No Chlamydia Happens


Cordelia_icon.gif Wesley_icon.gif Fred_icon.gif Lorne_icon.gif


Lorne stumbles upon Cordelia and Fred trying to stash Wesley upstairs. No chlamydia happens. Yay?

Date It Happened: December 5th, 2001

No Chlamydia Happens

Hyperion Hotel - Lobby


Wesley is in fact getting the idea. That it's something the women are wearing that's envoking such a reaction. "No.. it is time.. it's right." Listen to him! See, he's cooperative! Only not so much. Finding some resolve within, or perhaps it's just sheer stubborn will, he tries to struggle against Cordelia's newfound strength. "Thought it was my big night." He fights hard to keep himself coherent by running different types of possessions, tantric energy spells and similar through his head. "Tantric You're stronger after.." Damn. He should have been more careful! ".. idiot.. I'm a total idiot," he rambles.

"It'll be a right ole time, Wes." Taking the other side, Fred helps Cordelia drag Wesley into a standing position. "Now now, no need to get all self deprecating. You'll be just fine. C'mon. Let's get you into something a bit more comfortable."

(Back to our Program)

Cordelia smiles. "Exactly. Don't worry. You're going to have the time of your life." Of course, that predatory smile implies he's going to have the last time of his life. Cordelia slings one of his arms over her shoulders and puts an arm around his back, so she can lift.

"Already comfortable," Wesley mutters as the women drag him. Which really isn't that out of the ordinary. Ah, women overpowering him that is. It being Fred and Cordelia? Now that's another story. WIth his head slumped forward, it's a little difficult to see or make out the expression on Cordelia's face.

"Of course you are, honey." Fred gives Cordelia a look over the slumping Wesley that is part smirk, part amusement. Though the woman is slight and doesn't look like she should have the strength, the two women put together don't have any problems moving Wesley. Perhaps it's combined powers, or the little boost they got from earlier snacking. "Let's get the show on the road."

This little party's about to be intruded on, says the shuffle-shuffle and creaking of the door that precedes a visitor right before the doors burst open. Fly. Blam! Meandering into this disaster, decked out in a sharp pale grey suit with a splashy purple shirt silver tie, is none other than the Host with the Most, blissfully unaware. Hear that? That cheerful humming of a tune under his breath? That's his blissful unawareness moments before it gets booted off the stage. Had Lorne known ahead of time what he was about to stumble into, he would have taken the scenic route back to Caritas. "So I happened to be in the neighbourhood — you know, I'm running here, I'm running there, I can't even tell you the day I'm having — and I thought, hey! It's high time to check on my favourite— whoa whoa whoa, what the snap is going on in here?! Whew, kudos. You partiers look like you've partied your socks off."

Cordelia looks back over her shoulder. "Oh, Lorne!" A smile crosses her face. "You're sort of in the right ballpark. Wesley just had a little too much to drink. You know the British; so morose." Charming and winning smile accompanies her commentary.

Oh thank the multitude of deities listening in their benevolence and the powers that be. A SAVIOR. Lorne's voice registers in the recesses of his Wesley's mind and he croaks out, "Help!" Even if he never lives this down. The help part could very well be normal on the ex-Watcher's part, considering he's a bit too proper. But again, he tries with the, "Lorne.. help me."

Help? Why would Wesley ever want to get help from two such lovely ladies trying to help him upstairs? Fred smiles and plays along with Cordelia's ruse. "You know how he gets when he finally lets loose. Who'da thought he'd get like this. We need a big strong demon like you to help us get him upstairs, don't we?"

Lorne is on his way to the trio with an arm already outstretched to help Cordy and Fred with what he assumes is a drunken Wesley — but no go. The fact that something bizarre hits him square in the face just after he gets a few feet in his snazzy shoes, right about the same time Wesley's pitiful cry for help is croaked out. The Host recoils with a wince and sneer of his ruby red lips that sort of gets … caught there, freeze-framed.

"Hoo," he says and chuckles nervously after a moment, fanning his green kisser with an equally green hand. "Is it, uh— is it a little hot in here or am I just channelling Donna Summers circa 1979?" Because apparently that happens sometimes? Another bout of tense laughter escapes Lorne and he shuffles backwards, smiling manically to the girls. "Haha… ha— well, I don't know about the strong part, but between the three of us we should be able to get Lightweight Lucy here upstairs." With that, he swoops into the rescue. Of who, it's not exactly clear. Behind Fred, he tries to loop an arm around Wes also. "Hang on, heartthrob," he murmurs to the man.

