Tis the Season: Part Three: How Much Rum Do You Put In Eggnog?
by Ness
Everything belongs to the mighty Joss Whedon. I bow down before his genius
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“Mail guy delivered this to my office by mistake.” Gunn placed a large folder on Wesley’s desk, the name of the Brit written quite obviously across the front.

“Thank you, Gunn.”

“The mail’s been off ever since Number Five kicked the bucket.”

“He was quite organized,” agreed Wesley. He wondered whom the package was from and began to reach for it when Lorne appeared in the doorway, peeking his head in.

“You boys busy?”

Wesley exchanged a glance with Gunn. A pile of work from his department sat on his desk and night had already settled. “Well–”

“It won’t take long,” Lorne assured them. He parted the doors of the office to reveal his assistant standing by with a service trolley. On top of the trolley was a large crystal bowl filled with a liquid that Wesley couldn’t identify. Taking the trolley from his assistant, Lorne wheeled it in.

“We having a party or something?” asked Gunn.

“Just my star studded clients. Their annual swanky Hollywood Christmas party is happening in a couple of days and having heard about my drink mixing skills, I’ve been asked to provide the obligatory alcohol. And believe me, you would hate to be at one of these parties without being a little liquored up.”

“How exactly do you need our help?” asked Wesley. He dreaded to think what was in the bowl.

“Well, since Fearless Leader doesn’t have any taste buds, alive ones anyway, I was hoping you two could test the eggnog. It’s a new recipe of mine.” Grabbing a ladle and matching crystal cups, Lorne quickly filled two cups with bartender-like ease and handed a cup each to Gunn and Wesley.

Holding back a gulp, Wesley stared at the contents of his cup. It looked like eggnog, but the smell seemed all wrong. Feeling that Lorne’s eyes were on him, he hesitantly took a small sip.

It was like something had died in his mouth. Gagging on the taste, Wesley nearly spat it back into his cup. A swing of water from the mug on his desk barely helped to wash the horrible taste away.

“I wasn’t sure how much rum to add. With demon recipes, it’s hard to judge when something’s too much.”

“This is demon eggnog?” Wesley practically choked on the words. “Won’t the guests find that odd?”

“They’re Wolfram and Hart clients and actors,” explained Lorne. “They’ve probably eaten worse things.”

“It’s not bad,” spoke up Gunn. He had finished his share and was filling up his cup. Upon the looks he received, he added, “I lived on the streets. Almost anything tastes better than garbage. Plus there’s booze in it.” With three quick gulps, he emptied his cup.

“Here.” Handing his cup to Gunn, Wesley went back to work. The taste of the eggnog still lingered in his mouth, ruining his concentration.

“Thanks a bunch fellas. Maybe more rum will take that nasty aftertaste away.” Lorne mulled over Gunn’s empty cup. “Or maybe there’s too much rum. Well, either way, people will be drunk so they won’t notice.”

Suddenly, Gunn doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“Hmm, guess this is the ‘almost anything’ that doesn’t taste better than garbage,” muttered Lorne with a cringe.

Without looking up from his work, Wesley said, “I’ll call house keeping.”

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