Haha, random oneshot I wrote the other day. It sucks in the descriptive department, but I think you'll get a good giggle out of it anyway.

Disclaimer: Me no own HM.

I've Seen Hannah Montana Naked
by Broken Oken

On the count of three, Oken.

One, two, three.

Okay, well, that didn't work. Maybe if I count down?

Three, two, one.

Well, great, nothing again.

Even numbers maybe? To ten?

Two, four, six, eight, ten.



Ten, eight, six, four, three… no, two… zero…

Oh, screw my life.

I mean, who am I kidding. I cannot do this. What am I doing here? I should be at home. Praying to God that I'm not going to die. Being here is pretty much asking to die. And I will die. GREAT. I'm an idiot. Oh my God, I am an idiot who is going to DIE. And possibly go to the opposite of heaven.

Really, I shouldn't be here. Like apologizing is going to do anything but probably infuriate her more. Everything is ruined anyways.

You see, she's going to pointblank kill me when she sees me. I won't get a word in. She'll probably have a butcher knife ready to stab me in the rib. Or maybe she'll just decapitate me. It's not like I use my head for anything anyways since I obviously have a problem with thinking before I act.

I guess I should probably start from the beginning, so you can understand why I believe Miley is waiting behind this door with a butcher knife. I think I've been trying to knock on this particular door for the last—hmm, let me check my watch… oh my Godten minutes?! What?! I've been standing here for ten minutes?!

I am such an IDIOT.

My story goes a little something like this—

In West Philadelphia, born and raised—kidding! That's so not my story.

…Er, I'm sorry. I tend to make really dumb quotes when I'm nervous.

And I am beyond nervous at the moment.

…Er… again

Once upon a time, Miley needed someone to make her a study guide, right? Right. It was for history, but you really don't need to know that because it has little to do with the current problamo I have on my hands.

So I made her a study guide. It was like, BA, too. I made it all radical and Smoken Oken-ified. I even made funny little notes to Miley on it.

Like, we're talking about the Holocaust, okay?

And one of the notes is like,

'Hitler was actually really awesome at speeches. But he still wasn't a good person, Miley, so tell your dad he should take back that new moustache of his, cause he kinda reminds me of Hitler with it, which is… uncool.'

I mean, yeah, I totally took the time and everything for her on this study guide.

Cause then she'd appreciate it, and maybe me, more.

So I typed this little sweet thing up and printed her out a copy. I was pretty dang proud of it, and I'm sure it would help her learn a little better.

I put on my tennis shoes and walked out the door, to Miley's hizzouse, yo. This is a very boring part of the story so I apologize for your future snores.

Because all I did was walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk—oh look, dog poop!—walk, walk, walk, walk—oh look, bird poop!—walk, walk, walk, walk—TREE, fall, get up—walk, walk, walk, etc.

Eventually Miley's came into view, and I was all pumped and whatnot. Cause here I am, delivering her this piece of awesomeness I made all by myself. And she was going to love it.

I walked right in. It's not rude to do this at Miley's because her dad doesn't care. I don't think he does anyway. He might care. Oh well. I don't care. About his care…ing…ness.

But yeah, I was all ready and stuff, but Miley was not on the couch as I had expected.

"Miley?" I called out, but there was not a single response.

Okay, so there was. It was Jackson saying, "In her room."

I ran up the stairs, on my way to where Jackson had specified. I was more than eager to give her this wonderful thing I held in my hands. However, I found the door to be shut. But, still, it really told me nothing I should've known, I guess, because Miley's door is always shut.

So I put on my best smile, reached for the door handle, swung it open, and was like, "Hey, Miley, I brought you a study guide, you're gonna lo—CHOKE!"

Well. I didn't really say choke. I just kinda did it. Choke, I mean.

Because, um. Miley… well, Miley was there all right. Yes. She was. This is so awkward to say. Oh geez. This is probably the moment where God decides I need to go to the other place, like, not heaven, because… um…

Miley was naked.


All natu-raaal. However you want to say it.

And um, I kinda can't help about being a boy sometimes, and even though she's, like, my best friend, I couldn't just… not look, you know? Like, her…femaleness…was all there and bare and whatnot. I'd be totally idiotic not to look. But looking is just as bad.


And her naked self like, shoved my shoulders backward so that I was out of her room, and the door was slammed, hit me in the nose, and I…fell down.

Talk about embarrassing.

The first thing I did was think about what I had just saw.

I mean, I know that's horrible, and kind of, like, okay, disgusting, but it's really what I did. And this image of Miley in the nude kind of, just laid there in my mind.

And I started all blushing and whatnot.

I mean, I just saw Miley naked. Oh my God. I just saw Miley naked. With no clothes!! Not that you can be naked and clothed at the same time, but still!!

Then I registered that it was probably not a good thing for me to see because now, no matter what I said or did, things were going to be awkward.

