This is set any time after 'The Pits'. I don't own the Biker Mice from Mars; I do own Harmony, Kate, Liz and Emma.
Dressed to impress
The night before...
A pale hand wiped the steam off the mirror, and Charley stared at her reflection dangerously. She scrutinised herself, daring her reflection to show some flaw. And then, she saw it.
A scream of frustration and a string of insults erupted from the bathroom, right into the ears of a passing-by, tan-furred mouse. Throttle stopped in his tracks, giving the bathroom door a wary side-glance. After a quick scan of the area, he moved towards the door and gently tapped.
"Hey Charley, everything okay in there?" he asked softly. Usually it was the mice who would spend ages in the shower; Charley had been in there for two hours.
There was a pause and silence. Suddenly there was a rustling of towels and the door opened. Steam poured out of the bathroom and Charley leaned out through the door, a towel around her torso. It took a lot of self-restraint for Throttle not to laugh or shrink away from her outraged expression.
"Is it me… or is there some grime in my hair?!" she demanded venomously, tugging at a clump of hair.
"It…" Throttle, unsure of Charley's attitude or sudden interest in her appearance, decided to go for a diplomatic answer. "It looks fine to me."
"Fine? Fine?" Charley whined. "It can't just look fine! It has to be prefect!" She frowned and sighed glumly. "I'm gonna run out of shampoo."
And with that, she closed the door. The sound of the shower could be heard from within the bathroom, even though Charley looked like she wore a skin one size too big for her.
Throttle took the opportunity and took to actively searching for Modo; he had a certain way of calming Charley down, and by the looks of things, Modo's touch was going to be needed.
Charley was once again staring into the mirror, fuming at that one spot. It almost seemed to mock her. The one time she needed to be spotless, this had to happen to her.
A second knock on the door made Charley glare past her own reflection.
"Charley, ma'am?"
Modo's cautious voice turned her glare into a sad irritation. Wrapping the towel tighter around herself, she made her way to the door. Modo had a certain problem about seeing her in nothing but a towel.
Again, she peered out of the stream, this time to look into the grey-furred mouse's concerned face. No matter what mood she was in, she could never scowl towards Modo.
"Uh… is everything okay? Throttle said you've been in here for a while," Modo explained.
"Modo, does this clump of hair have any grease or oil in it?" she asked sadly, hating to ask him for his opinion. Modo was always the most honest, and that was the problem.
"Not really, ma'am. Why so bothered?" he asked.
"Because otherwise, I'm gonna ruin tomorrow," she explained.
"Uh, what's happening tomorrow?"
"I've got a friend who's getting married tomorrow. I'm the maid of honour, and I've got oil in my hair that won't budge!" she cried.
"'Made of honour'?"
"It's a title for a bridesmaid. I'm one of Harmony's closest friends, and she asked me if I'd be her maid of honour," Charley explained. "I helped her pick out her dress, helped her organise the wedding, organised her hen night, and I'm going to be the one to hold the groom's ring at the wedding."
"So… how does your hair fit in with this?" the husky voice of Throttle asked cautiously.
Charley peered from beyond the doorway, trying to find the mouse to the voice. She saw him leaning against the wall, several strides away from the bathroom. He seemed to tense up when he saw that she had found him.
"It's a formal occasion. I have to look my best," she explained. "And this clump of hair doesn't want to give up the oil from the garage."
Throttle pushed himself off the wall and joined Modo's side. He looked to his bro and then turned towards Charley.
"Want me to have a try?" he asked genuinely.
Charley went silent, a thoughtful look on her face. After a moment, she retreated back into the bathroom.
The two mice looked at each other, whilst rustling sounds could be heard in the bathroom. They both returned their gaze to the door when it reopened, more fully this time.
Charley stood aside to let Throttle in. She was wearing black underwear and a black tank top. It was obvious that she'd put on some clothing so Throttle didn't see her in full glory.
That's our Charley; always the modest one, he thought as he slid into the steamy bathroom.
Charley said nothing, but returned to the bath tub/shower and sat down in the bottom and just looked grumpily at the floor. She was muttering something about wasting time and shampoo for something that wasn't going to shift. She didn't look up as Throttle turned on the shower and began wetting down her hair.
He wasn't exactly sure of what he was doing, but he'd figured out how to work tough grease out of his own hair. Now he just had to do the same for Charley.
He squirted a small amount of shampoo into his hand and he began to lather it into her trouble spot. It felt strange to be cleaning Charley's hair for her, but she wasn't complaining.
"Umm… Throttle?" her voice was quiet, and he wondered if he'd been too rough, or something similar.
"Yeah?"
"Sorry for snapping at you earlier," she apologised, earnestly.
His mind instantly raced, wondering when she'd snapped at him. He was about to ask her when that had been and then he remembered when he'd knocked on the door.
"Don't worry about it," he assured her. "Life couplings on Mars were just as stressful."
"I'm still sorry. You asked me a concerned question and I nearly bit your head off. You'd think I was the one getting married by the way I'm acting."
Throttle didn't reply. Instead, he thought hard about what Charley had just said. She had been acting strangely for a while, and none of the mice had thought to ask her why. Charley was usually quite level-headed even in stressful situations, why would a 'wedding' be any different?
"Uhhh… is that why you've been…?" Throttle trailed off, not entirely sure if he wanted to finish his sentence.
"Kinda," she admitted. "The last wedding I went to, I was six. They put me in a stupid dress and I tripped over halfway down the aisle. The bride tripped as well and landed on top of me. My aunt was not impressed and told me that I'd ruined her wedding."
"Because you tripped?" Throttle asked.
"Because she tripped. She was the one getting married. My dad told me later that she was being over-dramatic and he bought me some ice cream to make me feel better."
"I'm sure you'll be fine," Throttle said comfortingly.
He withdrew the shower head and inspected the patch of hair he'd been washing. It looked okay to him, but Charley was going to have the last say about this. He stepped back to let her up.
Charley was soaked, and her underwear clung to her body. Throttle inwardly thanked the heavens that she was wearing black; white was see-through when it was wet. The mice had learnt that when Charley had fallen into the river. Thankfully, she had been wearing a swimming costume underneath, otherwise that would have been awkward.
"Thanks, Throttle," Charley inspected her hair in the mirror, a towel in hand. She looked simply relieved.
She smiled at him, and then wrapped a large towel around herself and exited the bathroom. She shivered in the cool air and hurried to her room.
Throttle, however, felt that there was something she wasn't telling him. There was a good reason why she was getting stressed over this 'wedding', and he was close to positive that it wasn't because of some accident back when she was a child.
It's none of my business, he thought to himself. If Charley wants to tell someone, then we'll be here to listen to her.
But he knew when he could do no more. And, with the night's excitement over, he left sweltering bathroom, rejoicing at breathing in steam-free air. And, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, he sauntered down to kitchen to find Modo and Vinnie dishing out hot dogs and root beers.
"Everything okay with Charley-girl?" the white mouse asked. Obviously Modo hadn't done a good job of cluing him in.
"Yeah," he replied plainly. "She's going to Earth's version of a Martian life coupling tomorrow. They call it a wedding," he explained.
His bros pulled one of their many faces; this one was, as Charley called it, the light bulb expression.
"Oh Mama!" Modo sighed surprised.
"Why didn't she tell us?" Vinnie asked rhetorically.
Throttle said nothing, merely shrugged his shoulders. Then he walked up to the plate of hot dogs and picked up two and swiped a root beer from the table. He tried to ignore his bros, and successfully left the room before breaking into a grin. The expression on their faces was priceless.
If only Charley could see this, he thought as he tucked into his first dog.
