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kinkfestTitle: Not the Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gisho
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Wordcount: ~1250
Prompt: Girl Genius, Agatha/Othar: cross-dressing - "Ah, the villain's beautiful daughter-in-law."
A/N: Speculative post-series, based on the bonus story from the first book and the Revenge of the Weasel Queen shorts.
When Agatha had set out, it hadn't been without some pangs of regret. But in a few years when she'd cleaned up the odds and ends, she and Gil could have have the fancy public wedding that Klaus obviously wanted so badly, and until then - well, they were married now, that was what mattered, and there were going to be lots of letters, plus the biological samples she'd promised him if she found anything interesting. The courier dingbots were quite hard to intercept now.
By the third night of roast mysterious beast she was ready to strangle something, Krosp for preference, and she missed the nice comfortable bath right off Gil's rooms as much as she missed the man himself. Krosp didn't seem to mind. He merrily brought back small birds, which he claimed were to add variety, until Agatha threatened to roast him with her deathray. He went off in a snit, declaring he'd come back in the morning when she'd had time to miss him. Of course, it was that night the bushes started to make noises.
Agatha didn't like to shoot things without seeing what they were, so she settled for pointing the deathray at the bushes, then flicking a quick warning shot into the trees. "Whoever you are, come out with your hands up."
The hulking figure cleared its throat "I don't think there's any call for that, miss."
Agatha thought of a number of unpleasant remarks, but they weren't lkely to help. "Othar? What are you doing here?"
"Ah, the villain's beautiful daughter-in-law! I thought it might be you." He looked far too pleased. "I don't suppose you're willing to abandon your murderous husband and his vile ways and join me in my quest?" Othar raised his eyebrows, although it wasn't very obvious behind the visor; he carefully stepped forward into the circle of firelight, and Agatha noted distantly that he had for some reason started wearing vambraces.
"Have you forgotten everything I tried to pound into your skull last time?" Agatha sighed and lowered the deathray; satisfying though shooting Othar would be, she would hate to have to dispose of a body at this hour. "No. And how did you - " No, it was no good thinking about it; he had a way of finding these things out. "I'm not running away from him; I've got a quest. Which has nothing to do with you. Will you please just go away?"
"Oh, I have places to be too," he hastily assured her. "But it wouldn't be right to leave a young lady in the woods alone!"
Right. She felt for her stungun. "I can take care of myelf. You, too, if I have to."
"Oh, there's hardly any call for that." Othar beamed and put out a hand to lean against her tent, which, as it had designed to do when it detected foreign biological signatures, spat out a number of firey tendrils. Othar screamed, as was the expected reaction. The tendrils had wrapped themselves around his legs before letting go, and now his pants were on fire; he dropped hastily to the ground and rolled back and forth, but this only suceeded in fanning the flames.
Agatha managed to grab the water bucket, even though she was doubled over with laughter. By the time the flames were completely out Othar's trousers were in smoking shreds, although his legs didn't seem more than reddened. Well, it wasn't that strange he'd be fireproof; she wondered if it was possible to duplicate the effect in pill form. He was obviously doing his best to keep his dignity. It wasn't easy under the circumstances. "Would it be possible for you to loan me some clothing?" he muttered, not quite meeting her gaze.
"What, you don't have anything packed of your own?"
"I'm afraid I lost my bag some miles back. Giant spiders, you know. Had to use it for a counterweight."
"I ... see. I might be able to work something out." Of course, all the clothes she'd packed were her own. Agatha tried not to smile too broadly.
*
The town they arrived at the next evening had spent thrty years under the thumb of the Mad Brasslord Tarsius; a woman trailed by a talking cat drew no stares. Nor did the creature carrying her luggage, costumed in a full yellow skirt and most of its face hidden under a yellow scarf, and sporting bronze vambraces. If anyone noticed it, they assumed it was a mostly-brainless construct; it didn't say anything at all while they were in public, while she wandered through the market buying odds and ends, or when she stopped in a tavern and sat in a corner, sipping beer, listening to other people speak, while the creature sat and didn't drink anything, nor while she checked into a hotel.
