#I dunno why madeline looks concerned

[thelinelemon]

Hello yes look at my precious babes I love them and they are chillin’ at the beach bc I wanted huehue

[quatschmachen]

Bitchumen

A nice heartwarming sort of xmas fic. Phone call takes place in 2000, the xmas in 1999.

Edward rants to someone about something.

XXX “Right, like you can actually understand what’s going on.” The sarcasm dripped thick like bitumen from Edward’s tongue, the sticky anger clinging to every surface.“You treating me with the polite decency of a stranger doesn’t actually make you a good person, Calvin – it doesn’t even make you a friend.”

Blowing a breath out, Edward rubbed his face, his shoulders stuck between wanting to spike up in stiff defense or simply drop down in defeat.

“Which is why you get the couch,” here his arms crossed, brooking no argument, “I don’t even know why you thought it was going to be fine just showing up, months after being an asshole thinking I would even put you up. I just know Edith would have you out on your ass, and honestly you’re lucky you got me when I was even in town. Hold on… Mr. Big Shot, you have enough money to get a fucking hotel room, why the shit am I even considering you to stay here with me? Why the hell am I not throwing you out on your ass?”

Another breath out, and Edward sighed, “No, this won’t do.”

With a slump, he plopped onto the couch, and glanced around his small living room, wondering why the hell he was even practicing this as a conversation. Calvin hadn’t dropped by in months. It wasn’t like he was going to any time soon. The lines had been clearly drawn, and even an entitled oil cowboy wasn’t going to pretend everything hadn’t changed.Apparently the weeks off were just giving him time to go crazy. Usually this would be the time he would jet off to Montreal, but instead he was stuck in his house losing it. He was worried if he showed up on Étienne’s doorstep he would just start crying. Definitely not a thing to do.

His thoughts were disrupted as the telephone began to ring. With a sigh, he rolled off the couch and grabbed it. “Hello?”

“Eddy!” Étienne’s voice rang out through the phone and wrapped around him like a warm hug.

“’Tienne,” Edward breathed out, automatically relaxing, he flomped down into the seat beside the telephone.

“I’ve been calling for weeks and thought you had died,” he joked, but the edge of worry was still there.

“Sort of had.” Edward murmured, “Actually I sort of moved out, I guess. Mac came down in January and I ended up moving north with him and picked up a hitch. Just got off and am laying around at home too dead to do anything.”

“Hitch?”

“Uhm working in the oil patch. Living at camp, pretty much isolated from the world…”

“Surrounded by big burly men? You could have at least sent me a postcard, Eddy,” Étienne teased, but there was an underlying tone Edward had difficulty deciphering, “I was thinking if it was my turn to come pull you out of the swamp of misery.”

“I guess I could have but… to be honest it all sort of just happened?” Edward sighed, “And once I was up in Fort Mac, and then out working, it’s difficult to really communicate. Just work till you drop, then into the camp to exercise or watch porn.”

“What? They actually supply porn?”

“And sometimes even prostitutes, but that’s apparently not truly allowed…” Edward paused, “but unfortunately no prostitutes were of interest to me.”

“How unfortunate. I was up to my eyeballs with inconvenient work,” Étienne paused, “Christmas was about the same as always, Suzette passes along her best wishes. The food was divine, and I ended up losing an arm-wrestling match to Élyse.”

Edward laughed, “What were the stakes?”

“Hmmm, well she got to eat my slice of cake; it was some terrible cake Samuel had made – yes I know, please believe me when I say he made this cake. Truly no real artisan of food would have produced something as terrible as that cake. I think it ostensibly was supposed to be a fruit cake – with a thick layer of chalky marzipan on top. Somehow he managed to over-alcohol a cake while having it be dry at the same time. I was ready to submit it to the Guinness Book of Records…”

“So why was Élyse battling you for your slice?”

“You see, I may have already had a fight or two with Samuel – he has some new boytoy, and he was being so insipid and sickly about it, I may have been ready to fight over any little thing. Élyse figured if I got rid of the slice via arm wrestling it could possibly save Christmas or something. Yadda yadda. Apparently no one seems to enjoy the Christmases when Samuel breaks down in angry tears and yells for an hour – not sure why when I find that sooooooo entertaining.”

“God I wish I was there for that… seeing Samuel’s face as if he was punched when he tries to cry elegantly is so therapeutic…” Edward murmured, “I feel like my Christmas was just me being the crying one.”

“Crying? What happened, Édouard?”

Squiggling in his seat, Edward wondered how much he should tell. A part of him wanted to spill it all, but another part wondered if that would be too much of an inconvenience. How much of his stupid worries did Étienne really want? Closing his eyes, Edward pretended they were in the same room together, maybe even touching, head on Étienne’s shoulder, not necessarily looking at the man, but bodies snuggled up, his hair getting played with. Those small stolen moments of bliss, where the worries got spilled, and he didn’t worry about the consequences.

“Christmas was so awkward; I don’t even know where to begin. The entire time I desperately wished I had gone to yours… it felt like the last time I try to be a functional person among them… hell, I only went because I thought maybe I could improve relations with people… start the new millennium off with some hope about the future.”

It really had been terrible. They had held it at the ranch – Bert’s ranch. Why the hell did he think hanging out with people at the ranch would be a good idea? Surrounded by people you probably should know better, but in reality only held passing pleasantries with. The one bright spot had been Calvin. Calvin who seemed to be best buddies with everyone who arrived, Calvin who smiled brightly at him and argued with him, distracting him from the knot of anxiety he was harbouring over whether he should come out during Christmas or hold off until New Years?

He was attempting small talk with Jo, who was talking at him about how they should go shopping together (did she not do other stuff?), when he overheard Bert loudly say “I personally don’t think those fags should be given the deal.”

It felt like time had slowed down for Edward. No one seemed to pause or care. Orson in fact nodded along with Bert’s rant, sipping his Sprite. Jo continued on with her plans for her next visit, and somewhere nearby Red laughed at a joke Madeline made. As he observed the room to see if there was any reaction to Bert’s loud rant, everyone was involved in their own conversations. Calvin was in the distance deep in conversation with someone he could not quite make out. 

Right, this was not the place. He still wanted turkey dinner, and as he dimly nodded along to Jo, Edward felt small. He had no allies here. Well, that wasn’t true. He was sure Edith supported him, but one in how many? Edward didn’t want to ‘ruin Christmas’.

