Author's Note: Okay, so a lot of people reading this probably don't like/support Tensionshipping. FYI, one of the authors of this story doesn't like/support it either, and I'm just doing this for fun. This story is something to be enjoyed and not analyzed. They're odd shippings for an odd story. Don't go crazy over Drew and Max being in love with Harley or whatever.
Disclaimer: One day I will own Pokemon. Just not today.
Once Harley was done coating the sign with nicotine, he went to get changed for the dance.
Rummaging through piles of clothes, he couldn't find anything to wear.
"Back when I was eight, I always used to know what to wear to these kinds of functions!" he said, sifting through pairs of different colored underwear.
Max couldn't take watching Harley trying to decided what to wear.
"Are you fashionably retarded Harley?" Max said, in his ever quiet voice, though he was trying to be flirty. "You need expert help." he said, pushing Harley out of the closet and opening a box with a pair of shoes for every day of the week; all exactly alike.
"I wouldn't know what to dress like. This is all so stressful." Harley said, slouching in a chair.
"No, you've just been watching too much Dr. Phil." Max said. "I cry every time I see it."
"But getting back onto topic…" he added quickly watching Harley rise from his chair. "We need to get you an outfit for the dance."
"Oooh! Right-o!" Harley squealed.
"Okay, how about we get you a hat…"
"…But I already have a hat! Why do I need another one?"
"No, a better one!"
"What can be better than dressing like my dear friend Cacturn?"
"…"
"…Okay fine, pick me out a better hat."
Max smiled. "Alrighty, I'll get you one right away!" he exclaimed beginning to rummage through the many boxes Harley stored in his motel room closet.
Harley smiled uneasily as he watched Max sort through his things, but became easily distracted when a fly began buzzing around his head.
"How 'bout this?" Max asked holding up a pink cowboy hat with bright green feather/fuzzy stuff circling around it.
"It's perfect!" Harley cried, snatching the hat from Max and placing it on his head. "What about the rest though?"
Max turned back to the closet and found a pair of yellow jeans and blue chaps, which for some reason Harley was in possession of. He carefully matched the bottoms to a magenta shirt.
"Oh, it's such a lovely outfit!" Harley exclaimed, taking the clothes away from Max and running into his refrigerator to change.
Max sat there for a few minutes, a Jirachi prayer candle in his hand and a Bible in the other. He wondered what May was up to.
She's probably in Norman's closet, trying on his high-heals from his cross-dressing days, he thought, burning his arm with the candle for good luck.
Harley ran out of the fridge, the hat too big for him and the pants too small, but Max thought he looked beautiful.
Harley looked in one of his mirrors for a second. He wasn't one for putting on make-up or anything like that, but he did like to look at himself.
"You're very pretty Harley." Max said, half to himself before setting part of the carpet on fire with the candle.
"What's that hun?" Harley asked, having not picked up on any sound. He skipped out the door at that. There was a crowd of people gathered around the sign he had put up for the party, but Harley was already over smoking.
We don't smoke. No worries.