Someone listening through the walls of the hotel room, however, might have heard a complaint, in a voice that was clearly not the young woman's nor the cat's. "Now that this little farce is over with - "
"Hey!" The cat's voice this time, with the yowling tinge even human vocal cords could not displace. "You should be glad we didn't gut you when we had the chance! After all the trouble you've caused us - "
"Will both of you stop acting like idiots for five minutes? Krosp, I know he's caused us trouble, but he's gotten better, honestly. Othar, you might want to be a little nicer. I did buy these trousers, they're a bit big for me, but I could cut them down with no trouble. Or I could give them to you."
"It's not very nice to hold a man's dignity hostage."
"I think," Agatha continued implacably, "we could work together very quite well, if you're willing to make some accomodations."
Krosp yelled "WHAT?!" at the same instant as Othar cried, "OF COURSE! I knew you'd see reason." Agatha held out a hand and Krosp fell silent as Othar continued, "But I thought you weren't interested in adventuring with me, and certainly not after you'd allied yourself with that hideous scrouge, the spawn of the evil dictator! Has your Heterodyne side won out?"
Agatha smiled at him, quite sweetly. "I'm not going adventuring with you. You're going adventuring with me. You may be a genocidal maniac, but you're a very brave genocidal maniac and I could use the help."
Krosp fell over laughing at this point, and Othar contrived to look vaugely offended, but intruiged.
"And I should probably modify the tent so it doesn't try to kill you again," she added thoughtfully.
"Of course! I'll help!"
*
Anyone listening through the door might have been mystified by the strange collection of sounds that ensued. There were flapping noises, the occasional clang, a high-pitched whine, a small gurgle like a big man trying not to yelp. There was a hiss at one point, and a selection of sloshes. There were a lot of voices, a few catish laughs. At one point a big man in a yellow sweater and canvas trousers emerged from the room and carefully unscrewed a brass lamp from the other side of the hall, then vanished back inside. Shortly afterwords there was a scrape like moving furniture. A few minutes after that, there was a contented sigh.
"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer" is not bad advice, and it was advice Agatha Heterodyne had taken to heart. Now if she could only decide which one Othar was. But for the moment, she'd settle for arm's length.
Author:
gisho Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Wordcount: ~1250
Prompt: Girl Genius, Agatha/Othar: cross-dressing - "Ah, the villain's beautiful daughter-in-law."
A/N: Speculative post-series, based on the bonus story from the first book and the Revenge of the Weasel Queen shorts.
When Agatha had set out, it hadn't been without some pangs of regret. But in a few years when she'd cleaned up the odds and ends, she and Gil could have have the fancy public wedding that Klaus obviously wanted so badly, and until then - well, they were married now, that was what mattered, and there were going to be lots of letters, plus the biological samples she'd promised him if she found anything interesting. The courier dingbots were quite hard to intercept now.
By the third night of roast mysterious beast she was ready to strangle something, Krosp for preference, and she missed the nice comfortable bath right off Gil's rooms as much as she missed the man himself. Krosp didn't seem to mind. He merrily brought back small birds, which he claimed were to add variety, until Agatha threatened to roast him with her deathray. He went off in a snit, declaring he'd come back in the morning when she'd had time to miss him. Of course, it was that night the bushes started to make noises.
Agatha didn't like to shoot things without seeing what they were, so she settled for pointing the deathray at the bushes, then flicking a quick warning shot into the trees. "Whoever you are, come out with your hands up."
The hulking figure cleared its throat "I don't think there's any call for that, miss."
Agatha thought of a number of unpleasant remarks, but they weren't lkely to help. "Othar? What are you doing here?"
"Ah, the villain's beautiful daughter-in-law! I thought it might be you." He looked far too pleased. "I don't suppose you're willing to abandon your murderous husband and his vile ways and join me in my quest?" Othar raised his eyebrows, although it wasn't very obvious behind the visor; he carefully stepped forward into the circle of firelight, and Agatha noted distantly that he had for some reason started wearing vambraces.
"Have you forgotten everything I tried to pound into your skull last time?" Agatha sighed and lowered the deathray; satisfying though shooting Othar would be, she would hate to have to dispose of a body at this hour. "No. And how did you - " No, it was no good thinking about it; he had a way of finding these things out. "I'm not running away from him; I've got a quest. Which has nothing to do with you. Will you please just go away?"
