By: Heidi

Category:  Humor, Gen ATF AU
Main Characters:  Chris, Seven
Rating:  PG-13
  
Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction based on the characters from the television series 
"The Magnificent Seven".  No copyright infringement intended to Trilogy, Mirisch, MGM, 
CBS, TNN, the Hallmark Channel, or anyone else holding the rights.  No profit will be 
made from this work.
 
Author's Notes:  A bit of fluff humor to brighten the day.  Besides, couldn't resist the visuals. 
Not to be taken seriously.  
 
Warnings:  A few bad words and comments.  
 
Comments:  ch1diva@lycos.com
 
"Come on, Chris."  Buck leaned against the doorframe of Larabee's office, and tried convincing 
his friend to participate.
 
"No."  The tone was brusque, but also full of weariness.  He'd been saying no all day; Chris Larabee
was adamantly against what was planned.  Most of the week was filled with various creative
attempts to get him to agree, and now he felt his vocabulary was limited to one word  no.  
 
"It's a group activity," Buck said for about the tenth or twentieth time.
 
"No."
 
"You're our leader.  So do it and lead our way."  Wilmington bobbed his brows and grinned.
 
"No."
 
"Why not?"
 
"I said no."
 
"Give me a good reason, Stud."
 
"Drop it, Stud."
 
"I'm not going to drop it."  Buck slowly shook his head.  "You're going to give in, one way or the
other.  Either you go peaceably, or I take you down there myself."
 
"I'll drop you," Chris threatened.
 
"You can try, pard.  You're not that fast."
 
Chris glared.  "Not interested."  
 
Buck snorted.  "They're waiting downstairs for you."   He pulled out his cellphone.  "At least go
with us."  
 
"No."
 
"Vin's doing it."
 
"No."
 
Sighing, Buck spoke into his cellphone speaker.  "He ain't goin' for it." 
 
The reply was loud and easily heard by both parties.  It was a single word that sounded very
much like "Bullshit".  
 
"Coward," also came through the phone.
 
"Put it away, Buck, before I give you a reason to go to the hospital for a removal."
 
"I'm still working on him," Buck said quietly.  "Hang tight."  He put the phone away.  "Why won't
you even consider it?  We've done it before."
 
"I'm not getting another tattoo, Buck, especially the number seven on my butt.  You already talked
me into two, and I'm still regretting the second one."
 
"C'mon, it's a group thing.  We've convinced the oh-so-modest-I won't-take-my-clothes-off-in-a-
heat wave Vin Tanner showing his ass-ets to the world for this."
 
"Take pictures for posterior."  Chris winced.  "Posterity.  But no, not me."
 
"So much for team spirit."  Shaking his head in disgust, Wilmington left the office, ostensibly to
meet the others. 
 
Seeing that Buck was gone, Chris closed his office door.  He locked it to be sure.  They weren't going
to catch him; he was too smart for that.  He knew they would be back, and the sound of them 
picking the lock would give him ample warning.
 
Deft fingers undid his belt, and he shimmied enough out of his dress pants and underwear to stare
into the full-length mirror he kept in the closet.  The positioning was awkward, his head twisted
around to stare at his bare butt, his pants and underwear hanging off his backside and between his 
thighs, but he could see the fresh tattoo.  It was the number 7 done in Old West typescript,
complete with a smoking gun barrel coming from the top of the 7.  
 
His tattoo was just like the ones the others were getting today, but he went ahead and did it
yesterday so that the infernal camera that would record this moment for future blackmail wouldn't
catch up moon-side up.  He'd tell them eventually that he'd done it, but not today.  Not with a
camera anywhere close.
 
A flash went off behind him, and Chris pivoted hard to stare at the intruder.  He'd forgotten about
his pants, jumbled at his waist and between his legs, sending him face first into the floor.  
 
"Damn, cowboy, that was graceful."  Vin Tanner's laugh carried across the office to him.  The
camera flashed a few more times in the sharpshooter's hands.
 
"Stud, I wish you would have told us.  Then we could've avoided this."  Buck made a scolding 
sound, like he was taking a recalcitrant child to task.
 
"Workmanship's good," Josiah added.  "Note the detailing in the script?"  He pointed to the tattoo.
 
"Yup.  He's keeping it clean, too.  Good job, Chris."  Nathan chuckled.
 
"I was not aware they were calling for a full moon tonight."  Standish covered his eyes.  "Seeing it,
I wonder why I ever agreed to this."
 
"Ya lost a bet," Vin replied.  "And I ain't gonna let ya squelch on it."
 
"A gentlemen always repays his debts," Ezra huffed, putting away his lockpick.  "However, I 
refuse to appear as ungainly as Mr. Larabee in his current predicament."
 
Chris removed and threw his shoe at Ezra, who swiftly dodged.
 
The Southerner laughed when the hard object missed. 
 
"Thanks, Chris."  JD's smile could have lit up the city of Denver and the state of Colorado, or Las
Vegas - whichever had more lights.
 
"For what?"  Larabee pulled up his underwear and pants.
 
"Doing this."  The youngest tapped his own backside.  "It means a lot."
 
"Even though he couldn't participate with the rest of us." Ezra drawled, "Of course, had I known 
there was a private showing, and the opportunity to have this procedure done without the benefit
of a crowd, I would have taken it.  For shame, Mr. Larabee, for not allowing the rest of us that 
option.  I still shudder at the thought of photographic evidence."
 
"Ez, ya will pose  it's part of the wager ya lost."
 
Standish groaned.  "If I suffer, you suffer."  He gave a self-satisfied grin to his boss and team leader.
 
"Get out," Chris snapped. 
 
Buck wagged a finger at him.  "You get to pose with us when we're done."
 
"No."  
 
"Yes," six voices replied in unison.
 
 
The End
 
 
Index