Disclaimer: The Magnificent Seven is owned by Trilogy, Mirish and MGM. No money is being made. This fanfic is purely for entertainment purposes.
AU: ATF - Thanks, Mog! :)
Author's Notes: Thanks to Phyllis for letting me know what she thought of the story. :) The title comes from Saturday Night Live. "Ma-kin' Co-pies." <g> I always loved that.
Sequel to Bathroom On The Right. Fourth in the series: Apastapickle, Bureau, Bathroom On The Right, Makin' Copies. You'll most likely need to read the other stories for this one to make sense.
Please let me know what you think. Thanks, Ruby :)
Ezra sighed. Monday morning already, and he was back at work, in the copy room, getting ready to make copies of the report he'd just finished over the weekend. The weekend. He smiled fondly as he stretched his neck, moving his head left to right and then back, working the kinks out of the strained muscles. It had been a hell of a party Saturday night and he was still suffering the aftereffects of the mother-of-all hangovers. He was pretty sure he'd had a good time, though he had to admit a large chunk of his memory from the night was still missing.
A surprise party. Who'd have guessed? His smile turned self-depreciating and he chuckled under his breath. Apparently, not him. He scowled slightly, remembering the week before.
JD Dunne was a dead man. Dead. Dead. Dead. As soon as Ezra's head stopped spinning, he was going to kill the young ATF agent as long as it didn't require any sharp or sudden moves on his part. Yep... the kid was a goner.
He shook his head slightly. Killing Dunne might not really be the solution. There was so much paper work involved. Maybe he'd just wound him... or, better yet... He cocked his head as he heard the familiar footsteps coming down the hall. He smiled gleefully as an idea came to mind. Reaching down, he pressed the copy button on the closest machine. He glanced over his shoulder to watch the youngest member of Team Seven walk into the room, a manila folder brimming with papers held tightly in his right hand.
Ezra made eye contact with the young ATF agent and then turned back to the copy machine. "Well, think of the Devil, and in he walks." Ezra glanced back at him, his lip curled in a sneer.
"Uh... hey, Ez... " JD looked sideways and then squinted over at Standish. "You aren't still mad, are ya? I mean, you had a good time... and... all... " he glanced away as the look on Ezra's face hardened. "Ahem... anyway." He walked over to the fax machine.
Ezra harrumphed, crossing his arms over his chest as he stood at the end of the copier staring at the blank pieces of paper coming out of the machine. He could feel JD's eyes on his back.
JD cleared his throat. "Ezra, um... what are you doing?" He asked after a long moment of watching his friend.
Standish glanced over at the young man and then back down at the copier. He rolled his eyes as he cocked his head toward the machine. He scoffed. "What does it look like I'm doing, Mr. Dunne?"
JD blinked twice, opened his mouth and then closed it.
Ezra shook his head. He pointed to the empty cardboard box on the shelf next to the copy machine. "I noticed that there was no copy paper to be found, so I took it upon myself to make more."
JD's brow furrowed. "Make more what?"
"Ah... What?" JD's voice squeaked.
"Mr. Dunne, what part of this conversation are you not following? The copy paper needed replenishing and I am doing just that."
JD watched as the copier shot out more and more blank pages. "Making... more... copy paper... ?"
"Yes, Mr. Dunne." Ezra's tone turned patronizing.
"Ah... How?" His voice cracked as he took a minuscule step away from the undercover agent. He winced, looking like he was dreading the answer he was about to get.
"Well, how else?" Ezra scoffed again. After a long moment of staring at JD's blank face, he spoke slowly, a sarcastic twinge to every word, "By putting a piece of copy paper down on the glass. And then closing the lid. And then pressing the Co-py button."
JD blinked a few times as he looked from Ezra's face to the copier and then back. Swallowing hard, he put his hand out in front of him. "You're... copying a piece of copy paper... to... make more copy paper?"
"Finally." Ezra sighed theatrically. "I think you've got it, Mr. Dunne."
The copier stopped. "Oops, out of paper," Ezra spoke under his breath. He pulled the pieces of copy paper out of the shoot and then opened up the paper tray and laid them inside, pushing it closed with a loud thunk. Pressing the copy button, he watched proudly as more blank pieces of paper shot from the machine.
JD's mouth dropped open. "Ah... E-Ez... ?" he stammered.
Ezra glanced over at him. "What now, Mr. Dunne?" He rolled his eyes.
JD swallowed hard, his face paling. "You really think you can... I mean, you really think you're... ?"
"Spit it out, Mr. Dunne. I'm sure you have a coherent thought in that jumble of words somewhere." Ezra snorted softly in disgust, his nose crinkling in a sneer.
JD stood rooted to the spot as he stared at the Southerner.
"Do you *not* have anything better to do than stand there and watch me work?" Ezra bit out.
JD jumped, startled. "Ah... yeah, I mean... no. I mean..." He swallowed hard. "...Nevermind, Ez. I'll just..." He backed away slowly, carefully, with a look on his face like he was worried of catching whatever the undercover agent had. "I'll... ah... just... be in the office. And..." He shook his head hard. "I'll be... ah..." he blinked twice and then looked sideways. "Yeah..." He turned on his heel and ran from the room.
Shaking his head, Ezra watched him go.
Ezra whistled softly as he walked into Team Seven's office. All eyes turned to him and he raised his eyebrows in question.
"Ezra, what in the hell did you do to JD?" Buck accused from where he stood next to Larabee's closed door.
"Whatever are you talking about?" Ezra asked innocently as he took a seat at his desk.
"Kid just came in here babbling a moment ago. Nathan was worried he'd had a stroke. Nate and the kid are in Chris' office right now," Buck told him.
Vin chuckled lightly. "I think Chris is trying to figure out if we need to get him to the emergency room," the corner of the sniper's mouth turned up in an amused half smile, "or the Psyche ward."
Buck glared at both of them before once again placing his ear against Chris' door .
Ezra shrugged as he glanced over at Josiah, his hands out, palms up. "I have no idea what they are talking about."
Josiah smirked. "Uh huh."
Buck turned from the door and made a valiant leap towards his desk a second before it opened. Chris walked out with JD in front of him, a comforting hand cupped around the back of the young agent's neck.
The gaze of all three men exiting Chris' office fell on Standish.
JD immediately pointed at the undercover agent, his voice shrill, " I swear. I swear he was in there making cop-"
Stepping forward, Nathan soothed JD with a soft voice and a light hand on his back. "Shhh, JD. It's okay. We're just going to take a little trip, now," he told him, his voice condescendingly sweet. He nodded as he made eye contact with his team leader. Both ATF agents led a babbling JD from the room, their soft, caring voices contrasting sharply with JD's high-pitched gibberish.
Buck shook his head as he started after them. "Chris? Nathan? What's going on? Huh, guys? JD?" he yelled as he ran after his friends.
Josiah and Vin both turned to stare at Standish.
Ezra was looking away, picking imaginary lint off the sleeve os his thousand-dollar suit coat. "Whatever could be wrong with the boy?" he asked innocently before looking over at his friends, his smile turning feral.
Vin snorted softly. "Yeah, you'd have no idea, huh?"
Ezra shrugged. "It's a good lesson for the young man to learn."
Josiah and Vin both let out sharp laughs, glancing at each other a second before they spoke in unison, "Never try to con the con man."
Ezra smiled wolfishly as he pinned Vin with a stare. "Exactly."
Please let me know what you think. I'd love to know. :)
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