Title: Brains Optional

Author: Scribe

Fandom: Austin Powers/Zoolander xover

Pairing: Scott Evil/Hansel

Status: Finished

Series/Sequel: The Evil Series

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, neither do I make any profit from this venture.

Summary: Scott gets back from his Roadtrip From Hell to find something interesting going on at Austin's place.

Notes: Hansel was played by Owen Wilson, Scott by the inimitable Seth Green. {song lyrics}

Warnings: Song fic, sorta. I wasn't GOING to do it, but then I needed some music for Scott's photo shoot, and I remembered the Vitamin C song, and it just seemed so SCOTT. Uh... Look, if song fics squick you, don't worry. It isn't all THAT big a part of the story. Lyrics at the end of the story.

Rating: R

Brains Optional
by Scribe

Frau Farbissina closed her eyes in pleasure. 'The Ride of the Valkyries' was just starting. One thing about the Evilmobile--it had a wonderful sound system. They'd just entered Las Vegas, and would be home soon. *Danke Gott. Vhat does not kill us, makes us stronger.* There was a high pitched yowl from the back seat, and she winced. *...or causes us to kill ozzers.*

Dr. Evil, behind the wheel, started to turn and look back. "Eyes FRONT!" she barked. His head snapped back into the correct 'eyes on the road' position, and he called, "Was that Mini Me, or Mr. Bigglesworth?" He tried to make his tone omminous, and failed miserably. Well, after Frau, Darth Vader came off like Mister Rodgers on Prozac.

Scott's voice drifted up from the back. "Both. The little booger was pissed that you wouldn't buy him the Milk Duds at the last pit stop, so he took a munch on Bigglesworth's tail." Scott's tone hinted at dark satisfaction. "Biggie gave 'im a double ear piercing--the hard way."

"Mini Me, be patient. We'll stop at the next Stuckey's, all right?"

There was a spluttering sound, followed by maniacal giggles, and Scott yelled, "You scaley little toad! I'm gonna..."

There was a wild scuffing sound, and Number Two said plaintively, "Can't we all just get along?"

Scot sounded furious. "Stuff it! That condensced snot peed in my soda! I'm gonna..."

"Scott! Temper, temper," Dr. Evil said in an agrieved tone.

"Don't give me that 'he's younger than you, so you gotta cut him some slack' shit again! He used my Jolt as a porta-potty. We had a pit stop not fifteen minutes ago. I say he held it on purpose, just so he could do this."

"Really Scott, aren't we being just a WEE bit paranoid?"

"Oh, that's great, coming from Mister 'I-had-my-ass-frozen-for-thirty-years-so-I-could-either-take-over-the-world-or-destroy-it'. Of which you've done NEITHER, if I can point out."

Brief silence. "Now you've hurt my feelings."

"STOP THIS MERRY-GO-ROUND RIGHT FUCKING NOW AND LET ME OFF!"

"But Scott, I can't just drop you here. What might happen to you--all alone--on the Strip?"

Frau Farbissina looked back in time to see the lascivious grin on her son's face. Scott saw her, and
the leer melted into angelic innocense. "Pull over," Frau ordered. As he did, Frau rummaged in a knapsack, then pulled out a plastic bag containing a dozen rolls of film. "Scott, darlink, doesn't Powers haf a studio near here?"

"Yeah."

"Vell, vhy don't you haf him start developing our vacation shots, hm?"

"Sure." Scott grabbed the sack.

"Tell him double prints, und slides, and he can come over for kaffe und schtrudel for a showing, ja?" Dr. Evil made choking sounds, which everyone but Mr. Bigglesworth ignored. The hairless cat put his front paws up on the seatback and rubbed his head against Evil's ear, purring sympathetically, encouraging him to hack up the hairball and get it over with. "Give Muttie a kiss."

Scott leaned forward and dropped a peck on Frau's cheek. "Thanks, Mom. You're the best."

"Uf course, darlink," she said placidly, the serene light of a fanatic Aryan who'd just been complimented on their breeding glowing in her eyes. She sighed as Scott disembarked, and murmured, "I vish zat nice Alex person vould come back."

*****

Scott sauntered along the street, swinging the sack of film. Damn, it was good to be back. The trip had had the potential for greatness, but not the way his Dad did it.