“And you know how I’ve been thinking about coming out and stuff, but uh, can I just say no? If you were in the room you would understand – seriously Étienne, these people who claim to be my so called family would just as well lynch me as their Christmas bonfire – I dunno they could just douse me in bitumen and light me up human torch Christian martyr style for bringing the faggotry home for Christmas… Soooo I didn’t want to ruin Christmas and make the event awkward for everyone,” Edward related over the phone.

“And then horror of horrors, Orson managed to corner me in what he thinks is jovial conversation. It felt like everything he had to say to me was condescension masked in care and concern – honestly I am not sure how he even manages that. I think he felt like it was his civic duty to carry on a conversation with me. He even reminisced about the temple open house he dragged me to. Ok honestly I went to the open house out of curiosity, to see what sort of cult he’s in, but I didn’t think he would already be reminiscing about something that had literally JUST happened. Temple? Yeah, a Mormon temple just opened up in my city… so it meant I had the pleassssuuure of Orson coming up for the Open House and dragging me along. Stay with me? God no, please ‘Tienne I’m not that insane, what would I do if he snooped and found my big old dildo? Yeah he was staying with some church people since he was volunteering and such.”

“I think I wanted to die when he sat down at the piano – yeah, I didn’t even think Bert ever tuned that thing, but knowing Orson maybe he came extra early to tune it, and began banging out the Christmas carols. Like he’s talented and all, and I don’t mind a round of Jingle Bells, but he really has this creepy 1950s vibe and I wanted to roll my eyes when his eyes started to shine with unshed tears at Away in a Manger and O Holy Night.” Edward twisted the cord around his finger, as he listened to Étienne chuckle. Apparently the tactic was avoid talking about himself and instead rant about goody-two-shoes Orson? “You should count yourself lucky you don’t have to deal with him on a regular basis… mmm? Yeah he is kind, considerate and is literally the guy to volunteer for the worst tasks but there is something about him where he is a little too perfect? Like somehow can’t let my hair down around him type of deal. Which makes him perfect for Lilith – as she always has her hair up, haha.”

Edward had relaxed into his seat, somehow feeling lighter, as the words slipped out, “And then New Years was somehow worse… no I wasn’t at the ranch. I probably should have taken you up on your fireworks show, because the one here is uh Edmonton grade. You know – trying real hard but still somehow failing to miss the mark,” he chuckled at his own joke, not picking up on the strained tension from Étienne over the phone. “Calvin came up, which surprised me since I assumed he would want to be gallivanting about in Calgary, but apparently he wanted to spend it with his best buddy which is me? Somehow? Don’t worry Teddy, you’re still my best friend…” Edwards voice lowered, as he realized what he was about to say, admit. Pause. “So how was your New Years? Aahh why are you yelling – oh you’re saying I didn’t mention why New Years sucked? It’s because it wasn’t with you, darlin’.”

Somehow Edward couldn’t do it. Couldn’t quite bring himself around to admitting he had come out to Calvin. How he had fallen into a depression when he got outright rejected. “Hmm? Well, how else can I put it… while I could have been kissing you and sucking your cock, I instead got to hold Calvin’s hair back as he literally puked in my poinsettias… yes… mmhmm. The poor plant didn’t make it.”

Tangling his finger in the phone cord, Edward found himself relaxing as Étienne told him about his New Years event, feeling like he had dodged a bullet. The other man’s voice soothing him. Trying to be home for Christmas and the New Years - attempt to enter the new millennium as a man of his own place, had been a major mistake.

He should have kept to his original plans of escaping to Montreal, escaping his own clay dirt to mold himself into his own dream man.Sometimes he wondered if he loved Étienne or simply wanted to be Étienne. A complicated mixture of feelings confusing him ever more when it came to that man.

“Visit? I would love to visit… oh wait, you want to come visit me? When? Hmm let me… check my calendar.” Edward sat up, looking around, and then picked up the phone, carefully picking his way into the kitchen, so he could squint at the calendar. His telephone cord ran out though, so he had to do an awkward strain, trying not to unplug the phone, while seeing his own scribbled-in life.

Well… the only thing really was his work shifts. Everything else a blank. “How does this time work? You’re booked up. Alright…” Edward and Étienne haggled over dates, until somehow, it lined up that Edward was going to Montreal. A subtle shift, but as Edward said with some practicality – that’s just how it lined up. As he hung up the phone, he wrote down the date of his trip, feeling better. Now in between work was a small bright spot, one small thing to look forward to.He was not as friendless as he thought, and, perhaps with enough courage, he could finish his New Years story.        

[ginnyweatherby]

No Matter What (Part 3)

Gaston’s feeling a little insecure.  Leave it to Lefou to figure out why.

(Chapters 1, 2, 4, 5, 6)

May

Gaston walked into his dorm, desperate for a nap, to find someone already taking one.  “You know, she sleeps a lot,” he observed, eyeing Madeline snoozing on Lefou’s bed.

“She has an excuse, what’s yours?”  Lefou deadpanned, as Gaston fell into his own bed.

“My excuse is I’ve been awake since four thirty this morning to train,” he stifled a yawn behind his hand, “we’ve got a big game coming up, and my coach has been on my case about slacking off on my training,”

Lefou was sitting at the foot of his bed, his laptop open.

“Doesn’t she have her own room?”  Gaston asked, fluffing his pillow a bit.

“She does,”  Lefou said, “but we were hanging out, and she just kind of... passed out,”

Gaston stripped off his shirt and pulled the blankets over his waist.

“Jacqueline has called three times this week,”  Lefou said, just as Gaston began to drift off.

“Hmm?” Gaston murmured, his face smashed in the pillow.

“My sister,”

“I know who Jacqueline is, Lefou,”

“Well, she keeps calling,”  Lefou said, “apparently she can’t get over the fact she’s going to be an aunt and keeps telling me about cute baby things she’s seen,”

“Are they the same baby things you keep showing me?”  Gaston asked, rolling over so he was facing Lefou, his eyes half-closed.  He could just make out Lefou looking down at his phone.

“No,” Lefou said, testily, “they’re just clothes, mostly.  Shirts that proclaim he or she has the ‘Best Aunt Ever’ or something... although I’m sure Madeline’s sisters might disagree,”

“If the baby is only the size of a plum, I don’t think he’ll be wearing shirts any time soon,”  Gaston pointed out.

“... you think it’ll be a boy?”  Lefou asked, a little breathlessly.

“Oh, uh, I dunno?”  Gaston didn’t know why he had said ‘he’, it just sort of slipped out.

“What if it is?”  Lefou asked, quietly.  “A son?”

