Drag Doll Drabbles
It’s Not a Fashion Statement, It’s a Death Wish 3:30
William was having a really bad fucking day.
Last night he’d stuck to a glass of punch and one rum and coke. Not enough to get drunk but his memory of the night got fuzzy and he had woken up in a fucking tree-house!
Ok. So it was a nice tree-house, obviously built for some very spoilt brats. There was a ceiling fan, TV and a mini-fridge. William had stayed in worse motel rooms.
The point was he’d woken up outdoors, and not even in the same yard as the house the party had been at.
If that had been it, things wouldn’t have been so bad. But William was wearing someone else’s clothes as well. Girl’s clothes. Gray velour pants and a red tank top with lace edging that was itchy as fuck.
William couldn’t find his clothes or his shoes - any shoes. He did find his bandanna on a table in the corner, wrapped around his cell phone, wallet and keys. That was something at least.
He was scrolling through his contacts trying to think of who to call when he heard a sharp whistle from outside. William peeked cautiously out one of the windows, Pete was grinning up at him. He waved, “Hurry up, Billie. I left Patrick trying to talk the Butcher out of his skirt and into pants.”
“What the fuck, Wentz?” William demanded as he descended the rope-ladder.
“Somebody spiked the punch. You guys, Cobra and the Leto brothers all ended up in drag.” Pete wiggled his eyebrows lasciviously. “I’ve spent half the morning chasing everyone down.”
William was going to kick someone’s ass over this, especially if any photos leaked. And there would be photos - Wentz was a fucking photo junkie.
“How did you-”
“Easy. I had GPS tracking chips put into everyone’s phones.” William gapped at Pete, one foot still on the bottom rung. Pete shrugged and tried to look sheepish - he failed. “I like knowing where everyone is.”
The City Is At War - 2:51
Shannon was not pleased. His entire weekend had been fucked over by some prank. Stupid younger brother, with his deadly damn eyes always getting him into shit.
He heard a giggle and a click and whipped his head around to catch VickyT with her phone out. The woman took another shot and smirked. Oh, yeah real funny when your 'drag' outfit was pinstriped pants and vest over a white button-down. Shannon glared at her; the witch couldn't even manage to look awkward.
Neither did Jared for that matter. Fucking too pretty bastard. Jared might claim a movie roll as the reason he could swan around in four-inch heels, but Shannon knew better. He wouldn't say anything though, as long as he didn't make any bearded-lady comments.
Shannon shifted in his seat. Jared wiggled his eyebrows at him, eyes on his lap. Shannon swore and snapped his legs closed. How the fuck did women put up with this crap?
"Retaliation plans?" VickyT asked. Jared gave a shrug and fussed with the drape of his top.
"I don't know. I'm thinking egging their car is just not going to cut it as revenge. I'd be up for kicking ass but I don't trust Jared not to sell our house for magic beans if I end up in jail." Jared got up and dropped down in his lap. "Shan, I'd hold out for the magic lamp at least." VickyT's phone clicked and Jared smiled for the next shot, arms around Shannon's neck.
Shannon sighed.
This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race - 3:32
Patrick came out of Pete's bedroom and held out a pair of jeans to Butcher. He was pretty sure they were originally Mikey's, since they were actual men's jeans.
Butcher made a face. "I'd rather not, thanks."
"Butcher, these are perfectly fine jeans. There is nothing wrong with them!"
"Well, yeah." Butcher shrugged and played with a loose thread on the hem of his plaid school-girl skirt. "But they're not as pretty."
Patrick growled in annoyance and threw his arms up. Why. Why, was he surrounded by insanity? Had he been that bad in a past life? Had he spent his days nudging people in the ribs and telling bad jokes while handing out trick gum?
He tossed the pants on to the counter and narrowed his eyes at Butcher. Mrotek ducked his head and bit the corner of his bottom lip. Butcher needed to put pants on. He was giving Patrick seriously kinky thoughts. Thoughts he shouldn't have without Pete handy and the house empty. "So if we find you some ... prettier pants then you'll change out of the skirt?"
Butcher smiled at him in that sweet way he had that almost made you forget what a shit he could be. Almost. Patrick lived for months at a time with Pete; his immunity was high when it came to cute-as-camouflage.
"Come on, then. I'm sure there's something suitably pretty in Pete's closet." Patrick knew there were at least three pairs of jeans from ex-girlfriends. Butcher was welcome to all of them as far as Patrick was concerned; it'd save him the hassle of getting rid of them later.
They were hidden in the depths of Pete's closet when he returned, Nate in tow. Pete ruffled the hair at the back of his head."Um. You can't still be looking for pants?"
Patrick resisted the urge to throw a shoe at him. "Mrotek-" Butcher turned to face them, a dark purple tube-top pressed to his chest. "Does this clash?"
"Pants, Mrotek. Pants."
The Queen and I - 3:14
The room was dim and too warm. Gabe murmured irritatedly at the feel of sweat gathering in the crease of his neck. He sat up from the slouch he was in and peered around. "Hello, basement." Gabe half sang to himself when he spotted the row of narrow windows along one wall. They were covered in heavy colored paper; glowing green, red and blue where the sun struggled to get in.
