Chapter Text
The Hale warehouse had never looked quite so chaotic.
Garment bags hung from exposed pipes. Open makeup palettes covered every available surface. Wigs rested on mannequin heads like silent spectators, while shoes, heels, boots, loafers, and glitter-covered platforms, were scattered across the floor in what Lydia insisted was an "organized system."
"It's absolutely not organized," Stiles muttered, stepping over a pair of rhinestone heels. "It's a lawsuit waiting to happen."
"It is," Lydia corrected without looking up from arranging brushes, "organized by aesthetic."
"There are six feather boas in the sink."
"They're soaking."
"...Why?"
"They're rehydrating."
Stiles blinked. "...I don't even know what that means."
Across the room, Isabelle laughed so hard she nearly dropped the suit jacket she'd been examining.
River Ronan looked up from carefully steaming a deep emerald vest and smiled. "Neither do I."
"I don't think Lydia does either," Erica added.
"I absolutely do."
"You made it up."
"I innovated."
"Same thing."
The room erupted into overlapping laughter. Kira sat cross-legged on the couch, sewing the last loose rhinestones onto the lapel of Isabelle's jacket. She looked up with her usual gentle smile. "I think everything looks amazing."
"It will," Lydia corrected. "It currently looks like an explosion in a theater department."
Malia wandered in carrying a protein shake. She looked around once. "...What happened?"
"We're making magic," Erica declared dramatically.
"It looks expensive."
"It is expensive."
Malia nodded thoughtfully before spotting Stiles standing uncertainly beside an enormous makeup mirror. "...Why are you wearing Spanx?"
Stiles looked offended. "I'm not wearing them yet."
"...Yet."
"They're apparently essential."
River nodded solemnly. "They are."
"I don't like how everyone just accepted that."
Nearly an hour later... Stiles stood in nothing but shorts while Lydia circled him critically.
"Hm."
"What?"
"Hm."
"What does hm mean?"
"It means stand still."
"I am standing still."
"You twitched."
"I breathed."
"You breathed wrong."
"I breathed wrong?"
Erica snorted. "I love watching Lydia work."
River held up an elaborate corset. "Ready?"
"No."
"Excellent."
Stiles sighed dramatically. "I can't believe I'm letting you people torture me."
"You volunteered," Isabelle reminded.
"I volunteered before I knew corsets existed."
"They've existed for centuries."
"I wish they hadn't."
River smiled sympathetically. "They're actually not too bad."
"They're literally medieval."
"Technically Victorian."
"That somehow isn't helping."
Five minutes later...
"Okay..." River tightened one more lace. "There."
Stiles inhaled. "...I've made mistakes."
"It'll settle."
"I can see sounds."
"You'll live."
"I've become aware of muscles I didn't know I possessed."
Erica burst into another fit of laughter. "I can't breathe."
"You don't have to," Stiles deadpanned. "Apparently that's optional now."
Then came the breast forms. Lydia set them on the table with almost ceremonial dignity.
"There."
Stiles stared. "...Those are enormous."
"They're proportional."
"To what?"
"The outfit."
"The outfit is trying to assassinate me."
Malia picked one up. "...They're heavier than I expected."
"They're silicone," River explained.
Malia squeezed one experimentally. "...Weird."
Stiles pointed accusingly. "Don't fondle my fake boobs."
"I wasn't."
"You literally are."
"I'm conducting science."
"You've conducted enough."
She handed it back. "...They're kinda nice."
Stiles groaned into his hands.
After everything was secured, Lydia stepped back. "There."
Stiles looked down. "...I have cleavage."
"You do."
"I've never had cleavage."
Erica grinned. "It's impressive."
"It feels weird."
Malia walked another slow circle around him. "Huh."
"What?"
"They bounce."
"They're not supposed to bounce!"
"They definitely bounce."
She poked one. It jiggled. Malia's eyes widened slightly. "...Again."
"No."
She poked it again. "There!"
"Malia!"
"They're hypnotic."
"I'm filing a restraining order."
River was laughing so hard tears formed in the corners of his eyes.
Meanwhile...across the loft, Isabelle's transformation had begun.
Instead of glitter and gowns, hers centered around sharp tailoring.
Black trousers. Polished boots. A deep charcoal waistcoat. A fitted dress shirt. Suspenders. An elegant burgundy coat.
River adjusted the shoulders. "Perfect."
Lydia stepped behind Isabelle and slicked her hair back before fitting a short dark wig that emphasized stronger, sharper angles. "There."
