Secret Slasha — The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project
Secret Slasha — The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project

...And A Pinch Of Pure Evil
By Netgirl
For Mosca

3 Parts Tequila

Standing in the middle of Fred's lab wearing pink skirt and pastel green top with a unicorn pattern Harmony looks as out of place as a pineapple in the arctic which is just about the most out of place thing Fred can think of.

"Margarita?" it sounds like a question, but then Harmony's valley girl accent makes everything sound like a question so Fred gives her a quick once over just to check that Harmony hasn't actually brought a pitcher of Margaritas into Fred's incredibly advanced and delicate lab. She hasn't, of course she hasn't, even Harmony wouldn't be so stupid as to bring alcohol down here. Not that Fred thinks Harmony's stupid because she's not, she's just smart in different ways from other people.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, don't be sorry," Harmony says, "I'm the one who should be sorry, I'm the one who knocked you on the head then gagged you and shoved you in a utility closet. So, sorry!"

"It's-" Harmony interrupts before Fred can tell her that it's really alright, but she happens to be in the middle of quite a delicate analysis so if Harmony wouldn't mind scooting off.

"I thought maybe I could buy you some Margaritas to make it up to you. And I promise that I'll hang out with you all night and not run off to talk to any guys, even if they are totally yummy!"

"I guess I did have fun the other night."

"Great," Harmony grabs Fred into a hug. Fred only just manages to avoid having a sample of demon slime crushed against her chest, "Oh, we're going to have so much fun."


2 Parts Cointreau

The Margaritas at the in house Wolfram and Hart bar are fabulous, in fact they're almost good enough to make Fred forgive the barman Ben, who looks like Chewbacca in tuxedo, for his previous life helping rid Los Angeles of stray cats and dogs by eating them.

If the Margaritas had been less good Fred wouldn't have had quite so many of them and she wouldn't have asked Harmony the question.

"Has it been difficult to give up human blood?"

"Not really, don't get me wrong it tastes brilliant! But humans tend to struggle a lot, I used to break nails all the time trying to get them to hold still," Harmony holds up a perfectly manicured hand as an example. "And boy do they scream, do you know how long it takes to knock a human out by draining their blood?"

As it happens Fred does know that, but instead of answering Harmony she concentrates on draining her glass of all traces of tequila and signalling Ben for more. Luckily Harmony seems perfectly capable of carrying on the conversation without any involvement from Fred.

"And the screaming tends to bring slayers and scoobies and vampire hunters, who for some reason all want to stake me and all that fighting ruins my clothes and messes up my hair. No, from now on it's angora all the way for me! These Margaritas are really great, aren't they?"


1 Part Fresh Lime Juice

"The worst part is," Harmony stops to lick the salt from around the rim of her glass, "I don't even remember having sex with that guy."

"Toby," Fred says, because she's trying to remember peoples names, it seems important in the vast corporate sprawl of Wolfram and Hart.

"I might not even have had sex with him. Which would make my last, ew, Spike, and he isn't even very good, well I suppose he's quite good but he's such a, such a...boy. I was wasted on Spike, I'm really good in bed, very bendy." Harmony laughs at that, doubling over and nearly falling out of her chair, catching herself on Fred's knee. "Hey, have you done Wesley yet?"

"No, I-" Fred is just about drunk enough to start verbally analysing her feeling for Wesley, and her feeling for Charles, and her feelings for Knox and all those feelings in relation to one another. Thankfully for all concerned Harmony interrupts her again before she can begin.

"No, of course you haven't. Hey, do the British even have sex?"


4 Parts Ice

"You have a nice neck," Fred clamps her palm down over her jugular in response to Harmony's compliment.

"Thank you."

"Not for biting or anything," Harmony assures, "It's just nice, lovely and long, like a swans. I like swans."

"Swans can break your arm you know," Fred says, because the recitation of useless facts is always the thing to do when you're not sure if your drinking buddy is flirting with you or contemplating your viability as a snack.

"You have very good legs too, and lovely eyes, a very brownish shade of brown. Also a very strong pulse," Harmony clamps her hand over her mouth and her eyes widened in alarm. "I didn't mean that! All I meant was that you have a very nice neck which I in no way want to bite."

"Oh, well," Fred's hand drops away from her neck, "okay then."

"Maybe just lick it a bit," Harmony says thoughtfully. Or, at least, the drunken Harmony version of thoughtfully.


Garnish with a Salt Rim

If Fred were sober (and if she had her eyes open) she might have noticed that most of the patrons of the bar were staring openly at her.

And if she'd noticed that she might have been quite cross seeing as how most of those patrons were demons, who until Angel had taken over Wolfram and Hart had spent their free time dismembering virgins and kicking tiny puppies, so they really had no right to be scandalised just because she was making out with a very enthusiastic vampire across a table of empty cocktail glasses.

Harmony had spent some time rather expertly kissing and licking Fred's neck (made sense, as a vampire she probably was a bit obsessed by peoples necks) before reaching up and kissing Fred properly. She tasted of salt, tequila and that peculiar taste cheap pink lip gloss had that didn't taste like anything else in the world. Harmony's hand was pressed against Fred's thigh, which could mean either she was feeling Fred up or she was merely hanging on (she was pretty drunk.)

"Vampires have sex even if the British don't," Harmony says pulling back.

"What about British vampires?" Fred asks, trying to catch her breath. That was one obvious benefit of being undead, no breath.

"I don't know. Spike was what, Irish?"