Gabe was a little perturbed to find himself in an unfamiliar room. He didn't remember coming into the house at the party the night before let alone being in the basement. Gabe shrugged off the uneasy feeling and stood up, planing on searching for his bandmates. Unfortunately he tripped and only managed not to fall on his face by flailing back into the chair.
"Smooth." Gabe grumbled and reached down to figure out what he'd caught himself on. His fingers brushed slick satin. His brow furrowed when he found not an abandoned sheet but ... he followed the material up, a skirt? "What the fuck?"
Gabe slid his hand higher fingers tracing over beading and embroidery. "I was so not drunk enough to dress in drag last night." He shook his head in disbelief and felt something slip down his forehead. He reached up and pulled the plastic thing off, wincing as it snagged in his shaggy hair.
It was one tall ass tiara. "Damn." Gabe grinned, bemused in a way that only someone who'd been in this kind of situation before could be. "At least I'm the Queen, not just the mother fucking princess this time."
Gabe shrugged and settled the tiara back on his head and hiked his dress up, not bothering to be dainty about it. He needed to find his bandmates and his clothes, not necessarily in that order.
We've Got a Big Mess On Our Hands - 3:26
When Michel woke up and realized he was in a dress his first thought was: Damn, I have to quit drinking with those Kiwi bastards. Then his head cleared a little bit and he remembered he hadn't popped into the pub back home last night.
"Oh, this is. Not. Good." The room was overwhelmingly black on pink, all the lace and satin made it look like a lingerie store's failed bedding line. Michel couldn't see anyone else around but that didn't mean anything. He'd read a fanfiction like this once.
Michel caught sight of his phone and wallet sitting on the dresser. He snagged them up and tried the first door, pushing it open wide enough to see that it was a bathroom. He was half way across the room when he heard footsteps tromping up stairs.
"Fuck." Michel wasn't taking chances with who ever had put him here. He threw open the window and said a quick prayer when he spotted the porch roof below. As fast as he could Michel crawled through the window and across the roof to the corner.
He let his legs drop over the edge and hung from his arms until his toes found the railing. Michel jumped off the porch in time to hear a shout from the open window. He was sprinting across the lawn when Pete's SUV pulled up to the curb. He'd never been so glad to see Wentz in his life.
Not bothering with the gate Michel used the wrought iron fence to help him climb the brick column flanking the gate. He landed hard on the other side but kept moving. Michel wrenched the door open and dove into the backseat. "Go! Go!"
Pete and Gabe shrugged at each other bewildered, but Pete pealed out anyway. A few blocks later Gabe started humming the Mission Impossible theme and Wentz piped up in a bad British accent, "Having a spot of adventure this morning Chiz?"
Smile For the Paparazzi - 3:21
Adam woke up to the sound of someone tapping on a window. He slit his eyes open and found his pillow was actually a corset covered back. Nice. He pushed himself on one arm to see over the back of the couch. Pete Wentz had his forehead pressed against the glass, grinning. Oh man. It was way too fucking early for this.
"Sisky!" Pete called and pointed to the window. Adam sighed and knelt up so he could turn the window crank easier. He had the window most of the way open when he felt a hand slide up the side of his thigh. Adam looked down and blinked in surprise. "Nate?"
"Sisky?"
"Why the hell are you dressed like that?" They asked in stereo. Pete started laughing and Nate sat up fast, wincing as the corset boning dug in. "What the fuck, Wentz?"
Pete leaned in the open window, "Wasn't me this time, dudes. Let's book before someone comes looking for you two."
"That's a plan. Now where are my pants?" Adam asked, looking around the room. He caught something shiny out of the corner of his eye. It was a pair of phones, a wallet, and a money clip. He snagged his up, "Your's?"
"Yes." Nate took them and checked for his ID.
"You're not going to find your clothes in here. Let's go." Pete urged them, motioning them out the window. He and Nate climbed out and followed Wentz to his SUV. The drive to Pete's house was silent except for the radio.
Adam jumped out of the car and jogged into the house intent on stealing a pair of Pete's jeans. A camera flash made him stop short; Nate stumbled into him.
"The flapper look really works for you Sisky, the headband's a nice touch." Jack grinned at them as he switched cameras. "This will make a great episode of TAI TV, the fans will love it!"
Damn You Look Good and I'm Drunk - 3:52
Mike whimpered and burrowed closer to the warm body he was wrapped around; his head was throbbing. After a few minutes he cautiously opened one eye. He was laying head tucked into a bony shoulder and one hand down the back of the girl's skirt. She didn't have much of an ass.
It took his still half asleep mind three counts to work out that there really were more then two people's worth of legs tangled together. Mike started when he felt a body move behind him. An arm snaked around his waist and he gasped as they nipped the back of his neck.
"Hmm, morning." Mumbled the person behind him. "Morning," came the sleepy reply. Neither voice was very feminine, in fact they were rather familiar. And if the voices belonged to who he thought then he was groping... Ryland?