“Then you’ll... uh, have a son, I guess,”  Gaston said, feeling rather dumb, but that’s what happened when people talked to him when he was trying to sleep!

“A son,”  Lefou whispered, “I’ve never really thought about what that might mean... my own little boy...”

“It could be a girl, though,”  Gaston said, before Lefou got too attached to the idea, “I’m not even sure the baby has decided, yet,”

“Of course,”  Lefou said, with a small smile.  “A daughter would be wonderful, too... do you think he... or she... will look like me?”

Gaston rolled back over on the bed, facing the wall.  “There’s no denying your hair and eyes are dominant genes... although Madeline’s nose and chin might make an appearance,”

He heard Lefou let out a happy sigh.  “He... or she... sounds perfect,”

It was a Friday night, and Gaston was bored.  He was laying in bed, flipping through a magazine, but wasn’t paying much attention to what he was seeing.

“Why don’t we go out tonight?”  Gaston said, suddenly, pushing the magazine away from himself.

“I’m busy,”  Lefou said, typing furiously into his computer from his desk.  There were a few papers scattered around, that he would reference from time to time.

“Doing what?”

“Applying for jobs,”  Lefou answered, distractedly.

“You have a job,”

Lefou snorted, turning around in his chair, “I hardly want to be working in fast food when the baby comes.  I want to be a good role model, and I’ll need better wages to help support them,”

“Doesn’t Madeline work, too?”  Gaston asked.

“For the time being,”  Lefou said, “but her job is about as good as mine, and she’ll have to take time off to recover after the baby is born,”

“Are you planning on... supporting her?”  Gaston asked, carefully.  For people who claimed they weren’t together, they seemed to spend a lot of time acting like a married couple.

“Somewhat,” Lefou said.  “I don’t want to leave her to everything on her own... I got her in this situation, after all,”

“I mean... I get that it’s your baby or whatever,”  Gaston waved his hand in the air.

“Or whatever?”  Lefou quirked an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean,”  Gaston said, rolling his eyes, “it’s just... you’re a generous person, and I don’t want to see Madeline take advantage of you,”

“You mean like you do?”

“Exactly!” Gaston said, before realizing what he’d agreed to.  “Wait, no. I mean...”  Gaston didn’t really know what he meant, actually.  He just felt like he was spending less and less time with Lefou, and now that Madeline was in her second trimester, he knew things were getting more serious, and he was afraid for what that might mean.

“This isn’t about Madeline, is it?”  Lefou asked, seeing through Gaston, as he always did.

Gaston shrugged.

“It’s about change,”  Lefou said, confidently.  “It’s about the fact that I’m technically younger than you, changing careers, spending most of my time studying to stay on top of my classes, having a baby for pete’s sake, and you’re not sure what you’re having for dinner tonight,”  Lefou seemed to be able to voice the insecurities that Gaston himself was struggling to pinpoint.

Gaston opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.  Now, that was something he wasn’t used to at all.

“Well, it’s okay, neither do I,”  Lefou said, pulling a takeout menu from a desk drawer,  “but I was thinking pizza.  Okay by you?”

“As long as we can get mushrooms on it,”  Gaston said, perking up a bit.  It wasn’t as good as going out on a weekend, but pizza with his best friend didn’t sound too horrible.

“Who would I be to deny you of that?”  Lefou asked, putting his phone to his ear to order.

“Have you considered psychiatry as your next career?”  Gaston asked, pulling another magazine from the bedside table and opening it.

Lefou laughed.  “You know, it hadn’t occurred to me, but it sounds like a bit of a shift from my theater majo- hello, I’d like to order a pizza... extra cheese, yeah...”

Gaston yawned as he opened the door of his room.  Lefou was sitting up in bed, rubbing his tired eyes.  Who was knocking before eight ‘o’ clock on a Saturday morning?

“It’s happening,”  Madeline said once Gaston focused on her face.

“M sorry?”  He mumbled, as he opened the door wider to allow her to walk through.  Apparently she was a morning person.  Hopefully the baby inherited Lefou’s fondness for sleeping in, Gaston didn’t want to deal with morning-Lefou on a regular basis.

“It’s happening,”  Madeline repeated, flinging herself onto the bed next to Lefou.  Gaston knew she preferred to stay backstage, but he wondered if Madeline had ever taken center stage, she could be just as dramatic as their friend when she wanted to be.

“What’s happening?”  Lefou grabbed his eyeglasses from his nightstand, perching them on the end of his nose.

“I’m showing,”  Madeline said.

“Isn’t that normal?”  Gaston muttered, falling back into his own bed. This clearly wasn’t a discussion he needed to be included in.

“It is!”  Madeline said, excitedly.  “It means the baby is growing!  Look!”  Gaston rolled over to face the wall, but before he did he saw Madeline pulling her shirt taut against her middle, presumably for Lefou to see her protruding belly.

“That’s amazing,”  Lefou commented.

“I noticed it when I tried pulling a pair of pants on this morning and they weren’t quite fitting right,”  Madeline said, “I’ve never been so happy not to fit in my clothes,”

“How big are they now?”  Lefou asked.

“The size of a lemon,”  Madeline said, immediately, “I checked this morning,”

“I guess we’ll have to make a shopping trip this afternoon,”  Lefou said, “Gaston, you wanna come?”

“Shopping for girls’ clothes?”  Gaston mumbled, only half conscious, “I can think of better ways to spend my weekend,”

“We can look for stuff for you, too,”  Lefou said, “I know you said you needed more workout clothes,”

“... Lemme get dressed,”  Gaston said, pulling himself out of the bed for the second time that morning, “while I’m not a shy man, Madeline, I’m going to change, so while it doesn’t bother me...”

“Right,” Madeline said, a pink blush spreading across her cheeks, “I’ll wait outside,”

After Madeline scurried out of the room, Lefou shook his head.  “Do you always have to be gross?”

Gaston nodded, feeling a mischievous smirk cross his face.  “It’s what I do,”

June

Summer hit Villeneuve with a vengeance.  The day Gaston flipped his calendar to “June”, the weather seemed to take the hint.  The air was hot and sticky, and nothing felt sweeter than the relief of a good fan when entering a room.

Gaston loved it.  He thrived in summer, the lack of any real responsibility, being able to spend nearly every waking hour in the pool, and to get a nice tan.

