Disclaimer: All things Tortall related belong to Tamora Pierce. The story title and its origins come from the Boxers or Briefs threads started by EMMO on Sheroes Central. All hail the Altoids!

A/N: Welcome to an offshoot of EMMO's deranged fad. A brief history of the threads: it started with the Snape: Boxers or Briefs by EMMO, subsequently carried on by Crystal Mage, Dahee Fanel, Thicketgirl, bookworm87, sivvus and snapescat. Soon every folder in the Entertainment and Pop Culture folder had one of them. The craze grew until I, silverstar, decided to extend this to the universe outside Sheroes. This is based on the George: Boxers or Briefs and Numair: Boxers or Briefs threads. Enjoy!

I have not read Trickster's Choice. No paperback version. :( Therefore, all works of this fic is to be considered non-TC compatible.

Boxers or Briefs

Tamora Pierce sat at her computer to write the next part of Trickster's Queen. She was grateful for the quiet morning to finish writing. She really needed to cope with the growing demand for her books. Then her quiet was shattered.

Numair burst through the closet doors. "What is this?" he spluttered at an astonished Tammy. He waved a sheaf of papers in the air.

"What is that?" Tammy asked in confusion.

"That's what I'm asking you!" Numair hollered.

"Numair!" Both Tammy and Numair turned to see Daine coming out of the closet. "She can't answer you if she doesn't know what you're talking about."

Numair huffed and handed the papers to Tammy.

Tammy read some of the responses aloud. "'Commando! Well, I picked that option anyway. I definitely can't see him in a "thong" (we call them G-strings) and I can't see him in briefs. Boxers, maybe. But I picked commando because I think it would be so funny if he wore nothing underneath his little black robe. It would be so funny if a breeze came along!'"

Numair jabbed his finger at Tammy. "I don't even wear my black robe!"

"Except on special occasions," Daine said, trying to hold back a smile. "I have to agree with the author of that response. Besides, if you did, we—"

Numair had clapped his hand over her mouth. "Daine!" His face turned beet red.

Tammy smiled knowingly, making Numair blush even harder. She turned her eyes to the printed-paper. She probably shouldn't have let Numair play with her old computer and experiment with it. It had resulted in him powering the machine with magic. Now he could access the Internet. Occasionally, he let Daine use it too. "'It's an epidemic, I tell you! First EMMO's Snape thread. Then the Father Dom thread on the Meg board. Then MY thread about Sirius on HP/Tolkien. Now THIS!'"

"I want to use the computer sometime," Daine muttered. Numair shot her a look.

"I have to see these threads," Tammy agreed with the young wild mage. "'All I can say is, while I know this is disturbing, I am actually enjoying thinking about this. I must ponder. ::walks off wearing silly smile::'

'None of those options. I know from first-hand experience that Numair wears boxer-briefs. And damn he makes them look good.'"

"How does she know?" Numair exploded. "I've never worn anything called boxer-briefs in my life! I don't even know what they are!"

Daine frowned. "I thought you told me they were underwear."

"Well…that's different," Numair said lamely.

Tammy smothered a chuckle. "'Ahh…Numair in boxers…'"

Numair covered his ears. "Tell me when you're done," he groaned.

'No I didn't mean to put 'grannies panties' but wouldn't it be funny if he DID wear them?!!!!!!!'

'Commando. Because, my friends, Commando is best.'

And the response to that, 'Commando is NOT always best. Thongs are. Rawr.'

"Aren't those things uncomfortable?" Daine enquired.

Tammy shook her head. "That's what I heard."

Daine laughed. "Poor Numy."

Numair let out a choked cry of horror. "Numy?"

"I thought you weren't listening," Daine said mildly, grinning in anticipation of the explosion."

The explosion that did, in fact, ensue, was explosive, as most explosions are.

"Just because I'm not listening does not mean you can call me Numy!"

"Proving that you were listening," Daine said dryly.

"I was reading your lips!"Numair yelled. "Not listening to the deranged musings of teenaged girls!"

"You know, Numair, it wasn't that long ago that I was considered in that category. Isn't that right, Tammy?" Daine said conversationally.

"Absolutely." Tammy nodded. "Does this mean she used to be crazy too, Numair? Because that would mean that I have to tell my readers that Daine was, in fact, somewhat like them."

