Yama Lama Ding Dong, by Rina

Yama Lama Ding Dong

by Rina

Pairing: Victor Mansfield

Rated: T for yam-sanity

Disclaimer: I don't own Vic and I don't own the yams, I do make a pretty good sweet potato casserole though.

Author's Notes: I swore I wouldn't get sucked into this, I really did!

Warning: It's bad, it's horrid, and it wouldn't leave me alone. After reading it, Angel and Ori whimpered.

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Settling his glossy black leather coat on his broad shoulders like a warrior girding himself with armor in preparation for battle, Victor Mansfield marched down the hallways of the Agency's headquarters.

Well, it wasn't exactly a march, perhaps something more like stroll - or a half-hearted stroll, one that became less and less purposeful the closer he got to his nemesis' lair.

"Victor!" The hissed out whisper caused the handsome agent to wince, hiding the brilliant green of his eyes beneath the coal-dark sweep of his lashes. His lips curled up in something that might have been an attempt at a smile, but was more probably a grimace, and he fought the overwhelming urge to turn and flee back to the safety of his partners' company.

"Nathan. The Director said you had some information for me on the Wallingford case?" As Vic asked the question, he moved as far away from the librarian as the width of the hallway allowed. Unfortunately, Nathan scuttled right after him.

Nathan glanced furtively around the empty corridor, then leaned in closer to Victor, looking as if whatever he had to impart was of world-shattering importance. "I know what happened to him."

When the other man paused to suck on his inhaler, Vic groaned to himself. Somehow he just knew that this was going to end up being about another one of Nathan's wacked-out theories. "What happened to whom?"

"Him!" Nathan grabbed Vic's shoulder, his long fingers digging into the toned flesh through the layer of supple leather.

Vic glanced down at the offending appendage and Nathan snatched his hand back, leaping away as if he expected the agent to rip him limb from limb for daring to touch a prince of the Illuminati. Hell, maybe that's what he did think. "Him who?"

"The King!"

At those dreaded words, Vic couldn't help the shudder that ripped through his body. You can give me a massage, I need me some deep relief. God, the idea that he'd almost had to do that to the Memphis crime boss almost made him physically sick. The man had died while he and Jackie had been in the other room and they'd seen the body. Only problem was; when the paramedics and police arrived on the scene later, the body had vanished.

"What do you mean you know what happened to him?"

"He was punished," Nathan hissed, his thin shoulders rounding further, caving his chest inward beneath his brown plaid shirt. "I think he failed in his mission and his superiors . . ." He stopped and darted a glance around. "It's easier to show you."

Vic fought the urge to slam his head against the unyielding wall. Sighing in resignation, he followed after the shorter man, cursing the Director for sending him on this mission to hell. Wishing he could simply turn tail and run, he trailed after the paranoid librarian, entering the other man's office with a fair amount of trepidation.

"Now where . . ." Nathan had vanished behind a stack of files, and when he appeared again, he was holding something tightly against his abdomen. "Found him!" he breathed, tilting his arms open to reveal what he'd been concealing.

"Nathan, that's a yam,' Vic stated flatly.

"That's what they want you to think! It's a conspiracy against the Council. He failed on his mission, so they did this to him as punishment."

"And his mission was . . ."

"To assassinate you! If he had gotten you alone, there's no telling what might have happened!"

The look of distaste that crossed Vic's face had nothing to do with fear of assassination and everything to do with nausea at the thought of having to put his hands on the King's bare skin to give him the 'deep relief' he'd wanted. Hell, at that point, being killed would have been a blessing!

"So they turned him into a yam."

"Exactly!" Nathan beamed as if Victor had just proved himself a genius. "That's why I wanted to give him to you."

"To do what with?" Vic yelped. Nathan simply looked at him, and Vic groaned. "To take it - him to the high council."

"Yes! Think of all the things he can tell them! He had to know the conspirator's deepest secrets! He - but you probably have figured it all out by now." The light faded from Nathan's eyes, and he scuffed a sneaker-clad foot over the smooth concrete floor. "I - I should have realized that."

Oh God - Plastering a hearty smile onto his face, Vic clapped Nathan on the shoulder, then relieved him of the yam. "You did the right thing," he said gravely. "We know most of the plans, but there's always a chance that he," he gestured with the vegetable, "can fill in some of the small gaps."

Relief flooded Nathan's features, and he looked as if he might cry. Babbling out words of gratitude, he slowly backed away from Victor, heading deep into the stacks on whatever errand he'd thought up for himself.

Hefting the lumpy, orange vegetable, Vic eyed it consideringly, a slow, evil smile spreading across his face. "Call me Dick, will you?" he murmured, tossing the yam into the air, then catching it.

"We'll see just who gets what relief tonight, King." Obviously, the thing was simply an innocent piece of produce, but the more Vic looked at it, the more he could swear that the rounded bumps did in some way resemble the criminal's rotund body.

So caught up was he in his plotting revenge, Vic didn't notice Mac walking toward him in the hall, not until he slammed into the other man. "Hey, dork," Mac grinned, before his eyebrows raised as he eyed the yam. "I've heard of hard up, but resorting to vegetables? You're a sick man, Victor."

Instead of rising to the younger man's taunt, Vic simply grinned as he tossed the yam from hand to hand. "That may be so, but after this, I'm going to be a happy man. Care to join me for dinner tonight? I'm trying a new dish - Sweet potatoes a'la King."

Mac's lower jaw dropped as he stared at his partner, wondering just what the hell it was the other man had been smoking. "Uh - sure. Does that go with red or white wine?"

Vic winked, chuckling at how Mac's mouth hung open even more at that. "White, definitely white. And sparkling wine would be appropriate too." Reaching up to push the ex-thief's mouth shut with the tip of one finger, Vic strolled down the corridor, singing a slightly altered version of a 50's doo-wop song as he headed out to his car.

"Uh, Vic?" Mac called after him, his voice a little weak with confusion. "Aren't the words "Rama lama ding dong?"

"Not in this case," the older agent laughed, tossing the yam from hand to hand, smirking in anticipation of massaging it with his potato masher.

End

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