exposé

nine

The one thing George always hated about Wilbur's parties were the stupid fucking costume requirements.

Usually, he'd dress as something basic such as a vampire or a cop, occasionally going so far as to dress up like a character from a movie. Never in a million years did George imagine he'd be attending one dressed as a fucking Disney princess. It wasn't even sexy looking, either. It was a genuine, full-length princess dress that hung off his shoulders like a cape and brushed against the floor whenever he moved.

The colour was hideous, too. A trashy, neon pink that somehow managed to make him look even paler under the bright lights in Quackity's bathroom. George was manly enough, however, to admit that the off-the-shoulder neckline of the dress actually really suited him. The thin sleeves were a much softer pink, almost translucent in the way they travelled down his slender arms, and were one of the things about the costume that didn't make him want to throw up.

The outfit came with matching stockings and clunky, tiny heels in a similar shade of hot pink- but George refused to even so much as look at them. He'd binned them the moment he got home from the costume store, eventually deciding to wear his regular white Air Force 1's underneath instead. The dress was more than enough embarrassment for one night.

George sighed as he picked up his flimsy, plastic tiara, debating on whether or not to put it on at all. He was already wearing his usual tinted sunglasses, and whilst he definitely wouldn't consider himself a fashionista, he didn't want to accidentally over accessorise. George decided on letting Quackity have the final say, keeping the item in a tight grip as he made his way out of the bathroom.

Quackity was too busy doing his own face paint to notice George reentering his bedroom, using an old brush to messily draw an exaggerated red smiley face onto himself. George cleared his throat after two minutes of waiting, carefully keeping his eyes averted onto the ceiling when he heard the paintbrush fall back onto the dresser.

"Holy shit," Quackity abruptly snorted, his eyes wide in a mix of disbelief and amusement, "I can't believe you actually did it."

"Shut up," George snapped, his cheeks and ears flushing a bright red in embarrassment. He turned around so that his back was visible, gesturing to the zipper resting just above his ass, "Can you please just make yourself useful and zip this up for me?"

Quackity quickly did as he was told, laughing unabashedly as he zipped George's dress for him. It got stuck a few times, the cheap material struggling to close together in a way that quickly made George frustrated. He just wanted it to be over with. Once done, his eyes caught on the glinting gold trapped within George's fingers, a smug smirk promptly rising to his face as he realised what it was.

"Is that Princess George's royal tiara?" Quackity hummed knowingly, watching with a cat-like grin as the flush on the back of George's neck grew darker, "You should put it on."

"I actually hate you," George seethed through gritted teeth, hoping that the less of a reaction he gave, the quicker the teasing would be done with. With shaking hands, he placed the tiara onto his head, screwing his eyes shut as he turned back around in Quackity's direction, "Happy now?"

"Extremely." Was Quackity's simple reply, the grin never leaving his face as he made his way back over to the dresser to finish getting ready.

George huffed at his friend's retreating figure, shuffling over to his unmade bed to flop down onto it. The dress was itching at his skin in some places, and made him shiver in others whenever the cool fabric shifted against him. It was safe to say that he never wanted to wear something like this again. Deep down, though, he knew he'd think back on this as a funny memory when he was older.