Lefou had always spent a lot of time at Gaston’s house over the summer, and now Madeline joined them on occasion.  On a particularly scorching day, the trio were sitting outside Gaston’s house, him in a lawn chair, focusing on evening his tan, while his two friends waded in the pool.  Lefou wasn’t a big swimmer, but he borrowed one of the inflatable floaties that Gaston’s mother kept and was content.

After over an hour in the water, Lefou and Madeline made their way onto the grass, playing with Gaston’s dogs.

“This one knows something,”  Madeline laughed, as the smaller of the two dogs kept sniffing around her middle.

“She’s probably looking for treats,”  Gaston snorted.

“Animals have good senses, you know,”  Madeline said, scratching behind the dog’s ears.  “When I first came home, my cat kept sitting on my stomach and purring... it’s like she’s trying to protect me and the baby,”

“That’s so sweet,”  Lefou said, as the larger dog licked his face.

“I thought s-”  Madeline cut herself off with a gasp.

“What happened?”  Lefou’s eyes widened in concern, and Gaston sat up in his chair, lowering his sunglasses to look at her properly.

“I just... whoa,”  Madeline breathed the last word, “I think I just felt the baby move,”

“Seriously?” Lefou gently pushed the dog away from his face.  “What’d it feel like?”

“Kind of... weird,”  Madeline admitted, “like popping popcorn,”

“It’s pretty hot out,”  Gaston said, “have you eaten any popcorn kernels recently?”

“Gaston,” Lefou said, exasperated.

Madeline still had one hand on the dog’s curious head, but moved the other to her own belly.  “It was only for a second, but that was amazing,”

Lefou smiled, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, “At least we know everything is going well in there,”

Madeline tapped her fingers on her little bump.

Gaston leaned back in his chair, lowering his sunglasses over his eyes, and couldn’t help but smile a little at his friend’s happy grins.

July

According to Lefou, Madeline was at the “halfway” point of her pregnancy, and everyone was getting excited.  On one hand, time seemed to be crawling by, but on the other, it seemed to be flying.  It was hard for Gaston to believe that in a few more months, his friend would have a baby.

Madeline was getting bigger, and had complained about not being able to get comfortable, and was having trouble getting to sleep at night.

Lefou couldn’t be happier.  Well, not about Madeline’s discomfort, of course, but he was more than happy to stop by the convenience store to satiate her junk food cravings, and help out whenever he could.

Madeline and Lefou’s parents were beginning to accept the fact they were having a baby, and had even bought the baby a few new things.  Jacqueline was over the moon, and jabbered on about the baby almost constantly.

Lefou had started a new job, and even though it was a more “grown-up” position than he’d been used to, he seemed to be adjusting well and the stress of unemployment was no longer lingering over his head, resulting in him being in a better mood overall.  Madeline was taking a few summer courses to get ahead on her schoolwork before the baby came.

Gaston was never insecure type, but he couldn’t help but be a little jealous that his friends seemed to be getting their lives put together, while he had eaten four day old leftover pizza for breakfast that morning.

Don’t misunderstand, he was excited for them.  Lefou had even begun to refer to him as “Uncle Gaston”, and while he would never admit it, he loved the title.  He’d even managed to find a onesie that proclaimed “If you think I’m cute, you should see my uncle!”

[voxvociscruorawriting]

Online Dating For Pathetic Fruitloops: Chapter 2

(Read on FF.net, Read on Ao3)

-o-oOo-o-

The Count of Monte Cristo. That's the show she chose. He'd never heard of it before, nor did he bother to look anything up about it—why ruin the experience?

The tickets had been particularly tricky to get his hands on. The show only had a few weeks left in the theater and had been sold out for months. A small part of him suspected that Marilynn might have known that when she made the decision. Perhaps she didn't think he'd be able to obtain them and would thus have an excuse out of date. The idea was ridiculous and he understood it was only the blossoming anxiety talking, but still. Fortunately, he learned that it was quite easy to bribe two admissions into his possession, without the use of any ghostly “persuasion”. Turns out people liked an extra ten thousand in their pocket than seeing a musical.

When he told Marilynn he'd gotten tickets, she hadn't believed him at first. So he sent her pics.

Her response of “ahhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHH??!!” amused him to no end.

Three days later, he flew in his unmarked private jet to New York during the middle of the night. He'd admit, he was fond of media attention and the paparazzi (to an extent; they were fun to play tricks on), but he did not want it known he was in New York. People knowing meant they'd been looking for him, and he needed to keep his fame under wraps from Marilynn, at least for now. She did not seem to know who he was, if her messages were anything to go by.

His full name being Vladimir had been one of his best kept secrets. The public always knew him as Vlad Masters. Even Daniel had expressed surprised when he discovered it.

He did not want to trap Marilynn in the public eye. Her being seen with him could ruin her life irreparably, the harassment was horrible for those who didn't want, or couldn't handle, it. If he played things carefully, neither of them would be bothered tonight.

Currently, he was standing outside the theater at 7:24 pm, the pavement bustling with people entering and exiting. He scanned the sea of heads, the lights of the street casting shadows on heads. He couldn't stop digging his nails into the palm of his hand, a nervous tick from his childhood. When he noticed, he tried to rub away the angry red marks. To say he was anxious was an understatement.

Over the past few days, he'd been having....second thoughts. Sure, he still wanted to meet Marilynn, but he still wanted Maddie too. Daniel's words had dulled with time, lost their edge. The boy was wrong, and now he wanted nothing more than to prove it.

This bit of him was worried, because what....what if he started falling for Marilynn? What would he do then; he couldn't chase both of them. He'd have to choose.

His nail bit deeper into his skin. New York City seemed to be filled to the brim with black haired women tonight.

A blur of color from the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned. His breath absconded.

She stood out from the hoard of people around her. The bright pink dress she wore seemed to catch and toss light like a thousand stars. Her hair seemed longer than in her picture, but he couldn't tell for sure since it was tied up into a messy, yet oddly elegant, bun. In her hands she clasped a small handheld pocket purse, matching her dress. She was checking her watch and looking into the crowd, searching, obviously, for him. For a moment, it felt like his heart has stopped functioning.

'That's concerning. I don't want to die tonight.' a monotone thought slipped into his head, and left just as quickly.

Vlad inhaled a breath, and approached.

“Pardon. Marilynn?”

She jumped, swirling around. Her eyes were angry until she saw him, and recognition flashed across her face. Her expression softened and she smiled, placing a hand on her chest, “Yes, that's me. You startled me.”

