In Which Boobs Are Frequently Mentioned... Cause They're Guys

Minimum wage! Hyah!

Dargum shot awake as if he'd been kicked by a horse. The words were unknown, but the sound of a whip-crack was all too familiar. His eyes darted about, looking for the one who meant to strike him.

It took several moments for him to calm his breathing and take in his surroundings, and to remember.

Whiteskins. Four males and a female. They brought him here and, for some reason he couldn't fathom, tended his wound. The males washed him, for which he grudgingly harbored vague and wholly unfamiliar gratitude. The female...

Ah, the female. Just thinking about her soothed his racing heart and quelled his rising panic. The way she looked, the way she smelled, her touch, her voice... Biz. She called herself Biz. He even liked the sound of her name, how it vibrated his tongue to say it. And the way she said his name, not in barking command or reproach, but with warmth and acceptance. Her grey eyes were so completely fearless, but not in a way that told him he was nothing worth fearing.

He shook his head sharply to clear it of those thoughts. Where were they coming from? Such fancy had never found a home in his mind. But then, neither had he thought so much, either. Perhaps his Master's Voice was louder than his own thoughts. Or perhaps he was thinking for himself...

Quite suddenly, Biz was crouching in front of him with a questioning look on her smooth, pale face. She said a word and rubbed her belly, her expression inviting, urging a response. He frowned, uncomprehending.

Rather than anger, her face showed frustration. She held her fingers to her mouth and opened it, miming putting something in...

Oh. Eating. She was asking if he wanted to eat. As if reminded of its need, his stomach growled like an angry warg. Yes, he was starving. He'd left Isengard with little more than a day's ration in his haversack, lost somewhere in the battle now. It wasn't even anything worth keeping; just a crust of stale bread. It was assumed they'd feast upon Man-flesh when they took the fortress. If they did not prevail, it hardly mattered what they carried with them, did it?

An unexpected pang of remorse hit him, and he looked away. All of his brothers... what happened? Had they won? He still had no answers, but it was beginning to dawn on him that he was no longer in the same place. Perhaps not even the same time. He'd seen so little that was familiar: even the air was different. He had no choice but to accept the possibility that the battle at the fortress may have happened long ago.

So long ago, Orcs were no longer feared. Perhaps they were no longer known.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wincing from the unexpected pain of that revelation. Then he felt a soft hand on his cheek, gently lifting him up. Her eyes were sympathetic, as though she somehow knew his thoughts, and felt sadness for his pain.

She whispered the word again, and he nodded. Yes, he was... hungry. Very hungry. But not just for food.

"I think," Biz mused half to herself, "he just got hit by the clue bus."

"How's that?" Todd asked as Doogie checked on his bite wound again.

"Well, he just looks really... sad, I guess," she explained. "Look at it from his perspective..."

"I'm guessing his perspective is that A, you've got tits," Rich yawned as he stretched, "B, every time he turns around, you've got your hands all over him, so yay, and C, you've got tits."

"You said 'tits' twice," Alex observed.

"Tits are awesome," Rich replied. "They bear repeating."

"If I had the power to manage it," Biz snarled with annoyance, "you'd go the rest of your life with only your own tits to entertain you."

"Guess you'd better get them implants, boy-o," Doogie chuckled. "Okay, next patient." Rising, he went to the other end of the room where the Orc sat watching them all warily. His arms were still bound behind him, his ankles tied. At the EMT's approach, he tensed and glared distrustingly. "Hey," Doogie said soothingly, "I'm just having a look. See how you're healing, okay?"

"You want Biz's tits over there?" Rich asked helpfully.

"No, I think he can go a minute without them, thanks for asking," Doogie replied with annoyance.

"Okay, if my tits are so incredibly fantastic, why is he sad?" Biz asked, rounding on Rich.

"Two reasons," he explained easily, holding up his fingers. "One, he can't see them, and two, he can't touch them. Many have chosen death rather than endure such torments." Winking, he grabbed a change of clothes from various random locations around the room, and retired to the shower.

"One, two, three...," Todd counted quietly.

"What the fuck happened to my shampoo?" Rich bellowed, storming out of the bathroom.