Touring the scenes of famous murders and assasinations inAmerica. *Milwaukee, and not ONE brewery tour, just staring at an empty lot where Dahmer's apartment USED to be. Houston, and do we go to Astroworld? Nope. We have to go look at some dorky boathouse. Dallas? Do we see the Cowboy cheerleaders? No way. It's the fucking book depository and a grassy knoll. BORING.*

There had been ONE bright spot on the trip. Scott grinned. *Well, TWO, if you count Randy and Dewey seperately. But I don't think I CAN count them seperately--not after all we got up to.*

Scott reached the building that held Austin's new studio/pad. He'd moved into it just before Scott had been hijacked on the *shudder* family road trip. He hadn't been there more than twice, and Austin was still in the process of decorating. Scott was looking forward to getting a good look at it, and possibly giving the (undoubtably) round, satin-sheeted bed a work out.

Somehow Austin had managed to find a place located over a vintage clothing shop. Scott paused long enough to shake his head over a display of elephant leg bell bottoms. He hitched his own baggy jeans up far enough to clear the soles of his Air Jordans so he could make it up the stairs without tripping.

Scott fished out his keychain. Austin hadn't given him a key, but that hadn't been a problem. There was a locksmith shop a half-block from here, and Austin was a VERY sound sleeper. He paused, cocking his head toward the door, key in the lock. "What the fuck?"

It wasn't Burt Bacharach, or the sliding Stones, or the Mommies and the Poppies, or one of those other dinosaurs. It was 'All Star' by Smash Mouth--a relatively decent song by a pretty good band. What the hell was Austin up to?

The front part of the space was the studio. One side wall was a smooth fall of creamy paper, which spilled seamlessly across a portion of the floor. The space was currently occupied by a slender, semi-buff guy with carefully poofed dark hair. He was wearing a tiny pair of leopard skin Speedos, and mascara. Scott looked at the ceiling and whispered, "Thank you."

There were people on the other side of the room, fussing with racks of clothing whic Scott was
gratified to see were extremely scanty. Others were fussing with make-up and hair on a half dozen equally interesting men.

Mister Leopard Spots was just standing there, looking bored *no, wait. I think that's the normal, generic model's expression*, while Austin (in his usual crushed velour) was fiddling with lenses. Scott shut the door quietly and edged into the room.

There was a good looking guy with a cascade of blonde curls down to his shoulders. He was dressed in a pair of boxers so baggy that it HAD to be a fashion statement. Scott regarded the generous comfort slit, offering up fervent hopes that he'd be asked to move around soon.

The young Evil leaned casually against the wall beside him. The blonde looked down at him, offering a congenial smile. "Hey. 'Bout time you got here."

"Uh..."

"Dude, when you hit supermodelhood you can afford to give the time thing a slip now and then, but until you do, punctuality is your friend."

Scott squinted at him. "Hey, wait a minute! You're Hansel!"

Hansel--the Male Supermodel of the Year. Scott had done screen captures of him in the Swedish Bath Gel commercial (hubba hubba).

He grinned. "Yep. What's your name?"

"Scott Evil."

Hansel raised his eyebrows. "Oh, wow. Cool professional name, man. My guess is you do a lot of
goth and heavy metal modeling."

Now Scott blinked. "There's such a thing as heavy metal modeling?"

"Sure. They gotta have background for videos, don't they? Didn't I see you in the Dark Metal Fashion Accessories catalogue last month? You were wearing the matching nipple ring/belly-button ring, connected by chains ensemble."

Scott shook his head. "Not me."

"Bummer. I was gonna ask for a peek. Well, you better report to the costume and make-up people so they can get your ready for your part of the shoot, right?"

"My part of the shoot? You think I'm a model?"

"Sure." Hansel grabbed his hand and dragged Scott over to the group of people bustling around the racks of clothes. "Hey, Maurice, he's here."

A slender man with a platinum crew cut and plucked eyebrows spun around, hands on hips. "And it's about time, too, Mister I'm-So-Hot-I-Don't-Have-To-Play-By-The-Rules! If you were five more minutes late we'd have had to delay shooting the whole punk/funk/thrash/grunge/goth/speed fashion set." He thrust what looked like a black leather handkerchief at Scott. "Here. Get into this,
and Debbie will do your make-up."

"Wait, you've got this wrong. I'm just here to drop off some film and maybe have a quick roll with my boyfriend, Austin."

"Oh, by all means, screw the photographer. I have nothing against giving him a little incentive to make you look good. It makes my clothes look good, too."

