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Not Exactly A Clash Of Titans

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Summary: Two very snarky men go head-to-head for the ultimate prize (which, um, neither had yet actually decided upon, but which would surely, at the very least, include hair clippers plus a truly obscene tattoo for the loser in a most painful part of their body).

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
NCIS > General(Current Donor)ManchesterFR1311,986163,18115 Nov 0915 Nov 09Yes
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and NCIS characters are the property of their original owners.



It was developing into a good party.

The New Council with the Watchers and their Slayers, along with the NCIS personnel, were actually enjoying each other’s company, happily comparing stories and notes about their lines of work. Gibbs, Giles, and Ducky were at the bar savoring their drinks and trying to top each other with how much trouble their charges could get into. Buffy and Ziva were testing each others' throwing knives, with the occasional thunk! coming from the far wall they’d chosen as their target, and giving each other tips on how to take down demons and terrorists.

Over in the corner, at a table surrounded by fascinated young women, Xander and Tony were becoming acquainted. In their own special way. As the two men locked gazes, each measuring their opponent, a sniggering Faith and a very reluctant McGee finished filling the shot glasses on the table from the bottles of very expensive Scotch they were holding.

The rules of the drinking game were simple. The first man to start had to name a place or event from his past, lift the shot glass he was gripping from the table, drain his drink as fast as possible, and once it was completely empty, slam the glass back down onto the table.

The other man had only the time from when his opponent finished speaking to when that man’s empty glass hit the table to think of and then declare a comparable experience. Once that had been done, it was time for the challenged contestant to start the next match. The loser would be the first one to be unable to come up with anything, or choking on or spilling their drink. Since Xander had been the one to win the toss, he went first.

“A cemetery,” sardonically said the one-eyed man, smoothly downing his drink.

“A crime scene,” casually returned Tony. A glint appeared in the eyes of the NCIS worker, as he snickered, “The elevator at work,” while just as effortlessly swallowing his first shot.

Xander hesitated a fraction, before saying, “A closet at my high school.” He took a deep breath as his glass was refilled by a grinning Faith. With a very strange expression on his face of combined loathing and nostalgia, Xander muttered, “My parents' basement.” The grimace on the Sunnydale native’s face clearly didn’t come from his second drink.

Tony didn’t waste a moment, saying just before Xander finished swallowing, “My boss’ basement.” While the single eye of the Harris man widened at this, it was McGee who made a choking sound of sheer incredulity at this, receiving a wicked smirk from Tony. Trying to come up with a winner, DiNozzo thought for a moment, and then grinned while saying, “A desk. By, on, and under it. Three times.” Tony proudly saluted himself with his glass before draining it.

This gave Xander time enough to nod with admiration, but he rallied with, “INSIDE a desk.”

That had caused a fascinated Tony to halt his glass in mid-air, holding it there long enough for him to ask a bit blearily, “Wasn’t that kinda cramped?”

“She managed,” groggily shrugged Xander, as Tony finally managed to hit the table with his glass, to unfocusedly stare at it being refilled by his exasperated fellow NCIS co-worker.

Blinking at his own glass, after a few gropes to find which one of the double images was the real cup, Xander took a deep breath, and said, “Okay, top this one: during an apocalypse.” The member of the New Council had a bit of trouble finding his mouth to pour in his drink, but in the end, he managed this.

“During my boss’ worst mood ever.” As he began to tilt slightly to the left, Tony had to admit to the interested crowd, “Yeah, that was due to the basement incident.”

By unanimous consent of all there, it was agreed that an enraged Leroy Jethro Gibbs was at least equivalent to a minor catastrophe. As Tony shakily picked up his third drink and sent it down and then began to open his mouth, the contest was suddenly interrupted by a very irate witch storming over to the table.

“Alexander LaVelle Harris!”

A drunken snicker came from across the table, accompanied by an incredulous, “LaVelle?”

As Xander glowered at the other man’s leering face, another woman now appeared besides Willow, her midnight-black hair a striking contrast to the Jewish woman’s auburn locks. Glancing over at his friend and her companion, Xander fuzzily noted that these females were both holding large drink cans of some kind of beverage called ‘Caf-Pow!’.

Something that also got the California-born man’s attention was how Willow was vibrating in place as she stood by the table, glaring at her yellow-crayon friend. A furious rant now came from the witch, as she grandly waved her free hand around, gesturing at the startled female audience around the table.

“Xander, how dare you say something so offensive and disgusting in front of these sheltered, delicate, young girls?! That doesn’t apply to Faith, of course.”

The only sound then coming from the taken-aback crowd was the soft glugging from where the named Slayer was currently chugging down her bottle of whiskey, which prevented her from verbally responding to this. Instead, as the liquid level in the bottle fell, Faith lifted up to chest level her left fist to give Willow the finger.

Xander, on the other hand, was woozily examining the over-caffeined drink his fellow Sunnydale survivor was clutching in her trembling grasp. Hiccupping slightly, the man asked, “Wils, just how many of those have you had?”

Willow looked down, blinking at the half-empty can she held, and then directed her attention back to Xander, her frosty look informing him that she wasn’t going to be so easily diverted from her tirade. “It’s the last of the six-pack, but you still haven’t answered my question, buster!”

