A/N: I have to give OI the credit for this one. She suggested a song for the iPod challenge that I decided to use here instead. And to all the Brad lovers: I love Brad, ok? This is just some fun. I fully intend on humiliating as many characters as I possibly can.

Thank you so much to H6p8gv, Crispy Hobbit, hippogriff-tamer, tadsgirl, Obviously Insane and Nor of Kiamo Ko for reviewing! Hope you guys enjoy!

Disclaimer: Brad and the song used here are not mine. Just the idea of them together.

Brad had a secret that no one in the world could know. Not even his father, whom he told everything to. Not even his mother, who wouldn’t have laughed at him anyway. Link didn’t even know, and he knew all the secrets Brad had, even the embarrassing kind like Brad used to wear footy-bunny-pajamas until he was twelve; and he liked them. Actually, he still had those pajamas in his closet. Not that he still wore them, or anything.

But that was beside the point.

No, Brad’s secret was far worse than that. Whenever he was alone in the house (and he had checked thoroughly to reassure himself that he was the only one in the house), he closed all the blinds and curtains. He made sure everything that would allow people from outside to see inside was blocked. When he was satisfied that he was well-shielded, he reached under his bed, pulled out a worn box and slid out a record that no one knew was in his possession.

Checking to make sure all was well, he put the needle on the record and sighed contentedly as Marni Nixon’s voice filled the room. He struck a pose on the bed and began to do the thing that made his heart soar.

“I feel pretty,

Oh, so pretty,

I feel pretty, and witty and gay,

And I pity

Any girl who isn’t me today.”

Brad leapt off of the bed and twirled around the room.

“I feel charming,

Oh, so charming--

It’s alarming how charming I feel,

And so pretty

That I hardly can believe I’m real.

See the pretty girl in that mirror there?”

Brad pointed to the mirror, posing girlishly.

“Who can that attractive girl be?

Such a pretty face,”

He framed his face.

“Such a pretty dress,”

Brad tugged on his pant leg as if it were a dress.

“Such a pretty smile,”

He smiled exaggeratedly and batted his lashes.

“Such a pretty me!

I feel stunning,

And entrancing--

Feel like running and dancing for joy,”

As if to demonstrate his point, he ran in a circle around the room, clapping his heels in the air every few steps.

“For I’m loved

By a pretty wonderful boy!”

Brad loved West Side Story. It was a strange obsession he had that he couldn’t entirely explain. When the movie had come out the summer of 1961, Brad had taken Amber to see it. He felt that she was growing tired of him and he wanted to prove that he was the best boyfriend she would ever find. And only the best boyfriend would offer to take his girl out to see a musical, right?

Brad wasn’t expecting much. It started out so slowly. Just some weird white shape with a background that was perpetually changing colors and a blend of music. Then it changed to Manhattan. Someone kept randomly whistling. Even Amber was yawning. And then it showed a gang of white kids.

Brad decided that they were pretty cool cats. They looked menacing, they kept snapping their fingers, and they scared off that kid with the basketball. When the Hispanic gang came out, the music quickened. They started to pirouette. Brad felt very assured that this was a chick kind of movie.

But as it began to progress, Brad found himself riveted to his seat. He watched with growing interest as the characters and the story unfolded. He grinned during the funnier parts of the movie and felt his eyes begin to sting during the rumble. He was nearly in tears by the end of it. In fact, he was pretty sure that he liked it even more than Amber liked it. Not that he would tell anyone, of course; no one could know that he liked West Side Story.

The most disturbing part about his secret like for the movie, however, was that his favorite part was the girliest part of the movie. When Maria danced around Madam Lucia’s Bridal Shop and sang out about her giddiness, he felt drawn. At first he thought it might be because he thought Natalie Wood was pretty, but as time progressed, he realized that he was in love with the song.

“Have you met my good friend Maria,

The craziest girl on the block?

You’ll know her the minute you see her--

She’s the one who is in an advanced

State of shock.

She thinks she’s in love,

She thinks she’s in Spain.

She isn’t in love,

She’s merely insane.

It must be the heat

Or some rare disease

Or too much to eat,

Or maybe it’s fleas.

Keep away from her--

Send for Chino

This is not the Maria

We know!

Modest and pure,

Polite and refined,

Well-bred and mature

And out of her mind!"

Brad panted as he finished the song, pausing to catch his breath after his exuberant dance around the room. He straightened up and struck a pose similar to that of Lady Liberty.

"I feel pretty,

Oh, so pretty

That the city should give me its key

A committee

Should be organized to honor me

I feel dizzy,"

Brad put a hand to his head as if swooning.

"I feel sunny,

I feel fizzy and funny and fine,

And so pretty,

Miss America can just resign!

See the pretty girl in that mirror there?"

He pointed to his own mirror with photos of cars and babes in bathing suits tucked into the sides.

"What mirror? Where?"

He pulled a confused face.

"Who can that attractive girl be?"

Brad batted his eyelashes in a way that would make Scarlett O’Hara pea-green with envy.

"Which? What? Where? Whom?

Such a pretty face,"

He framed his face.

"Such a pretty dress,

Such a pretty smile,

Such a pretty me!"

Brad twirled around the room girlishly, preparing for his finale.

"I feel stunning

And entrancing--

Feel like running and dancing for joy,

For I’m loved

By a pretty wonderful boy!"