Pidge: *clears his throat and tries not to look sick* Yes, well, I've apparently been put in charge of the general apologies for this travesty of a fic, if one wants to attempt to call it that. Um... The author wanted me to point out that she is not responsible for the following due in part to rain-associated insanity. She's always had a thing about big musical production numbers, and watching the South Park movie for the 4000th time and then immediately watching Moulin Rouge warped her fragile little mind. Or, at least, that's what I'm *supposed* to say, and the fact that she's holding Hunk hostage backstage with the threat of turning "A Little Fall of Rain" from Les Mis into a songfic has nothing to do with it whatsoever. Really.

Taryn appears behind the curtain and begins tapping her foot ominously.

Pidge: ...right. Disclaimer time. Said author owns none of the following characters- thank God- and the proper owners will likely have a stroke if they ever come across this particular list anyway. The tortured song is in reality "The Rhythm of Life", written by Cy Coleman, from the musical Sweet Charity. The lyrics are all changed, but it still actually flows on the off-chance that anyone knows it. And "American Pie", the standard of bar music, was written by Don McLean. *pauses and glances around* Is that good enough

Taryn nods.

Pidge: Fine. I'm so gone!

Chicken.

Pairings: Keith/Lance, Lotor/Sven, Hunk/Pidge (though a bit more subtly), a mention of Allura/Coran... Oh, don't run off yet. It's not that bad. Really.

Pidge: Yes it is. Run! Run like the wind!

Oh, and it's AU and OOC. Obviously. Actually, if anyone has any idea how to make it more AU, do let me know. I'll be sure to incorporate them next time.

Even the gods need a day off once in a while, and there's something soothing about the way people hang out inside to avoid the pounding driving rain. Sure, there may still be violence galore, but no one's ever accused Those in Charge of being unable to turn a blind eye on their worshippers when there's something more interesting to do.

This was one of those days.

What the gods were doing on this particular day was fascinating, but is completely beyond the realm of this little scene. The point here was that on this particular day the never-ending war between two small planets in a mostly insignificant galaxy was on temporary cruise control.

Why, you may ask?

Don't. Just take it on faith for once. It's that way because it's that way, and there's nothing else to consider. Sometimes Heroes and Villains, just like gods, need a day off.

Anyway, on this particular day said Heroes and Villains, along with an assortment of other minor characters of varying degrees of Good and Evil intent, could be found in a bar close to the edge of the universe. Where exactly the bar rested was as moot a point as what they were all doing there. They were there because they were there.

Life always flows more smoothly when you take these things on faith.

This was the state of things as the Captain of Good- namely Keith- made his way through a maze bodies in various states of repose in a darkened side room with a stack of beer bottles clutched precariously to his chest. His appearance was greeted with a general cheer as a mad rush ensued to claim the beer. In roughly two seconds Keith found his hands completely empty and several articles of his clothes suspiciously rearranged as a byproduct of the groping that had occurred during the melee. Dark eyes narrowing, Keith stalked across the scarred wood flooring and snatched his beer out of Pidge's hands.

Pidge, amateur pool shark, glared back at him from across the pool table where he and Lance were currently creaming Sven and Lotor. "Hey! Give that back!"

"Forget it, Pidge. Ever heard the phrase 'contributing to the delinquency of a minor'?"

Pidge looked affronted. "I am NOT a minor."

Lance snorted and nudged him out of the way with his pool cue. "You're eighteen."

"Exactly. By Baltonian standards I'm practically ancient. I'd prove it but our records seem to have been strategically destroyed in an attack somewhere along the way. So I guess you'll just have to take my word." He beamed as Keith rolled his eyes, then snatched Lance's beer from the rickety tabletop as his partner lined up his shot.

Lance ignored him in favor of cleaning most of the remaining balls off the table in one shot. Sven threw his pool cue down and stared at the table in disgust.

"That's it. I quit."

Lance and Pidge paused in the act of raking money across the table to smile at him sweetly.

