RANT - So yeah, finally saw the movie and I gotta say - the ending ticked me off. I saw no hint of Priestly being unhappy with his appearance, that he was using it as a mask throughout (as the writers claim). So to have him cave and do that makes him a hypocrite. And right after he said it to Jen, no less. "You're afraid he's going to judge you on the basis of your looks, but you're completely comfortable doing the same to him." He went and Banana Republic'd himself up because he figured that someone like Tish wouldn't like him as long as he looked the way he did, and it pissed me off. If they had hinted at some point, I would have been happy with the transformation, but I didn't see it.

RESULT - So I wrote this little story in response to that. It's in two parts and is amazingly - for me - not a crossover.

It lasted three days before Priestly walked into the Beach City Grill with a loud, orange, "yo momma gave me this," shirt and torn jeans. He'd shaved recently so the beard was gone, but the eyeliner and piercings were back in place, and his shorter hair was restored to darker roots with pink tips.

He was humming Slipknot as he opened the door. Well, trying to – it was Slipknot after all. The noise drew Jen's gaze from the computer screen.

She raised an eyebrow, "Laundry day?"

Actually that was the reason, but he wasn't going to say that. He liked his hair and clothes the way they were, thank you very much. He'd decided the Banana Republic would only be broken out on special occasions. So instead he replied, "No," catching the apron that sailed over the counter.

Jen mumbled something that sounded like 'Damn'.

"Are you saying there's something wrong with the way I look?" He threw his arms wide and dropped his jaw, hoping the wide gesture would detract from the look that flashed through his eyes.

Jen, ever one to sympathise with such things, happened to catch it. "It's not that, it's just..." the side of her mouth creeped up, "We can't call you Boaz now."

"Can't call who what?" Piper chirped as she stepped through the door. She caught sight of Priestly's attire and her mouth formed an 'O' of understanding. "Hey Priestly."

Priestly frowned. Ever since he told them his name, they'd each taken turns to bring it up non-stop for needless reasons. Hey Boaz, is that order ready? Boaz, have you seen my apron? And the mocking, Boaz - did you do something to your hair? From the soft smiles on their faces, he had assumed it was some unspoken ploy to get him to understand his name wasn't something to be ashamed of. Or maybe they did speak about it, he wasn't sure.

Now though, he was suddenly back to being Priestly. Did they really equate his clothing to his name? Surely they noticed that he acted the same regardless of appearance.

Surely they knew him better than that.

Not wanting to be left in doubt, Priestly probed for a confirmation. "I'm grateful, don't get me wrong, but is there some reason why you can't?"

"Because you don't look like Boaz," Piper's tone suggested it was obvious.

"But I am Boaz." His voice was small, a slight crack in the tone as his fears were confirmed.

The girls shared an indiscernible look. "Should we have gotten that on tape?" Piper asked.

"Between the two of us, I think we've got evidence enough," Jen declared. She turned to Priestly and smirked. "Took you long enough."

As the two girls smiled at him, Priestly felt his worry melt away. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of letting them know they won, though. "Evidence of what? I don't recall saying anything."

Piper cocked her hip and laid her hands on it, "Really Boaz, really?"

Priestly brandished the spatula at her to emphasise the point he was about to make. When no point was forthcoming, he prodded it in a threatening manner and held her gaze until she got it.

When she rolled her eyes and looked away to cover her smile, he turned back to the grill with a satisfied grin on his face.

Jen informed him of three online orders that were to be picked up at twelve, though considering it was eleven it didn't matter in the least. Still, Priestly had somehow accumulated an excess of energy and wanted to do something, so he decided to cook the meat… very slowly.

"Priestly, it won't take an hour," Jen sighed.

"Yes it will."

"No, it won't."

"Oh, come on, it'll be like a challenge. The World's Slowest, Yet Most Satisfyingly, Cooked Meal." He stuck his thumbs up in encouragement.

"If you're struggling for something to do, you can get the grime out of the fan," Trucker knocked it as he entered, the metal clang resounding like a death toll.

Priestlys' eyes widened. "What's that Jen? You need someone to watch you so you don't fall off your chair?"

She laughed. "Thanks, but I think I can manage on my own."

Priestly turned around. "Piper, do you need help with…"

She was gone.

So naturally, instead of looking for her, he raised his voice, "WHATEVER IT IS YOU'RE DOING?"

A muffled reply was quickly followed by a thump.

