Warnings: Unbeta'd, 'cause I was too embarrassed to send this to beta…

Swallowing nervously, Coran carefully fastens his eyes on the paper before him, rather than the expectant group of space explorers around him. "Our information network found out a closely held secret about King Zarkon's son, Prince Lotor. It seems that he has a favorite hangout where he goes to get drunk at -- and that he's a talkative drunk. It would be best for the five of you to go to that place, get known as regulars, and be able to be there whenever he was, so that you can find out what Doom is planning next."

Lance looks at Coran suspiciously. "They know what we look like."

Coran clears his throat. "Er, well, the place where Lotor likes to go has a very strict dress code. And Lotor himself has never seen any of you."

Coughing, Coran hurriedly continues. "We've gotten lucky in that one of you can take a waiter's slot--"

Lance jumps in. "I'll take that."

Pidge sputters. "Hey--!"

Hunk grabs Pidge, his touch calming him down. Sven snorts and crosses his arms. Keith covers his eyes.

Coran coughs again. "Right. The other slot is for a singer-- and I think Hunk should take that one." By fastening his eyes on the papers in front of him, he manages to avoid the outraged looks of the other pilots.

Hunk turns red.

Pidge looks up at him. "Was there something you forgot to mention to the rest of us?"

Hurriedly continuing over Hunk's incoherent stuttering, Coran finishes in a rush. "Nanny's finishing up with the outfits -- they're right through that door."

Ignoring his attempts to hustle them through the door, Lance glares Coran into a standstill. "Wait a minute. You never told us where we were going."

Turning bright red, Coran mumbles. "Oh, did I forget to mention that?"

All of the Voltron Force nod blandly.

"Er, well… It'sTheMirageintheHaverianGalaxy. I'll just leave you to change, now…"

And the Voltron Force is left gaping after the dust cloud Coran leaves behind.

A look of horror is seeping slowly across most of their faces.

Sven swallows convulsively. "The Mirage? Isn't that where--"

Pidge's eyes are huge. "Men in drag? Corsets a must?"

Lance moans. "Shit, I've got to wear fishnet and heels… and bunny ears and tail…"

Hunk's mouth snaps shut. Regarding Lance speculatively, he lifts an eyebrow. "And just how do you know that, Lance?"

Lance turns bright red, mumbling about exploring.

Sven smirks. "You'll look delightful, Lance."

Lance glares back. "I'm sure you will also, my dear." Baring his teeth, his eyes glitter at Sven. "I'm sure Nanny has thought up something lovely just for you."

Keith's laugh kills the incipient argument cold. "This is going to be great!"

Walking out, whistling cheerfully, he misses Pidge's finger swirling meaningfully near his ear, and his teammates' nods of fervent agreement.

The dressing room is large, with six sectioned off areas opening into one central area. One of the six smaller cubicles contains only the door to the room; the other five each have a vanity table, makeup kits, and the new outfits. Four of the five areas are occupied with scowling space explorers. Nanny and the Princess are fluttering around, helping Pidge and Sven get dressed, and annoying Lance.

Slowly lifting up the scrap of cloth that he's supposed to wear, Hunk's eyes round in horror. Shuddering, he resolutely strips off his clothing, and puts on the loincloth. Face bright red, he takes in his reflection, and turns redder. If they so much as snicker… Wincing, Hunk regretfully lets go of thought of violence on his teammates. At least, in The Mirage, I hear that the entertainment gets free drinks. Must be to make up for the humiliation.

Bloody stupid idiot. I know better than to volunteer… Muttering obscenities under his breath, he struggles into the fishnet panty hose and his heels.

A trilling voice calls out from behind him. "Need some help with that?"

Hastily snatching up his uniform top to try to preserve some dignity, Lance snarls back. "I don't need your help! Go away, Princess, and leave me ALONE!"

Melodious laughter wafts back to him. "Sure, Lance."

Groaning, Lance can feel that even his ears flushing. Bad enough having to wear this getup, but to have Allura see me in this… Sucking a deep breath in, and blowing it out hard, Lance attempts to tighten the corset, spots dancing before his eyes. Kami-sama… Where's Keith when you need him? He'd be good about helping me with this thing and not giving me too hard time about it…

Shrinking into his chair, Sven looks up at Nanny in terror. Desperately, he tries to divert her. "Look, I don't see why I have to do this."

Nanny's eyes glow alarmingly. "The outfit is NOT complete without earrings. And you WILL have them. Hold still -- or I'll have to do this again."

Allura's much too cheerful voice carols above him. "You can bite this, now!"

The leather strap slides into place just before Nanny attacks his left ear.

The muffled whine of pain is clearly audible throughout the room.

Listening to Sven, he shudders. Thanks be for small favors. If I hadn't already had my ears pierced… Shaking his head, he turns his attention to the mess on his vanity table. Looking at the array of face and hair accessories in bewilderment, he picks out the earrings, and puts them on. Right. Now what? The dress, the shoes, I could handle. It wasn't pleasant -- Pidge winces as he remembers the almost sadistic glee with which Allura 'helped' him fasten his dress. But I could handle it. The rest of this stuff…

Allura pops her head in, looking entirely too cheerful for someone who was part of the cause of the agony next door. "Just in time. First thing to do is wet your hair down, so I can blow dry it into a much better shape…"

Biting his lip, Pidge chokes back a whimper as the Princess advances purposefully on him.

