Prologue (or a/n, if you want to be picky about it, read it anyway): This little story has an, err, story behind it: I just got my third chapter edits for my other story (the trouble with you) back, and found it depressingly full of errors. Almost simultaneously I received a review from Miyu saying that her little fangirl heart cried out for more smutty-ness in future "Interlude" chapters. In an effort to make myself feel better and to oblige her request I scrawled out this completely useless piece of fluff. Forgive me for its contrived plot and lack of anything resembling characterization.

Special Thanks to: Inka Lakhala, without her I'd be comma-less

Raistlin/Dalamar in: "Fangirl Service" or "Nyaow Sayeth the Elf". A fanfic of epic stupidity.

Of all the words in the world, none is more dreaded by master mages than "Oops". Every master knows he will hear it at least once from his apprentice, and every master steels himself for that dreary, terrible day when that one feared word escapes his apprentice's lips (incidentally, the most feared sentence among master mages is: "Sorry sir, but I think I accidentally locked a large angry mutant squirrel in your quarters." But that is another tale for another day.)

Raistlin Majere was a master among masters, and as such he had first choice amongst apprentices. One of those apprentices was so bright, so gifted, that the cursed word "Oops" never escaped his shapely lips ("Gah!" and "That looked expensive," but never "Oops."), but Raistlin, wise man that he was, knew that one day, one day soon, his perfect apprentice would fail. This is an account of that day:

Raistlin froze as he heard the sound. Had Dalamar just- Yes! He had unmistakably said "Oops". Oh dear.

Diving beneath the worktable, the mage was able to avoid the subsequent explosion, and, as the small fires subsided and debris stopped falling from the ceiling, handkerchief over mouth, he made his way through the thick, soot-like fog that filled the room, only to nearly trip over the unconscious form of his- Dear gods, what was that on the elf's head?

Dalamar awoke feeling slightly woozy. And wheezy, for that matter. He immediately began coughing and attempted to cover his mouth with his hand, only to find that he was quite neatly tied with what looked like some sort of magical bonds, to what looked like a bedpost. Quickly abandoning coughing in favor of figuring out why he was tied up, and how he might get down, Dalamar looked around him.

Taking stock of the surrounding room, Dalamar confirmed that, yes, it was bedposts he was tied to, arms and legs tied at each corner forcing him into a spread eagle. Upon taking even further stock of his surroundings (you can never have too much stock you know, especially when you are tied up, or making soup), Dalamar found himself under scrutiny. Raistlin Majere was looking impassively down at him from a comfortable-looking leather chair across the room. He must have seen the question in his apprentice's eyes, because he spoke before Dalamar could open his mouth (either that, or he just assumed that Dalamar would want to know why he was tied to a bed in a strange room, - Raistlin was perceptive that way.).

"You are in my private quarters. You are tied to the bed because you were experimenting with a dangerous spell involving animal demons and I want to be sure that all damage done to you was purely skin-deep. I also need to confirm that you are not possessed and/or dangerous." This explanation helped a little, but Dalamar was still a bit confused.

"Damage?"

With a languid wave of his hand Raistlin produced a full-length mirror. Dalamar stared at his familiar visage. His features were as he remembered them, and his hair was still black and seemed the right length and shape, nothing was green that shouldn't be, and his ears were-

Wait.

His attractive, elegantly pointed ears were no longer anywhere to be found. Turning his head side to side with an air of desperation Dalamar tried to determine just where they had gone. And then he caught sight of the top of his head. Two pointed black ears, like those of the housecats Dalamar had occasionally seen fashionable city-dwellers keep, peeked out from underneath his hair. Yelping slightly, Dalamar tried desperately to reach his head, but was prevented by the ropes tying him down. The resulting struggle moved the bed several inches to the right, but did nothing to loosen Dalamar's bonds.

Dalamar looked helplessly at Raistlin, who was regarding him with a decidedly amused expression.

"Wait until you see the tail".

The resulting thumping and screams had the other apprentices working on the floors below chuckling and giving each other knowing looks.

After Dalamar had been sufficiently calmed (no small task), Raistlin explained why he could not untie him, no matter how much he wanted to go to his room and hide in his wardrobe, possibly never to see the light of day again.

"I think I can undo this particular mistake. Something similar happened to me in my youth. However, I will need to examine you, and, as I stated before, I will keep you tied up until I am able to ensure that no residual element of the cat-demon is in you." Dalamar nodded mutely and submitted quietly to his Shalafi's gentle touch [on] as the master mage examined his new cranial accessories, making the occasional note in what looked like a spell book. Raistlin would often ask Dalamar how something felt and Dalamar would answer, mostly, with, "It tickles," and occasionally with, "Ooh, scratch there, please." Raistlin mutely complied.

Satisfied with the examination, and with the fact that Dalamar wasn't, in fact, going to attempt to eat him, pillage and/or rampage anytime in the near future, Raistlin undid the magic binding Dalamar to the bedposts and asked him to lie on his stomach and remove his robes to just below his waist, so that his new appendage could be examined as well. Dalamar complied and lay down, accidentally twitching his tail in a manner which made it rather hard to catch, so when Raistlin did catch it, it was with rather more force than Dalamar felt might be necessary.

Crying out and attempting to curl into fetal position, Dalamar made it known that he did not like having his tail pulled one bitty bit. Raistlin made note of this in his book and continued to examine the tail once his apprentice's tremors had subsided. Dalamar's tail, it turned out, was quite sensitive, and Raistlin could produce wildly different physical reactions, from violent pain to tickling to mild itchiness; but this story is mostly concerned with what happened when he petted the fur of the tail against its natural direction.

As soon as Raistlin Majere petted the tail in the aforementioned direction, his apprentice arched almost completely off the bed, letting out a cat-like yowl. Assuming that this meant more pain, Raistlin turned to make note of the reaction in his spell book. He was most surprised when he was tackled rather roughly by said apprentice and kissed to within an inch of his life. When the two finally parted to come up for air, Raistlin was both too dazed and lacking of breath to note that he probably hadn't hurt Dalamar that time. As Dalamar began to kiss along his neck and collarbone he realized he didn't really care. Was that his tongue? Ooh, yes, that was his tongue. How did he do that nice little roll-y thing- Ahh, never-mind, as long as he didn't stop, it didn't matter. Ooh, yes, just like that.

The planned activity for the day had been "Calling on Animal Demons". It was postponed in favor of "Learning About Cat-Elf Anatomy and Flexibility".

Neither master nor apprentice regretted it.

The bed ended up nearly on the opposite end of the room.

Raistlin later reflected that his apprentice had had the most fortunate "Oops" ever.