"Wardrobe Malfunction"

A/N: I can't believe I wrote this. Ahem. Crack!fic. Very smutty and risqué crack!fic. It's meant to be amusing; hopefully I get a few laughs from the audience. This piece rates a solid "M" for language, sexual content, and seriously risqué humor—kids, you might want to sit this one out. R&R.


"Cassandra…" Sophitia began carefully, setting aside the magazine she'd been reading, "what happened to your costume?"

The younger Alexandra sister remained stubbornly silent as she seated herself beside her sister on the lumpy sofa. Her lips were pursed, arms crossed angrily across her chest.

"Cassie…" Sophitia said in a warning tone, eyes narrowed in stark disapproval. "Cassie, we've got just over a month until the launch. You can't start in the lineup with that—by Hephaestus' name, the fanart's already bad enough!"

"It's not…my…fault," Cassandra responded in a tight, angry voice.

"Oh, don't give me that—what, someone just happened to tear your skirt off?" Sophitia snorted lightly in disbelief before realizing that Cassandra had not responded to her question. Instead, her younger sister was glaring malevolently at the doorway, the sound of footsteps echoing slightly as a newcomer approached the room.

"It's not my fault," Cassandra repeated, her glare intensifying.


It had started out rather innocently…or at least, that's what she'd decided her story should be if anyone asked. It had actually started with Cassandra traveling to Romania to "track rumors of that evil sword, I swear that's all," and settling back into a now comfortingly-familiar sense of sexual tension with a certain French swordsman—whom she was pursuing solely for his knowledge of the sword, of course.

She told Raphael as such one evening over dinner, her head upon his shoulder, a devious smile upon her lips. "Why else would I travel all this way if not for information?" she asked lightly.

His response was to clear the table before them with one impatient sweep of his arm, swiftly moving to slam her back against the rich oak surface.

"Because," he said in a dark voice, lowering his head until his lips brushed her ear, darting his tongue against the lobe at her soft gasp, "you know I'll fuck you right through this goddamned table, and when it breaks I'll just take you up to my chambers and start again."

It wasn't an idle threat—there was a heavily splintered chair in the library she couldn't observe without blushing. Not that it hadn't been worth it…

"Come off it, we both know you're all talk," Cassandra said finally, suppressing a smile as she baited her companion. "I bet you don't last—"

Her words came to a sharp halt as Raphael captured her lips in a harsh, fierce kiss. Guess he got tired of waiting, she thought hazily, moving her hands to rest against his broad shoulders. His mouth was hot, fevered, and Cassandra felt her heart beating wildly as he slipped his tongue along hers in a lightly stroking caress that reminded her how much better his ministrations would feel elsewhere. Later, she reminded herself, content now to feel hard muscle beneath her fingers, feel his tongue now sliding against the length of her pale neck, lips suckling against the warmth of her pulse point.

As it turned out, "later" came rather quickly, as Raphael slipped one hand beneath her thin cotton panties, languidly stroking her in a caress that left her breathless and trembling against him. He did have some serious skills, Cassandra observed dazedly as his fingers moved over moist flesh, rubbing against her in slow, deliberate circles. A familiar ache settled over her, desire mounting even higher as she arched her hips and leaned into his touch. Cassandra felt her eyes flutter shut, felt her lips part on a wordless moan as she came close, so close to…

The sound of tearing fabric split the air. Cassandra lifted her head to see Raphael holding the remains of her skirt in his free hand, his face expressionless. A heavy silence settled between them as Cassandra stared blankly at him, eyes wide and disbelieving.

"Hm," Raphael said finally. He looked from her now-bared thighs to the soft white fabric held loosely in his hand. A wicked smile appeared upon his lips. "I think it looks better that way."

"You…" Cassandra began, struggling to form some coherent thought. "You ripped my skirt."

Raphael merely snorted dismissively. "Details. It would have been separated from your lovely form soon enough."

"You ripped my skirt."

"Yes, love, we've established that."

"You ripped my skirt!" Cassandra shrieked, pushing back against him and staring in abject horror at her naked thighs. "My skirt for the next game! For SCIV! How am I going to explain this to costuming!? And—oh my GODS, my sister!"

"Simple enough: 'terribly sorry, Sophitia, but I was in the midst of being pleasured by an impossibly dashing and remarkably talented Frenchman who became rather impatient and sought to remove my nearest article of clothing with uncharacteristic roughness. Shame, that. Coffee?'"

"I'm going to kill you," Cassandra ground out between clenched teeth. "I…am going…to fucking kill you."