Mike closed his eyes and counted to ten, then he slid his hand into safer territory. "Morning guys." They tensed up, perfectly still for a long moment before Ryland flipped over and Alex lent up to look at him.
Mike giggled, he could fucking admit it. Alex in a bright pink leopard print halter top. What about that wasn't funny? "You two lose a bet?" Alex pinched the inside of his arm. "Did you?" Mike looked down at himself.
"The fuck?" He was in a beerwench costume. Like, full on German tavern wench, off the shoulder shirt and tiny skirt. Mike felt his hair, relived to find bed-head knots instead of pigtails.
"You guys don't remember how we got dressed like this?" Ryland asked hesitantly. They shook their heads. "Any idea who we pissed off?"
"No."
"Not lately." Mike told them with a shrug.
Ryland plucked at his sparkly top, brow furrowed. "Me either." He sighed and pulled the shirt off, tossing it across the room. "My head hurts. I'm going back to sleep until this makes sense."
Alex and Ryland moved Mike around until they had him in perfect pillow position for both of them.
"Guys?" Alex's hand smacked over Mike's mouth. "Sleepy." Mike gave in and closed his eyes.
Skeptics and True Believers - 2:45
Greta had a wholesome Earth Mother vibe that Vicky admired. It was good cover for her wicked soul and sailor's vocabulary.
"Those smug fuckers. Greta said with feeling. She flopped down on the couch next to Vicky, narrowed eyes giving her a sexy, evil mastermind look. "We're going to do something massive - something so grand they'd never envision it, let alone be able to pull off."
Vicky nodded, "I think they should stew about it for a while too. Like, pull the prank but then let them be paranoid not knowing who pulled it, why or how." They sat in silence for a few minutes each mentally drafting and casting aside plans until Vicky had a horribly brilliant revelation. In a trying-to-hard-falsetto she half sang, "I'm a pretty, pretty princess."
Greta smirked at Vicky and pulled out her cell. "So. Accomplices?"
"It'd have to be all girls, otherwise it wouldn't count. "
"Right you are dear VickyT, and we can't go through all the effort just to have the guys claim we only succeeded at it because we talked my boys into helping."
"Have to be label or immediate circle, I wouldn't trust anyone else to keep their traps shut. Although we might have to tip Pete off the morning after..."
"Possibly. At least he'll keep quiet until the second part except for-"
"Patrick." They said in unison. "Hayley." Vicky offered. "And K.Perry."
"Mhm. Smith's Hayley and Cassie most likely."
"Not sure about Keltie..."
"She'd be up for the shopping." Greta assured Vicky.
All Night Long - 2:25
Vicky and Greta made the rounds at the party; drifting from group to group, together and separately. They were subtly getting their targets to drink the spiked punch.
"I need another drink, want me to get you one?"
"Here, hold this a sec."
The guys had no clue. It was easy to get them to wander off into the house and crash so the other party-goers wouldn't notice anything amiss. Vicky and Greta not only spiked the Cobra and TAI boys but the Leto brothers as well. They had planned on spiking a couple random guys at the party from the start - just to keep trails murky. The fact that Vicky would have paid good money to see Jared dolled up only had a tiny influence on their choice.
The hardest part of the evening's operation was getting the boys from house to house. Heavy mother-fuckers. Dressing them was by far the best. It was like having life sized ken dolls - well, if ken had been a transvestite. Smith's Hayley had fessed up to putting her Ken doll in a duct-tape bikini while they maneuvered Sisky into his champagne flapper dress. Vicky suddenly understood Spencer Smith's dyke faze.
The sun was up already by the time they finished. K.Perry was still cackling over Billvy's pants - she'd ironed the SLINKY on the ass her self.
A Box Full Of Sharp Objects - 2:56
Greta hummed as she waited for the last of her photos to print out. The shop was running a little behind the promised hour but she was in too good of a mood to be bothered. It had been two weeks since they’d pranked the boys and it was time for the second phase: The Reveal.
She and VickyT had the worst time keeping quiet; at least the guys took their smirking as amusement over the situation and not guilt. By tonight the ruse would be up and they’d know better.
Jared and Shannon would be getting emails, photos attached, but the Cobra and TAI boys were getting little presents taped to their bunk ceilings. Photos from when she, VickyT, the Hayleys, K.Perry, Cassie and Keltie went dress shopping for the boys. In each bunk would be a picture of the outfit they had been dressed in, held by which ever of the girls picked it – and a couple of pics of rejected choices.
Oh, the chaos! Greta felt like twirling a handle-bar mustash and cackling. She expected quite a diva fit from Billvy at least, and massive pouting from Micheal Guy - probably a declaration never to drink with her or VickyT again. Nate would bitch at them, for the forth time, about not getting the corset tied right for sleeping.
Greta smiled at the clerk and took her box of 5x7s. She hefted the box, testing the weight as she walked out to her borrowed car. Triple prints might not have been enough.
-END-
These were for a music drabble challenge. Take a random song off your mp3/media player library and use the title to inspire the drabble - the length of which has to match the song length. 2 min 34 sec song becomes a 234 word drabble.
Click to join twin_swords