Always Label Your Underwear

A boy sits on the couch, contemplating the bra on the coffee table.

It's not a particularly interesting bra, objectively. It's beige, with no laces or frills. Perhaps the cup size is a bit large for the band size, but it's otherwise unremarkable. What the boy on the couch sees, though, is what's on the tag, which is no name. That is, there's no name on the tag.

"When you live in a family with ten sisters," says the boy, "ladies' underwear is just a fact of life! Some of my friends think that bras and panties are gross, or, worse, that they're the best thing in the world." He holds up, by the cups, the bra he's studying. "But they aren't either of those things! You just have to get used to them."

On the coffee table, there are eleven piles of newly-folded laundry. (One of them is just two tiny items for one tiny girl, but it still counts.) Lincoln finds the five largest piles and takes one item - in each case, another bra - from each of them.

"To make things easier for whoever's doing the laundry, the girls all write their names on their clothes." He holds up a purple bra emblazoned with white zigzag patterns. "Sometimes, you can tell whose it is even without the tags. But other times you have to check to be sure."

He sets down Luna's underwear and picks up a white sports bra. "Lynn has the smallest bras, because she's the smallest girl... in more ways than one. Then there's Luan." He picks up a pink-and-white polka-dotted bra in his other hand. "With her, you can never really tell. She has a bit of everything."

Lincoln puts them both back down on the table, and picks up two more. "Leni's bras can be crazy sometimes. Look at this one." He holds up underwear that looks almost like outerwear; instead of normal elastic straps, the bra has thin strings, threaded through glass beads, that cross behind the neck. "She's the one who modifies them. It's... impressive, actually. Lori's bras are pretty boring in comparison, but they're the biggest, so you can usually tell what's hers."

He puts those bras down and holds up the beige one from earlier. "But I can't tell with this one. Whoever it belongs to forgot to put her name on it! It's... clearly not Lynn's. But I can't tell beyond that."

Lincoln takes a closer look and the garment itself. Unfortunately, it simply has no distinguishing features. He rubs the cup between his thumb and finger. Something turns his stomach simultaneously hot and cold. He shakes his head.

"Luan and Luna aren't, uh, endowed enough to need this... I think. And I doubt it's Leni's. I mean, where are all the beads and buttons? So... I guess it's Lori's." He puts the bra in the pile of her clothing. "The band and straps look a little small, but I guess it must be hers, right? Guess I'll have to ask her."

----

Lori sits on her bed and scowls.

"Ugh, do I look like a little girl to you, Lincoln?"

"Wh-What do you mean?"

"This isn't mine, kid. It's way too small." She hands the beige bra back to Lincoln. "Look at the band size. I haven't been that petite in years."

"Well, do you know whose it might be?"

Lori stands up and opens up her dresser. "What, is it my job to keep track of what everyone wears? Get out. I have laundry to put away."

Lincoln turns to leave, but Lori says one more thing: "Actually, I think Leni knows all of our bra sizes. She could probably tell you whose it is."

"Oh, thanks," says Lincoln.

"Now get out for real."

----

Leni stares into the toaster. The toaster can't stare back, but it would if it could.

Lincoln stares at Leni. She doesn't stare back. He greets her. She greets him back. He asks if she knows who "this" belongs to. She asks him to hold on. She's trying to stay focused so that the toast doesn't scare her when it pops out.

The boy holds on. Leni continues to stare into the toaster. He begins to ask if she's sure she pulled the lever, but he's cut short - the toaster finishes with a bang. Leni shrieks and jumps backward.

After giving her a moment to collect herself, Lincoln asks once again if she knows who "this" belongs to. With only a glance at the bra itself, Leni says that she does, and she tells him. In fact, she was the one who helped the owner get properly fitted. The latter had been in desparate need of some larger bras. Leni says there's nothing worse for a girl than ill-fitting underwear.

For a moment, the boy says nothing, seemingly petrified. His head weighs both too heavily and too lightly his neck; the bra in his hand becomes hot, even volatile.

He mumbles to Leni that he'll deliver it to its owner. She continues to prepare her toast.

----

As he leaves the kitchen, Lincoln discovers that he's forgotten where to put his hands when he walks. He tries leaving them at his sides, then near his chest, then back down at his sides. Eventually, he compromises between the two.

Halfway up the stairs, he walks into a dark object that goes "Oof."

"Ah! Oh, sorry, Lucy."

"It's alright," she says. "What are you holding?"

"Uh, it's..." He holds his arms near his chest again. "... j-just taking care of a little mix-up with the laundry. What'sthatyou'vegotthere?"

"This is a map of the house. I'm keeping track of all my secret dark places. I think one of them is so secret, even I don't know it exists."

Lincoln hesitates. "... Huh. Okay. I'm... justgonnagodeliverthis," he says.

"If anyone needs me, tell them I'll be at the bottom of the laundry chute."

They go their separate ways.

----

Lincoln stops in the doorway to Luna and Luan's room. The latter sits in her director's chair, working with her video camera. The former looks down from the top bunk, and answers her brother's lack-of-a-greeting with a scratchy "Hey, bro."

