A/N: This ficlet was done in celebration of the 1K fiesta over at the Swooping_is_Bad LJ community. Just getting some of these little drabbles out of my files to help clear some driftwood and maybe help with my current writer's block. It's been rated M for mild language and nudity (that which is seen can not be unseen!). You have been warned.

Missing Sundries

"Elf!"

"Oghren!"

Zevran had the watch and even though it was in the middle of the night where normal sorts would be sound asleep, he wasn't surprised to hear the dwarf call out to him. The smell told him he was approaching even before the shuffling feet did.

"Have you seen...," Oghren belched, smacked his lips, then continued. "You seen my boots?"

"Why no, my odoriferous friend. Have they gone mis--" Zevran's words stopped when he had looked behind him to look at the dwarf.

Now, Zevran could always admire the naked form. Be they man or woman, there was always something appealing of one being bereft of clothing, bare to the world, only their own particular beauties to shine through under the fire light. However, Zevran was realizing that even he had limits on what qualified as "beauty". This did not qualify.

"Whatever ya just called me, I told ya, ya nug-licker," Oghren wavered on his bare feet. "I don't dig holes that way!"

"Of course, of course," Zevran smiled, but he doubted the dwarf could even see his face clear enough to tell. "Though, you are aware that your dangling bits are out, yes?"

"Course I soddin' know my bits are out," he exclaimed and scratched his rear. "Why ya think I'm lookin' for my boots?"

"Well, illusion is well and fine," he chuckled and gave a cursory glance. "But even you don't reach that far to the ground."

"Haha!" the laugh caused his rather furry belly to jiggle. "Tell that to the lasses, they'll tell ya different!"

"I will be sure to ask one of the many women you have certainly been with," Zevran assured. "But that doesn't answer the question as to how boots will help with the rest of you."

"Cause I left my boots next to my splintmail," Oghren looked around blurrily. "Pretty sure I left it .... hurp... somewhere..."

The Antivan really didn't know where the inebriated one might have managed to misplace his armor. It was likely it was still inside or even right beside Oghren's tent. He thought to maybe direct him in a harmless direction where they could find him the following morning passed out. Then this little devious voice in his mind perked up and told him this was an opportunity that he really shouldn't pass up.

Oh, but I shouldn't.

Yes. Yes, you should.

.... you're right. I should.

"You know," Zevran made a show of putting thought to it. "Now that I think of it, I do believe I saw Alistair carrying a set of splintmail into his tent. Along with a set of boots, I believe."

"What would that stone polisher want with my armor?" Oghren squinted at him.

He shrugged a shoulder, "I did see him cleaning his shield earlier. Perhaps he thought to be the nice upstanding little Chantry boy he is and clean your armor for you, as well."

The dwarf still squinted at him and Zevran realized he just needed a little push in the right direction.

"It is probably still in his tent right now."

"Soddin'...," Oghren muttered as he headed off in the direction of Alistair's tent. "Doesn't he know not ta rub another man's rust...."

Zevran quickly got himself over to a nearby fallen log and perched himself atop it for a good view. He watched Oghren nakedly shuffle on over to Alistair's tent, not even bother to call him out, and just opened the tent flap and shuffled on inside. Things took oddly longer than Zevran expected, but then the inevitable happened.

"... eh... huh.... Wh----- AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Alistair came scrambling out of his tent, barefoot, shirtless, and with just a pair of loose breeches on. His face looked both pale and green at the same time.

Upon Alistair's scream Zevran nearly lost his balance off the log due to laughter. Others popped out of their tents, wondering which way the attack was coming from. It took a while for them all to figure that Ohgren had wandered into Alistair's tent naked and promptly passed out with his arm draped over Alistair's chest. Zevran couldn't stop snickering after that for the whole entire night and a good part of the morning. He snickered more when Alistair would glare at him.

The "Naked Fright Night", as it became called, was always a tale of amusement for the companions in the years to come. As to if Alistair ever got back at Zevran for it.... that is another tale to tell.