Isabelle studied herself. "...Wow."
"You clean up nicely," Erica admitted.
Kira smiled brightly. "You look really handsome."
"I was going for handsome."
"You succeeded."
Lydia uncapped spirit gum. "Now..."
She held up an impeccably styled mustache.
"Oh no," Isabelle laughed.
"Oh yes."
Fifteen minutes later, River carefully shaded subtle contours beneath Isabelle's jaw.
"Masculine doesn't mean harsh," they explained. "It's about changing how light hits your face."
"I have no idea how makeup does that."
"It's basically art."
"You literally teach art."
"Exactly."
Erica leaned over. "...That's actually incredible."
The softer lines of Isabelle's face gradually sharpened. Her eyebrows appeared thicker. Her jaw more square. Combined with the wig, tailored clothing, and mustache...
Even Stiles stared."...Holy crap."
Isabelle lowered her voice instinctively. "How do I look?"
Everyone froze. River slowly smiled. "...Do that again."
"How do I look?" Even deeper.
Lydia pointed dramatically. "There."
"That's it."
Isabelle adjusted her cuffs before slipping a pocket watch into her vest. "...I kind of love this."
"You should," Kira said warmly. "You look confident."
"I feel confident."
"That's the point."
Meanwhile, Stiles emerged from behind a changing screen.bComplete silence. Even Lydia blinked.
The long crimson gown hugged his figure surprisingly well. The corset created an elegant waist. The blonde wig cascaded in glamorous curls. Professional makeup softened every feature. The fake breasts gave the dress convincing shape.
He looked...Gorgeous.
Stiles shifted awkwardly. "...Why is everyone staring?"
Erica finally recovered. "Holy..."
River covered their mouth. "I wasn't expecting..."
"You look amazing," Kira finished.
Stiles looked down at himself. "...Really?"
Lydia smiled. "Really."
Malia slowly walked around him again. "...Your boobs are still distracting."
"They're fake."
"I know."
She poked one. Again. "They're still distracting."
"Malia!"
"I'm just saying."
"They're attached to me!"
"They're attached near you."
"I hate this conversation."
Everyone dissolved into laughter once more.
River handed Stiles a sparkling clutch. "For the illusion."
"I have a purse now."
"You do."
"It has absolutely nothing inside."
"It doesn't have to."
"So it's decorative."
"Exactly."
"...Fashion is weird."
Lydia stood beside Isabelle. "Remember. Be Confident."
River nodded. "Shoulders back."
Erica added, "Walk like you own every room. Take a leaf from your husbands book."
Kira smiled. "And have fun."
Stiles practiced walking in heels. For approximately six steps. Then immediately grabbed River's shoulder. "I'm dying."
"You're wobbling."
"I know I'm wobbling."
"Bend your knees."
"I am bending my knees."
"You look like a newborn giraffe."
"I feel like one."
Malia watched thoughtfully. "...Your boobs bounced again."
"They are going in the trash after this."
Everyone stood back.
The twins faced one another across the loft.
Stiles... Radiant in shimmering crimson. Elegant. Every bit the glamorous drag queen.
Isabelle... Sharp. Sophisticated. Charismatic. A drag king straight out of an old jazz club, every movement carrying effortless swagger.
Neither looked anything like themselves. For several long seconds... Nobody spoke. Then Erica grinned. "Oh, the Hale boys are doomed."
Lydia nodded in complete agreement. "Derek isn't going to know what hit him."
River smiled mischievously. "And Peter?"
Isabelle smirked beneath the perfectly trimmed mustache. "I think I'm looking forward to his reaction most."
Kira clasped her hands together excitedly. "They're going to love it."
"They'd better," Stiles muttered, carefully adjusting one heel. "I've suffered for this."
"You'll survive."
"I nearly died putting these shoes on."
Malia shrugged. "Worth it."
Stiles sighed dramatically. "...Easy for you to say. You don't have fake boobs."
"They're still impressive. Besides I have real ones."
"I'm pretending you didn't say that."
The group burst into laughter one last time before gathering their things.
As the sun dipped lower outside the warehouse windows, the six of them headed toward the Hale house, anticipation buzzing through the air.
Inside the Hale House, completely unaware of what was coming, Derek Hale and Peter Hale were finishing drinks in the living room.
Neither Alpha had the slightest idea that the front door was about to open... and that they were about to come face-to-face with two utterly transformed Stilinski twins.