A slinky black evening gown, corset, sheer black nylons, a black feathered boa, and tall spike heels rest against one wall. Laid out on the vanity table is a hair curler, a selection of dramatic makeup, gold hair glitter, and onyx drop earrings. A red velvet bow adds a drop of color.

Keith himself is nowhere to be seen.

All of them (except Keith, who is still nowhere to be found) finally ready, they gather in the central area with identical looks of embarrassed anger. Written across their faces is the identical thought. If they so much as snicker…

Allura sits back to look at all of them. Her mouth is forced into a solemn line by sheer willpower. But nothing can keep her eyes from laughing.

Nanny is moving around, a determined expression on her face. Firmly yanking a hem here, tightening a corset there, she focused completely on making sure they look exactly as she wants them to.

Finishing the adjustments, Nanny scrutinizes them one last time. Nodding her head in approval, she glances about and frowns as she takes in Keith's unused cubicle. "Now, for Keith."

A voice calls out from the doorway. "I'm right here."

They wheel around to look.

Lance feels his jaw dropping as Keith scampers into the room. "You're a, a…"

Pidge's eyes grow even wider. "A Felinoid?"

Keith grins cheerfully up at all of them, tail flicking from side to side. "Yep. Since my Felinoid body matures more slowly than my human body, I don't have to put on all that stuff." Keith's voice is rougher in this form than his other and is also, disconcertingly, slightly deeper -- although this body is much smaller than his human body. "The best part is, I'm still old enough to get free catnip lassai." Eyes slitting in feline pleasure, Keith all but purrs. "The Mirage is supposed to have the best catnip lassai."

Lance recovers from his shock first. "Wait a minute -- aren't you underage to go to a place like The Mirage?"

Keith rolls his eyes at Lance. "Silly -- I'll get in the way Pidge will: with an escort." With that, Keith bounds over to Sven, and curls around his feet, rubbing against his shins.

Automatically, Sven crouches down and rubs the base of Keith's ears. Freezing for a moment as he realizes he is petting his captain, Sven resumes his petting at Keith's insistent head butting.

Audibly purring now, Keith's eyes are shut in delight. "I always figured you for a cat person."

Crossing his arms and turning his face away, Lance stifles his anger. "Are we ready to go then, and get this over with?"

Nanny frowns at Keith, looking over the outfit he chose. Something is missing… Abruptly, she straightens up, and darts into Keith's unused cubicle, emerging with the red velvet bow. "You need a collar --"

Keith changes from purring pleasure cat into an outraged, furious, hair fluffed, tail lashing, miniature ball of fury. "No collar!"

Nanny's eyes widen, and then narrow in determination. Lunging forward, almost immediately, she recoils just as swiftly, as Keith lashes out with his claws, slicing her skirt.

Sven carefully reaches out and rubs Keith's spine, long firm strokes of his hand to try to calm Keith down.

Lance plucks the bow from Nanny's shocked grip. "No collar, right."

Keith hisses, eyeing Lance suspiciously.

Lance carefully walks over to Sven and Keith, snorting at Keith's skeptical look. "Hey, I drew the line at wearing makeup -- I'm not going to force you into a collar."

Slowly, Keith calms down, but he continues to watch Lance's unsteady approach warily.

Smoothly, Lance settles near Keith's tail, and reaches gently out. "I'll just put this on your tail. You need a bit of color to you, Nanny is right about that."

Bristling, Keith does allow Lance to capture his tail and put the bow on it.

Stepping back, Lance sighs. "Right. Good enough, Nanny?"

Lips a thin line, Nanny looks over Keith critically. "It'll do."

Coran timidly sticks his head in the door (for the tenth time). "Oh, good. You're all ready now. The ships are waiting for you -- Lance and Hunk are in launch bay 2, the rest of you are in launch bay 12. Have a safe trip."

Coran slides out before anyone can say anything.

Looking at each other, the Voltron force members all nod, and paint looks of determination over their embarrassment. Except for Keith, of course, who is settled in Sven's arms, ears upright and quivering in excitement.

What a flipping waste of time. Lance forces his grimace into a semblance of a smile. Keith's asleep, while Hunk, Sven, and Pidge are too drunk to remember much of anything. To make matters worse -- sure, Lotor's here, and he's a talkative drunk -- but all he wants to talk about is his outfit and how attractive he is. If I have to watch him preen one more time…

A drunken hail forces Lance to concentrate on not falling over rather than his woes.

Slamming his hand down, Lance glares at Coran. "It was a complete waste of time! Lotor talks, sure, but all he talks about is himself. Nothing about Doom attack plans, or ANYTHING even REMOTELY useful."

Smiling nervously, Coran nods, hands raised in surrender. "Fine, fine.

We'll just give up this idea."

"Good." With that, Lance slams out of the control room.

Coran sags back into his seat. What was I thinking, to send them out to do _this_?

Whistling happily, Keith sticks his head into the rec room. "Anybody see Coran? I was trying to track him down to find out the next time we're supposed to go to The Mirage."

Three hungover deathglares bounce imperviously off Keith's annoying cheer.

Lance's face acquires an odd, blank look to it. He sets his book delicately down on the table. Then he lunges forward, murderous intent in his eyes.

Keith lets out an undignified yelp and flees, with Lance in hot pursuit.

Hunk, Pidge, and Sven nod carefully in approval, and settle back in their chairs, tenderly nursing their hangovers.

~owari~