Sven glared at them and turned a black look on his smirking partner. "And what the hell's up with you? Aren't you supposed to be cheating or something?"

"Don't look at me. I put my money on them." Lotor indicated Lance and Pidge with a nod of his head. "Besides, I don't cheat at pool. It's bad form."

Lance dropped down on the couch beside Keith and stole his lover's beer. Keith sighed in defeat and curled up against Lance's side. Lance smiled suggestively, took a drink, and gave Keith the beer back.

In relationship terms, the above paragraph constitutes a Smart Move on both their parts. This type of behavior is usually observed in those with no desire to spend the night alone on the couch.

Pidge smiled at everyone, content with the universe in general, and went back to counting his money, the reason for the aforementioned contentment.

Sven stared off into the distance for a moment, then shook his head. "No, that doesn't make sense. If you're evil, then you're Evil. Why would cheating at pool be bad form?"

"It's a matter of principles. You have to pick your battles, so to speak."

"Huh." Sven grabbed his own beer, stored high on a shelf safely out of Pidge's reach, and sat down on a stool. "But if you have principles, doesn't that mean that you're not completely evil?"

Pidge snorted. "Obviously. Complete evil would collapse in on itself. Think of chaos theory." Oblivious to the odd looks being directed his way, Pidge shoved his winnings in his pocket and sat down on the floor.

Sven, rapidly falling out of his depth, took a deep drink.

Lotor shook his head. "No, there IS such a thing as complete Evil. I'm just not it. It's complicated."

Sven finished his drink and decided he just couldn't let it go. "Since when does raping and pillaging and enslaving the populace of the Universe at Large not constitute Evil?"

"It's all a matter of prospective. I mean, many wouldn't consider you all completely Good, yet when presented in the proper light you can make yourselves look that way. Right?" Lotor glanced around, stopping as his eyes rested on the bits of Lance and Keith visible from the depths of the cushions. "My point exactly."

Pidge sighed and poked one of them in the leg. "Get a room already!"

Keith looked up and glared down at him. "We've got one. It's over there somewhere." One hand waved vaguely towards the back of the bar as Lance pulled his head back down.

Lotor stared down at them critically. "See what I mean? Public indecency probably doesn't fall clearly into the Good category."

"All right, point made." Sven took another drink to give himself a minute to firm up his next argument.

It was about that time that Hunk reappeared from the general vicinity of the dance floor. "Hey guys. Game finally over?"

Sven glared at him as Lotor and Pidge smiled smugly.

Hunk smiled and walked over to drop down in a chair. "I'll take that as a yes. So what's on the agenda?"

Pidge pointed at Sven and Lotor. "They're having theological discussions on the nature of good versus evil."

Sven dropped his empty bottle back on the pool table and turned back to Lotor. "This is stupid. I mean, evil's evil. End of story. Everyone knows there are shades of gray, but it's the deed that's most important."

"But what about the intent behind the deed?" Lotor dropped down on a stool next to Sven. "Isn't meaning just as important as action? Isn't that what good always preaches?"

"Right, but who can measure intent?"

Hunk stared at them both before glancing down at Pidge. Pidge shrugged. Hunk shook his head and pulled Pidge's empty beer bottle out of his hands. "This is silly, guys. It's all the same unless you're recruiting."

Lotor looked offended. "Of course not. I don't NEED to recruit. We always have plenty of willing converts, and you know we'll win in the end."

Pidge made a grab for the beer bottle Keith had set on the floor before attacking Lance. Lance reached down and smacked his hand without diverting his attention away from Keith's throat. Glaring at everyone party to the apparent conspiracy to keep him sober, Pidge got to his feet. "Don't even START with the 'good is always dumb' theory. That doesn't hold water and you know it."

"Of course not. The problem is showmanship."

The three paying attention to the conversation blinked.