Scott examined the garment. "Whoa. We're talking seriously tiny here. What is this stuff?"

"Good God, darling, didn't your agent TELL you what he had you lined up for?"

"I told you, I'm not..."

"This is my spring collection, Babycakes. And I hope you realize that being chosen as one of Maurices's Machos is not only an honor, but a responsibility."

"Wait! You mean to tell me that this is a shoot for a Maurice's Manstuff catalogue?!"

Maurice rolled his eyes. "No, it's a spread for L.L.Bean hunting wear. That's why there's so much
animal skin print and spandex." Maurice stamped his foot. "Now will you STRIP and get into that?" He stomped off, muttering. "I swear. They get a few million people lusting after them and they become prima donnas. He IS cute, though."

Scott stood there, jaw dropped. "Oh, wow. I've been beating off to the Maurice's Manstuff catalogue since I was a little pervert."

"Haven't we all?" Hansel said. "Go on and get into the gear, Evil, or he'll dock you. Usually he's a
sweetheart, but he's real nervous since you cut it so close, and it's making him bitchy."

"I'm tellin' ya, I'm not..."

"Look, don't worry if you haven't had a lot of experience. Powers will talk you through it. I'm
done, but I'll hang around to give you moral support, okay?" He shoved Scott back behind a standing screen. "Hurry up."

"But I'm not..." Pause. "Oh, to hell with it." Scott started to strip. He kicked off his shoes. He
removed his shirt and hung it on the screen. He removed his pants and hung them on the screen. He started to try to figure out how to get into whatever the heck it was.

"Dude? Where's your drawers?"

"What drawers?"

Pause. "C-o-o-l."

"You got that right." Scott squirmed into the garment, then stepped out. "Are these supposed to be
briefs, or swim trunks, or what?"

"I think they're 'or whats'. Hey, they have eagle shaped rivets on the sides."

"Yeah, Mom will like that almost as good as swastikas. Damn, they're teeny." He squirmed, twisting around to look at his own butt. "They're riding up."

"Let me see." Hansel examined his ass. "Mm, yeah, they are, but not enough." He hooked his fingers in the seams and pulled them up a little more, making sure that half of the cheeks were exposed. "That's better." He raised his voice. "Debbie! Got the last one for ya."

A tough looking little brunette, her hair almost as short as Maurice's, bustled up. "Bout time!"

"Geez, you people need to buy another line."

She pushed him into a chair and grabbed up a bottle of foundation and a mascara pencil. "Shut up and sit still, cutie." Powder flew. Scott sneezed. In a few moments she stepped back and cocked her head. Then she dabbed a little more Black Cherry lipstick on his mouth and stood back. "There's still something missing. Hansel, what am I not seeing?"

Hansel examined Scott critically. "With the body make-up his nipples are kinda fading into the
background." He grabbed up a pot of rouge and dabbed one finger in it and dabbed a smear on each nipple. Setting aside the jar he said, "Now we gotta get it even." He started to rub.

"Oh, man."

Hansel tweaked both now stiff nubs. "So you can do perky, too, huh? Versatile. I like that in a man."

"I'm flexible in ways you can't even begin to imagine."

He heard Austin's voice. "All right, smashing baby. That was fab. I really dig that Blue Steel. Now, is our junior hottie here yet?" Scott got up and and walked over to Austin, with Hansel ambling behind him. The International Man of Mystery was fiddling with his camera. "Right. Now, just get your luscious buns on the paper, and we'll..." He looked up. "Scott, luv! You... you're back! I was talking about... uh... We're doing a bakery shoot next, right? Buns up first, then kollaches, then..."

"Stow it, you lecher. Yeah, I KNOW you'd like to get up close and personal with a sausage roll."

Hansel clapped a hand on Scott's shoulder, staggering him. "Austin, this is our junior hip model, Evil. I predict great things for this kid. He's got the look, and the attitude. He's a little short for the runway, but hell, they gotta sell petites, too, don't they?"

Scott stared at him. "Have you ever heard the term 'backhanded compliment'?"

"Is that, like, a tennis swing? Cause I'm more into surfing and snowboarding."

Scott patted his cheek. "It's okay. You're gorgeous--you don't have to THINK, too."

"Thanks."

Scott looked at Austin. "Male models--gotta love 'em. At least I do, as often as possible."

Austin took Scott's arm and pulled him slightly to the side. "A word with you, luv?"

