Disclaimer: Shakespeare was a genius. I'm not. These characters and settings were his originally, and I bow to his superior intellect. My fiction is intended to demonstrate my sincere admiration for his work, nothing more. That is all.

Author's Note: This story is rated M for adult themes of homosexuality. Sorry, can't avoid it with Twelfth Night. Happy reading.

Girl's Night Out

Olivia sat demurely in her high backed chair, thumbing through the guest list once more. Normally she wasn't so thorough, or even so concerned about such things. But she'd been having nightmares about accidentally leaving out the Prince or the Vicountess and having to deal with the political fallout. She didn't want Sebastian's new nobility to be hard on him in any way.

She stole a glance at Viola, her sister-sister-to-be. How like her twin brother she looked, even in her lovely green frock! Viola's eyes danced with life as she thumbed through parchments of news for the week, scanning the articles to see if her latest role in the local opera had been highlighted. She paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, her back slumped slightly with inattention. Olivia sighed. Her best friend didn't seem concerned in the slightest about the next day's events.

Viola heard her new sister's loud exhale and stopped in her pacing to consider the woman for a moment. Ever since she'd volunteered her home for the double wedding, she'd been fluttering about like hummingbird. First giving orders, then canceling or changing them, the whole house had been in a state of chaos for the past three weeks. Viola was exhausted at the end of each day, returning to her apartment in Orsino's palace and collapsing, just from watching Olivia get so worked up. What was worse, Sebastian seemed unaware of her stressed state, perhaps even unwilling to try to relieve her anxiety. And to top it all off, the two brides were shut up in Olivia's mansion for the night, while their grooms frolicked about the town: one last hurrah for the men before they entered into the covenant of marriage.

Seeing Olivia's lined face now, and the way she tapped her foot, Viola knew something had to be done.

Olivia looked up. Her friend was staring at her, deep in thought. The brown eyes seemed to consider her and see right through her. The kind, slight face (how like her fiancé's!) finally cracked into a smile and giggled. Olivia couldn't help herself. She smiled back and broke the wordless tension of the past few minutes with a simple question, "Why do you look at me so deeply, and in the next moment laugh as though you've just seen the greatest amusement of your days?"

Viola laughed back. Yes, something would be done. "I laugh, my dear sister, because I know something you do not."

Olivia's face grew horrified. "Have I forgotten something? Someone? Do tell me, my friend, and I shall put it to rights!"

Viola laughed even heartier this time as she closed in on Olivia and took her hand, forcing her to drop her quill and parchment and look up. "Yes, you have forgotten something, my dear, and that is that we are to be wedded tomorrow to two most wonderful men of status and virtue who have deigned to give us the slip for the night. You have forgotten that we ourselves are two most clever youths, with wits to rival those of our husbands, and a desire for celebration to match. Therefore, I propose that we celebrate our last hours as the free women that we are!"

Olivia blinked. "Sister, you may be clever and possess a matchless wit. But I am bound to my home and duty, and have no need for such traits." She saw her Viola's face fall, the sparkle in her eye dimmed slightly. Curiosity got the better of the Countess. She wanted to know what Viola had in mind. "Though," she said, "I do desire to celebrate."

"Wondrous well!" Viola exclaimed, and returned to pacing in front of the fire. "We'll each need some stockings then, and a pair of breeches each, tunics, vests, and a floppy hat for you, sister, to hide your noble forehead, otherwise you're sure to be recognized..."

Olivia stood, aghast. "Pardon, sister" she said "But I will not prance around in my own house wearing men's clothing. I understand that you are fond of such things, but I simply won't allow it in my home..."

Viola cut her off with a sly smile, "Fear not sister, your house will remain a place of feminine virtue. I wouldn't dream of staying here in such garb as we will wear tonight."

Olivia cocked her head to the side. "Then," she said cautiously, "you plan to leave the manor?"

"Precisely," Viola nodded.

"Against our husbands' strict orders? Their protective efforts to keep us away from harm before the wedding night should not be scorned with such rebellion! What if we were born away by kidnappers, made ransom to our estates or, worse, killed toward the dastardly ends of a political criminal?"

"Now your wits are sharpening!" Viola crowed, "Continue to use your imagination. Just imagine now that you are a young boy of fourteen years gone to the inn tonight to join the worthy Duke and noble Count in their last revelry. Imagine the singing, the dancing, and the pure joy of the celebration! This is where and why we will venture tonight, in disguise; that we might share our husbands' joy as we ought, with equal participation, equal mirth, and equal freedom!"

Olivia felt a surge of determination as she watched Viola stand like a man and proclaim her intentions boldly. She had always had a way with words, a way of drawing Olivia in to a fantasy of what could be. Why, wasn't it only a few weeks ago that she had fallen for her new sister, disguised as a boy, simply by listening to her version of the right way to woo a woman? She had followed her impulse then, and it led her to Sebastian. Perhaps following Viola's fantasy now would lead her to a deeper appreciation and unity with him.

Viola was now staring at Olivia, her eyebrows raised, asking for her consent to the plan. Olivia sighed. "It is settled then," she finally proclaimed, "We shall join the men at the inn in appropriate attire, and we shall celebrate. On two conditions: first, we shall not speak directly to our husbands. I know not how to disguise my voice from Sebastian and the Duke knows your boy's manner as well as he knows your woman's. If we were discovered, no manner of noble elevation would free us from public shame. Second, that we shall depart the inn no later than midnight, so that our husbands, returning here, will find us ever vigilant in our watch for them, and suspect nothing of our adventures."

"Wondrous well!" Viola smiled, and danced a jig. "Call then for a trusted servant to fetch us the things we will need. We shall dance until midnight!"