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"Is that my bra?"
Stan froze, shirt halfway over her head, as she heard her sister's voice call out from behind her. Slowly, reluctantly, she turned around to see Ford standing in the doorway of their room with her hands on her hips. Shit. She'd been hoping to finish changing before Ford got back.
"...No?"
Ford huffed. "That explains why I couldn't find it this morning. I had to wear my baggiest sweater in this heat because of you." She tossed her bag on the floor and walked over, eyeing the bra in question as Stan pulled her shirt the rest of the way off. "Why are you wearing mine?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, hating how exposed she felt. "I don't have to explain myself to you."
"You do if you're wearing my bra, Constance!"
Stan rolled her eyes. "Please." She glanced down at Ford's chest. "Why didn't you just wear my bra?"
"Why on Earth would I think to do that?" Ford shook her head. "Stop avoiding the question! Why did you steal my bra?"
Stan felt her cheeks heat, out of frustration or embarrassment, she wasn't sure. "'Cause it actually fits me!" She gestured to her tits, filling the cups of Ford's bra perfectly. "You got this fancy new bra for your science thingy and I still have mine from like 4 years ago! Mine's way too tight and this one fits like a glove. Like a stupid, lacy glove! 'S not fair, 'cause you're smaller than me anyway, so I figured we could just... swap."
Ford raised her eyebrows at the tirade. "And you didn't think to talk to me about any of this? You just stole it without a word?"
Her anger flared. "Well, gee, Sixer. If it bothers you that much you can come take it off me yourself!" She thrust her arms out wide in offering.
Ford's eyes widened, flicking down to Stan's heaving chest.
Standing there in silence, it didn't take long for Stan to feel like an idiot. What the hell was she even doing? Why would she even make that stupid joke? She started to move her arms back to cover her chest, but a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.
Stan's breath hitched as Ford stepped closer, moving slowly until they were chest-to-chest. Her arms snaked behind Stan's back and deftly unlatched the hooks on the back of the bra before rising to pull the straps down her arms.
Ford's face was unreadable as she tossed the bra carelessly behind her and moved her gaze back down to Stan's bare chest.
"Uh... Ford?" Their faces were so close. Had their faces ever been this close? Why was she nervous?
"Hm?" Her gaze didn't leave Stan's tits. What was happening.
"What... What are you doing?"
"Attempting to compare our sizes."
Ford's hand came up, soft and warm, and cupped the underside of Stan's tits. Stan was not proud of the high-pitched squeak she let out, but she managed to stay still even as her brain short-circuited. Ford squeezed the flesh, testing the weight, and accidentally pulling a soft moan out of her sister.
She finally glanced up at the noise. Stan's face was bright red, expression hesitant but eager all at once. Ford smiled. She leaned back and grabbed the hem of her baggy sweater. "I think we'll need more data, don't you?"