"What?"

"What's going on? How long have you been modeling?"

Scott grabbed his wrist and checked his watch. "About ten minutes. I walked in, they grabbed me, and BOOM! There it is."

"But luv, modeling is a PROFESSION. You're not trained for it."

Scott grabbed Austin's collar. "Look, Powers, from what I've seen, it ain't too far from another, much OLDER profession, if ya know what I mean, but it's more hygenic. Ya don't need any training for that either. You ought to know by now that I'm a natural born exhibitionist and slut, so I should fit right in. Just take the damn pictures. I can use the cash."

"Um, all right."

The stepped back to the photographic area. Hansel looked at them, his handsome head cocked, a slightly puzzled look on his face. Scott was forcibly reminded of a particularly well-bred golden retriever. He said hesitantly, "Um, Evil, you don't WANT to...?"

Again Scott patted his cheek, crooning, "You're trying to think again. Please, you'll hurt yourself."

Hansel's expression smoothed out. He indicated the sound system. "You can go pick your posing music. We always get to choose the first one."

"Cool." Scott sorted through the available tapes and CDs. "I think this one will do it." He inserted the CD and selected the track, then walked back onto the paper. "So I, like, just move around, huh?"

"Just let the music take you."

"Right."

Hansel took the remote and punched PLAY. The music boomed out through the huge speakers placed stratiegically around the room.

{I know what boys like. I know what guys want. I know what boys like. I've got what boys want.}

Maurice, standing beside Hansel, arched one plucked eyebrow. Scott clasped his hands behind his back, spread his feet slightly, arched his pelvis forward, and let his head drop back. Austin gaped. Maurice yelled, "SHOOT THE FUCKING PICTURE!" Snap. "I'd better increase my production figures on that item."

Hansel nodded. "Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh."

The next item was a metalic mesh muscle shirt over sausage casing tight white spandex biker pants. Maurice waved at Scott. "Think 'urban messenger service'. Think 'attitude'. Can you do that, dear?"

Scott looked at Austin. "I dunno. Austin, can I give good attitude?" Austin swallowed audibly. "That means 'yes'." Scott gave them more attitude than a pit bull crossed with Leona Helmsley.

{I make them want me. I like to tease them. And they want to touch me. I never let them.}

Scott adjusted a red suede vest, smirking at Hansel. "That last line is a crock, though." Hansel smiled back.

{I got my cat moves, that so upset them...}

"Black fur briefs? Maurice, you're planning on shipping this shrink wrapped, right?" Scott asked.

Derek Zoolander had stayed over to watch, and said, "I don't think many men will wear those, because they, like, will spoil the look of their pants. Panty lines, you know."

Scott looked at him scornfully. "Oh, yeah, most guys buy this stuff to wear to work. Lemme ask ya this, Zooey. Do you think that the ensemble on that Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue, the one that consisted of string, about four inches of guaze, and two carefully placed scallop shells was actually meant for SWIMMING?" Derek looked blank (actually he didn't have to change his usual expression to achieve that look).

{Zippers and buttons. Fun to frustrate them.}

"Another bogus line. I don't believe in frustrating people," Scott said pointedly to Hansel. Austin
grinned hopefully. "Well, most people."

Skin tight black T-shirt with Grim Reaper logo, skin tight black jeans, with lots of chrome rivits, dark mascara, eyeshadow, and lipstick.

Maurice chirping. "Okay, sweetie, you've done spectacularly so far. Now, can you give me sullen?"

"That I can do. Just let me think about my Dad... No, wait, that would be 'pissed off'. Okay." Scott scowled.

*clickclickclick*

"FABULOUS!" Maurice cried.

Scott grabbed his crotch and flipped the bird. Austin scolded, "Scott! We'll never get that past the
censors..."

Maurice squeezed his shoulder and whispered, "Take the picture."

"Huh?"

"I think I've just found my Christmas card for this year."

*click*

Debbie came over. "Guys? There's some skinny kid at the door who claims that he's here for the shoot. Something about he's late because his shoot for High Times ran over."

Hansel and Maurice looked at each other, then they looked at Scott. Scott shrugged. "It tried to tell you I wasn't a model."

"You are now," Maurice said firmly. "Debbie, refer the little slow poke to my lawyers if he feels like being snotty about his fee. Remind him that it's possible for him to be reduced to modeling for Sunday suppliment diet drug advert inserts." As she headed back for the door, Maurice waved. "Last outfit!" He handed it to Scott.