Vlad offered his hand, “My deepest apologies; it wasn't intentional. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

Marilynn's smile grew, “Indeed it is, it's a pleasure to meet you too.” she replied, taking his hand. Her fingers were so small, but her grip was strong. And cold; it sent shivers right to his core. “I'm quite impressed that you managed to get tickets to a Broadway production so quickly. Normally you have to reserve months in advance.”

Vlad chuckled. “It wasn't any trouble at all. You just need to know which strings to pull.” He waved a hand nonchalantly, and Marilynn raised an eyebrow. He raised his arm to her, gesturing to the building, “Shall we, my dear??”

“We shall.” she shrugged and nodded, looping her arm through his.

Vlad led the way into the theater. After a brief exchange of trying to figure out just where they needed to go, they proceeded deeper into the theater. Marilynn's black stilettos made soft noises on the carpet, her free hand resting on his bicep. The contact felt odd, as he wasn't used to being touched. He was amused, mostly, because he had to take shorter steps than normal, due to Marilynn's small legs.

As they walked, he said, “You look absolutely gorgeous tonight, if I may say so.”

It was the truth. He felt like he couldn't take his eyes off her. Seeing her in person, he saw more subtle differences between her and Maddie: her cheeks were higher and her jaw was a different shape, more supple. Her eyes too, oh god those eyes. So many different hues of blue. They almost glittered, like the waters of the Caribbean if you wanted cliche metaphors. Magenta eye shadow and black eyeliner sharpened them, giving her an almost avian look. If he believed in angels, he'd be certain one was standing in front of him.

Then again, he thought the same of Madeline.

“Quick to the flattery, aren't you?” she questioned, but her lips pulled up into an amused smile.

“Simply making observations.” Her smile grew.

“Have you ever seen The Count of Monte Crisco before?”

He shook his head, “No, I fear I haven't. The title sounds familiar, though..... Was it a book?”

Marilynn hummed, “It was. Written by the same author of The Three Musketeers.”

“Well you learn something new every day.” Vlad mused. He looked down at her, curious, “Is there any particular reason you chose this production?”

She flashed a toothy smile, “It's been one of the ones I've always wanted to see live. It's one of my favorites.” She was quiet for a beat, before adding, “I think you'll enjoy it.”

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

“Hmm, I dunno. You've just got a way of speaking that gives off that impression. It's quite pompous.” Marilynn said, shrugging. He chuckled, holding the door to the seating area for her. She murmured her thanks.

“Well, I've heard less flattering ways of it being put. I just like to be proper.”

“Oh trust me, it's a welcome change from the guys who drag their pants at their knees.”

His eyes snapped to her, “What kind of men have you been dating? Petulant teenage gangster wannabes?”

She snorted, her eyes rolling. “It sometimes feels that way.”

“I admit that I can sometimes be a little....childish. Although not quite to that extent.” he admitted.

She chuckled. “Well at least you’re honest about it.”

They were seated by the usher near the isle, and not too many from their section had taken their seats yet. They waited until almost everyone else had arrived, and during this time, Marilynn had pointed out her favorite songs in the playwright they'd been given. When they did finally sit down, Vlad realized the seats were closer together than he had expected, both horizontally and vertically. RIP his long legs.

Marilynn touched his arm and told him to turn his phone off if he hadn't already and he noticed she was the doing the same. When doing so, Vlad noticed he had a missed call from Daniel. He ignored it and powered down the device, returning it to his pocket. He smiled at Marilynn and she returned it. Several minutes later, the curtains rose.

-o-oOo-o-

The Count of Monte Cristo, based on the book by Alexandre Dumas, follows the tale of Edmond Dantes, a young and innocent shipmate and fiance of the woman Mercedes. After being forced to land on the isle of Elba the isle on which Napoleon Bonaparte had been exiled to, because of his dying captain, Dantes returned home and been elevated to captain of his own ship—his dream. Most unfortunately, beings of greed locked their eyes upon him.

Danglars, the first mate of the ship and the person whom had attempted to rat out Dantes for the decision to land at Elba. His plan backfired, resulting in Dantes' new position, and his anger rose. He was supposed to be Captain, not Dantes. Whilst on Elba, Dantes had been given a letter from Napoleon, an act that was considered treason. Danglars knew this. He began to plot.

Mondego, whom Dantes believed to be a friend and cousin to Mercedes. Most unfortunately, Dantes did not realize his feelings of friendship were one-sided, nor did he know that Mondego had also set his eyes on Mercedes. Hate and contempt for Dantes brewed in Mondego.

The two spiteful men conspired, and Dantes, amiss his own wedding, was arrested.

Believing himself to be innocent, and sure that his arrest is a mere mistake, he goes willingly, to the chief magistrate, Gerard de Villefort. Interrogated, Dates claims his innocence, and Villefort believes him—until Dantes, oblivious, reveals the recipient of the letter to be Villefort's own father. Fear for the destruction of his reputation blooms within Villefort; he cannot let this information be known. He makes a choice. He sentences Dantes to life imprisonment in the Chateau d'If, an island prison.

Three selfish men, each responsible for locking an innocent man behind bars for life, to get what they wanted.

Years pass and Dantes remains locked away, slowly losing hope that he will ever return home. Mercedes, ever strong, awaits his return. Mondego, after so long attempting to win her over, realizes that she would never turn her gaze to him while she believed Dantes still lived. Thus he tells her that Dantes has died. She falls into heartbreak.

One day, Dantes encounters another prisoner whom had been attempted to tunnel to freedom, Abbe Faria. The two join each other, Faria offering to teach Dantes, whom is illiterate and unschooled, everything he knows in exchange for help digging. They become quick friends. Faria tells about who he was before being imprisoned, a priest and academic who served a wealthy Count. He was granted the knowledge of where the Count's wealth had been hidden away, on the remote isle of Monte Cristo. The two agree to share the treasure once they are free. Fate has other plans, and Faria is fatally wounded during a tunnel collapse. Dantes is granted the entire fortune, and despite Faria asking him to forget and forgive his desire for revenge, Dantes cannot bring himself to. He joins Faria's body by playing dead, and is thrown into the sea, escaping the prison.

Dantes made his way to Monte Cristo, discovering the treasure was indeed real. He rechristens himself as the wealthy Count of Monte Cristo, and returns to France with revenge burning in his heart.

Upon buying a huge mansion, Dantes attempts to settle into a lavish lifestyle while he gathers information about the three devils whom ruined him. Danglars has become a Baron, Villefort the chief prosecutor for Paris. He then discovers that Mondego and Mercedes had wed, and borne a son, Albert. Overcome with rage, Dantes vows to bring Hell upon all of them, Mercedes included for her betrayal.