"Funny thing," Alex said thoughtfully, leaning back in the puffy chair and steepling his fingers, elbows on the armrests. "That wondrous hair tonic of yours works amazingly well as a tub cleaner."

"I guess you get flowery hair stink, then," Todd added with a snicker.

"I brought the hyacinth-scented just for you," Biz offered helpfully.

"I hate all of you people," Rich growled, and slammed the bathroom door.

"Baby," Biz muttered.

"Whoa," Doogie suddenly said, and everyone looked over to where he was kneeling next to the Orc.

"Problems?" Alex asked with a frown.

"He's almost healed," the EMT said quietly. "Like, I could take these stitches out, and there's enough regrowth of the skin over his wound that it wouldn't reopen." He shook his head in wonder. "Never seen anything like it."

"So... this is... weird?" Todd said hesitantly, leaning forward.

"Real weird," Doogie nodded. "He's looking a hell of a lot better, too." Furrowing his brow and searching the Orc's still-hostile face, he murmured, "What the hell are you?"

The bewildered silence was broken by a knock on the door, and Biz dodged piles of geeks on her way to open it. A bellhop-looking guy with a rolling rack of various trays was delivering room service.

"Holy crap, thank the hell out of you," Biz breathed, taking the first tray of awesome-smelling food over to the table. Alex hopped up to grab the second tray before the hotel employee could enter the room; though the Orc was on the floor around the corner, hidden from view, he would rather avoid any uncomfortable questions before he had some coffee.

Normally, hotel rooms had an ample supply and a little coffee machine available for the guests. This hotel chain obviously hadn't counted on the high consumption rate of Biz and Rich.

Once the dishes had been sorted, Biz took a plate of sausages – the only thing she could think of that Dargum would likely want to eat – and cut them in bite-sized pieces. As she worked, Rich emerged from the bathroom dressed only in jeans, his hair damp and spikey. Biz smirked as a waft of hyacinth floated past her.

"Thank god: food," Rich said approvingly as he rummaged for a shirt. "I hope our long association resulted in two eggs, over hard, with white toast."

"Nope," Todd said, glancing at the plate ordered for Rich. "Looks like one over easy, real runny, and pumpernickel. I'm guessing the 'tit' jokes got to someone."

"Please tell me you developed a gluten allergy," Biz grumbled as she took the plate of sausage pieces to the Orc. He nearly came off the floor in his eagerness once he saw what she had.

"Easy," Doogie warned, putting a restraining hand on the Orc's shoulder. "Better use the fork so he doesn't bite you."

"Like I want to give him another opportunity," Biz replied. Spearing a piece, she approached his near-slavering mouth with the morsel.

"This is the plane, going into the hangar," Doogie murmured automatically, then grinned at Biz's reproachful glare. "Just don't nurse him, okay? Rich'll never let you live it down."

"One day," Biz growled in an undertone, "I will be blessed with the sudden maturing of my friends. I anticipate that on that day, there will be fewer references made to my breasts."

"Not likely to happen," Doogie replied easily. "I mean, we'll probably get older, but there's no amount of maturity that'll make us stop fondling boobies. Or talking about them. Or ogling them." Shrugging, he added, "Sorry."

Biz sighed. "It's just a silly dream I have."

"As long as you accept that, we'll be fine," Doogie said.

The Orc consumed the sausage with vigor; Biz could barely keep up with him. "Shit, does he even chew?" she wondered out loud. She caught sight of maybe two motions per mouthful that could pass for chewing before he'd swallowed and his mouth was open like a little bird's, anxious for more.

"You'll make a great mom," Doogie commented. "Little pieces like that... hell, I probably wouldn't need to chew, either. He probably thinks you just want to prolong this bonding moment with him." Snickering, he patted her shoulder and rose. "Sounds like the boys are having a planning session; that can't be good."

"Break it up, will you?" she asked, trying to suppress the automatic blush his suggestion inspired. Did the Orc think she was coming on to him? Crap. Something perfectly innocent... One look in those eyes told her all she needed to know, though – if looks could strip, she'd be naked and on her back in a heartbeat, covered in Orc. Shivering at the thought... but shockingly not repulsed by it, for crying out loud, Biz set the empty plate aside and regarded him.

