crazydiamondsue is running a Music of Pain ficathon, or "MOPEathon" as I call it, but since this pairing isn't allowed, I'll just write it for fun, mm'kay? The song for the inspiration is: "My Cell-Mate Thinks I'm Sexy." *snerk* Let's say that after Andrew and Jonathan get away from Dawn and Xander and Buffy in "Grave," Season 6, they got picked up again by the police. They weren't the smartest bunch in the real world. So we'll pick up there. Wheeee!! Rated G. Ish.
"We are going to die. We are going to die in here and I will never fully realize my dream of having all of the play-sets from the Imperial Trilogy in my possession, and my brother is going to to take my action figures and throw them away and it's all your fault!"
"How is it my fault? You and Warren were going to leave me! You two had big plans to leave me as Buffy-fodder while you jetted off to the new Hall of Doom."
"He's dead. Super Witch killed him and we're next. I never should have listened to his siren song."
Andrew, huddled in the corner of the remaining cell not pulled apart by Willow in the Sunnydale Municipal Courthouse/Jail, stopped rocking back and forth. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Warren... He wasn't supposed to die!"
"None of us were. No one else was, either! We're going to be sent to the chair. The electric chair."
"Maybe they'll send us to Utah to keep us away from the other prisoners who would see killing us as a badge of honor? You know, because we're super villains? In Utah they still have firing squads. That's pretty butch."
"But you're allergic to things covering your eyes."
Andrew leans his head against the concrete wall, dejected and hopeless. Jonathan paces back and forth behind the bars.
"I looked up some spells I thought we could use to... you know. Take over? I wanted to see if I could perform a spell that would make me have the power of magnetic energy-"
A reverent whisper, "Magneto."
"And if I could just think, maybe I could remember it?"
Jonathan holds the cell's bars in his hands, closes his eyes, take a few deep breaths and starts.
Adaugeo ego concresco
Fortis de navitas
Inflecto de ego numen!
Make me strong
Power of energy
Bend to My (Deity usage) will
"Hmm. Interesting word choice there, Shortstack."
"Don't call me that! And what do you mean?"
"Numen? You wish. You're the god of... your pants!"
"Pants? Pfft. That was one step up from 'I know you are but what am I?'"
"Well, now it won't work, Tiny Tim, because you were too busy drawing pictures of Harmony in Latin class instead of paying attention to tenses and stuff!"
"Harmony wasn't in Latin with us! Or... with anyone! Duh!"
"Oh, my god. Were you drawing pictures of that guy in the Whitesnake tribute band? With the long blonde hair?"
"Shut up, Andrew! I don't see you coming up with any ideas!"
"Because it's the end of the line, oh wee one! How long do you think it's going to take for Darth Rosenberg to find us? She's all hopped up on the Dark Side and that little hound dog is going to sniff us out and she's going to take us apart limb by limb! It won't take so long for you, but I'm not like other people! Pain hurts me!"
"We just have to wait for Buffy."
"Wonder Woman isn't going to help us anymore! Her lasso of truth has been tarnished by her devotion to the She Witch." Andrew looks off to the distance, which isn't far, considering he's standing next to a concrete wall and says to no one, "She has truly become the Amazon queen."
"Would you shut up and think?"
Jonathan turns his back to Andrew, rests his forehead on the cold, steel bars and thinks. As he rests, his eyes look down at the lock on their cell. And notices something important. He stands to his full 5 foot and 1.173 inches, takes a deep breath, and, with his Macho Voice, he says with dead calm, "I'm going to use my body to bring the door down."
"What? You don't have the midi-chlorians to pull that off! That's solid steel and you're tiny and it's like... Well, pain is your kryptonite!"
Jonathan looks over his shoulder, squints in what he thinks of as his Clint-face, and says, "I know."
He kicks the door, arms flung out like the Karate Kid, and the cage door swings free. In their hurry to catch the "chick on PCP with jacked up eyes," the Sunnydale Police seem to have forgotten to lock the Duo in for the night.
Andrew appears shocked for a few moments, then breaks into an "aw-shucks" grin.
"That was cool. You totally got me."
Jonathan laughs with him, his shoulders joggling up and down with his glee. "To Meh-hee-ko, then?"
Andrew gets serious, nods and replies, "Ándale, Mini Me."
And to keep my head spinning with the inconsistancy of my thoughts, I have an RPS for sweptawaybayou coming up later today. DB/VK, drugs and rock and roll. I'm broken! Hooray!