Prompted by a Meme on LJ that asked authors to list a fic for each letter of the alphabet. I had nothing for Q and JoAnn suggested "Queens of Drag" as a title. Sadly, I think she was joking. I took it as a challenge. This is crack!fic. Stupid. Silly. Pure fun. Enjoy.
Title: Queens of Drag
Author: Jinni (email@example.com)
Disclaimer: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, et al. All things Veronica Mars belong to Rob Thomas, et al. All things CSI belong to CBS, et al.
Notes: Well, JoAnn also said that I needed a fic called “Queens of Drag”. This is what I came up with. *snicker*
Summary: An odd spin on the WIWU challenge.
The sound of a camera going off woke me up.
Okay, I’ll admit it, I didn’t know it was a camera until I opened my eyes to see Willow with it held up to her face, looking down at me. All I knew was that there was this irritating snap-click noise that kept interrupting my nap time. That, and it was irritating the hell out of my head.
I blinked up at her, licking my lips. “Best bud of mine, what’re you doing?”
“Taking pictures,” came the dry response, in a voice that could only be interpreted as ‘duh’. But not from Willow. No, not from Will at all. This came from Faith. The very same Faith that’s now walked up next to the bed, smirking like a cat that’s gotten the cream.
My girlfriend frightens me sometimes. Like – right now, when she’s looking at me like she knows something I don’t know.
“How much do you remember about last night, Xan?” I knew that voice. That voice belonged to Buffy. The Buffster! She would save me from the wacky camera wielding Wiccan and the Girlfriend of Doom.
“Um – not much?”
I felt someone move on the bed and turned. Okay, so I was in bed with Willow’s boyfriend, apparently. I could only see the back of his head. Wait, was that a second head over there? I lift up a little, just enough to verify that, yes, Logan is snoring on the far side of the bed, with Nick sandwiched in between the two of us.
It strikes me that I’m in bed with both Buffy’s boyfriend and Willow’s boyfriend and the girls are taking pictures of us.
“I didn’t…. you know… with them?” I ask in a rush, sitting up. Oh, that made the head hurt. Ow.
“No, there was no sex. We kept enough of an eye on you three to make sure of that,” Buffy snickered behind her hand.
“Not that it wouldn’t have been hotness to see the three of you go at it,” Faith leers.
I reach up to rub at my chest, hand stilling almost immediately. “What --?”
Willow laughs and I know I don’t want to look down. But I do anyway because, let’s face it, I can’t go through the rest of my life without looking down at myself.
Oh, damn. Corset. I lift the sheet. Yep – leather skirt and fishnet hose that have seen better days.
“Am I wearing makeup?” I ask, suddenly very much afraid of what the answer is because I’m remembering bits and pieces now. Like us rummaging through Buffy’s sizeable stash of makeup.
“You are,” Willow says brightly with a nod. She snaps another picture.
I turn enough to pull the sheet down off of Nick and Logan. Uh huh. I wasn’t the only one that got liquored up last night and made a fool of himself. The camera goes off rapid-fire like and I feel a little bit of satisfaction knowing that these two are now immortalized in drag, just like me.
Nick rolls over. He’s probably cold, wearing just that skirt. The mascara and eyeliner from the night before is smeared around his eyes and down one cheek. I laugh. Loudly.
“Wha -?” Logan mutters and turns over. More eyeliner. More streaks. I bet I have some, too.
“Funny, guys,” I finally manage in between laughing at my dress-up partners. “So, what, you just watched us get all dolled up and then rolled us into bed with each other?”
“What?” Nick asks, suddenly very much awake. He sits up and notices, for the first time, that he’s not dressed like any self-respecting man of law should be. “What the –“ He looks up at his girlfriend. “Willow?”
The girls, by the way, are grinning even wider by now, as Logan’s cries of ‘what the hell’ join with Nick’s.
“No one saw us like this, right?” Nick asks, crawling down to the edge of the bed on his hands and knees. This, ladies and gentlemen, gives me a better shot of his assets than I needed, and I look away quick-like.
“No one saw you –“ Buffy drawls.
“Well… except anyone driving down the Strip last night around two in the morning.”
See – I don’t remember any of that. Neither do Nick and Logan, judging by the groaning and moaning coming from them. Nick’s saying something about hoping none of his co-workers saw him out like that.
I look up at the girls, praying that this is all just a joke. “The Strip? Really? We went for a walk down the Strip?”
“Yeah,” Willow grins. “Think you and Logan were having a contest to see how many guys would hit on you. Don’t worry – I took lots of pictures.”
Yes, God, there is something worse than getting drunk and surprise-married in Vegas.
And I just stumbled into it headfirst.