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Title: Sin, Alcohol and Head-scratches
Authors: [livejournal.com profile] agenttrojie and an extremely drunk [livejournal.com profile] tea_fiend
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, obviously. PWP. Genderbending. Plenty of Language, both filthy and medical.
Authors' Notes: [livejournal.com profile] oozaru_angel, you're not going to like what we've done to your OTP. Many thanks to [livejournal.com profile] ansela_jonla for the beta, and for not objecting even though we nearly made you die of laughing. This was written in response to the epidemic of genderbending currently sweeping HQ. We'd like to note that we're not just Bad Slashers, we're also slashers. Given an excuse to make both our characters male, what did you think we'd make them do? Play chess?

This is basically a Non-Plot-Definining Random Slashy Interlude, in the fine tradition of the classic BagEnders Random Slashy Interludes. If you follow the adventures of Trojie and Pads and yet would rather not see them having mansex, don't worry, not reading this will not entirely ruin your enjoyment of future episodes.



***

February 1st 2009, HST.


It was the morning after their horrific punishment ordeal in the Narniaverse. Trojie woke up, and sleepily began doing her usual morning stocktake of her situation. This could take some time, as it is unwise to assume in the PPC that the place you went to sleep last night is the place you will wake up (especially when you've recently been threatened with relocation back to your home continuum), and given the infinite nature of the multiverse and the almost infinite nature of HQ itself, there is quite a long checklist of things to be investigated before opening one's eyes can be risked. Trojie usually started with the obvious ones.

I'm in a bunkbed. The blankets are scratchy. I'm covered in pets. This means I'm still in the RC. Good. Haven't been kidnapped by FicPsych or Suvians.

There are ... two dogs in the bed with me, which means that Pads isn't trying to cop a feel. Excellent.

There are no BEEPs in the foreground. No mission as of yet. Fantastic.


She stretched, wriggled out from under her blanket of minis, cat, dog and colleague, got to her feet ... and realised her pronouns were all wrong.

'In the holy name of Kurt Cobain!' she - uh, he - groaned. 'Has someone been running around with a raygun in HQ again?' The noise and movement woke the black dog that was his partner up. Paddlebrains transformed, as usual, and went in for the early morning cuddle attempt, only to pull up short, and grin.

'Well, isn't this a turn-up for the books?'

'Oh no,' Trojie moaned, oblivious to his partner's obvious delight at being male. 'I was quite happy as a woman!'

'You were a horribly confused woman,' said Pads, patting him manfully on the shoulder. 'Surely this will be better? At least you've got plumbing you understand now.'

'This had better not be permanent, is all I can say,' said Trojie, disentangling himself from his concerned pets and partner, and striding to the door.

'Wait! I can't go out there!'

'Why on Earth not?'

'I'm Sirius Black! Sort of! And I look like myself now! Do you want me steamrollered?'

'It'd get you off my back.'

'But I want you on your back.'

'Excuse me?'

'Or your front. Or your side. Whichever way. Point is, the last leg you had to stand on just broke, missus. Mister. Whatever.'

'What? How?'

Pads took a moment to examine his physique, and grinned. 'All that bollocks about not liking vaginas? Moot point.'

'Oh, my life just got so much worse,' said Trojie distraughtly. 'I was happy being a confused woman. This is going to completely throw my righteous celibacy off kilter.' He was also trying very hard not to notice how attractive Pads in male form was. Apparently fancying blokes was something that hadn't changed along with gender.

'Excellent. Sounds perfect to me. You definitely agree with mansexing, I know you do.'

'Not when I'm involved!' cried Trojie, scooting out of the way of Pads' clutches and meaningful eyebrows. 'Look, this is not the time! We need to find out why we're suddenly male!'

'Why does there have to be an explanation? I used to have to double-check in the mornings before deciding which bathroom to go into, back at Hogwarts,' said Pads, looking confused.

'It doesn't work like that at HQ, though,' said Trojie. 'I'm going out to investigate. If you have to stay here, feel free. Otherwise just change and come with me - no-one will be glomping you if you're a dog, surely.'

'This is HQ. Who knows? And by the way, that is some damned fine grufty beard you're sporting.'

Trojie stopped dead. 'WHAT?!'

'Really. It's... what's the word they use? Hot.'

Trojie's hand flew to his face, and caressed his chin for a moment. 'Damned scratchy, more like,' he decided after a moment.

'Can I have a go?'

'No!'