-o-oOo-o-

By the time 'Hell to your Doorstep' faded away and Intermission began, Vlad had dug his fingernails into his skin hard enough to bleed.

He jumped when the lights turned back on, illuminating the theater. He tried to swallow, but his throat was tied into a knot and refused to budge. It felt like he was suffocating. Like every word of the show had kicked him in the chest. All of his muscles felt wound too tight and were about to snap at the slightest--

he flinched, eyes snapping to the soft fingers touching his arm. He looked back up at Marilynn. She was frowning, brows knitted together.

“Are you alright? You look a little pale.” she asked, her voice quiet. Vlad forced his throat to unlock, but it did little for the queasy feeling in his stomach. Made it feel worse, actually.

He smiled, and hoped—prayed—it looked convincing, “My apologies, I'm fine. I just need to use the restroom. Please excuse me.”

She nodded silently as he stood up and excused himself. He could feel her eyes on the back of his neck until he went through the doors. He slipped and wove between the handfuls of other people, can came across a men's bathroom. He pushed himself inside and practically collapsed onto a sink. His carefully woven control fell away in tatters. His hands gripped the porcelain so tight it hurt, and he welcomed the feeling. Anything to distract himself. He struggled for breath, his lungs heaving but his throat not permitting. All that squeezed out were shallow inhales. His arms shook, threatening to give out just as much as his legs were. His core felt like it was twisting, pressing against his heart and stabbing itself. His blood pounded in his ears. He screwed his eyes shut.

Daniel's argument returned like a tsunami and devastated his mind.

Marilynn just had to pick the one musical production in the world that constantly felt like a parade of his own life.

He had been Dantes. The idiotic fool who trusted too easily. Whom put his trust into the wrong people, and gotten stabbed in the back for it. Gotten locked away in isolation for it. Died a little each day because of it. The moron who hadn't had the gut to tell the woman he loved how he felt about her, and thus lost her forever. 'I love you, Madeline; please take care of her while I'm gone, Jack.' 'Sure, I'll take care of her very nicely, I'll marry her and have two goddamn children with her, one of whom will be the bane of your existence AT. THIS. VERY. MOMENT!'

He was the wealthy Count, using his money and power for reaping revenge, forever stuck shackled by the past. So blinded by what he thought was true, what he wanted to be true, that he was incapable to see what really was true. The one who hid behind 'an eye for an eye'. 'You hurt me, so now I will make you hurt just the same.'

the pathetic fool willing to destroy himself while trying to ruin everything else.

His hands tightened, the porcelain heating from the ectoplasm throbbing beneath his fingertips. His fangs were too big for his mouth, stabbing into his gums as his jaw remained clenched shut. 'And yet...'

He wasn't Dantes. His Mercedes never loved him. His accident hadn't be intentional, hadn't been a ploy or plot or murder attempt. He did not have any right to justice for his so called 'injustices'. He was just a man who couldn't move on, who fixated on his pain because it was easier to be angry and think himself right then it was to admit that it hadn't been anyone's fault; things went wrong, and he'd made mistakes.

Daniel was right. He had always been right. Annoying and insufferable about it, yes, but he knew what he was talking about.

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. How the world loved to kick him in the face.

A knock sounded from the door, startling him.

“Vladimir?” Marilynn. Of course. She knocked again, “Are you in there? Are you okay?”

He smelt the tangy sweetness of ectoplasm and opened his eyes. Magenta energy faded from his palms, leaving a seared palm mark on the white sink. Thick lines of blood dribbled from his knuckles down his fingers. He exhaled, the tension slowly uncurling from within him. His muscles felt very sore as his senses came back to him. Why did existential crises have to be so exhausting? 

“I'm fine. Please, forgive me.” he called.

He turned on the tap, fully cold, and washed the red from his hands. The crescent moon cuts stung and began to throb, but they'd be gone in an hour so he payed them no mind. He splashed his face, the water soothing his heated skin. He ran his hands over his hair, pressing down the small flyaway strands that had come loose. Looking back at himself in the mirror, he winced. He still looked quite haggard. The deep bags under his eyes from insomnia and stress, dull eyes, several small round scars that his doctor had been unable to fix due to the sensitive area they were located. Hands marked with nebulae from years of trying and failing and trying again to force ghostly powers to bend to his will, his control, despite his fleshy human body.

'My mom is not the same person she was in college! No one is! Not her, not Dad, and certainly not you!' his chest tightened.

This is who he'd become. This....stupid fool, who would be a complete stranger to the bright-eyed, clumsy, social reclusive 20 year old he had been. He distantly wished he could do things over again. But he couldn't. There was no returning to 1981.

He almost snorted. 43 was a hell of a time to try to start anew.

'But not too late. And not impossible.' The voice pointed out. He growled at his own thoughts, 'Shut up, Daniel.'

He stepped out of the bathroom. Marilynn was standing beside it, waiting for him. He offered her a smile, and apologized again. Her frown deepened. He started to walk back to the theater, assuming she'd come with him, but she stepped in front of him. Her hand pressed against his chest, just enough to stop him dead in his tracks. He blinked down at her, surprised.

“Vladimir? Talk to me, please, I'm worried. I can see that you're unsettled by something. Is something wrong?” Her brows furrowed as she stared up at him, her eyes searching him. All he could do was stare at her, shocked.

“It's....” he tried to speak, but he couldn't think of the right words. Something had been wrong, and still technically was, but he didn't really know how to explain. Marilynn seemed to become more concerned by this, and he cleared this throat, “I....admit, that the, ah, story is hitting....a little close to home.”

Marilynn nodded slowly. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-”

“Hush. It's fine. Don't blame yourself.” Vlad said. He placed a hand over hers, giving it a gentle squeeze before lifting it away. She looked unconvinced, but allowed him to put an arm around her. He motioned down the hall “Come, we should go back before intermission ends.”

-o-oOo-o-

Act II begins with Albert attending a carnival, and being quickly drawn away from it and captured. Dantes, pretending to be captured as well, helps Albert free himself and protects him from bandits after they are attacked. This was done intentionally, to gain the boys trust and to get closer to Mondego and Mercedes. Introducing himself as the Count of Monte Cristo, Dantes invites Albert to a ball being held at his mansion.