"Oh, I have places to be too," he hastily assured her. "But it wouldn't be right to leave a young lady in the woods alone!"
Right. She felt for her stungun. "I can take care of myelf. You, too, if I have to."
"Oh, there's hardly any call for that." Othar beamed and put out a hand to lean against her tent, which, as it had designed to do when it detected foreign biological signatures, spat out a number of firey tendrils. Othar screamed, as was the expected reaction. The tendrils had wrapped themselves around his legs before letting go, and now his pants were on fire; he dropped hastily to the ground and rolled back and forth, but this only suceeded in fanning the flames.
Agatha managed to grab the water bucket, even though she was doubled over with laughter. By the time the flames were completely out Othar's trousers were in smoking shreds, although his legs didn't seem more than reddened. Well, it wasn't that strange he'd be fireproof; she wondered if it was possible to duplicate the effect in pill form. He was obviously doing his best to keep his dignity. It wasn't easy under the circumstances. "Would it be possible for you to loan me some clothing?" he muttered, not quite meeting her gaze.
"What, you don't have anything packed of your own?"
"I'm afraid I lost my bag some miles back. Giant spiders, you know. Had to use it for a counterweight."
"I ... see. I might be able to work something out." Of course, all the clothes she'd packed were her own. Agatha tried not to smile too broadly.
*
The town they arrived at the next evening had spent thrty years under the thumb of the Mad Brasslord Tarsius; a woman trailed by a talking cat drew no stares. Nor did the creature carrying her luggage, costumed in a full yellow skirt and most of its face hidden under a yellow scarf, and sporting bronze vambraces. If anyone noticed it, they assumed it was a mostly-brainless construct; it didn't say anything at all while they were in public, while she wandered through the market buying odds and ends, or when she stopped in a tavern and sat in a corner, sipping beer, listening to other people speak, while the creature sat and didn't drink anything, nor while she checked into a hotel.
Someone listening through the walls of the hotel room, however, might have heard a complaint, in a voice that was clearly not the young woman's nor the cat's. "Now that this little farce is over with - "
"Hey!" The cat's voice this time, with the yowling tinge even human vocal cords could not displace. "You should be glad we didn't gut you when we had the chance! After all the trouble you've caused us - "
"Will both of you stop acting like idiots for five minutes? Krosp, I know he's caused us trouble, but he's gotten better, honestly. Othar, you might want to be a little nicer. I did buy these trousers, they're a bit big for me, but I could cut them down with no trouble. Or I could give them to you."
"It's not very nice to hold a man's dignity hostage."
"I think," Agatha continued implacably, "we could work together very quite well, if you're willing to make some accomodations."
Krosp yelled "WHAT?!" at the same instant as Othar cried, "OF COURSE! I knew you'd see reason." Agatha held out a hand and Krosp fell silent as Othar continued, "But I thought you weren't interested in adventuring with me, and certainly not after you'd allied yourself with that hideous scrouge, the spawn of the evil dictator! Has your Heterodyne side won out?"
Agatha smiled at him, quite sweetly. "I'm not going adventuring with you. You're going adventuring with me. You may be a genocidal maniac, but you're a very brave genocidal maniac and I could use the help."
Krosp fell over laughing at this point, and Othar contrived to look vaugely offended, but intruiged.
"And I should probably modify the tent so it doesn't try to kill you again," she added thoughtfully.
"Of course! I'll help!"
*
Anyone listening through the door might have been mystified by the strange collection of sounds that ensued. There were flapping noises, the occasional clang, a high-pitched whine, a small gurgle like a big man trying not to yelp. There was a hiss at one point, and a selection of sloshes. There were a lot of voices, a few catish laughs. At one point a big man in a yellow sweater and canvas trousers emerged from the room and carefully unscrewed a brass lamp from the other side of the hall, then vanished back inside. Shortly afterwords there was a scrape like moving furniture. A few minutes after that, there was a contented sigh.
"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer" is not bad advice, and it was advice Agatha Heterodyne had taken to heart. Now if she could only decide which one Othar was. But for the moment, she'd settle for arm's length.
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