Have allowed myself five minutes online before I stagger into morning routine. My thought for the morning was about plausible slashing or shipping, or maybe I should just say "nookying." And how maybe it *is* possible to get any two characters into bed together. But is it always possible to get them there *romantically*? I think for some pairings, the only plausible way for them to have sex is to have bad sex. Or really stupid sex.
I had an example in mind that would have helped support this claim, but I lost it between bed and computer in the struggle for full consciousness. Oh, how about Giles/Snyder. I apologize to any of who have written this pairing and are squeaking, "Hey!" as your One True Pairing is maligned. You freaks. But tell me a sexual scenario between them that isn't bad, wrong, or horrifying. And if, with dedication to canon and plausibility, one is forced to acknowledge that one's scenario can only be written as bad and wrong--is there a point really? Well, some people are nodding. Some may like it just for novelty value. But I'm made of shmoopier stuff.
It shouldn't be a huge surprise, now that I think about it, that my first impulses in writing those Spike/Lorne snippets was to try and find a particular angle into the characters that made them susceptible to nooky. Lorne--I guess I just went for the Very Gay angle there, drawing on cliche and on real-life observation to find his inner mensch. Which looks a lot like his outer mensch. It doesn't seem a huge stretch to highlight his character so that he reads as one of those sweet, extravagantly gay guys who simply can't hide their gayness--can't pass for straight--and who suffer for it in the romantic arena. This kind of guy crushes on unattainable objects of affection and so of course goes wide-eyed and stuttery with disbelief when some golden god actually smiles back at him. ("Who, *me*? He can't be looking at *me*.")
Spike, I think, would sleep with a water buffalo if the circumstances were right. ("Oh, you're a right beauty, aren't you, love?") He'd do it for money, or to get something else he wanted, or to placate and distract someone more powerful if he needed time to negotiate, or whatever. I think that, given a toss-up between bad sex and no sex he'd size up the giant tentacled octopus-demon next to him, slam back another vodka shot and be like, "Yeah, all right. Let's shag."
But that's just me.
Work beckons. Anna glares at work and screams, shut up, shut up, shut up!
Anna is work's bitch, however, because she likes these things called "food" and "housing" so she sighs and goes.