Gossip is rife among the attendees before Dantes arrives, dazzling everyone with his charm and wealth. One after another, Danglars, Villefort and Mondego are presented and promised rewards for being noble and just. None of them recognize the Count for Dantes, until Mercedes. She does, becoming shocked her deceased lover still lives. Dantes does not give her a chance to speak; he has nothing to say to her.

Dantes sets a trap for the three men. He uses an informant to give the three instructions to invest their  money into a company, Llerrom International, which, unknown to them, Dantes owns. The men, none the wiser, fallow the suggestion, and profit substantially as a result, becoming quite rich themselves. Danglars plans to become the richest man in Paris, Villefort to bribe voters for his election campaign, and Mondego wants to bask in endless wine, women and gambling.

Upon having the three's livelihoods dangling from his fingertips, Dantes liquidates the company. The trio loose everything as it all comes crashing back down. Danglars shoots himself, unable to bear it. Villefort is exposed, and sent to Chateau d'If. Mondego, the last, reads the name Llerrom backwards; Morrell being the shipping company Dantes used to work for. Mondego, realizing the Count's true identity, is enraged.

Albert, however, is not pleased with the shame the Count has wrought upon his family. He challenges Dantes to a duel, despite Mercedes' attempts to talk him out of it. Valentine, Albert's fiancee and lover, attempts to change his mind, but fails to stop him as well.

Mercedes begs the Count to spare Albert's life, but Dantes has not forgive her. Mercedes accuses him of heartlessness, but he does not listen.

The duel between the Count and Albert is pathetic. Albert draws first, and misses, leaving Dantes the victor. As Dantes readies his gun to kill Albert, Valentine jumps between them, begging the Count to spare her love's life. She is pulled away, still begging and crying, and Albert prepares himself to die.

The Count shoots into the air, sparing him. The young lovers are reunited, like a reflection of the younger Dantes and Mercedes all those years ago. Shaken from his anger and spite by Valentines display of love, Dantes questions where his old self had gone, contemplating all of the agony and loss he suffered before finally, letting if fall away. His revenge completed, his ire extinguishes. He returns to Mercedes, and they forgive each other. Mondego, however, is not so keen to let Mercedes go. He engages Dantes in a sword fight, but is easily defeated. Yet Dantes cannot bring himself to kill Mondego.

Despite the offer to live and be free, Mondego is too angry, blinded by his own desire for revenge. He attempts to stab Dantes in the back, and Dantes is forced to kill Mondego to save himself. Dantes and Mercedes rekindle their love, and vow to never leave each other again.

-o-oOo-o-

Vlad attempted to not think about the ending. He downright ignored it. He pushed away the unsettling weight in his stomach, refusing to participate in the song and dance for a second time.

He stood, stretching, his back and legs popping from sitting so long. Beside him, Marilynn rolled her shoulders and neck, sharing his stiffness. She allowed him to take her arm again, staying close to him as they exit the theater back into the night, away from the suffocation of other people. The cool air of night bites their faces, feeling quite nice after being inside for nearly three hours. People still crowded around the outside, and they squeezed a way through until they get to an area of sidewalk that was fairly barren of others.

They walked down the street a bit, Vlad watching Marilynn's struggle to pluck away strands of hair that plastered themselves to her lipstick out of the corner of his eye.

“That was quite the enjoyable, all things considered. I hope I didn't ruin your experience.” he states eventually, casting a curious glance at her.

Her eyes go wide, “Oh no, I absolutely loved it! I can't thank you enough. I haven't had such a good first date in forever, I almost don't want it to end.” she said. Vlad raised a brow, humming.

“Well it doesn't have to.” he replied, the corner of his lip pulling up, “Anything else you'd be interesting in doing?”

Marilynn is surprised, but rolls with it, her head tilted as she thought. It was past ten at night, but that meant little in the City That Never Slept.

“Hmmm I'm feeling kinda hungry. Could you go for some pizza?” she said. He grinned.

“I'd love some. Pizza it is, then!”

Marilynn lead to way to a small, family owned pizzeria several blocks away, which was a good thing since Vlad got completely turned around the first right they made. He'd never been one for such huge cities; he liked living in the outskirts of both Madison and Amity. They'd decided to order a single pizza, half pepperoni and half ham and pineapple. This brought about his first true discovery about her; she liked fruit on her pizza. Blasphemy!

She also attempted to pay, which he intercepted. He had promised that everything tonight was on him, after all.

There were only three other people inside at such a late hour, but they decided to sit in the back anyway, away from them. While they ate, they made small talk, which turned into a short argument about pineapple on pizza and then about certain other dubious food combinations. Like mint and chocolate; she refused to believe he would ruin perfectly good chocolate like that.

Vlad could feel it, though. She wanted to say something, but she wouldn't. Eventually, she did.

Marilynn put her drink down after taking a sip, “May I ask you a question?”

Vlad waved a hand, “Shoot, my dear.”

She hesitated. She bit her lip, which had been stripped of her blood red lipstick before she started eating. “I'm...sorry if I'm overstepping, but....why was the play hitting close to home for you?”

Vlad opened his mouth, then closed it immediately after. He'd been expecting this, of course, but he still didn't know what to tell her. He'd never told anyone before. He sighed, “It's a long story.”

“I'm not planning on leaving anytime soon.” Marilynn said. He didn't respond, and she tilted her head, her scowl deep, “Did someone betray you?”

'Observant and logical. Impressive.' he thought. Reluctantly, he gave a nod. Sighing, he leaned forward, elbows on the table.

“I had...a crush on one of my friends, in college. I loved her, quite a lot. I never got to tell her. She and another friend, they believed in this....bizarre idea, about the existence of....another realm, of sorts.” Vlad began, motioning with his hands. Marilynn nodded, listening, “It was ludicrous, absolutely ludicrous. But, she was dedicated to it, and I went where she went, so I got dragged into things. Theories and experiments. And then they started working on a machine to open a sort of door to this alternate realm. They were so convinced that it would work, didn't listen to me or any kind of common sense.”

“One day, about halfway through my second year, this machine was completed and they decided to test it out. That was how it was, jump in with both feet, who cares about repercussions if it works. My best friend at the time didn't listen when he was told that some things weren't right, and it—” Vlad bobbed his head, searching for the words, “Malfunctioned right into my face.”

“I was rushed to the hospital. It was a rather....unpleasant experience. Five years later, I come out penniless, kicked out of college, drowning in debt and.....they're both happily married in a quaint little home. It was all quite....painful, to say in the least.”

His fingers itched towards several faint marks on his hands, some circles, other pinpoint dots. It felt like they throbbed at the memory of pain from years passed. The phantom feeling of rupturing blisters tingled across patches of his skin. He shuddered.

