Vechio woke up with a jerk.

The jerk was snoring.

“Get the fuck out of my bed, Kowalski.”

“Fuck you, Vecchio.”

“In your dreams.”

“So, that was a dream last night?”

“Uh...” Vecchio closed his eyes. “Oh crap. The author’s been at it again.”

“I would say so,” Fraser’s voice came plaintively from the bottom of the bed. “Would either of you care to untie me now? My arms have gone quite to sleep.”

“Fucking hell, Kowalski! I’m gonna kill you! What did you do to Benny?”

“Well, actually, Ray, you did this.”

“What!” Kowalski raised a fist, Vecchio scuttled back over the bed.

“I swear,” he protested. “It wasn’t me.”

“Fraser just said it was you!”

“You think I’d remember a thing like that!”

 “To be fair, Ray,” Fraser said, confusingly, “Ray has a point.”

“Whafuck?”

“Ray wasn’t entirely himself when he... uh...”

“When I what, Benny?”

“When you tied me up.” Fraser was looking snippy. “I think the author was experimenting with some AU plot bunnies, and one of them got out of control.”

“Oh God. Plot bunnies?” Kowalski looked around wildly. “She didn’t let them out of the hutch again?”

“Fuck. They’re probably hungry.” Vecchio clambered across Kowalski, and started untying the ropes. “Please tell me they’re not breeding?”

Fraser sat up, rubbing his wrists and looking concerned. “I don’t know. They certainly seemed to be... frolicking.”

“That’s just what we need,” Kowalski growled. “She’s probably been watching Fifty Shades of Shite, and we’re going to wake up back in crossover land.”

“I’m afraid that seems highly likely,” Fraser sighed. “A gentleman called ‘Mr Grey’ wandered in at one point – he did seem to know your name – though he thought you were Ray Steele for some reason?”

“Yeah, didn't he think I was somebody’s Dad, or something?”

“Yeah. And he had a really crap American accent,” Vecchio added. “I remember now. He sounded kind of Irish.” He scratched his chin. “Rich though. Think he was going to buy you a car, Benny.”

“Oh. Yes. So he was.”

“Yeah, but it was a crap car,” Kowalski snorted. “An Audi, for fuck’s sake. If he wanted to get in your fancy pants, he should have bought a muscle car.”

“I’m not that easily bought. At least, not in this particular fic.”

“Glad to hear it, Benny. Last thing we need is another gay undercover AU.”

“I quite like them,” Kowalski protested.

“Well, yeah. You do. You get laid in them. I just run around being a repressed self hating fag, and beat Benny up. Which, you know. Is bad writing. Because, unlike somebody on this bed, I’ve never actually hit Benny.”

“You felt like it though, didn’t ya?” Kowalski smirked.

“I’m gonna hit you, if you don’t shut up.”

“Rays! I’m trying to explain what happened last night.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, Benny.”

“Sorry, Frase. We’ll be good.”

“Good.” Fraser looked doubtful, but continued. “So, as I was saying – Ray, at the risk of sounding colloquial, ‘you went Bookman on his ass,' and got him 'whacked.'”

“I got him whacked? How come I don’t remember that?”

“I think because the author decided it would be serve some dramatic purpose for you to suffer from MPD.”

“Ha!” Kowalski snorted. “See how YOU like it, Vecchio.”

“So, I got him whacked, and neither of you stopped me? What is wrong with you!”

“To be fair, Ray, you had tied me up. And, Ray here,” Fraser nodded at Kowalski, “seemed to think he was avenging his daughter, so he was quite happy to conspire with you.”

“Huh.” Kowalski shook his head. “Still not getting it. Still don’t have a daughter.”

“So, uh... what did we do with the guy’s body?”

“I think the plot bunnies ate him.”

“Oh God.” Kowalski looked around anxiously. He had a rather acute, and not unreasonable, phobia of plot bunnies after the recent upsurge in alien abductions and vampirism.

“It could be worse, Ray, Ray.”

“How could it be worse, Benny! We’re surrounded by zombie plot bunnies, we’ve got no clothes on, and the author’s gone insane!”

“Well, at least this time we’re not actually in a zombie crossover. And at least it’s not Twilight.”

Which was when the zombie army broke in through the walls.