So the second thing I thought of was to run home.

And I did.

Past Jackson, too, who was like, "Why the rush?"

I wasn't totally sure if he meant the speed at which I was running, or the rush of blood to certain parts of my body that had never reacted in the way they were to Miley.

So after sitting there in my bed for like, a year, contemplating what is going to happen the next time Miley would see me, I get this text message. And it's from Lilly.

I can barely understand Lilly texts sometimes, and this was no exception.

"DU C M. NKD?"

It could mean many things really. For example—Dad's Underwear Could Make Normal Kids Die. Cause, really, they could. They're that gross.

But I knew what it really meant – "Did you see Miley naked?"

Which is a dumb question because she wouldn't be asking me that if I hadn't. It's not a normal question Lilly asks me everyday or something. "Oh hey, seen Miley naked?" See, that's not normal. She already knows I have. Miley must've already alerted her. Just beautiful.

I text back, "it was an accident".

Which is totally the truth. I didn't go over there to see Miley naked. The thought never crossed my mind. I never even got to hand her the study guide either.

But Lilly goes, "RIGHT," anyways, like the sarcastic form of "right", you know?

I decide to ignore her text and squish my face against my bed covers, hoping to die, since I don't think this kinda situation ever "blows over", or whatever.

Lilly texts again. "U NEED 2 APLGZ".

So, I need to APLGZ. That probably means Miley is mad that I have seen her in her unclothed glory. Does that sound bad? Unclothed glory? That sorta sounds like I'm saying Miley looks good naked. And, er, wow, that's not tr—well, okay, kinda true… KINDA. I am a boy, okay?! I blame it on my maleness for sorta kinda weirdly liking what I saw!

And whoa, the Hannah Montana poster in my room… I… I think I'm the first guy that's… ever seen her naked. HOLY CRAP, I"VE SEEN HANNAH MONTANA NAKED! BUT IT'S REALLY MILEY, BUT STILL!


Anywho, I tell Lilly, "ok i will later", because I don't really know how to APLGZ for accidentally seeing your best friend naked.

"I'm so sorry for seeing you naked, Miley! It's all my fault!"

Yeah, see, that sounds like something an idiot would say.

Lilly disagrees, however. "U APLGZ NOW!"

Sounds like she has a foreign accent there, but okay, I finally agree, probably because the air is drugged and makes me do dumb things that I don't know how to do—for example, telling Miley I'm sorry for not being blind and taking in her naked body.

And that's how I ended up where I am now. Standing in front of Miley's door. Trying to knock. And I have no idea what I'm going to say if I do knock, and she opens the door.

At least I know now that I should probably knock before entering. She could still be naked….

Which I don't need to see. Noo.

As if the image in my brain isn't already implanted enough in there for eternity.

I have to do this. I have to knock. Now. Or Never. Just like in High School Musical 3.

Which I totally DID not go see with Lilly and Miley….

I take in a breath. Then another. And another. I need all the air I can get now because I have a feeling it's all gonna get sucked out of me when the door opens.

I reach my knuckle to the door when all of a sudden, the doorknob rattles.

Oh, God. I did not anticipate her opening the door before I knocked to have me standing here. She's gonna think I never left, and that I'm a pervert waiting for her to open the door to see her naked again or something!

I fall backwards a little in the hall, and then, the door swings open.

Thing number one: Miley is not naked. Boo. I mean, confetti time?

Thing number two: Miley does, however, have on short shorts and a spaghetti strap shirt, which normally would not have much of an effect on me, but for some reason, I am now a sweating pig.

Thing number three: Miley blushes the minute she sees me.

Thing number four: I go, "I'm sorry for seeing you naked, Miley! It's all my fault!" just like I said only an idiot would say.

I feel like a turtle upside down, balancing on its shell. Screw my life.

Her narrowed eyes slightly unnarrow. And that's not even a word.

"You need to learn how to knock," she says simply.

I sweat more, looking at her body—ack, focus on her face! HER FACE, OKEN, HER FACE.

"I know, I just… I didn't know you'd be in there, like, with, like, no clothes or—yeah, 'cause I've never walked in before when you've been naked. Why were you naked? I mean—I—please feel free to shut me up anytime now, Miley."

A small smile cracks on her face. "Oliver, shut up."

"Thanks. And I really am sorry. I should've just closed my eyes—but I just had to look because—I mean—oh my God—if I were naked, wouldn't you look? I mean—I can't stop talking, why can't I stop talking? I still haven't stopped—"

Miley puts a finger to my lips. I blush hardcore.

"Oliver," she says. "It's okay. It was an accident." She lowers the hand. "It was an accident, right?"

Even more sweating. "Of course it was! I would never want to see you naked!"

Her eyes widen. Oh, crap.

"I mean, n-no off-offense! I would love to see you naked! Wait, that sounds even worse—"

"OLIVER! It's okay, I was just kidding with you."