Pads let out an enormous sigh, and headed for the door. 'Fine. Let's go see what's going on then.' And with that he transformed, and led the way.

Trojie followed, wondering vaguely how one went about shaving one's face, until a squeaking noise alerted him to the fact that there was someone else in the corridor. Someone ridiculously short, petite, and blonde, wearing a male uniform with the DMpreg's flashpatch of a mandrake root on the shoulder. Ah well, at least it's not just us, Trojie thought, and reached out for the youngster.

'Help!'

'Oscar?' asked Trojie. 'It's me, Trojie.'

'Trojie?' Oscar's face showed a multitude of expressions before settling on 'righteous anger'. 'What the HELL is HAPPENING?'

'Hmm. Good question. I haven't the foggiest. I take it everyone you've seen so far has been genderbent?'

'Yes!'

From the panic in her voice, Trojie thought he could guess one of Oscar's chance encounters. 'Lux?' he asked sympathetically.

'I don't want to talk about it,' said Oscar resolutely. 'Can't we go on a mission or something? Please?'

'No. We have to find out what's going on. You're still intact, right?'

'Still what?'

'Good. Remind me to have that talk with you one of these days.'

'Uh, right.'

Thanks to Pads' scent-navigation skills, they found the Cafeteria without too much issue. It was full of confused looking agents, all of whom looked familiar, but not quite ...

'It looks to me like everyone, absolutely everyone, has been genderbent,' said Trojie. He grabbed at a passing agent - a tall, gangly, redheaded youth with a passing resemblance to Captain Carrot and the Department of Angst's aloe vera flashpatch. 'Mombi?'

Mombi, for it was, er, he, squinted at Trojie. Taking in the flashpatch and the Nirvana t-shirt, he said 'Trojie?' tentatively, before breaking into a huge grin. 'Is that you?'

'It's me,' said Trojie, resisting the urge to scratch his stubbly chin, which was itching phenomenally now that his attention had been drawn to its existence. 'Do you know what the hell is going on?'

'Not a clue,' said Mombi cheerfully. 'But then, neither does anyone else seem to. And there's a Tree running around freaking out because it's got fruit, or something.'

'Oh dear,' said Oscar, trying not to grin. 'That sounds like it might be my Head of Department ... the Male Ginkgo. Female Ginkgo now, though, I should say.'

'So it's funny now that someone else is in distress?' asked Trojie.

'Yes.'

'... fair enough.'

Pads took this opportunity to slide under a table and transform. Hidden by the tablecloth, he hissed, 'There's no explanation. No-one knows anything. Can we please go back to the RC?'

'Why are you hiding?' Oscar demanded. 'We all have to show ourselves.'

'No one's going to glomp a female Bowie, are they, Kermit?'

Trojie elbowed their sometime partner in the kidney. 'She's Sirius Black. He. Whatever,' he muttered. 'Spitting image now, except for the red hair.'

'Really?' Oscar tried to peer under the tablecloth. Pads wrapped it about his person defiantly.

'Fine,' said Trojie. 'We can go back to the RC. Where we are all going to keep our hands to ourselves and try and work out a sensible plan for getting our original genders back, alright?'

'Fine with me,' said Oscar. 'I don't want to be a girl any longer than I have to be. That... menagerie thing might happen.'

'Menarche,' Pads muttered, hunching up under the sheet.

***

Back in the RC, Trojie sprawled across his bunk, surrounded by confused pets, and Pads took the console chair. Oscar perched on the edge of Trojie's amplifier.

'So. Can we chalk this up to a Disguise Generator malfunction?' asked Trojie, sounding like he was working his way through a checklist.

'No, because when I change to dog I'm still male,' said Pads.

Trojie suddenly sat bolt upright. 'The children!' he said. 'Are the children genderbent?'

'I dunno, I didn't go past the Nursery on my way,' said Oscar. 'They probably are, though, poor little things.'

'Glod, that's got to be confusing,' said Pads. 'One of us ought to go and check on them.' His meaningful stare and sideways glances at Trojie were not lost on Oscar, who decided quickly that the lesser of two evils was to be not in the RC when one partner attempted to molest the other.

'I'll go,' she said immediately, and ran out.

'Now why do you suppose he - I mean, she - buggered off so fast?' asked Trojie, looking pensive. 'I'd've thought safety in numbers applied here.'

'Yeah, but orgies are...' Pads waved his hand nebulously. 'They're more Lux's thing.'

'True. Not that we're going to have an orgy, or anything.' Trojie stretched out across the bunk, and glanced at Pads. 'So.'