"H-Hey, Luna."

"You need somethin'?"

"Yeah, I just... there was a mix-up with the laundry today. You see," he says, holding up the beige bra, "You forgot to put your name on this, Luan."

Upon hearing her name, the girl turns to face him, and her face turns slightly pink. "Oh - sorry, Lincoln! I guess that wasn't..." She shifts her eyes to the side. "Actually, I'll finish that sentence later."

"Well, uh, no worries, Lu," he replies, as she walks over to him. He hands the bra to her with a shaking, jerking hand. "It's just - I thought it was Lori's at first, and..."

Luan's blush extends to her ears, and she breaks eye contact, looking down at the bra instead. "You thought this was Lori's?"

"Y-Yeah. But, I got it back to you, though, right?"

"... Right. Thanks, Lincoln."

Luan turns around, weakly tosses the bra onto her bed, and returns to her camera. Her eyes are unfocused, and her blush hasn't subsided. Lincoln watches her, hands folded near his chest again.

Luna tilts her head towards him. "Need anythin' else, bro?"

"Ah, no! That's all! Thanks! Er, you're welcome!"

He backs out the door and, with unprecedented speed, dashes into his bedroom.

"So, what were you gonna finish that sentence with?"

"Oh, ah..." Luan forcefully reverts her expression to her usual beaming smile. "I was going to say 'I guess that wasn't the breast idea!' Hahaha!"

"Mmn... Needs work, sister."

----

Lincoln closes the door to his room and begins to pace.

"That was more awkward than it needed to be," he says. "It's weird - I've never had a problem with my sisters' underwear. So, why now? It's not like there's anything special about Luan, right?" He stops. "Well, I mean, there's nothing special about her underwear. It's just underwear! I've folded hers, she's folded mine. What's the big deal?"

He throws himself onto his bed, reaches under his pillow, and pulls out a comic book. "There is no big deal," he says, but he can't focus his eyes on the pages.

He lays down the comic and opens up his laptop. Web browser. Wikipedia. Random article. "There's nothing weird about it," he says, but he finds himself re-reading the same paragraph three times.

New tab. YouTube. Subscriptions. A new video from his favorite channel. "It's just a bra. Nothing I haven't seen before," he says, but as the video ends, he realizes he didn't hear a thing the host said.

Lincoln closes his eyes lets his head crash onto the keyboard. "So why do I feel so WEIRD about it?"

For a moment, he leaves his head there and visualizes the bra in his mind - and finds that the image is not enough.

----

Nighttime falls upon the Loud house. Of the thirteen Louds in the house, nine are asleep. Well, nine and a half. Lynn's almost there. Lori's having an enthusiastic conversation via text; she'll go to sleep soon enough. Lincoln's awake, and his every nerve is burning - he will not fall asleep for quite some time.

He opens the door to his room slightly, then slightly more, and then enough for him to leave. He takes one soft step out, and then another. It would be misleading to say that he sneaks to his Luan and Luna's room; to get there, he instead takes a series of very small, very quiet, and completely individual steps.

Someone watches him move.

The door to his sisters' room creaks softly as he opens it - but not enough to wake them. Again, Lincoln steps slowly towards his destination - the dresser. Once there, and after a careful glance at his sisters, he opens the top drawer.

He can see well enough by the moonlight to identify what he sees, which should be enough bras and panties to make a boy's knees give way. However, Lincoln is looking for only one item, and it isn't there. He scowls and closes the drawer.

Feet in place, he scans the room for a tense, eternal minute. He finally sees Luan's beige bra left on the floor near her bed. More sneaky steps. A careful retrieval. Luan stirs. He freezes. She begins to speak.

"... What did Einstein ask the passenger next to him?... Does Boston stop at this train? Hehehe... "

With his heart in his throat, Lincoln slinks his way out of the room, with the bra in hand, as quickly as he can.

For a few minutes, nothing makes a sound. But, then, a penny falls - with an unnatural speed and angle - out of a vent above the bunk beds. It plays a perfect middle C on the bedframe. Luan's eyes open.

Her gaze darts around the room. There's no sign of an intruder, and she doesn't recognize anything out of place, so she shuts them again.

A nickel plays a low D-sharp on the open door. She sits up, fear poking from inside her ribs, and fixes her gaze on the source of the noise. After a moment, dread pools in her gut.

She gets out of bed and checks the hallway. Every other door is closed, and no lights are on. She scans the room again, and sees that something is missing, though she's unsure what. She takes her video camera from her desk. Without knowing what to expect, she looks through the night's footage.

Then, without any of Lincoln's subtlety, she takes the camera out of her room and down the hall.

When she reaches his door, she hesitates a moment, then tries the doorknob. Locked. She shakes it some more. She waits. She knocks. Finally, Lincoln opens the door.

She presents the camera. He looks at it. He looks at her. She stares back. Neither speaks, but their faces tell all; no twitch or pull of a muscle goes unnoticed.

Lincoln drops his gaze and opens the door for his sister. Solemnly, he reaches under his pillow, pulls out Luan's beige bra, and hands it to her.

For a second, nothing happens. Then he winces, as a reflex. Then he stumbles backward, clutching his face.

