A/N: Wassup everyone?

I wrote this in January as this whole fic with a weird plot that's way too complicated to describe in words. That's why I haven't posted this piece of it until now. I personally love it, but I want to see your reactions. It's somewhat a fantasy AU. It was the first fic I ever wrote with Mike and Mal that wasn't a total bust.

THIS COULD STAY A ONE-SHOT. If you guys think this is enough, I won't upload anymore of it. Promise.

Ok, time to enjoy!

The tall hooded stranger walked into the tavern, looked the room once over, and sauntered to the far back table. Once he was settled, the other weary travelers present began to whisper about who the stranger was and where he came from.

The stranger was an interesting sight to behold. His long black hair, mostly covered by his ratty hood, fell over his left eye, and his dark eyes were clouded and had heavy bags underneath, like he had never slept a wink in his life

His outfit didn't leave much to the imagination, since it was practically shredded to pieces. What was left of it appeared to have once been a long-sleeved black tunic, dark blue pants, and black leather boots, as well as some kind of dark purple hooded cape that sort of wrapped around his torso, almost like a vest. His well-defined muscles could be seen underneath, although he was quite skinny. It was like he had wrestled with a grizzly bear for an hour… and won. Although his clothes were tattered, he had the look of someone who could take an entire army of men in his sleep. No bruises or cuts penetrated his perfectly natural tan skin.

"He looks like he just went through a hurricane," whispered the house musician to a waitress.

"I bet he found that hood on the side of the road. Those clothes, too. They are SO not his color."

"Pardon me, but is anyone in this godforsaken joint gonna take my order?" asked the stranger, his voice deep and gravelly, sending a hostile vibe through the air.

"Sorry, sir! Sorry!" apologized the waitress. She ran over to his table, her long blond hair flying through the air. "What'll it be?"

"A few whole pieces of clothing and a drink. Anyone know a decent tailor 'round here?" the man replied, his voice now more annoyed than hostile.

"O-Ok. Right away." She shuffled away, then realized she forgot to get the name for the order. "What's your name, sir?"

"That's on a need-to-know basis." He then smiled and chuckled evilly to himself, showing a gap in his front teeth.

"Sure." She walked away.

The whispers were once again abundant as another stranger walked in. He had a similar appearance to the last, except he was much tidier. His tunic was a soild aqua blue, he was wearing dark brown, almost black pants, and worn leather boots, though they appeared to be capped with metal, like the kind used for riding. His hood was dark blue, with a gold clasp keeping it in place, one that was lacking on the other man's. This one's hair was spiked up once he removed his hood. His eyes were full of excitement, but held a few clouds of fear.

He scanned the room until his eyes fell on the man who walked in before him, and smiled.

"Mal! There you are! I've been looking everywhere!" He rushed over to him and sat down. "Why'd you run off like that?

"Pipe down, Mike. There might be a guard in here." He put his finger to his lips. His twin nodded. "I need a tailor and fast."

"You know Brick is in town right now. Let's go to him. He made these hoods to near perfection, and he'll do it for free."

"Keyword 'near'."

"Whatever, he IS an apprentice. I won't take anything from anyone else. Let's hit the road."

They both left the tavern side by side, one in tatters, the other in high hopes. No one noticed they left until the waitress came back with Mal's drink. " I could've sworn there was someone here…. Oh well."

"Dakota! We got another fat bozo over here who needs attending." Dakota's boss yelled.

"Coming, Chris!"

"Hey Brick!" Mike waved happily to his long-time friend as he and Mal entered the tailor shop.

"Mike! What's up, soldier? Anything new?" Brick saluted Mike, who saluted back.

"Clothes for Mal, again."

"Good, I need to practice."

Brick had been a cadet in the Royal Guard, but he quit to pursue his dreams of becoming a fashion designer, despite his terrible sense of style, and earning him ridicule from some of his fellow cadets, including a girl named Jo, whom he had a secret crush on. But let's stay on topic and far away from run-on sentences.

Brick took Mal's shredded hood and shirt off, so he could properly measure him, and to assess the damage. He tried to be gentle, since he knew from experience that Mal could break him in half if he felt the need to. He wrote the measurements down in his notebook, then immediately started sketching ideas for Mal's new tunic and hooded cape.

"Would you care to explain how my work was torn to pieces in less than a week? You were only here on Tuesday. It's Friday. You can't expect me to be able to crank out replacements in a flash. I'm not Jen or Tom." Jen and Tom were the two designers he was apprenticed to. Mal shrugged.

Brick rolled his eyes. "Whatever, any ideas on materials, Mal? Colors?"

"Well, I liked the design and color of the cape, but it needs to be made of stronger fabric. It tore faster than the shirt did. Speaking of the shirt, it needs to be closer-fit. It tore easily, too. And the pants….. ugh. They need more stretch."

Brick scribbled it all down. "You cool with the black shirt, still?"

"Oh, yeah, it was fine, just make it stronger." Mal crossed his bare arms.

"Right. Do you want to help me pick the fabric?"

"Sure, if it will make it less haphazard." Mal followed Brick into the next room, leaving Mike to gaze around the store, fingering satin shirts and warm cloaks.

Brick and Mal looked through everything from woven cottons to knit wool, leather and denim. They finally settled on a black woven silk for the shirt that felt amazing when Mal stroked it, and a black and purple wool fabric interwoven with some sort of shiny thread that made it shimmer. Brick explained it was silver rayon. He cut the fabrics to the proper size, and sent the two twins on their way, with Mal wearing a generic canvas shirt that was a little too big, as well as a pair of too-tight black pants that were also too short. He tried belting the shirt, but it still looked atrocious.

"See you in a week, Brick! Thanks for helping with Mal!" Mike farewelled his friend as he exited the shop with his twin. Mal was mumbling and cursing as he waved off to Brick.

"Anytime, Mike!"

Brick then got to work, sitting down and beginning to sew. He had a feeling he would be repairing a canvas shirt when those two returned the next week.

Review, please! I need to know how wonderful/terrible this is.