wet dreams."

<Isn't that what I gave them last year?>

"I really don't think they'll mind, Methos. Next envelope, please."

<Tag?>

"From both of us to the RSM."

<More inspiration?>

"Uh..."

<Spit it out.>

"Well, I'm promising not to bitch when Tiff does a death story."

<Good. I liked Tiff's story. I got to emote all over the place. You *never* let me do anything deep and meaningful.>

"If you could emote without ruining the carpets I'd consider it, Methos."

<I'll work on it. And what's my contribution to this present?>

"You're agreeing to stop bitching about all of Duncan's crossover amorous adventures."

<For how long?>

"Forever?"

<Nice try.>

"It was worth a shot. Two months?"

<Deal.>

"Really? Wow, that was a lot easier than I expected."

<It's the holidays. I'm in a generous mood.>

"And it'll take that long for you to sober up, right?"

<Bitch. What's next?>

"From you to Duncan."

<I think I can handle that one myself.>

"You sure?"

<Trust me. I know *exactly* what Kiltboy wants, and I'm going to give it to him. Hard. Next?>

"From you to Luminosity."

<Now *that* I don't understand. The woman's a *Duncan* slut! How the hell did she wind up on *my* gift list?>

"bmmbmmbmmbmmbmmbm"

<Again.>

"I said 'blackmail.'"

<What the hell are you talking about? I understand how she could blackmail *you*--the possibilities are endless and mind-boggling. But *me*? What could she possibly have on *me*?>

"Uh...mea culpa?"

<What did you do?>

"It wasn't my fault! She held me down and forced me to eat chocolate. Godiva chocolate!"

<What. Did. You. Do.>

"Uh...I just *mentioned*, just in passing you understand, that little theory I have on why you sprawl all the time."

<You promised me you wouldn't repeat that!>

"I was drunk on chocolate, Methos. It just kind of...slipped out."

<Well, I hope you got her something really nice. And I hope *you* paid for it.>

"I did. I promise, she won't tell anybody."

<It's a stupid theory. And only the severely warped mind of a beyond redemption slash fan would believe it anyway.>

"Are you sure? In Till Death you're practically sitting on your *back*."

<For the absolutely last time, I do *not* sprawl because my bum hurts!>

"*I* believe you, Methos."

<No you don't.>

"You're right, I don't. But that's my gift to you--I'm going to *pretend* to believe it."

<Forever?>

"For two months."

<Merry Christmas, Suze.>

"Merry Christmas, Methos."

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