TITLE: Life Just Ain't Fair...
AUTHOR: Ragna (WritingGoddess@...; SpikeGrrl1@...)
RATING: PG-13, language and content
CLASSIFICATION: Oh my lord...I guess no real couple, but reference to
slashiness.
SUMMARY: Lindsey and Graham plot to take over the world and get outsmarted
and publicly humiliated.
SPOILERS: Whatever Lindsey's last episode was (I think it was "Dead End")
and "Into The Woods"
DISTRIBUTION: Any sites with my fic up; you all have unspoken permission. I
write it, you can post it. Everyone else just keep my name on it and let me
know.
PREVIOUS PARTS/ARCHIVED AT: http://www.envy.nu/allthepain/index.html
DISCLAIMER: If you don't recognize it, chances are it's my own creation. If
you do, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kazui Sandollar, FOX and the WB own it or
them. Various friends of mine are holding characters hostage. You may see
them by appointment only.
FEEDBACK: Sorry I'm not home right now I'm walking in the spiderwebs so
leave a message and I'll call you back...in other words, I want it. Don't
care if it's onlist or not, but I prefer offlist since I have quite a few
lists on No Mail.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This part fulfills requirements #1, #2, #3, #4 & #9
completely of Gloveslap #25. I challenge someone else to come up with a
fanart version of Graham in drag.
~*~*~
"I know drag is second nature for you, but..." Lindsey began. "Why the hell
do *I* have to wear a dress?"

"You're too easily recognizable around here. I mean, that weird host..."

Lindsey shrugged, tossing the dress to Graham. "It'll look better on you
than me. Purple's definitely not my color."

Graham scowled. "You have no balls, you know?"

"And from what I remember of your street punk past, you weren't anything
like this."

"Marine Corps changes you." He eyed the dress, looking at the pale lavender
color. "You sure it'll fit?"

Lindsey shrugged. "You don't have to wear it. If I go in and I'm recognized,
maybe it'll help."

"But still...think it'll fit?"

Lindsey rolled his eyes. "Use the bathroom, try the damn thing on already."

***

"Aspirin..." Cordelia said, looking up and quickly shutting her eyes at the
bright light.

"Are you--" Wesley began, but Cordelia opened her eyes and glared.

"If you ask me if I'm all right I'll beat you upside the head!"

"I was going to say," Wesley began again, "are you going to be able to give
a description of the vision? I didn't expect you to hit your head on the
table when you fell."

"Oh," Cordelia said as Gunn handed her three aspirin and some cool water.
"Yeah...I saw our favorite one-handed lawyer with two hands at Caritas,
followed by a really badly dressed drag queen." She swallowed the aspirin
and the water. "I saw the Host pinching the drag queen's ass...now if that's
a sight I never see again..."

Angel nodded. "Wesley, what should we do?"

"Wait a second," Cordelia said. She went over to the desk, looking at the
picture of Graham Miller that Kate had left. "If I didn't know any better,
I'd say this is Mr. Priscilla, Queen of the Desert."

Gunn started to choke on his muffled laughter. "Oh, this is too good..."

Angel glared, and then it softened as he saw the large bump forming on
Cordelia's forehead. "Do you think you can walk?"

"I can try," she said, standing up. A second later she fell backward into
Gunn's arms. "Guess not."

"Much as I want to see Miller looking like a pretty girl, I'll stay here
with her," Gunn said. "Keep an eye on her."

"Right. Angel and I will head to Caritas, see what's going on there," Wesley
said. He looked at Angel. "Weapons?"

"Maybe just a Polaroid camera," Angel said with a trace of a smile.

***

"Welcome back!" The Host looked at Lindsey. "Going to grace us with a song?"

"Maybe...don't have my guitar with me," he said, a blush creeping up his
cheeks.

"And who are you?" The Host said, looking at a drag Graham. He was wearing a
dark brown wig, and his make-up was done so well even a professional make-up
artist would have been envious.

"A...client," Graham said in a falsetto voice. "What a nice establishment."

"Thank you," Lorne said. He continued looking Graham up and down. "Didn't
know you swung that way, Lindsey. Want to share?"

Lindsey coughed, a blush racing up his cheeks. "Um...um..."

Lorne looked at him. "Well?"

"No, thanks anyway, sorry, gotta go."

"Hey!" Graham gasped as Lorne pinched his butt. "I don't swing that way!"

"That's not what I heard..." Lorne said as he walked over to the stage. He
looked at the audience. "Next up is Lindsey and his 'friend'...what's your
name?"

Graham swallowed. "Brunhilda."

"Brunhilda," Lorne repeated, clapping. The two of them walked up on the
stage and, in something that looked like it embarrassed Lindsey more than
the pass Lorne had made, started to sing "Love To Love You."

And two things unfolded to Lindsey horror while Graham sang his heart out.

Angel and Wesley walked in with a Polaroid camera from the door.

Darla, who had watched Lindsey and Graham get hit upon, was whispering to
the Host and pointing at Lindsey or Graham, he didn't know.

"Smile, boys," Wesley said, snapping a picture of the two on stage as Graham
threw his arm around Lindsey. Angel started to laugh, commenting on Graham's
lack of neck and the fact his wig was slipping off and his natural hair was
showing.

He was so into the song he didn't care. Lindsey wanted to shoot himself
right then and there.

Lindsey jumped off the stage and pushed between Angel and Wesley, going to
the Host to find out what he had to do to stop Angel and his group only to
hear Darla say, rather loudly, "I'm not sure who's worse in bed. Lindsey
might not have much, but he almost knows how to use it. Graham's a
rotweiller with no sense of direction."

At that moment Lorne turned around and looked at Lindsey. Everyone in the
vicinity laughed. Lindsey stood all alone, humiliated for the third time in
less than ten minutes.

What had he done to deserve this?





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