Work Text:
Today's the day. You're going yo ask Bro about your father, about your mother, about how the hell you ended up being raised by him. You take a deep breath. This could be a defining moment. You brace yourself for any shocking revaltion he can throw at you. You sort through a few likely suspects, 'they're dead', 'they abandoned you', or even a simple 'I don't know'. You steady your breathing and grab hold of the door knob in front of you. You open the door prepared for anything that might be on the otherside, an ambush, a puppet porno set, Bro naked. You were not prepared for this. Your brother, the biggest badass you know, the king of strife, the master of irony, is wearing a dress, taking selfies in front of a mirror.
It's a shade that can only be described as powder blue. It's got a poofy skirt and bows and is trimmed with white lace. You peer over your shades to make sure you are seeing right. It's true. It's clear in front of your face. Bro is in a blue lolita dress. Your mouth hangs open, you want to move but you're frozen with shock.
"Before you say anything" he starts, "It's not what you think." He looks you dead in the eye which makes you uneasy and he says "It's Brolita."
You shut the door without another word.