Toy Soldiers: Painted
Title: Painted
Author: Thia
Fandom: Toy Soldiers
Pairing: Snuffy/Billy (implied)
Rating: G? PG?
Scenario: Someone has to cross-dress.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not even a little bit, nor am I making money off this.
Snuffy sat down in front of his mirror -- the good one, the one with lights around it that looked like the kind you'd find in a Broadway dressing room. If he was going to do this, then he was fucking well gonna do it right. Especially since Billy asked for pictures.
Of course it was Billy's fault that he was doing this at all. They'd been exchanging e-mail, shooting the breeze about surface shit, classes and family and what movies they'd just seen. Halloween's coming up in a couple weeks, Snuffy had written. You dressing up?
In hindsight, it was a fucking stupid thing to write. Joey'd always been the one to plan elaborate costumes: Billy just wore them with panache. But all Billy wrote back was, Not planning on it. You?
Maybe.
As what?
What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? "I'm thinking about it?" He'd sound like a total douchebag. So he wrote back: Something Shakespearean.
Pumpkin pants, Billy wrote. Just don't try the corsets the women wore.
Why not?
Okay, so all Billy had said in response was because you can't breathe in a corset, fuckhead, but the idea was there.
Close shave. Makeup, starting with a base coat of toner, then layering on from there, eyeshadow and lipstick and blush. A wig, pale blonde because that's what he could find, plus it suited his coloring. Stockings, underwear -- including bra, stuffed with toilet paper because that was all he could find -- and finally the white dress he'd chosen. It wasn't perfect, of course. He'd need a hell of a lot more than a stuffed bra and a loose white dress for that. He hadn't even picked out a role, so he could get into character. But he could at least make Billy blink, or even laugh.
"God hath given you one face," he said experimentally to his reflection, raising his voice to a tentative falsetto, "and you make yourselves another."
All he needed now was a camera. Snuffy slipped his feet into the flats he'd picked out, and headed out.
-end-
Author: Thia
Fandom: Toy Soldiers
Pairing: Snuffy/Billy (implied)
Rating: G? PG?
Scenario: Someone has to cross-dress.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not even a little bit, nor am I making money off this.
Snuffy sat down in front of his mirror -- the good one, the one with lights around it that looked like the kind you'd find in a Broadway dressing room. If he was going to do this, then he was fucking well gonna do it right. Especially since Billy asked for pictures.
Of course it was Billy's fault that he was doing this at all. They'd been exchanging e-mail, shooting the breeze about surface shit, classes and family and what movies they'd just seen. Halloween's coming up in a couple weeks, Snuffy had written. You dressing up?
In hindsight, it was a fucking stupid thing to write. Joey'd always been the one to plan elaborate costumes: Billy just wore them with panache. But all Billy wrote back was, Not planning on it. You?
Maybe.
As what?
What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? "I'm thinking about it?" He'd sound like a total douchebag. So he wrote back: Something Shakespearean.
Pumpkin pants, Billy wrote. Just don't try the corsets the women wore.
Why not?
Okay, so all Billy had said in response was because you can't breathe in a corset, fuckhead, but the idea was there.
Close shave. Makeup, starting with a base coat of toner, then layering on from there, eyeshadow and lipstick and blush. A wig, pale blonde because that's what he could find, plus it suited his coloring. Stockings, underwear -- including bra, stuffed with toilet paper because that was all he could find -- and finally the white dress he'd chosen. It wasn't perfect, of course. He'd need a hell of a lot more than a stuffed bra and a loose white dress for that. He hadn't even picked out a role, so he could get into character. But he could at least make Billy blink, or even laugh.
"God hath given you one face," he said experimentally to his reflection, raising his voice to a tentative falsetto, "and you make yourselves another."
All he needed now was a camera. Snuffy slipped his feet into the flats he'd picked out, and headed out.
-end-