"That was completely different," Numair huffed. "Daine has always been more mature than—"

The closet doors flew open again. "Tammy!" George boomed.

"Saved by the closet," Tammy said. "We'll get back to this later." She turned to the fuming Baron of Pirate's Swoop. "What is it, George?"

Alanna followed her husband through the doors. "We sneaked into Numair's tower to use his computer."

"What?" Numair squawked.

"Why not?" Alanna shrugged. "You weren't using it."

"But, how?" Numair demanded. "If you knew the spells I put on the locks to keep intruders out—"

"We stole your key and duplicated it, idiot."

"Oh," Numair deflated.

"Look at this!" George brandished another, slightly slimmer, sheaf of papers before Tammy. "'Tis not possible!"

"What's not possible?" Tammy asked bemusedly.

Alanna tiptoed to pluck the papers out of her husband's hands. "Here." She passed them to Tammy.

Tammy hurriedly scanned them. "They look pretty much the same as the ones about Numair."

Daine turned to Alanna. "Boxers or Briefs?"

Alanna nodded. "The same. He saw his name and immediately clicked the link to it. Egotist."

"You have any number of fans, lass," George said. "Naturally ye wouldn't appreciate them as much as I do."

"That's because she's the main character of Song of the Lioness," Daine said.

"And you wouldn't either," George argued. "You have yer own quartet too. And I know Numair's about t' get his own book."

Numair looked astonished. "I am?"

Tammy winced. "It was supposed to be a surprise present," she told George pointedly.

"Oops," George said insincerely. "Yer going t' do one about Maura of Dunlath, who's an even more minor character than I am. And yer going t' do one another one about my daughter. And yet another two about Kel's squire t' be and Neal's daughter. So what about me?"

"We'll see." Tammy said severely. "I have a heavy workload until 2010."

"What?" yelped George. "Why?"

"I have fans for my Emelan series too, you know," Tammy said. "I have to write the story of the Circle reuniting, Tris' course at Lightsbridge and Briar's adventure at Yanjing. All these combined with the ones in Tortall make for a full schedule for a number of years."

"Why don't ye jus' forget about the Circle ones?" George asked. "I told ye not t' make a new universe, but would ye listen? No…"

"Some people prefer books out of Tortall." Tammy sighed in exasperation. "There are a few sheroes members who wouldn't mind me creating a new world."

"Oh no," George stalked up in front of Tammy. "Yer not makin' a different universe. That'll leave even less time for us." His hand waved around to indicate the other Tortallans in the room.

"You are definitely not spending more time away from us than necessary," Numair agreed." "You still have to write about Sarralyn!"

Daine made a sound of agreement.

"And me!" George insisted.

Numair glared at him "Sarralyn first!"

"Me!"

"Sarralyn!"

"Me!"

"SARRALYN!"

"ME!"

Numair scowled at George. "What kind of person doesn't put children above himself?"

"My daughter already has her own duology," George said smugly.

"Enough!" Tammy shouted. She felt the beginnings of a migraine. "Why are you complaining then, George?"

George stopped, remembering why he had barged through the closet in the first place. "Numair has more posts than me!"

"That's why you're here to complain?" Alanna asked incredulously. Apparently even Alanna hadn't known.

"Yes," George replied. "I've been established longer than he has, I ought to have more people replying!"

And they say insanity runs in my family," Alanna mumbled.

Daine groaned. "What if we give Numair's posts to you, George?"

"No," George said at the same time Numair snapped, "Absolutely not!"

Tammy shut her eyes. "Why not?"

"Because I want to win fair and square," George snapped.

Daine goggled at George in disbelief. "You?"

"Yes," George sniffed. "And besides, the Internet can't be spelled."

Numair blinked. " You can't?"

"Nope," Alanna answered. "I tried."

"Damn," he muttered, snapping his fingers. "What if we try…?"

Tammy was shaking her head. "I've told you before, Numair, no playing with magic in this world. It doesn't work here."

"How do you all live without magic?" Numair demanded. "It isn't possible!"

"We have substitutes, like the computer and air-con. We survive."

"That's still magic," Alanna stubbornly insisted. Both mages always insisted that electricity was magic whenever they burst through the doors for a visit, mostly to complain about something or another.

"What are you all doing here?" Jon strode through the closet doors followed by Thayet, Raoul and Buri.