Dargum seemed to be looking at her with all his senses on alert. She could see his nostrils quivering a little, and was pretty sure he wasn't interested in Rich's lovely smell. His eyes were focused on hers for a few minutes, just intently looking right into the heart of her, it seemed, then they began to roam. A little smile quirked his mouth as he drank in the contours of her body, tilting his head from side to side slowly as he unabashedly checked her out.

If his eyes were hands, Biz would have to press charges.

"Um...," she ventured cautiously, and his eyes flicked back up to hers. "Bad Dargum," she admonished.

He grinned. "Bad Bizzzzz," he buzzed, looking quite like he was savoring her name more than he did the meat.

For the first time, she found herself searching her thoughts for Eric. Where was that damn man? Shouldn't her relationship with him be chasing away all these feelings that were falling over themselves to take control? Was her commitment to him so cheap and loose, so easily cast aside? Biz shouldn't be responding to the Orc, certainly not feeling ripples and flutters whenever he looked at her in that way, the kind of way that promised raunchy, vigorous, sweaty, likely bondage-laden, kinky sex.

No. She was Eric's girlfriend. Significant other. Lover. Friend. She wasn't some kind of whoring fangirl. No. Not at all. Except... not once in the last few years with Eric had she felt like this.

"You'll have to ask Biz," Doogie said, and she shook herself. "This has 'multiple arrests' and 'assault and battery' written all over it."

"What?" she said, tearing herself away from the alarmingly enticing Orc to join the others.

Sighing and shaking his head, Doogie said, "Rich here wants to parade Dargum around the con. Thinks it'll be 'awesome.'" Biz's eyes shot open wide.

"Are you nuts?"

"Come on!" Rich urged. "I didn't say, 'set him loose.' We'd be there, keeping him out of trouble. What's it gonna hurt?"

Closing her eyes and counting to ten, Biz said slowly, "He's an Orc, dickhead. This whole place probably gives him the major willies. We can't explain shit to him. Like the incredibly important concept of costumes. He probably thought I was an Orc when he first saw me, because I was frickin' green."

Chuckling at the thought, Rich suddenly sobered. "Oh. Is that why he freaked about the bathroom?"

"Yeah," Biz snapped sarcastically, "probably. He probably thought something god-awful in that room sucks the Orc out of you, and figured he was next."

"Well, we did take a few layers of Orc off him," Alex suggested with a shrug. "I don't miss them. Do you?"

Todd shook his head. "Nope. Here: put this on him. Nobody'll be the wiser." He grabbed a green shirt off a nearby pile and tossed it to Biz.

"Nice," she snarled. "This one's mine. I'm a third his size. Way to go. And this isn't funny!" she cried, waving the Kiss me, I'm Orkish shirt at him angrily.

"Look, everyone'll think he's just really excited about his makeup," Alex said soothingly. "The contest was yesterday, so he doesn't have to wear the full getup, but you have to admit, he puts Weta to shame. I mean really, look at him, huh? Wish we'd gotten him earlier; we could've buried that Lord of the Rings group in the finals."

"I can't believe this," Biz said incredulously. "You're all on his side, aren't you? You're going to take this poor guy into the con, and scare the bejesus out of him. Because Rich thought it would be a good idea." Pausing for a moment, she eyed each of them in turn. "What part of that sentence sounds wrong to you?"

"He'll be fine if you're there," Rich wheedled. "He doesn't need to be told stuff; he just needs some Special Handling. Like, in a lot of intimate places." He grinned broadly and waggled his eyebrows.

"And I suppose if he has a panic attack, I'm to shove my boobs in his face, right?" she growled.

"Now you're getting it!" Rich crowed, thumping her shoulder. "Way to be a team player."

"Die, Rich," Biz muttered.

In the end, Biz was out-voted. Dressed in a pair of Alex's jeans and the shirt she bought him, along with some extra sneakers of Doogie's because he had bigger feet than the rest and the Orc's claws made fitting a little awkward, Dargum made his way out of the hotel and back to the convention center surrounded by four people he didn't trust and one he couldn't get close enough to. To avoid uncomfortable questions and unwanted attention from security, they untied him, but all of them had a wary eye on the Orc.