Scott cradled it in the palm of his hand, squinting. Finally he looked up at Maurice, eyebrows raising. "Looks like two diamond studded nipple clamps and about half a sequined micro-thong." Maurice nodded. "You DO know that there's no way you can photograph this without getting a NC-17 rating? I might have managed a R when I was, like, ten, but now..."

Maurice cleared his throat. "Private collection."

"I see." Scott went behind the screen and started to get into the... *snort* *giggle* I'm sorry, I just
can't call it an outfit. How about fetish gear?

"And this really needs a bit of contrast. Hansel, I thought that perhaps you might help out? You know... Blonde, dark. Long hair, short and spikey. Tall, short. Buff, slender. Angelic, impish."

"Well, Maurice, ya know I love to help out, but I only contracted to be shot solo for this gig, and..." Scott stepped out from behind the screen and padded to the photo area. He seemed to be clothed only in some carefully placed sparkles. "Sure."

Hansel stepped up behind Scott. "How should we...?"

Scott leaned back against him, arching his body, and threw his arms back and around Hansel's neck. He stared at Austin with his best sultry look. "Shoot."

*click*

Everyone clapped. "Another one in the can!" Maurice crowed. "Now then, Evil. You're going to need an agent, or an agency..."

Hansel had his arms around Scott's waist. "I can set him up with mine." He leaned over and peered down. "If that's cool?"

"Frigid."

"Fantastic." Maurice nodded approval. "I'm going to reserve you RIGHT now for my summer collection. Do you do twink?" Scott flashed him the angelic look that always melted Frau. It had an opposite, rather hardening effect, on the designer. "Oooo," he sighed. He bustled off, muttering, "Pink chiffon. Yes, definitely. And some white satin..."

The crew was packing up. Austin nudged Derek Zoolander. "Smashing shoot. How about we all find some nice grotty establishment and get drunk and nasty together to celebrate?"

Derek nodded. "That would be cool. My face hurts. I must have changed expression at least three times during this shoot."

Austin rubbed his shoulder. "Baby, you shouldn't exert yourself like that. Scott? Hansel?"

Scott was still dangling from Hansel's neck. The big blonde had a glazed look on his face, and his hips were making tiny movements. Scott said, "You two go have fun. I'm gonna show Hansel the darkroom."

Austin frowned. "Scott, don't go messing about with things in there. You don't know about finishing photos, and..."

"Powers, I am DAMN sure gonna develope something in there, but it isn't going to be photos, and the kind of fluids that will be involved are NOT fixatives or toners, dig?"

"Oh." Austin cleared his throat. "Come on, Derek." They left.

Scott stood back and turned. "Exactly how big IS that nature break slit in your boxers? It looks like you could..." *rustle* *gasp* "Yep, no problem at all fitting my whole hand in there."

"Um... Scott?"

*slide* *yelp*

"Yeah?"

"It isn't that I'm not interested, but..."

"You damn sure ARE interested." *squeeze*

*yip* "Yeah. But I was just wondering..."

*Holy crap, he's blushing!* "What?"

"Well, you know how I'm always doing this macho shit like rock climbing and bungee jumping and parachuting and running with the bulls..."

"Stupid shit, yeah, I know."

"So I've got the rep and the image of being this big, virile stud, and..."

"You're not impotent." *squeeze* "I have proof."

"No, it's just that... Well, I've always kinda been attracted to little, tough guys, and I was wondering if you'd... ahem..."

"Hansel, are you saying that you want ME to fuck YOU?"

"Uh... kinda."

Scott grabbed his hand and started dragging him toward the darkroom. "Like you said, I'm versatile." As he shoved Hansel into the darkend room and grabbed the waistband of his boxers he said, "Okay, so I take back some of the things I said about Paula Abdul."

I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I've got what boys want
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh

I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I seem them looking (looking)

I make them want me
I like to tease them
And they want to touch me
I never let them

I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like me

I got my cat moves
That so upsets them
Zippers and buttons
Fun to frustrate them
They get so angry
Like pouty children
Denied their candy
I laugh right at them

I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I've got what boys want
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh

I know what boys like
I got what boys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like, boys like me

I think you're special
I might let you
You're so much different
I might let you
There's no one like you
I might let you
Or would you like that?
I might let you
Sucker!

The rest is pretty much just repetition.