"We're discussing the aspects of George versus Numair," Alanna said. "I personally think George."

"You're not saying this just because he's your husband, are you?" Thayet jumped in.

"Because that would be biased," Buri finished.

"Which means I can't vote either," Daine said. "What a pity."

"Wait, wait, wait," Numair shuffled through the sheets previously in Tammy's hands. "YOU WROTE THIS?"

"What's that?" George muttered craning his head over Numair's shoulder. He read it aloud. "'Loincloths come closer to briefs or even thongs. What's a commando?' Hey, that's in my forum!"

Numair turned to Tammy, horrified. "A THONG?"

Tammy winced. "Uh, yes?"

"What is a commando?" Raoul wanted to know.

"It means going without underwear at all," Alanna replied.

"Oh."

"George used to do that," Thayet said. "Right?"

"That's what Tammy wrote," Daine nodded.

"You wrote it and you didn't know what it meant?" Jon asked incredulously.

"Yes, I believe that was the case," Tammy said dryly.

George was still lording over Numair, who seemed to be in dazed shock. "Tammy posted in my forum, not in yours!"

Tammy sighed as the closet door burst open again. The day was filled with rampaging characters on the loose.

"Where's my forum?" Neal demanded. "Studies have proven that I'm at least as loved as George. So where's my Boxers or Briefs poll?"

"And mine?" Dom asked. "As the candidate with the best chance of becoming Kel's new love interest, I should have my own as well, don't you think?"

Kel stood to one side. "Sorry Tammy, " she apologised. "I tried to stop them, but they were unstoppable." She gestured at the rest of her friends.

Owen beamed. "Isn't this jolly? We're all together here!"

"Spare me," Tammy groaned.

"We're really sorry, Tammy," Merric half-grinned. "We did try, but…" He gestured helplessly.

"So does George still go commando?" Thayet asked.

'I'm not telling," Alanna grinned.

"I wear…" Alanna clapped her hand over his mouth. "George isn't telling either," she said sweetly.

"Tammy?" Buri looked to the Great High Storyteller.

"Ask…Eleni or something," Tammy said. She looked around at the chaos the Uusoae would surely be rejoicing in and idly wondered what had happened to her quiet morning. Oh yeah, Tortall.

Numair was still gaping. "You…thong…no…."

Dom and Neal were arguing over who should get his poll first.

"Why you?"

"Because, Sir Meathead, I'm older."

"Ah, but I'm a knight and rank higher than you."

"But I'm not a Meathead."

"Sir Meathead."

"Whatever, your sirness."

"Argh!"

Jon and Raoul were standing to the side with grins on their faces. "At least we have nothing."

"That's because people hate you for being a prick when we were at the Bloody Hawk," Alanna informed him.

"What?" Jon spluttered. "But-but that was years ago! I was eighteen!"

"You are a storybook character," Alanna told him. "Whatever you do determines your popularity. It's worse than being royalty, in a way. People get to see what you really do, and you can't spin out a tale to put them off."

"And some people do adore you," Thayet added. She made a face. "They all want to kill George and I and put you and Alanna together again."

George stopped in mid-gloat and a dagger appeared in his hand. "Anyone tries that and they get this in their guts." He waved around the very sharp, very hooked dagger in a very professional way."

Tammy sighed. "You're not allowed to gut the fans."

George's face fell. "Not even the ones who hate us together?"

"No!" Tammy snapped.

George sniffed. "No need to be snippy about it."

"What about the ones who hate Kel?" Cleon asked. "What's wrong with her Yamani face? She can't help having lifelong habits! She didn't even make up the word! Alanna has a lifelong bad temper and they don't bash her. There's a society on the Dancing Dove devoted to bashing her!" Kel covered her eyes.

"This isn't jolly!' Owen called warningly. "We must be jolly or people will stop liking us."

"No, they like Sir Meathead in pity mode too," Dom grinned.

"Don't call me Meathead!"

"I heard some people don't understand why I don't like chickens," Daine added her two cents to the conversation. "Some are quite smart, but on a whole, they're silly and they never do as they're told, even if it's for their own good!"

"Hah!" Alanna snorted. "I know what you mean. Some humans do that themselves. Mostly men," she added thoughtfully.

"Hey!" yelled every male in the room.

"And I still want my own story to be written!" George added.

"Mithros preserve me," Tammy muttered.

