What, was &quot;Rudy&quot; on cable last night?

"But it's for you, Eliot!" Hardison said, already certain he was digging his own grave, but he couldn't not. "Parker got it just for you! Of course you gotta wear it!"

There was almost certainly something just as awful in there for him, but he was going to harass Eliot anyway, and hope to put off his own capitulation for as long as possible.

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"You should just at least try it on so you can see if it fits or not." Parker was nodding hard.

Yes, there was a dark red pretty version of this in there for you, Hardison. Just wait.

"I always have to wear the girl stuff. You guys don't, and just once you should at least try it on. You don't have to take it out of the house."

She pulled out the bottle of tequila. "Also I got the booze."

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Eliot was totally going to end up drunk and wearing a miniskirt before this day was over.

Not that he'd figured that out, yet.

"You're an actual girl, though," he pointed out, gesturing with his paring knife. "All I want is somethin' I can wear that makes these --" pointing to his own chest with a knife was an awesome idea, shut up, "-- stop wobblin' around and throwin' me off every which way."

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At least he wouldn't be alone? Drunk, miniskirted, and probably getting laid.

In short, an excellent day, if a weird one.

"They are very wobbly," Hardison said. Helpfully. "I offered to hole onto 'em, but apparently that's some kind of 'cookin' hazard'."

"But it's cool if you don't think you can pull off a skirt as well as Parker can. Is this some kinda newfound modesty thing?"

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Yeah, that was Parker cackling, and looking for margarita glasses. Niiiice one, Hardison.

"I'm as much of a girl as you are a girl right now," she added to Eliot. "Sometimes it's a little fun to be pretty but mostly it's a pain, and leggings don't have pockets, and finding shoes that are good for sneaking are a pain if you're male or female, so." She shrugged, and then beamed. "Hardison gets chocolate first."

Maybe bribery would help with putting Hardison in a miniskirt, too?

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Really? They thought that was going to work?

"Of course Parker can pull it off better'n I can, I'm not actually a woman." It was not a blow to Eliot's ego to not pull off wearing a miniskirt, no matter what his body was shaped like at the moment. "I don't even wear guy's shorts outside of a ring."

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They could hope! Could he really blame them for wanting to see him in a tiny skirt? With those legs?

"I think you're sellin' yourself...short," Hardison said with a grin, biting into a candy bar that Parker had brought home. "If there was any weekend for you to not do that, dontcha think it should be this one?"

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"Aren't you even curious?" Parker wheedled, getting out some chocolate-covered almonds for herself. "Also what are you cooking, and where is your blender?"

Iced margaritas for everyone! - And a boomeranged bra to you, Eliot.

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Eliot caught the bra and pointed to a cabinet with his knife. "Blender's over there. I'm makin' bacon and pancakes." Neither of which required a paring knife. It was just comforting holding the damn thing. He set it aside and started taking his shirt off so he could pull the bra on. "And no, actually. I've never been curious about wearin' women's clothing."

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"See, now I just wanna go to Baltimore an' see how many dudes hit on you like this," Hardison admitted, sitting down at the table and stretching his legs out. They didn't stretch anywhere near as far as they normally did, boo. "An' why not? Too much time spent takin' 'em off other folks? Lost all their mystique?"

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Excuse Parker while she blends ice and tequila and some of those limes she found in the fridge.

And then stops to listen to Eliot's answer, because Curiosity.

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"What 'mystique'?" Eliot asked. "They're clothes. Damned impractical ones, at that." He shrugged, adjusting the bra straps a few times before actually reaching in and tugging his breasts up to settle them better in the cups.

Oh. That was way better. He bounced on his toes once to test, and they hardly jiggled.

"And anyway. I already tried it once."

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The chocolate bar hit the table. "Details." Hardison demanded.

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And a slushy lime-flavored margarita for you, Hardison. Also a 32C soft cotton bra, and a sports bra, 'cause she wasn't sure how picky you were.

"When was this?" Parker asked, curious. "Was it for a job?"

Hmm. Maybe Eliot's alcohol tolerance had changed too?

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Enough of the rest of Eliot's body chemistry had changed that it was entirely likely his tolerance did, too. Which, considering he'd stayed roughly the same size over all? He hadn't thought of.

Eliot shrugged, pulling Hardison's shirt back on, but not bothering buttoning it up. "It was back in my army days. It was a quiet night on base, bunch of us got bored and kinda drunk, a couple of the women volunteered to loan us some clothes." He looked over at Hardison. "What, like you've never worn a skirt?"

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"Uhh, no, I ain't never did," Hardison admitted, looking a little embarrassed. "Unless a utilikilt counts?"

He shrugged. "I had a hard enough time bein' a skinny, geeky black kid who liked dudes from time to time. Never really thought about addin' anythin' on top of that."

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"What's a utilikilt?" Parker poked the bag over to Hardison. "You should try on the one I got for you, too, then." To Eliot she said, "Are their pictures? And I'm putting this pitcher of frozen margaritas in the fridge for later."

And then she would have her camera ready, yup yup yup.

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"This was well before cell phone cameras, Parker," Eliot said. "And on a military base. No pictures." He shrugged. "Honestly, skirt and a kilt ain't really different. 'Cept Fandom's never stuck me in a magic miniskirt all day."

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Of course Fandom had a magical miniskirt day. Of course it did.

"Easier to show than explain," Hardison said, pulling out his phone to access the ultikilt's website. "They're popular to wear at conventions: durable, sturdy, lotsa pockets, popular. I had a couple for a few years. Might still be in a box at my Nana's, if I'm rememberin' right."

He took a long sip of his margarita. Oooh! This was good! Because drinking on an empty stomach was indeed the best plan.

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Parker peered over his shoulder, not yet over the novelty of that. "You should wear that more often," she decided, able to rest her chin on his head. She'd poured one margarita for herself. And one for Eliot, off to the side, too. "You have nice legs whether you're a guy or not." She paused. "I might've stopped by 'Dite's to get you some other stuff too."

You know. Stuff. With extra batteries. You're welcome.

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Eliot blinked at that. And looked down.

Okay, admittedly that he was curious about.

He shook his head and started dishing out pancakes. "Sounds like you've got some ideas for the weekend, Parker."

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Hardison knocked his margarita over--and he wasn't even drunk yet. "Uhh--you did?" he asked. "You do? What kind of, umm, stuff?"

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"There's this one thing with a tongue," Parker said, rummaging in the bag, "and then there's a couple things with batteries too. They're purple."

So much better than pink! She grinned at Eliot. "Ooo, those pancakes look good."

Time to get carbed up.

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"Sounds like I'd better make extras," Eliot noted, smirking back. "If we're gonna be that busy all day."

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