'Are we doing this or what, then?' Pads asked, glancing at Trojie. It was, the latter thought, an unusually shy glance, with none of the usual lechery apparent in the tone.

'I thought you wanted to give me girl-orgasms,' Trojie said, idly stroking his scruffy chin. He wasn't one-hundred percent sure where this was going, or exactly why he hadn't smacked Pads upside of the head yet, but strange musings on Pads' male appearance and the phrase 'Gryffindor Sex God', which he'd heard used in crackfic more than a few times, were becoming awfully persistent in his head.

'Yeah, but they're not really available right now, are they? And stop doing that.'

'What?'

'That... thing. With your beard. It's... distracting.'

'What, this?' Trojie gave the unkempt facial hair another quick scratch.

'Yes, that.' Pads shifted uncomfortably. 'You know it's one of my things. I won't hold myself responsible.'

'Somehow I don't think "I raped him because his beard was tempting me" is going to stand up in court.'

'Who said anything about rape?'

'No one.' Trojie subsided into silence for a while. 'So how,' he ventured eventually, 'were you planning to go about this?' It's just simple curiosity, Trojie told himself. He knows I'm not seriously considering ... anything.

'Not sure. First I was thinking just grab and duck, in the time-honoured Lux fashion.'

'Not a good method,' Trojie said, pulling a face.

'No,' Pads agreed. 'Especially since I found out about your, ahem, special status.'

'My total lack of girl-orgasms, you mean.'

'Yeah, that.'

Silence reigned in RC#45 once more. Neither agent quite dared make eye contact with the other.

'So then,' Pads said, breaking the silence, 'I thought about getting you hideously drunk and taking advantage. But we exorcise for that, and I don't much fancy your bell.'

'No,' Trojie agreed, one hand stealing down to stroke the prominent lump in his pocket.

'Stop it.'

'What? I'm nowhere near my face!'

'Yeah, but you're fondling suspicious bulges. How's a girl supposed to concentrate? Or boy. Whatever.'

'It's my bell, you filthy-minded harridan!'

'How'm I supposed to know that?'

'Temporarily genderbent I may be, but can you really see me sporting an eight-pound cock?'

Pads gave Trojie an appraising glance. It began at the face and then travelled downwards, covering all available body parts, with particular attention paid to the middle regions. 'No,' the Animagus said at last. 'Maybe not eight pounds. How heavy are they meant to be?'

'Can't say I've ever weighed one,' Trojie confessed. 'Look, this is weird. We don't, y'know, have to have it away just because we're genderbent. That would be worryingly badfic-like.' He looked pleadingly at Pads.

Pads relented. 'Well, will you at least have a drink with me?'

'I suppose,' said Trojie, thinking, rather unwisely, what harm could it do?

With a worryingly large grin, Pads leapt for his locker.

***

Half a pint of whiskey later, both agents had shifted to the top bunk, and were slurring somewhat.

'S' cheatin', s'what it is,' Pads announced, waving the bottle vaguely.

'How's it cheating?' Trojie demanded.

'You dids... face,' the Animagus declared. 'Was, like... cute, an' that.'

'So I'm cute, I can't help it.' Trojie drew his knees up defensively.

'Yeah, but... makes me not wanna get you pissed. You's all... pathetic.'

'Oh, thank you very much.'

'Din't mean it like that,' Pads confessed, throwing himself down next to Trojie. 'Y'know I fink you's ... y'know. Like ... the thing, with the ...' He waved an arm again. 'Stuffs.'

'You're drunk, you know that,' Trojie said, peering fondly over the top of his third whiskey. 'And completely incoherent.'

'Who needs coherence?' Pads asked, displaying a remarkable quantity of the stuff. He shifted, burrowing his face in closer towards Trojie's hip. 'S'all ... stuff. Y'know. 'Sgood.'

'My hip's good?'

'All of you's.'

'Oh. Good.'

Silence descended once more. Within it, Trojie was somewhat surprised to find himself skritching behind Pads's ears, just as he did when the latter was a dog with snuggling sleep aforethought.

Pads moaned a little, and Trojie hurriedly withdrew his fingers from the other's hair.

'Don't stop, stupid.' Pads tugged Trojie's hand back to his scalp. Skritching resumed. After a while, Pads was lying flush against Trojie.

'You know,' said Trojie, sleepily, 'this is going places it wasn't supposed to. I think you gave me booze on purpose, so I'd ... scratch your head, or something. You're turning my RC into .. a... a den of ... sin, and alcohol and head scratches.'

