A/N: Now for some silliness.

Blue: You caught it! They do indeed share a nest. I have a drabble all planned about The Nest-Building Fiasco

Disclaimer: I do not own Princess Tutu

X. Ladies' Undergarments

It had seemed a good idea at the time for Fakir to steal into town in the predawn darkness and dig up his own clothes from Charon's house, returning with some for her. But now that Duck is hiding naked and embarrassed, enduring minutes that feel like hours for Fakir to find her and having horrific visions of streaking through Goldcrown if he doesn't, it does not seem like such a good idea after all.

He appears at last, calling out her name, his eyes closed and Duck wonders if he has blundered his way through the undergrowth blind the last few feet. Really, sometimes Fakir can be so ridiculous. As she changes behind a tree, unable to fathom how he was able to find her a sundress among his clothes, Fakir confesses that Charon discovered him and expects him to return so they can talk.

"What about me? Where should I wait for you?" Duck asks uncertainly. She never expected to be a girl again, and now that she finds herself in possession of fingers and toes once more, does not quite know what to do with herself. She wonders if Pique and Lillie remember her. She wonders if her body remembers ballet.

"You're coming too. Charon wants to meet you."

She stares at him open-mouthed wondering what exactly he and Charon had spoken about, but Fakir refuses to say anymore and she has to hurry to catch up with him as he stalks away, heading for the town.

As they walk through town, Duck keeps looking down nervously at the faded green cotton-dress she is wearing and walks so self-consciously that Fakir at last asks her what is wrong.

"I'm not wearing any underwear!" she hisses, her face red. "I feel like everyone must be able to tell!"

"Moron!" If Duck is blushing, Fakir is absolutely incandescent. "Don't tell me that!"

"Well you already know! This is all your fault! Why didn't you didn't bring me any?!"

"You think I'd go through Raetsal's old u-u-underclothes?!" he demands absolutely mortified and queasy at the very thought.

"For my sake, I wish you had!"

There is no response that Fakir can make to that, and he wonders just when he began losing so regularly to Duck in their verbal sparring.