Notes & Disclaimers: It's
been a long time since I did a lunch hour drabble, so I thought
I'd rectify that. A little bit of Annabeth and just why she hates cows
so much. In case you were wondering. Well, I was [g]
Don't
You Dare Laugh I & II
by Ithildin
c. March 2007
Don't You Dare Laugh! I
Methos
traced the jagged scar that ran just under her right shoulder blade, to
its end above her last rib, the feel of his cool fingertips making her
shiver.
Rolling over, she said, “A cow kicked me into a barbed wire fence.” She
grimaced. “I hate cows!”
He smothered a grin. “A cow didn’t cause your first death, did it?”
“No!
And that’s not nearly as funny as you think it is,” Annabeth told him
frostily. "It almost did! Spending the rest of my days as a fourteen
year old…”
“Then what did?”
“You’ll laugh.” She pouted
“I wouldn’t!”
“Liar!”
End
Don't You Dare Laugh! II
“Bullets.”
“Bullets? Was there some sort of firearm involved, or just bullets?”
Methos asked wryly.
Annabeth punched his shoulder. “Chicago, 1924, gunned down at a
speakeasy, okay?”
“Gangster’s moll, hmm?”
Sighing, she pushed herself up, sitting against the headboard. “Taking
out the garbage.”
“Such a delightful gangster euphemism.”
“No, I was taking out the damn garbage! Sometimes I served drinks, but
mostly I was the cleaning woman after closing. “
“So you took out the garbage and…?”
“Walked right into the middle of a gangland shootout.”
His laughter could be heard through the pillow as she tried to smother
him.
End
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