Luan returns to her room.

----

Twelve hours pass.

"Look who's alive!" says Mr. Loud. "Do you have any idea what time of day it is?"

"The accursed sun nears its zenith, Father," says Lucy.

"... That's one way to say it. Wait, do you even know what 'zenith' means?"

"I do," she lies.

"Well, you need to go to sleep earlier, kiddo."

Lucy shifts. "My bedtime is nine o'clock-"

"And I know perfectly well that you stay up even after that. From now on, if you can't get yourself to sleep, I'll just have Lynn bonk you on the head!"

Lucy freezes in place with a worried frown.

"Okay, okay, maybe not this time. But next time, Lucy, I'll give the order."

"R-Right."

Mr. Loud rustles her hair. "Well, I made french toast. And, yes, I burnt a piece for you, definitely intentionally, and not accidentally. It's downstairs and ready when you are."

"Thank you, Father," says Lucy. Once he's distracted by another sister, though, Lucy detours into Luan and Luna's room.

She's greeted by the former, wearing her nose glasses, sitting in the bean bag chair. She looks up from a textbook. "Hi, Luce."

"Hello, Luan. Out of politeness, I figured I should tell you something."

Luan hesitates. "What's that?"

"You owe me six cents."

----

Leni's sewing. Luna's out with her friends. Lisa's analyzing experimental data. Lucy's adding the ventilation system to her map. Lori is, against her will, trying to teach the twins what place value means. Lincoln's practicing with his yo-yo. The house is peaceful.

Luan opens the door to Lincoln's room. Her face says that she isn't there to tell a joke. "Lincoln," she says. "Come outside."

He drops the yo-yo and begins to trip over his own tongue. "Ah... Lu-Luan, I... I'm sorry about-"

"Please just come outside, Lincoln."

She leads him downstairs and out the back door, where she leans on the railing of the porch, facing away from Lincoln. He tries to say something, but she cuts him off.

"Lincoln, what were you doing with my bra, in your bedroom, behind a locked door?"

"I..." he swallows and takes a nervous, stuttering breath. "I don't know! I just..."

Luan turns around with a scowl on her face. "You don't know."

"I'm sorry! I don't know what got into me!"

"Just tell me what you were doing with it!"

"I was, I was touching it!"

"I see." She narrows her eyes. "And with what part of yourself were you touching it, exactly?"

"My... fingers?"

She tries to look through his eyes, but they don't reveal any dishonesty; if anything, he's confused by the question. "And that's all you did with it?"

Lincoln nods. "Look, I know I shouldn't have gotten into your stuff, and I--"

Luan grabs his shoulders and shakes him. Once, but hard. "So why DID you!?"

"I-I-I-I-I-..." Tears form at the corners of Lincoln's eyes. "I don't know!" he says. "I don't know why I did it! I just, I heard from Leni about how, how this is a-a new size for you, and... and I don't know! I couldn't stop thinking about it!"

Luan lets go of him and turns away. "Of course. Of course you couldn't." She leans against the railing and holds her head in her hands, tucking her eyes away from view. "That's me. Luan Loud, the girl with the double-D-cups! Luan, whose boobs bounce when she laughs! That's me, all right! That's Luan fucking Loud!"

She turns back to Lincoln and grabs him by the shirt. "No worries, Lincoln! You can totally just rub your little hands all over my bras, because they're so big! Why, you could mistake them for Lori's! Oh, yes, that's the perfect reason, Lincoln! Absolutely A-OKAY!"

He tries to apologize, but can only mouth the words through his dry throat.

She lets him go, steps back, and crosses her arms sheepishly. "I know you are. It's just... you like your privacy, right? We all do. And as I'm sure you've noticed, there isn't exactly a lot to go around in this house."

"Th-That's for sure."

"So, my underwear? Totally off-limits. You start feeling curious again, talk it over with your friends. Or... with Mom and Dad. Or get a girlfriend. Okay?

He nods, blinking away tears.

She sighs. "Then I'll forget this ever happened. I'll even delete the recording. Just... try to respect everyone's privacy from now on, okay?"

"Y-Yeah. Of course."

----

Luna has taken Luan's place on the bean bag chair. "Hey, girl," says the former. "You look down."

Her sister shrugs and forces a smile. Luna watches her as she walks past.

Luan grabs a sharpie from the bedside table and her bra from the dresser. She writes her name on the tag. She stares looks down at it, and at herself, for a moment, before putting it back.

"Uh, Luan?" asks another voice. Lincoln's. Just outside the doorway. The girls look at him. "I just..."

He takes a deep breath.

"I know you're not... really... you don't wear your emotions on your sleeves, er, even if you had sleeves, I don't think that's where you'd wear them - your emotions, I mean-"

"Where's this going, Linc?" Luan interjects.

"I just... I don't think people think of you like you said. They might not be able to see who you are all the way inside, but there's so much more to you than just... what you look like. And they know that. We know that."

Luan stares at Lincoln. Lincoln stares back.

Luna looks back and forth between them. "Oookay, I missed out on somethin' real important, earlier, didn't I?"