I laugh insanely. "Of course you were! So was I!"

She shakes her head and starts walking down the hallway. "You're forgiven. Did you bring me my study guide?"

I turn my head to follow her movement, and somehow, I am transfixed by her short zebra striped shorts. Wow, those are short. Nothing to complain about. But they look nice on her. Does Miley normally wear short shorts? She so should if she doesn't. I mean, I do now know she has a very attractive body—

Whoaaaaaaaaaaaaa there.

No need to be thinking about Miley in a perverted sense!! SHE IS MY BEST FRIEND. With some nice curves—



Entrance interrupted by the entrancer's voice. Woo for another made up word.

"Er, yeah, sorry," I say, still in somewhat of a daze, not even knowing why I'm apologizing.

"Okay, let's go study in the living room then."

And then we walk downstairs. And her hand bumps mine. And I sweat/shake/tremble/die.

Curse these eyes. And curse her body.

But Thank God for making it.NO! Oken! Stop being a pervert! You've known Miley for-flipping-ever. Just relax. Keep it chill… be yourself… you can do this…

Miley's hips swing.

You wish you could "do" that.

NO! NO! NO! NO! This is not happening! Stop envisioning her naked! She is fully clothed! With short shorts! And a spaghetti strap top! Is she wearing a bra? Hmm—

STOP! Oh my freaking God. I seriously need to stop! I know I can sometimes think really bad things about hot girls, but this… this is Miley. You don't want to—er, yeah, with her.

"So, Oliver, wanna do this on the couch or on the table?"


I choke. Again.

"Do what?" I squeak, feeling every ounce of heat cover my face.

She is looking at me like I'm crazy. "Um… study."

"Oh, um, right, study!" I cough loudly and rush by her towards the table. "I think the, um, table would be best."

Couch seems more… accident prone… if you catch my drift.

She sits down on the chair across from me, and I mimic her. She still has a strange expression on her face when suddenly it changes as if she is just now understanding something. Oh, no. Please don't tell me that any tents have been pitched…

"Oliver, is this too awkward for you now?"

"Er, what's too awkward?"

"Um, I don't know. You kinda saw me naked earlier."

Instantly the image re-pops up in my head, and I shut my eyes tightly. Oken, just think of food. Think of cheeseburgers. Think of how awesome they taste. Think of eating cheeseburgers. Think of Miley eating cheeseburgers. Think of Miley eating cheeseburgers naked—DAMNIT. EPIC FAIL."Oliver?"

I peek an eye open to see Miley sitting there with no clothes on.


I scream, and then she screams, too (a confused sounding scream).

My vision clears. She is not naked after all. Oh my God, my imagination… uhh, is it possible that you can kill your imagination?

Except, I sort of don't want to at the same time… ahem.

Miley looks very, very startled. "Oliver, seriously, are you okay?"

"I just… I know this is gonna sound bad, but I can't—I just keep seeing you naked. I don't think I can be around you for awhile."

I feel like she is going to rip off my head or something, but she surprises me when she just kinda nods.

"Eh, understandable."

I stare at her for a moment. "How are you so chill about this? Doesn't it bother you that I've seen you naked?"

A slight blush runs across her cheeks. Hm? "Er, um, yes."

"You're not acting like it."

Her gaze lifts to meet mine, and she looks kinda shy, and… guilty about something?

"Oliver… do you… do you remember two months ago when Lilly invited us over to her aunt and uncle's house to swim in their giant pool?"

I bob my head yes. For some reason, all I can remember is Miley in her purple bikini, rather than actually being in the pool. Uhhh. That didn't bother me then, but why does it now?? I really hope she doesn't ask me anything particular about this day, I suddenly can't seem to think of anything except Miley getting out of the pool all wet, and oh my GOD—WHY AM I THINKING THIS?!

"Well… um," Miley's voice brings me back to earth, and I see that she has kinda bit her lip. Wow, that's hot all of a sudden. I mean—damnit, Oken, you can't even think of an excuse for that one. Wonderful.

"When we left, did you realize that we didn't hang out for, like, a week?"

I think about this. "Oh yeah! You said you had lots of Hannah stuff to do."

"Oh, about that—yeah, I lied."

"Lied? What, why?"

She bites her lip a second time… it shouldn't be such a turn on… buut

"You were changing in the bathroom."

I tilt my head. "Alright, so?"

She shuts her eyes. "Oliver…"

I blink.

It hits me.

"Wait, wait, wait—YOU SAW ME NAKED, TOO?!"



I hope you liked it. It's very pointless, but I wrote it the other day to take a break from writing in HeartWare like a madwoman. Hahaha. That story can be a bit dramatic, and I needed to let off some humor somewhere else to make up for it. So, um, yeah, this resulted.

Tell me what you thiiiiink, pretty please. (: