Title: In (the office) and Out (of his mind)
During: Paradise Lost
Author: Shana Nolan
Rating: SA (spew alert) plus some mild NC-17
Archve: oh, yes, Darry, please.
Disclaimers: I only own me, and I don't even mention me. oops. Best Brains and GKL have claim to the rest, minus the shameless borrowing from the movie "In and Out" and Trent Reznor and the grrls mentioned hopefully own themselves.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Hey, Servo, you got that thing in position yet?"

Tom waved a hand at his cohort. "Gimme a sec, the angle isn't perfect. We have to get all of him, hands, feet, face, hips. This is one of those can't-miss-a-thing moments."

Crow nodded his head sagely and adjusted the microphone. "So you're sure the Grrl is busy?"

Tom nodded, adjusting the eyepiece so he could watch as the camera recorded. "Yep, and I encrypted the student files we recovered with a ten tier password system based on Mike's high school humiliations."

"Only ten?"

"Well, I tried to mention the locker room stuff, but it only takes fifteen characters per password."

"Ah well. What about that Cal guy?"

"The guy with the fake braid and drunken stagger?"

Crow nodded.

"Fixing the cars. And since the rest of them are all on Alderaan, and the data-entry crew hasn't arrived, that leaves us to this. Hey, there he is. Hide!"

* * *

Closing the door behind him, having successfully distracted Jael with the newly reinstalled graphics programs, the General slipped over to the windows, dropped the blinds and set the box tucked under his arm by the stereo on the table.

It was all their fault, and even though the pictures mounted on that wall were making him wish they were back, he wouldn't be doing this if they hadn't of snubbed him with the testosterone brigade.

It was all so ego bruising. Didn't they realise that they were HIS Hos? And that he was THE General?

Sighing, finding that his saunter had, in fact, weakened since their leaving, he opened the box, pulled the tape out and upon removing it from its case, placed it in the cassette deck.

It had to help. If it didn't he'd just have to move to Tatooine and live there the rest of his life like some dirty old man with a slightly receding hairline.

He shuddered. Now that would be eternal hell.

He hit "play" on the deck and took a breath. "I am the General, I can do this."

"Welcome to tape one of 'Re-affirming Your Masculinity,' a series devoted to the proper reinstitution of testosterone in this fangirl-ified galaxy. Now, stand up."

The General arched an eyebrow.

"Stand straight and tall."

Sighing, reminding himself again that this was necessary torture, he assumed the Stance.

"Excuse me, are we a little teapot?"

The General growled and straightened his hips.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Are you... in control?"

"Yes."

"Are you... a MAN?"

The General waved his arms in frustration. "Yeeesss!"

"Are dressed like a man?"

He checked his clothes. Solid black, tight pants, button down shirt. "Yes."

"Untuck your shirt."

The General reached for his waist.

"One side only."

He wrinkled his nose. That wasn't sexy.

"You hate this, don't you?"

"Well, look at it."

"You want to be neat, you want to tidy."

He protested. "The Grrls like it that way."

"Adjust yourself."

The General ran his hands through his hair.

"Not there."

He re-adjusted the belt around his waist.

"The package, sissy man, the 'lightsabre.'"

He blinked.

"Grab 'em."

"But I only have one lightsa--" He paused.

"You're in the lounge."

He reluctantly slipped his hand down past his waist.

"Now repeat after me: 'Yo.'"

With great reluctance, he mumbled "Yo."

"'Hot damn.'"

He licked his lips. "Hot damn."

"'What a fabulous frilly orange frock.'"

"Oh, what a fabulous frilly orange frock!"

"That was a trick."

He berated himself for slipping. "Aaargh!"

"And now we have come to the most critical area of masculine behaviour: dancing."

He grumbled. "What?"

And then the unmistakable strains of Nine Inch Nails began to come from the tape.

"Truly manly men do NOT dance."

"Oh, come on! How else to they Grrls?"

"Under any circumstance."

The General clenched his fists, set his jaw and tried to make his hips stop moving.

"This will be your ultimate test. At all costs, avoid: rhythm, grace and pleasure."

He scoffed.

"Whatever you do-- DO. NOT. DANCE."

And then the music picked up, the bass pumping through the speakers and throbbing through the floor.

He closed his eyes and willed himself. "Get it together, Kenobi. Don't do it."

And then the lyrics started.

"'you let me violate you, you let me desecrate you'"

He bit his tongue, trying to ignore the urge to bump and grind.

"Hear the demon in the music? 'Dance,' the demon says, 'dance.'"

He nodded his head, he could hear it, which was not to forget that his hips were beginning to slide back and forth.

"'you let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you'"

"Think of a real man! John Wayne! He doesn't dance!"

Obi-Wan slid his hands over his waist, his fingers brushing over the curves of his muscular ass.

"Think of Sylvester Stallone! He doesn't dance! He can barely walk!"

Throwing his head back, the hair falling away from his face, he parted his lips, his eyes closed.

"'i want to fuck you like an animal'"

"Stop dancing you pansy!!"

Running his hands down his legs and then up around his chest, he pulled his fingers through his hair, sauntering in step to the hard beat.

"'i want to fuck you like an animal'"

"Stop it! Stop dancing!"

Placing his hips up to the doorframe, he slid his front up against the surface, rocking down so that the wood rubbed against his own wood, his hips still gyrating.

"Men don't dance! They wear flannel! They have bad backs!"

His hands fell to his back, caressing over the fabric of the pants as he licked his lips.

"Kick someone!"

He slid down the doorway, bending his knees as he went, his pelvis less than a metre from the floor.

"'i want to fuck you like an animal'"

"Beat someone up! Bite someone's ear!"

"'i want to fuck you like an animal'"

Arching his back, parting his mouth as he exhaled hard, the General ran his hands around his legs, sliding them up his thighs, his thumbs hooking on the waistband of his pants.

"'i want to fuck you like an animal'"

The music cut out.

Freezing just as he was about to slide down the doorframe again, the General blinked.

"So how'd ya do, prissy-boy?"

* * *

Crow looked at Tom.

Tom looked through the eyepiece, then at Crow.

Crow looked at Tom again.

Tom glanced back in the eyepiece, pausing to gather his thoughts.

"Servo?"

"Um, Crow, do you still have your EBay account?"

* * * meanwhile, on Alderaan...

Drying out her hair, making her way to the kitchen after a long shower, Emmy cast a rude glance at the guys gathered around the TV, currently making bets over the hockey teams.

"Shoot the puck!"

"Go!! Go!!"

"High sticking!!"

Emmy stuck her tongue out and continued to walk to the kitchen, but stopped suddenly when she spotted the pile of now dead Hos.

Stepping over the bodies of Brenda, Ban and Judy, she tapped Dande on the shoulder, who was currently fixing a fresh bowl of grapes for Steve. "What happened?"

Dande smiled. It was a rather sad scene with all those Grrls passed out on the floor. "The Droids you left behind hooked up some equipment and recorded the General doing some rather lewd things to the doorframe. The live feed from the network is incredibly crisp, I'll say that much."

The Supah Diva raised an eyebrow. "Did anyone hit record?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*