'S'long as it's not just scratches,' Pads murmured. 'Moony were a right bugger for that ...'

'Was this in your RP?'

'Mmm. Always ... teasing. Sod.'

'What else was he meant to do?'

'Dunno. Kissing, maybe.'

'Well, I can't if you're down there,' Trojie said, eyeing the head on his lap. It shifted slightly. He took another sip of his whiskey, and pondered.

'You wouldn't,' Pads said at last, shifting over to peer at Trojie out of one eye. 'You're making a point, or something.'

'I was, yes. Wait. This is all backwards. You're meant to be seducing me.'

'Mm. Isn't roleplay fun? You can be me, and I'll be you, but I won't resist, and then it'll be ... y'know.' An armful of whiskey swayed in front of Trojie's nose once more. 'Fun. With the mansexin's. You like the mansexin', right?'

'Possibly,' Trojie admitted. 'Not that I've ever tried it.'

'First time for everything,' Pads said, not for the first time. He shifted again, his head twisting round and ending up, Trojie couldn't help but notice, rather closer to his crotch than it had hitherto been. The knowledge, he had to admit, was intriguing.

'This is extremely weird,' he said. 'S'like, I could tell you exactly how this would go if, like, we were Legolas and Aragorn. Or Edmund and Caspian. Or Harry and Draco. Or anyone. But we're us. And I don't know the conventions. What the hell is going to happen? I'm confused. At least as a girl I could be all safe in the knowledge I'd never have to take the practical exam ... mm, that's, actually, that's quite nice ...'

'Good,' Pads said, his voice slightly muffled. 'And can we not be Legolas or Draco? Don't want to own you.'

'Glad to hear it,' Trojie declared, continuing to skritch. 'Don't want to be owned either. Oh ... hm. Alright, you might have had a point.'

'This is nothing. Wait until you try the other way.'

'Hmmm.'

Pads raised himself up on his arms, suddenly more awake and aware than he'd previously been. Trojie eyed him a trifle apprehensively. There was a brief, tense moment, and then:

'You can reach now,' Pads pointed out, apropos of nothing.

It was a bit messy, as first kisses go, and there were altogether too many noses involved, Trojie decided, although a few brief alterations of angle soon sorted that. There was still, however, the question of where to put his hands. Pads didn't seem to be having any trouble in that department, but Trojie wasn't feeling quite drunk enough to start groping his partner's side regions with such abandon. He pulled away, and reached for the whiskey bottle.

'Wait, where're you goin'?'

'Just need another drink,' said Trojie. 'M'too sober for this. Got inhibitions.'

'Bugger that,' said Pads, swiping the bottle away before Trojie could uncap it. 'F'you needa be drunk then thisss'nt gonna work. Bloody well kiss me yourself.'

'But-'

'Don't need't'be drunk. Jus' making excuses now.'

At some point during the second kiss Trojie worked out that tangling his fingers in Pads' hair worked quite well, and began to feel less like he needed to down an entire bottle of whiskey. In fact, the bottle of whiskey was entirely forgotten as Pads decided that there was too much uniform between the two of them, and began to attempt removing pieces of it.

Sometime during the ninth kiss, when Trojie had been divested of uniform shirt and boots, and Pads' hands were delving into places hitherto unknown to man or beast, the veteran Bad Slasher decided that inhibitions were greatly overrated, and decided to have a crack at removing Pads' shirt.

'Finally,' said the Animagus, rollng his eyes. 'I w's wondrin' when you'd decide t'get tactile.'

'Give me chance, wo- man. This is new to me, you know.'

'Yeah, but you're a fast learner,' Pads pointed out, assisting Trojie in the removal of his shirt. He leaned forward, and was silent for a while.

'You know,' Trojie said eventually, 'I'm sure these were more sensitive when I was female.'

Pads raised his head. 'I thought you never checked.'

'Yes, but ... clothes, and such. Accidental contact was occasionally made ... You don't have to give me that look. I'm not a total prude, you know.'

'You certainly gave a good impression of it,' said Pads.

Some time later, all clothing and presumably prudishness was scattered across the floor and forgotten. Underneath the console of RC#45, numerous minis huddled, desperately trying to block their ears and eyes from the goings-on on the top bunk.

It was during the twenty-seventh kiss, which was mostly applied to the crown of Pads's head because the Animagus's mouth was busy with other matters, that Trojie burst out laughing.