"Tammy?" Neal said. "Why doesn't Raoul drink?"

Raoul stared, horrified. "You're not telling them!"

Kel pounced. "Yes, why?"

"Tammy!" Raoul wailed.

"This proves to be interesting," Dom grinned. "For the men of the King's Own! We who faithfully serve the king need to relax from time to time. What better way than to get teasing material about our commanding officers?"

"As your king," Jon started. "You have my permission to get this information."

"Jon!" Raoul cried.

"And I want to know too," he added.

Dom's grin turned positively evil. "Your Majesty," he said speculatively. "Have you ever heard of the time when Sir Raoul of Goldenlake fell off his horse due to faintness?"

Raoul groaned and buried his face in his hands.

Buri patted his back in false sympathy. "There, there, it's not that bad. I mean it was just a little fall in front of all the wedding guests…"

"You're not helping," Raoul informed her, voice muffled.

"That was sort of my intention," Buri smirked.

"They're trying to match make Kel and I," Owen shuddered.

"Exactly!" Kel said. "They call themselves OaK."

"Stands for 'Owen and Kel'," Owen said. "That is not jolly."

"And they keep harping on and on about Tammy forgetting about me!" Faleron added. "I mean, even Tammy's human."

"You weren't thinking that after I read the book to you," Tammy said dryly.

"I was upset," Faleron said. "Not thinking clearly. Even if you did forget me."

"Esmond and I hardly come in," Seaver complained. "At least you got the credit for starting that fight with Joren and Garvey."

"Seaver had more mention than me," Esmond added. "I feel a little like Francis here. Just a shy shadow."

"Look at it this way," Neal suggested. "You didn't kick the bucket."

"And why was Prosper a squire when we were?" Seaver wanted to know. "He should have been much younger than us!"

"That was the year you people were constantly butting in on me," Tammy told them. "I make mistakes."

"I didn't," Kel said.

"You were busy with the Own," Seaver said.

"And you always made me the butt of everyone's jokes!" Neal growled.

"Neal, my friend," Cleon told the young knight companionably. "You were custom made to be the butt of our jokes. He started to hum a tune. The others caught on and began to laugh.

"Uline of Hannalof," Kel choked out.

Neal glared at Cleon. "Would you like a bucket of cold bath again?"

"I believe I shall decline, Sir Meathead," Cleon said with a mocking bow.

"No Meatheads!"

"He said 'Sir Meathead', Neal," Kel pointed out. "Isn't that what you told Dom to call you."

Neal glared at his best friend. "Does Cleon look like Dom to you, Mother?"

"Ouch!" Owen joked.

Kel merely stared at him. "I used to thrash you on the practice courts, Sir Meathead. Would you like to a replay?"

"I can't believe you actually wrote that!"

Numair had regained the use of his tongue.

"Numair," Daine said pointedly. "We already got that."

"Do you know how many of those people you call your fans are fantasising about me in one of those?"

"Numair…" Daine warned. Slowly, George, Alanna and the rest of the SotL gang moved slowly away from her. No one had forgotten Carthak or Ozorne.

Except maybe Numair. Or else he hadn't heard her.

"They are completely deranged!"

Storm clouds seemed to hover over Daine's head. "Numair."

Numair glanced her way and nervously noted the stormy glint in her eye. "Ah… shutting up."

"That's better." The look faded, but didn't completely leave.

Numair gulped uneasily.

"I think," Daine said, looking around at the suddenly quiet room. "I think we should leave Tammy alone to work and get finished on her other pieces."

"We can go and post our own polls!" Neal cried, struck with inspiration.

"When we find out how to do it, Meathead," Dom cuffed him affectionately.

"I'm going to set the record straight," Numair muttered determinedly. "I wear a loincloth."

George turned a smile on his wife. "Will you post on my forum for me?"

Alanna rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes."

George's eyes gleamed. "I'll get you, then I can beg other people to post, just for me. And then…"

The Tortallans started talking all over again and disappeared through the closet doors to perfect their various deeds.

Tammy pinched the bridge of her nose. She sighed. Migraines always dropped by with her Tortallans.

A/N: Now we know why Tammy has migraines, don't we? And we know who's responsible for them. But if we blame them, we don't get any more stories, so we can't what a terrible dilemma!

I hope you lot have as much fun reading this as I had writing it. Sorry for any OOCs.