Priestly spared a quick confused look with Trucker and Jen before heading back to the store room. He was met at the door by Piper who was carrying a box, and had somehow acquired a black smudge on her cheek. "No thanks, Boaz."

"Are you sure? That box looks pretty heavy."

It was the size of two shoeboxes, and the writing on the cardboard had some brand that Priestly knew of, but couldn't quite place. The way Piper rested it against her hip suggested that it wasn't heavy in the slightest.

"Actually, it is a bit. Would you mind?"

"But of course, milady." He made a show of holding out his hands for it, and was unprepared for the possibility that it actually was heavy. It pulled down his hands, and Priestly had to struggle to keep from dropping it. "Jesus Piper, you been lifting weights or something?"

Piper regarded him with a knowing look. "I told you it was heavy."

He followed her back into the kitchen, tilting the box this way and that in an effort to see some label that described what he was carrying. "Please don't tell me you just filled a box with bricks."

She snickered. "It's sauce."

He set it down on the counter whilst she retrieved the bottles that were filled to varying levels and began to unscrew the tops.

Priestly lifted the flaps and pulled out the larger bottles of sauce, inspecting the flavours. When he got to a yellow one, he wrinkled his nose. "Cheese and mustard?"

Piper held up a full bottle. "We don't need that one."

"I'll say." He put it back and grabbed another. "Spicy tomato pesto?"

She snagged a half-filled container. "Yep."

"No really – spicy tomato pesto?"

"It goes on the Italian subs, Boaz." Jen remarked, though her eyes were now back on the screen.

"Since when?"

"Since forever." Her flurrying fingers came to a halt. "Wait, what have you been putting on them?"

He eyed the bottles. "Uhh, that one."

"What one?"

"That one." He pointed to one that was dangerously low.

"Do you even know what it is?"

"Of course I do! It's…" He had a few false starts. "…Edible?"

Both girls looked to him in disbelief, "Boaz!"

"What? It's not like you can tell them apart! They're both red, so they're tomato. Really, what's the difference?"

"The difference," Piper explained, holding up both Priestly's choice and the proper bottle for emphasis, "Is that this is for Italian subs, and this is…" She tilted the bottle to the side. "Habañero and tobasco?"

"Priestly!"

"Hey, you got it right." His smile was met with shocked gapes. "What? It's not like they have names on them!"

"Yes they do!"

"No they don't!"

"Yes they do!"

"No they don't!"

Instead of falling into the cycle, Piper thrust the bottle under his nose, tilting the side so that the small print could be visible.

Priestly eyed the permanent marker "Hunh."

Piper had bitten her lip in sympathetic embarrassment. Jen studied the monitor a little too hard. And Trucker just had his head cocked to the side as if to ask, How?

Priestly shrugged in reply. I don't know.

At that point, Jen let out a snort and buried her head in her hands. Her shoulders shook with uncontrolled mirth.

Trucker looked to her. "Is there something we're missing? Because as I see it, there are a lot of people out there who are going to be complaining about their orders."

"That's just the thing, there isn't. If Priestly – sorry, Boaz – has been doing this as long as I think he has, then a lot of people should have come forward by now."

"But where are they?" Piper finished, picking up on Jen's line of thought.

"So that means… I'm off the hook! Yes!" Priestly punched the air in triumph.

Trucker looked him in the eye. "Still, I think that maybe you need to undergo some sort of penance for what you did. It doesn't seem fair that you get off scot free."

Priestly followed his gaze to the industrial fan. "Uhh, wish I could but, uhh, I did my arms in carrying that sauce."

"Wuss," Piper muttered.

"Shut up," Priestly hissed back.

Trucker shook his head solemnly. "Boaz would never have done this."

Priestly's "Hey!" was muffled by the sound of laughter from Piper and Jen, the latter of which was shaking so hard she slid off her chair.

Priestly did laugh at that. "And that, is what you get!"

"Boaz never would have let Jen fall off her chair, either." Trucker added, helping Jen back to her feet.

"What, so it's suddenly my job to make sure that Jen masters the Treacherous Chair?" He raised a hand. "Shuddup!"

It was to their laughter that Tish entered. "What did I… Priestly?"

His smile died as he caught the look on her face. More than anyone, he was worried about how she'd react. Mainly because she was the reason he'd dressed himself up in the first place. So would she be okay with the dress-down?

From the expression on her face as she looked over his attire, he came to his own conclusion.

"I.. I need some air."

And he was out the door before anyone else could speak.