'What?' asked Pads, once he was sure he wouldn't choke.

'Just ... this whole situation,' said Trojie, trying to contain the hilarity. 'I mean ... talk about the Ironic Overpower striking again ... the Slashers slashed- uunh!'

Pads had decided to take a practical approach to shutting his partner up, and threw the other man back across the bed, applying mouth and hands to portions of anatomy guaranteed to induce speechlessness.

When the laughter and the hiccups from the sudden intake of breath stopped, Pads looked up, grinning. 'Still think it's funny?'

'Don't. Stop. For the love of Glod.'

'Hah. I think we can safely say I've won this round, then.'

'No one's won yet. Keep going.'

'Roger that, boss.'

'And no puns, thank you.'

'You don't like 'em, then stop me,' Pads dared, his eyes flashing a challenge at the prostrate Trojie. He rose to it, after a moment's hesitation, and thrust Pads back against the pillow. 'Dominatrix!Trojie, I could get used to this,' Pads commented. He was prevented from saying more by the groan that escaped him as Trojie took matters into his own hands.

Under the console, the minis eyed one another warily, and slunk further back into the shadows.

Trojie had lost count of what number kiss it was. It was annoying, in a way, that his memory had failed him, but there were more pressing issues, both at hand and to hand. He flexed his fingers, testing one of them. Pads let out a small squeaking noise.

'I could have sworn this scissoring thing was a myth,' Trojie commented.

'It is,' Pads panted. 'So don't you dare. Just ... With the gently, and the not pretending to be any sort of kitchen imple- uh.'

'You know,' mused Trojie, trying to recreate the last movement and the sound it had induced, 'you're right, this really does count as research.'

'I cannot believe you're ... thinking of work ... at a time like this,' panted Pads, looking both indignant and debauched at once.

'Not really,' muttered Trojie, leaning down for kiss aleph-umptyplex, or so it seemed.

'And what dubious lube have we for this evening's shenanigans?' Pads asked between kisses. Trojie rolled over abruptly, and pulled open the cupboard, fixed to the wall at 'bedside' height for the occupant of the top bunk.

'Chocolate - no.' Rummaging continued. 'Lipstick? Why the hell do we have lipstick?'

Pads merely shrugged. Trojie returned to the matter at hand. Which reminded him, and he curled a finger once more. The resulting sound effect was most distracting, but he did his best to pay attention to the search.

'This would be easier with both hands,' he commented after a while.

'If you think you're putting that finger anywhere near anything we have to handle again, you can think again,' Pads warned.

'Point.'

'There should be some vaseline in the bottom drawer.'

'Dare I ask?'

'My lips crack,' Pads answered with a pout.

'Dare I ask?'

'The ones on my face, you muffin.'

'Of course.'

Trojie found the vaseline. Trojie stared at the vaseline. 'You know,' he said eventually, 'this is really something I ought to know how to do.'

'Yes, well? Get on with it.'

'But I've never done it before!'

'Well, we'll never get anywhere with that attitude, will we? You've seen it done a million times. Now come on! Please!' There was an interesting edge to that last word. In the end Trojie threw caution to the winds and did what seemed logical.

The response that the logical option elicited seemed to indicate that it was well-received. It certainly felt pleasant from Trojie's end of things, at least. As a formerly-female, the term intercrural had not hitherto meant much to him, but now he was beginning to see its value.

'Please,' Pads repeated, almost whining.

Well. There was only one thing for it. Trojie sallied forth, doing his Duty once more.

'You're thinking about work, aren't you?' Pads hissed, resisting the urge to clench. 'You've got that look on your face.'

'I admit,' Trojie said, breathing carefully, 'that doing my Duty is ... satisfying. But not like this.'

'I should bloody well hope not. If you hit me with tha- ah! If you hit me with that bell I shall...'

'You'll what?' Trojie asked, intrigued.

'You'll find out if you don't shut up and keep doing that,' gasped Pads, squeezing his eyes shut.

For once in his life, Trojie did what his partner told him to. He was rewarded with a low-pitched and surprisingly drawn out moan.

'Merlin's beard,' Pads breathed, when he was able to formulate a coherent sentence. 'I can see why you held out for these body parts.'

'I wasn't holding out,' said Trojie, panting. 'Glod. This is good.'

'I'm glad you like it,' said Pads. 'Are you going to be chivalrous?'