Lotor nodded. "The side of good just expects people to buy into the dogma. Evil catches converts through showmanship. Sex sells, if you hadn't noticed, and sex continues to keep the attention of the common man. Promises of happiness after death will only attract so many away from the promise of happiness in the here and now."

"But you can be good AND have sex in the here and now." Pidge smacked Lance's boot for emphasis. "So what does THAT do for your argument?"

Lance sat up, looking more than a little annoyed at the constant interruptions, and slapped Pidge on the back of the head. Keith hid a grin by taking a slug from the beer bottle.

Sven rolled his eyes at them. "Would it kill you to keep your hands off each other for thirty seconds? We're trying to concentrate here."

Lance gave him a dirty look and slid down to the floor to sit against Keith's legs. "Fine, mom. We'll be good. Now what's so damned important?"

Keith shot an amused look at Sven and started running his fingers through Lance's hair.

Sven sighed. "Close enough." He turned back to Lotor. "I still don't buy the fact that people can ignore mass destruction just for sex."

Lotor snorted. "Of course not. That would be ridiculous."

Sven brightened up a bit. "Good. Now we're getting somewhere-"

"That would require the proper marketing strategy."

Sven blinked again as he tried to stop in midthought and work his mind around the concept. "What?"

"Marketing. It's all about PR. All the best PR people are agents of evil."

Sven started to rub his temples as Pidge snickered.

Hunk gave him a Look and turned his attention at Lotor. "I think what he's asking is how exactly you can candy coat that level of evil. I mean, everyone knows what your father's capable of. Fear has to be the primary motivator involved."

"Not if things are handled correctly." Lotor met three pairs of disbelieving and two pairs of generally impatient eyes. "It's just a matter of perspective. Even my dear father can be glossed over if one puts in the proper effort."

"Right." Sven glanced around for a bottle of something stronger than beer. Pidge passed him a flask containing liquid of dubious origin. Screwing up his determination to take a drink, Sven paused. "But..."

"Why don't I show you?"

Hunk suddenly realized that odd jazzy-sounding background music was being piped over the bar's stereo system. "Not another musical number. Please God, I've been good! I don't ask for much..." His eyes began darting around for avenues of escape as Lotor balanced on his stool with his arms outstretched and face upturned into the spotlight.

Pidge touched his hand, recapturing his attention, and stared up at him with shining woobly eyes. "Stay? For me?"

A whimper climbed out of Hunk's throat. "That's not fair!"

Lance eyed Lotor and climbed back on the couch next to Keith out of harm's way. Keith, a sucker for musical numbers, put an arm around his shoulders absently.

Lotor: [waving a cape that came from somewhere unknown over his shoulders and looking around very intently at his audience]
Zarkon started out a humble hustler
But always with a spark of cruelty
Then one day a voice cried "Go forth Zarkon
Force your will on society"

Sven snorted. "So he was hearing voices. I guess that explains quite a bit."

Lotor swirled the cloak and smiled magnanimously. "Of course. Most people hear voices. The voices say very important things."

"Sure."

Lotor ignored him as the music picked up tempo.

Lotor: [raising his arms into the spotlight]
And the voice cried "Zarkon there's a million reasons
Why you should blow these small-time dealin's
Hit the skies Zarkon
Spread the visions of gloom!
Forge your own Empire with the Forces of Doom"

Lance leaned over and whispered in Keith's ear. "Would this be the same voice that convinced him that Haggar was a sexy babe?"

Keith shuddered. "Shh! I'm trying to listen!"

Lotor: [jumping from the stool to the pool table, leaning down to look everyone in the eye again, very intense]
The Forces of Doom will never be beat!
It's too late when you see them coming to take to the street!
Can't hide in your bedroom
Can't escape the heat!
Yes, the Forces of Doom will never be beat!

Hunk whimpered again. Pidge climbed up on his lap to prevent his escape.

Lotor produced a hat and a cane from hammerspace and proceeded to step through a small jazz number before once again striking a pose.