That answer caused Xander to close his remaining eye in true pain, as he moaned, “Cripes, we’ve got to tell Giles to evacuate the continent--”

“Oh, shut up, Xander!” snapped Willow. Drawing herself up in affronted dignity that lasted even through a deep belch from the woman’s lips, the young Wicca huffed, “So I went a little overboard last month at the mall after my quadruple mocha latte, but considering I spent three hours shopping with Buffy, I should be praised for restraining myself to just turning everyone there at the food court bright purple!”

In chorus, all of the NCIS personnel there incredulously asked, “Why--?!”

From where Xander had leaned forward to rest his head face-down on the table, a dejected voice muttered, “The overhead speakers were playing a Jimi Hendrix medley.”

“Ahhh,” murmured the crowd, satisfied with this answer, who all then casually backed a step away from the redhead woman who was again glaring at her friend at the table. As Xander straightened up, Willow grumpily again stated her question, though this time it was expressed a bit more impolitely.

“Well? Why are you and your fellow degenerate trading boasts about your sexual experiences?”

Faith sprayed out the last mouthful of whiskey from her bottle, only then pulling away the container to start shrieking with laughter, as she was joined in her hilarity by the entire crowd, even those she’d baptized by her spit-take.

Both Willow and Abby shared a bewildered glance, as they stood there while merriment reigned. Finally, as the pair of women started to have their features shifting to become identically irritated, Xander managed to control his guffaws sufficiently to explain, “Wils, we -- me and him -- (nodding at an equally-chortling Tony across the table) we were just comparing times when we got our heads whacked by pissed-off women when we were just being our usual shy, polite, respectful, well-behaved selves!” At that, the entire crowd now started laughing even harder, with Xander’s and Tony’s whoops rising above the glee.

Again, Abby and Willow stared at each other, as they both developed deep blushes on their faces. When their audience continued their teasing of the pair’s embarrassment, this discomfiture began to fade, as matching evil glints appeared in the women’s eyes, hidden from the crowd mocking them. A blink from Willow sent an actual message to Abby, whose narrowed eyes showed her understanding and agreement, as they both turned their heads to calmly look at the crowd, most of who were still giggling.

Willow casually stepped towards Xander, while Abby also nonchalantly moved away from her new friend to circle around to the table to wind up standing behind an oblivious Tony, as Willow finished her walk to stop at Xander’s side, as that male gave Willow a goofy grin. Bending down slightly, Willow cooed to the unwary one-eyed man, “Oh, we’re so sorry for having doubted you and your friend, Xan! We’ll be going now, but before we do, there’s just one more thing--”

At that moment, faster than the two drunks at the table could react, both Willow and Abby simultaneously moved their left hands in a blur, their open palms whooshing towards the back of the heads of Xander and Tony, to smack hard and painfully there, in a WHAP! that rang throughout the room.

As the two men opened their mouths to utter surprised matching yelps, they were drowned out by Abby’s screech of, “You’ve got one more clout from us that you can add to your lifetime totals!” The forensic specialist now stalked away from the table to join up with Willow also leaving, as they fell into lockstep while taking a triumphant swig of their Caf-Pows, saluting each other with these cans and holding up their heads with pride, as they went off to discuss male nincompoops.

Faith stood there in the open-mouthed crowd around the table, smirking, and then informed in her most sarcastic drawl the two seated males gingerly rubbing their heads, “Well, guys, I hereby declare this contest a draw, all over and done, ’cuz ya ain’t gonna top that!” She glanced over at McGee still holding his mostly-full bottle, a wide grin currently on the man’s chunky face as he beamed at the other men, and a sultry look appeared on Faith’s features, as she slinked over to the special agent. An alarmed expression was suddenly developed by McGee when the beautiful brunette stopped at the man’s side, and a seriously predatory gaze was sent upwards right into the government employee’s countenance, with the man’s Adam’s apple bouncing as he nervously swallowed.

In a very sexy growl, Faith suggested, “Hey, fella, how ’bout we ditch this party and go back to our rooms to have a threesome? You, me….an’ that bottle?” At those last words, Faith nodded at the fine whiskey that McGee was still holding in his suddenly nerveless grip.

“Gllllggggg….” choked out Timothy McGee, his eyes glazing, and beginning to sway on his feet.

As Faith gave tonight’s entertainment a toothy grin and grabbed his arm to lead away the dazed man, as they began their trip out of the room, the Slayer happily chattered, “I like yer thinkin’, but we might have a little trouble findin’ the trumpet and the wadin’ pool, though I already got a pint a’ chocolate sauce in the mini-bar. Still, ya’ll survive the experience. Prob’ly.”

The rest of the disbelieving crowd now dispersed, to join the party elsewhere, leaving alone two men staring with incredulity at each other over their table. Finally, Xander Harris sighed. “You know there’s only one thing to do now?”

Tony DiNozzo also sighed with equal glumness, and nodded. “Yeah, get really, really drunk.”

“Damn straight,” came from Xander, who then staggered to his feet, accompanied by Tony getting up just as unsteadily, as they now made a beeline towards the room’s bar.

The End

You have reached the end of "Not Exactly A Clash Of Titans". This story is complete.

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