Oh, hell. And Wesley manages to drop a comment. Maybe she needs to drop Wesley. But…no. Going okay. "Oh, don't worry, Wes. We're helping." She digs her fingernails into his side where her arm is wrapped around him. Behave, heartthrob. She looks over to Lorne and smiles. "Thanks for the help."

"Possessed… they're…" Wesley tries to explain with limited breath and wit, then sings a short verse, "She'll only come out at night.." and unfortunately that's all he can recall and muster at the moment. Who knew he liked Hall & Oates? Hopefully it's juuust enough to smack Lorne with an aura reading. There's a groan.. okay it's a cry.. a manly one. Sort of. As Cordelia digs her nails into his side. Ouch.

He may be able to drop a comment, but who would suspect innocent little Fred of trying to seduce the life out of Wesley? Hopefully not Lorne, but she's not going to take many chances of that. "We'd hope so, right? Five years in a cave and you'd think I'd get some strength, but mostly it was just the hiding. Thanks so much, Lorne." But she doesn't move too far away. She's not about to let them away from their meal. The singing makes Fred raise an eyebrow and then look over toward Lorne. "Now Wesley, no need for singin'. He's such a lightweight, isn't he?"

"You can say that again. Would you listen to that?" Lorne puts on an incredulous voice and laughs at Wesley. "Sounds like he's had one more than too many! Does anyone understand what he's babbling about! Pfsh! I sure don't. What this boy needs is a good splash of ice water!" Or another squeeze to the arm, this time courtesy of Lorne instead. In other words: shut up! As the cluster of four stand in the lobby of the Hyperion in this awkward formation not going anwhere fast, Lorne pipes up again — never, really, shutting up himself — with, "Hey, uh, I think our boy's starting to look greener around the gills than me. Maybe we should let him rest his laurels here and whip up some hair of the dog, huh?"

Cordelia looks decidedly wary as Wesley manages to belt out a tune…or a bit of one, and looks to Lorne. She then looks back to Fred, silently checking with her partner in crime as to their next move. She hesitates, ready to drop Wesley if it's so called for.
Wesley shuts up, only because he's reached the end of what energy he has left. It was a valiant fight indeed. His head lulls forward, as he seemingly loses consciousness.

That's more like it. At least for now. An unconscious Wesley is better than one trying to fight for his life and energy and belting out tunes. Fred gives Lorne a shrug of her shoulders at that and nods. "You're right at that. We should get him to a room. Let him sleep it off." That way they can get things done and drop both Wesley and Lorne should the need call for it. Upstairs where they don't have to drag two bodies away.

Oh great. Now he doesn't even have a half conscious partner in heroics. "Fantastic," Lorne mutters under his breath as Wesley sags unhelpfully. Shutting up was one thing, but dropping out of consciousness is another! "Do we really want drag— " Umph. He tries to pick up some of the slack in holding Wesley, meaning to overdo the effort theatrically but, well, he doesn't really have to now that the guy's deadweight. " --him all the way up there?" Stall stall stall. "I'm of the— mmph— notion that involves less manual labour and more sofa."

Cordelia considers that. "I guess we can put him on the sofa for right now. He can sleep it off there." Since now she has to pretend to be all weak girly-girl again. She changes course, steering Wesley to the sofa with the help of the other two. "Here we go!"

Wesley is steered towards the sofa. Still seemingly dead weight and out of it. With the struggling ceasing for now, he can try and regroup his thoughts and maybe save up a wee bit of strength for a plan.

No plans needed here! Other than the one that Cordelia and Fred have got going for them. "Phew. Who'd have thought he'd be so heavy! He looks so skinny!" There's a grin in Lorne's direction. Almost feral. "Thanks so much, Lorne. Don't know what we woulda done without your help."

"There we go!" Lorne goes so far as to sneak over to heft Wesley's legs up - not without a grunt of exertion - to toss them up on the sofa. On Fred's thanks, he stands back and brushes off his hands, conveniently wedging himself between Wesley and the girls. "Cozy as a kitten! Now— " Now … what? He spreads his hands out in a gesture of either 'I mean no harm' or maybe 'go no further' or maybe 'Lorne likes to gesture with his hands', it's all very vague. "Okay, I'm feeling some majorly TMI vibes, real hot hot heat, and I gotta say, uh — weirding me out a little. This whole vicious vixen thing? It's not you." Pause. He eyes Cordelia consideringly and tips his head to the side. "Well. Ehn."