Lotor: Zarkon spread terror through the galaxy
Took a couple hostages from the Alliance there
Blew his way through Arus then through Pollux
Till resistance grew in sleeping Voltron's lair

Keith started snapping his fingers in time to the music. "Damn right."

Lance rolled his eyes at Sven. Sven gave him a horrified look right back and took another swig from Pidge's flask.

Lotor jumped down from the table, giving room to Haggar, Merla, Cossack, the ghost of Yurak, Avok, Bandor, and several Doom robots, all dressed as the Go-Go's.

All: [swirling in a complicated set of jazz steps]
Zarkon was a new sensation
Built a strong base of operation
Ran a solid conglomeration
From on Doom

Keith and Pidge, caught up in the spirit, joined the others on the pool table. Being a magic pool table, the added weight didn't even create a slight groan, unless you count the barely constrained mumbles about future counseling coming from Hunk's direction.

Everyone on the pool table: [snapping his or her fingers and dancing]
The gold was like water flowing
And the bombs were always blowing
Keeping the resistance go-go-going
Down below

Sven was looking a bit wild-eyed. "Oh my God..."

Hunk and Lance looked at each, sighed in defeat, and joined the others on the table.

Note that this is yet another example of a Smart Relationship Move.

All, along with the universal equivalent of the Rockettes and several drunks hanging around the bar with nothing better to do:
The Forces of Doom will never be beat!
It's too late when you see them coming to take to the street!
Can't hide in your bedroom,
Can't escape the heat!
Yes, the Forces of Doom will never be beat!

Lotor: [over a repeat of the chorus]
Clip your wings and fly to Daddy
Take a dive and swim to Daddy
Hit the floor and crawl to Daddy
Fly, Dive, Swim to Daddy

Sven gave up, drained the flask, and let Lotor spin him around the dance floor followed by the laughter of the others.

Gradually the music died away and, in the spirit of musical numbers everywhere, incidental and oddly dressed characters kindly disappeared.

Sven sighed in defeat. "All right, so I guess it was kind of catchy."

Lotor smiled. "Yet another convert falls from the grace of the light." He paused to watch Lance and Keith, who appeared to have gotten distracted again on the trip from the pool table back to the couch. "Speaking of goodness and light, where's Allura?"

"She ran off to a love motel with Coran for the weekend." Hunk met Lotor's incredulous glare with an innocent look. "They mentioned something about the harem suite."

Lotor looked green. "Now there's a mental image I did NOT need."

"Revenge is a beautiful thing." Hunk grinned and took Pidge's hand, pulling him firmly towards the door before someone got the urge to start singing again.

Lotor shuddered. Sven smiled slightly. "I could do something about putting that image out of your head for a while."

Lotor looked at him in surprise. "What about the whole good versus evil thing?"

"Just don't bring it up until tomorrow and maybe I won't have to think about it."

"That doesn't make much sense."

"It makes as much sense as anything else I've heard tonight. Why bring logic into this now?" Smiling a suddenly predatory smile, Sven grabbed Lotor's hand and yanked him towards the stairs. Lotor grinned back, casting a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity/pantheon/whatever was in charge of today's respite.

There was a moment of silence, punctuated only by quiet moans, before a head peeked around the corner of the couch. "I think they're gone."

"Hmm?" A hand reached up to pull him down, but Keith rested on his elbows and regarded the man currently pinned beneath him.

"Really. I think we're finally alone."

"And?"

"I don't think I've ever had sex on a pool table before."

There was a pause. "You're sure they're gone?"

"There's one way to find out." Gentle strains of music sounded. Keith stood up and pulled Lance to his feet.

Keith: [very softly, standing under a single spotlight]
Bye-bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry...

They both froze, but the bar remained silent. If there's a surer way to ensure that it's empty than a refrain from that song, society has yet to discover it.

"Yes!"

"Keith?"

Keith smiled as one hand pushed him down on the pool table. "What?"

"Shut up."

There was only silence as the stage faded to black.

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