Trojie, brain still a little scrambled from its current predicament, thought for a second. 'Oh. Oh! Yes, certainly,' he said, reaching forward and lending a hand. This caused interesting knock-on effects involving posture, to the ultimate end of Pads gasping and muttering 'Damn, I've missed having a prostate.'

This in turn caused Trojie to find out that laughter can cause some very interesting vibrations, and led to more gasping.

'Do you pull that face when you're a girl?' Trojie asked.

'What face?'

Trojie wriggled slightly, and listened to the muted gasp. 'That face.'

'Ask me later,' Pads said, and brought his hand down to join Trojie's.

Some time later - exactly how long was a bit of a mystery to Trojie - and it seemed like Pads would never run out of ridiculously comical and yet somehow erotic faces to pull. There had also been several incidents involving involuntary laughter which suggested that Trojie was probably pulling a few himself. Tempo and pace had increased.

'You're analysing again,' Pads said, scrabbling at whatever flesh he could get purchase on in order to bring his partner closer. 'Stop it.'

'Can't. Turn. My brain. Off,' Trojie gasped through gritted teeth, attempting manfully to wring yet more of the intriguing noises out of Pads and yet not embarrass himself prematurely, something that would probably not be unlikely if he didn't concentrate.

'You're meant to be enjoying,' Pads said, somehow managing a reproachful tone despite the many distractions.

'I am. I just ... don't want to enjoy too much.'

'Are you worri- uh! Dammit, how'm I meant to- ah! Bloody hell, woman!'

Trojie, ignoring the misplaced noun in favour of acceding to his partner's unspoken wishes for perhaps the first time ever, allowed the pace to slacken.

'Thank you,' Pads said, and took a moment to inhale deeply. 'Are you worried about premature ejaculation?'

'In a word,' said Trojie, moving gently and trying not to feel embarrassed. 'I mean ... I'm trying to be realistic here, but at the same time I don't want to be the most dreadful shag you've ever had ...'

'Luscious took that crown a long time ago,' Pads assured his partner. 'And there's nothing premature about this. I've been waiting months. Now, please, get on with it!'

Trojie obliged. 'Like this?' he asked.

'Yes, that works,' said Pads, pushing to increase the pace himself. 'Come on. Don't make me start quoting badfic lines.'

'Why would you quote badfic lines?' Trojie's breathing was starting to get more and more ragged.

'To distract you,' said Pads, with a wolfish grin, 'from your off-topic thoughts.'

'I don't think I'm thinking much of anything, to be honest,' Trojie admitted, leaning forwards. He kissed Pads briefly, then ducked his head, to hide the silly faces he was sure he was pulling. 'Bit preoccupied, if you must know ...'

'Good,' Pads decided, sliding a hand southwards down Trojie's back. 'And about time too.' He caught Trojie's chin, and pulled him down for another, and as it turned out rather spectacular, kiss.

***

Basking in the post-coital glow, Trojie discovered, would have been greatly enhanced had there not been a rapidly-cooling sticky mess in the middle of the sheets, right in the place it could be most annoying.

'Glod, this bit was never mentioned in the manual. Nor how ... pervasive the stuff is. It's everywhere. My left ankle, for a start.'

'I know,' said Pads, wrapping an arm around Trojie anyway. 'But we have an advantage here, you know.'

'What's that?'

'We're in bunkbeds. There's a bottom bunk. Fancy a relocation and a cuddle?'

'Could do,' said Trojie, yawning.

They shifted, and settled themselves in the mercifully unsoiled, if largely smelling of dog and full of pet hair, lower bunk.

'This better not mess up our professional relationship,' muttered Trojie, trying to find a comfortable spot on Pads' shoulder to use as a pillow. 'Cos s'not like the Lace'll split us up if she thinks there's a chance we might go more insane.'

'I don't think it will,' said Pads, looping an arm around Trojie's waist. 'Might make us easier to distract, though ...'

'D'you think we'll stay male?' Trojie's voice was becoming sleepier and sleepier.

'Probably not,' said Pads ruefully. 'Knowing my luck, we'll wake up female and I'll have to seduce you all over again.'

'Why'm I so tired? S'a meaningful conversation we're having, shouldn't I be ... having it more awake?'

'It's a man thing,' said Pads reassuringly, feeling his own eyelids grow heavier. 'S'like, have you taken your socks off?'

Trojie wriggled his toes. 'Oh Glod,' he said, a little faintly. 'I din't take my socks off before we ... Urgh. I'm such a man.'

The only answer from Pads was a gentle, snuffling snore.
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