Faking everyone into thinking he's unconscious, Wesley sticks out a foot to trip Cordelia up and leaps upon her in a flying tackle. Or at least that's what he had pictured in his mind. What really happens, since Lorne has hefted Wes's feet onto the sofa.. it's more of a lurch upwards and into Cordelia's direction to use his lethargic weight to the advantage. If he knocks her down? This could get awkward, fast. Since he attempts to paw at the woman's dress to get to the evil fiendish undergarment that has Cordy under a spell.

The woman in the little black dress turns to look at Lorne. "Oh, I was just planning to go out tonight, clubbing." She tells Lorne, trying to play it off a little. "Nothing wrong with getting out a little and having a little fun, is there?" She approaches the Pylean with a smile…and then Wesley's trying to molest her from behind. "HEY!" she says in protest, but let's face it; 5" heels are NOT the thing for keeping your balance in. She topples forward, as Wesley manages to pull her dress down to her waist, baring said lacy red bra.

"Never anything wrong with letting your hair down once in awhile, Lorne-y." Fred gives the green demon a bit of a grin. She's maybe not one to be any sort of vixen, but right now she's breaking out of the mold. The jumping up and pouncing on Cordelia is given with a bit of a surprise, but the woman moves into action swiftly attempting to pull Wesley off of Cordelia. "Well now! Isn't he frisky! Now stop that, there's plenty of time to get undressed later!"

Lorne's eyes zoom into wide ride saucers as Wesley goes flying and starts pawing at Cordelia and HELLO, underthings. "Wesley, oh! Not you too! Enough with the heavy petting!" This is all shouted as the demon stands there unhelpfully with his hands inches from clutching his head (and horns), about one minute away from abandoning them all and letting them get this party started, so to speak, but first, he tries. "Look, ah, you're all grown adults, I don't mean to judge, but— okay, no, I'm judging. I'm a tribunal! I'm a whole courthouse! Call my Judy! Lasso your libidos before something nastier than— " Oh god they're going to kill him, he's going to die in five seconds, five, four, three, " —chlamydia happens, 'cause whatever's going down here feels a whole world of mystically squick."

"Bra, get it off her!" Wesley cries out to Lorne as he looks up, glasses askew. The clasps, so intricate and delicate. They're winning the war against the weakened man and confounding his fingers for some odd reason. He makes a grab for the back of Cordelia's bra even as Fred is trying to pull him off. This looks bad, okay? But seriously! It's not what you think! Mostly. AHA! THERE WE GO. Take that fiendish clasps! The look of triumph is shortlived as Fred hauls him back.

Cordelia yelps as Wesley manages to get the hooks undone, and she puts up one hand to clasp the garment to her body. At the same time, Fred is pulling him away, and Cordy rolls over and half-sits, using her other arm to prop herself up…and one foot to kick out at Wes while Fred is doing the dragging.

Poor Wesley and his inability to get bras off of women. Hopefully this isn't something he normally has issues with. However….this is Wesley. "What're you doing?" Fred sounds suitably shocked and horrified at Wesley's attempt to strip Cordelia of both her dress and her bra. "Lorne! He's gone crazy, help me."

Lorne visibly lets out a breath of relief, but only halfway, as Wesley is hauled away. Even partial relief is short-lived! "Ladies," he says in an assuaging but slightly frantic tone, rushing toward the fray despite his best instincts to the contrary. This would be a great time for someone else to rush in and save the day.

That doesn't happen. Cordelia and Fred, presumably, continue to battle, because Lorne halts to look in concern at… Fred? "F-Fred? Peachpie? Sweetums? I think you're all gone a little crazy. And hey, speaking of— shouldn't you be— I don't know, doodling the secrets of the universe on a wall?" Sighing quickly, the green demon tags on, "Of course not, because you're not Fred. Okay, that's IT! STOP!" Lorne backpedals and sweeps an arm out through the air in stage gesture to the crazed trio (because in all this chaos, he sure can't tell that Wesley's not as randy as the rest of them). He starts to belt out a song. "STOP! In the naaaame of loooove!" This is where he hits the high note. The really high note. "Before you BREEEEAK MY HEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAART— !"

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