Characters: Londo, Garibaldi.

Disclaimer: I don't own it. I don't get money from it. Sue me and I'll laugh. And hide.

Warnings: Gambling, dancing and non-graphic sexy stuff!

Summary: Londo has a proposition for Garibaldi...

Author's Note: I do not think that I can do a better, equal or even passable imitation of The Great Maker Straczynski. This is just for fun. And I've played with the premise and words of a time honoured classic ;)

*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*

As Londo's booming voice carried over everyone's heads, Garibaldi winced. He really did not want to deal with Londo's drama today...

"Ahh, Mister Garibaldi! It is good to see you! You have had a good day, yes?"

"Actually no, Ambassador. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"No? I have the perfect solution, an undefeatable remedy for bad days..."

"No Londo! No! No handouts! I'm sorry, but the built in bank of B5 is getting his butt away from you..."

"Wait, wait, my good, dear friend!" Londo stammered quickly. "I will make you a wager, yes? If you back me and I lose, I will repay you... let me see... FIVE YTIMES the amount I borrowed. And if I win, I will give you one fifth of my winnings. Does that seem fair to you?"

"Londo..." Groaned Garibaldi.

"Oh, come on, Garibaldi! You can't say no to that, either way you're a winner. Tell you what, to make it more interesting, if I lose, I will do something embarrassing- ANYTHING you say."

"And in the unlikely event that you win?" Asked Garibaldi sceptically.

"If you think I can, why are you dragging butt?" Londo challenged. Too tired to keep battling on, and looking forward to Londo's penance, he nodded.

"As the dice rolled and Londo vibrated next to him, Garibaldi reflected on what he could do with the blackmail-worthy pictures that this evening would generate-

A pleasant fantasy that evaporated as the crowd cheered.

"Ahh, you see, Mister Garibaldi- luck may go but she always returns, yes?"

Garibaldi nodded warily, reflecting that at least his winnings were substantial, when his musings were interrupted.

"Excuse me, Mister Garibaldi!"

Turning around, he saw the look of pure and perverted predatory joy on Londo's face and winced.

*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*

"Come on, Mister Garibaldi! You can be more bouncy than that, I'm sure!" Cajoled the boisterous Ambassador.

Huffing and puffing worse than a wolf, Garibaldi suppressed a tired growl. Dancing the Hockey Cokey in his underwear and socks was NOT on the cards!

As they started on the (THANKYOU YOU GOD!) final round, Garibaldi huffed out the final words; "You put your right leg in, you take your right leg out, you out your whole self in and you take something out! You do the Hockey Cokey, you give a little shout! THAT'S what it's all about!" Finishing up by ripping his socks off with a flourish, he said, "You DO know this isn't how it's played, right?"

"Later, Mister Garibaldi, later. Now, for the next verse-"

"WHAT!" Roared Garibaldi in anguish.

Ignoring him, Londo continued to sing off key. "You put your top left tentestical in, you take your top left tentestical out..."

As the whole encounter became for more surreal, Garibaldi for the second time that day, gave in "In for a penny, in for a pound." He muttered, reaching down for his daffy duck boxers...

*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*

Pulling on his trousers with a wince, Garibaldi cursed as he looked around for his socks. A memory flash suddenly came to him and, wincing, he reached under the quilt, disentangling his socks from Londo's... Londos.

Tiptoeing out of the room, he nearly jumped into the ceiling panels as his Link went off.

"Michael, where are you?"

"Don't ask, Jeff. Just... please. Don't ask."