"You say that so often, darling," Raphael observed in a highly-amused tone.

"This time I mean it." She scowled furiously at his smirking form, caring not a whit about the fact that she was a) down to her underwear, b) currently half-pinned beneath the object of her ire, and c) decidedly weapon-less. It was only fair—when she showed up at pre-release with her legs and thighs bared to the world, Sophitia would kill her, and damn if Cassandra wasn't taking Raphael down with her.

"It isn't nearly as bad as you seem to think," Raphael said in a half-hearted attempt at comforting her.

"I am wearing my underwear and nothing else. How is that 'not nearly as bad as I seem to think'?"

"Because," Raphael stated, "you've forgotten certain other female members of our mutual acquaintance."

Cassandra's mouth opened for a sharp retort, then shut as she remembered some of the costuming department's offerings to other members of the roster. Xianghua's short-shorts. Setsuka's Oiran get-up. And, well, Ivy. In general.

"I'm still going to kill you," Cassandra muttered irritably. "I'm supposed to be getting information from you, remember? Not sleeping with you."

"You are indeed a most fortunate girl, then. And you needn't compromise your honesty—we do very little sleeping."

Cassandra shot him an annoyed glance. "I think," she continued, "my sister might be a little suspicious if I come home half-naked."

"I assure you, it's very becoming on you." Raphael kissed her lightly on the forehead, ignoring her continued glare. "If you're so concerned, I'll see to it that my personal tailor mends your costume at some point in the near future."

"Thank you." Cassandra sighed heavily and leaned against his chest, closing her eyes as his arms came around her in a loose embrace.

After a moment, Raphael's voice, low and dark, sounded by her ear. "Although, I'm afraid I must request something in terms of compensation."

Cassandra felt a slow smile spread across her lips. "Such as?"

"I believe," Raphael said, leaning to nip lightly at her neck, "we were in the process of breaking some furniture."


"Well?"

Cassandra pursed her lips and glanced sidelong at her sister. Sophitia had come to her feet, hands on her hips, eyes clearly conveying her annoyance. Cassandra carefully avoided Raphael's curious gaze as he entered the break room, moving to the kitchenette to pour himself a cup of coffee.

"I…snagged it on some thorns," Cassandra said finally. "In the forest. You know."

"Snagged it on some thorns." Sophitia raised one eyebrow in clear disbelief.

"Rather large thorns," Raphael offered helpfully, oblivious to Cassandra's sharp glare.

"You were there?" Sophitia asked, moving a step closer to her sister, eyes narrowed.

Raphael shrugged easily, sipping at his coffee and refusing to meet Sophitia's accusatory stare.

Sophitia frowned and turned back to her sister. "I'll head down to costuming. Meet me there in fifteen minutes," she instructed Cassandra, shooting a glance over her shoulder at the clearly-amused Raphael, "and we'll fix this. Immediately." Her frown deepened at Cassandra's contrary look. "Cassandra?"

"Yes, Sophitia." Cassandra sulkily settled back into the sofa.

Sparing Raphael one last frown, Sophitia turned on her heel and exited the break room, mentally preparing her statements to costuming.

Upon Sophitia's exit, the break room was comfortably silent for a long moment, Raphael sipping quietly at his coffee, Cassandra staring moodily into space.

"Three weeks of preparation," Raphael said at last, shaking his head, "and the best you could come up with was 'thorns in the forest'."

"They were very large thorns, remember?"

"Oh, yes. Very piercing." He glanced at her suggestively over the rim of his coffee mug.

Cassandra smiled helplessly at his blatant innuendo. She stretched her long limbs before easing up from the sofa, her eyes glinting mischievously. "How would you like to go for a nice picnic lunch out in the meadow?" she asked. "I think I heard Kilik and Xianghua come back from their little interlude a few minutes ago."

"Cassandra, I do believe you're supposed to meet your sister at costuming."

"Mm, I suppose I am," Cassandra agreed, clasping her hands behind her back. She cast an appraising eye over her lithe form. "But it's starting to grow on me."

"I've told you it looks rather enticing."

"Well, there is that." Cassandra strode over to Raphael and leaned against him, granting him a devilish smile. "But, well…I've never been one to do what my sister wants me to do."

"And I assume," Raphael began, resting his hands along her hips, "that your sister would have grave misgivings towards your affections for me."

"Absolutely."

"Well then." He pulled her sharply towards him, pressing his forehead against hers and smirking down at her. "Let's see if we can't alter your costume further."