There was little to worry about. The center was not as populated as it was the day before, but it was still full of more people than the Orc had likely seen in one place his entire life. Biz watched his eyes flick around nervously and listened to his gasping breaths. He seemed on the verge of that panic attack she warned Rich about. She felt compelled to touch his arm frequently, just to divert his attention from the sights, the sounds, the smells...

"How's he doing?" Doogie asked as their progress took them into the main hall.

"Hanging in there," Biz replied. "At least nobody's really... looking at him. Much." She gnawed her lip for a moment; she could see by the crease of his brow that he was on the edge. One little thing would send him into a frenzy. Luckily, most of the costumers from yesterday were in their street clothes and not sporting...

"Holy crap," Todd breathed. "Herd of Elves, ten o'clock." All eyes, except the yellow ones thankfully, darted in the indicated direction.

There were at least a dozen of them, all sporting variations on the Celeborn theme from the Peter Jackson movies. Long white-blond hair, flowing moss-green over shimmering white robes, silver bling at the neck and waist... And the ladies were mostly wearing Arwen knock-offs with a sword, like that was canon or something, Biz thought witheringly.

"Okay, diversionary tactics," Biz whispered, urging the group to halt. "If they look like they're heading our way..."

"Too late," Alex observed. "Ooo, come'n get some, yuh wimpy fruitcake. This Orc'll ruin your hairdo and fuck up your manicure."

Dargum spotted the approaching Elves and stiffened, every inch of him exuding hostility. His hand went instinctively to his hip, but came up with nothing. Then he began to growl.

"God dammit," Biz hissed, and grabbed Dargum's arm.

"What ho, friends!" one of the wannabes announced as the troop of baboo-... Elves reached them. "Methinks you keep most unsavory company." Exchanging amused looks with his posse, he simpered, "Honor demands I seek satisfaction of any Enemy of my people."

"Sorry, he's spoken for," Rich said with mock sympathy. "He might not be too particular, but Biz'll whack you with her purse if you so much as look at his junk."

Trying not to laugh, Biz nodded. "Yeah. Just walk away, dude. This one's mine." Slipping an arm around Dargum's waist, she rested her head on his shoulder briefly and sighed.

"Not that kind of satisfaction," the Elf-guy snapped indignantly. "Come on, guys." Muttering under his breath, he led his gang away. One of the Arwens openly ogled Dargum's form and grinned appreciatively on her way by. The Orc just blinked stupidly like a shellshock victim.

"Phew, that was close," Biz said with relief. Dargum's mouth hung open slightly, as though he couldn't believe what just happened. Giggling, she patted his chest. "Yeah, you got it goin' on, my boy. Even the Elleths want a piece of you."

"You'll notice she wasn't looking at his face," Todd pointed out as they resumed their perilous journey.

"Pfft," she snorted dismissively. "Like you guys ever look at a woman's face. What makes you think we're any different?"

"I'm shocked," Doogie said mildly. "To think all this time, I thought it was just shyness."

"Hate to break it to you," Biz said, shaking her head. "We're not looking at the floor because we're afraid to look you in the eye. We're examining your crotch and taking measurements. Sad but true."

As if the gaggle of Elves wasn't bad enough, further into the con they encountered three people in full Predator regalia, complete with shoulder-mounted plasma casters and combi-sticks. Only one of them wore a bio-mask; the other two had fully-animated, painstakingly detailed Yautja headpieces, the mandibles seemingly set to random chitter mode. Dargum took one look at them and almost fainted. He started to backpedal so fast, the geeks nearly fell over themselves to catch him before he bolted.

"Boobs! Stat!" Rich yelled as he bear-hugged the Orc and tried to lift him off his churning feet. No one knew what Dargum was bellowing at the top of his lungs as he struggled against them, but they were pretty sure it was Orcish for 'what the fuck is that?'

"All right, fun's over," Biz gasped once they'd dragged the panic-stricken Orc around the corner and out of sight. He was damn near hyperventillating. "Are you done now? Can we go?"

"Yeah," Rich nodded, dabbing at his split lip. Glancing at Alex who was doubled over and still groaning from the kick he received, Rich nodded again. "Yeah. That pretty much stopped being fun real quick."

Song lyric: "Minimum Wage," by They Might Be Giants

A/N: Come on, who hasn't been woken up in a hotel room by your friends playing that one at max decibels? It can't just be me. Honestly.