“Well that certainly explains things....” Marilynn said after a while. He didn't raise his eyes, and she looked away as well, “You still have feelings for this woman, don't you?”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He didn't know what to say. Say 'yes, I do, I'd still love to pine after her but a teenager won't let me'? He's pretty sure that'd be the most surefire way to both end the night and earn a 'please never get within thirty feet of me ever again.' restraining order. But if he lied, he'd have to keep up the lie, which would be hard since he still couldn't completely let go. Madeline was part of his obsession, and obsessions weren't easily denied. He swallowed.

“I....I won't lie, I do. But I have begun to come to terms with the realization that I could never have her.” he said, deciding that it was best to be honest. The best way to not be caught in a tangled web of lies later was to not weave them, right? Despite this, it was still quite hard to actually say it himself, to hear it in his own voice. “I don't want to spend another twenty years chasing ghosts. I...need to try to move on.”

Marilynn nodded, a sad smile on her lips. Recognition and understanding flashed across her eyes. Vlad blinked, confused. Noticing this, she looked away again and began to pick at her nails. “I know how you feel. Well, sort of. I don't mean to say my pain's the same as yours, but....I know what it's like to feel betrayed. To feel forgotten. To feel worthless.”

His confusion deepened.“Who would be so cruel as to hurt someone like you?”

Marilynn snorted, “I met this guy in my AP class. He was tall, handsome and oh lord, was he sweet. To say I fell head over heels is an understatement. We started dating, and I felt like I'd found my soulmate. I wanted to marry him, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. He didn't particularly agree with my degree choice, he thought that 'pretty girls don't know anything about computers'. He tried to get me to drop out. And...” she heaved a sigh, “For him, I did.”

“I spent a year living with him. Got engaged and everything, but......my mother was ill. She'd always been rather frail, but it was still...still hard, to finally lose her. I'd rushed home, stayed for a couple of days for her funeral. When I went back to Penn State, everything was gone. The apartment was up for rent and he,” Her hands curled into white-knuckled fists, “He, the man of my dreams, the man I'd die for, the man I derailed my life for, had decided that he liked the swimmer he'd been dating behind my back better and that he belonged in Miami.”

“It turns out he'd been waiting for when I was out of the apartment to get up and leave, because he didn't like how 'dependent' I'd gotten. He took everything from me.”

Vlad could only stare, “I'm so sorry to hear that.”

She shrugged, smiling. “It was a long time ago.”

He could tell it was a fake smile, the 'It's fine' smile. It was familiar.

He scoffed, “Don't I know those words well. 'It was a long time ago, I'm fine. No, I'm not still angry. Yes, I've forgiven you.' Such tiresome lying, when you just want to say to opposite but can't. You just have to smile and pretend.”

Her face lit up, “Exactly. You have to dance the dance because everyone else will judge you if they know it still hurts you. 'C'mon, it was so long ago. How come you haven't let it go yet?' Like bitch, Brittney, it ain't that easy!”

He nodded, picking up his glass and swirling the water inside, “It appears that we are both quite similar. The broken and the betrayed. It's almost sickeningly Avant Garde.”

Marilynn snorted, but flashed a smile. “It's comforting, to know someone who can understand what it's like. I'm glad to have met you.”

“I would like to say the same about you, my dear.” he replied, then cocked his head, “Y'know, it's funny, I've never told anyone about my accident before, and yet I've told you tonight.”

She lifted her piece of pizza, but paused before taking a bite, “I'm glad that we both feel we can trust each other with our baggage, that's a good thing.” she said. “Don't worry, it's safe with me, I wouldn't dream of telling anyone. I trust you'd do the same for me?”

“I wouldn't ever dream of hurting you, my dear.”

She hummed her thanks, her mouth full. She finished chewing, then said,“You like to do that, don't you?”

He blinked “Do what?”

“Call people 'my dear' or 'my darling'. You've done it quite a few times now,” she said, stirring her drink with the straw and taking a sip. Realization hit him.

“Ahh, it's a bit of a habit. I often use it around some of the other women I know, so sometimes it just slips out. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, if that's the case.” he explained. It was true. He called Maddie and Haley by simple pet names all the time. He recalled even doing it with Jazz once, much the young lady's disgust. Marilynn waved her hand, dismissive.

“Oh, no, I don't mind. It's just something I noticed. I think it's quite sweet, actually.”

“Do you? I haven't heard that before.”

“How come? I would expect that a man like you,” she gestured him up and down, though he didn't know if she meant his suit or the body in it, “wouldn't have any trouble at all dating. And yet here you are.”

He chuckled, leaning back on the seat, ignoring the noise the old thing made, “Ah, looks can be deceiving, Marilynn.” he admitted, “I'm fairly....romantically inept, so to speak. Lack of experience.”

“So that's why you chose online dating? You're too shy to go bar hopping?”

“I am not shy!” Vlad decided to ignore the little 'Mmhm' and the smug smile on pink lips, “But as to the reason why, that's a rather funny story, actually. Well, one part funny, two parts annoying.”

“Oh? Do tell.” Marilynn laced her fingers together, resting her chin on her knuckles.

“I didn't register myself. A bratty teenager who can't keep his nose out of my business took it upon himself to try to get me in a relationship. He signed me up on the site, and I caught him not too long before I first messaged you.” Vlad explained, “That's why my profile was blank, by the by.”

Marilynn laughed, trying to hide it behind her hands, “Okay that's the best thing I've ever heard. You needed a teenage wing man.”

“Well, when you put it like that...” Vlad muttered, and she laughed harder. He pouted, but found that he wasn't really all that angry or embarrassed about it. “As annoying as it was, I can't be too angry with the boy. After all, we wouldn't be here if it weren't for him.”

Marilynn wiped a tear away from her eye with her pinky, “Good point. You should thank him.”

Vlad snorted, picking up his glass, “He probably wouldn't believe me if I told him I actually went on a date already. He'd think I was making you up, and then he'd start to pity me.” he downed the rest of his water.

“Well at least he wouldn't be right. I'm real and I'm here. Somehow.”

“Sometimes crazy works, you know.” Vlad stated, raising his chin proudly. Marilynn rolled her eyes, and finished off her pizza, the faintest smile visible behind the crust.

“And if I may be so bold, I'd love for you to tell me more about yourself, since you are here.”

She rested a cheek in her hand, “What do you want to know?”

“A lot of things.” Vlad replied, a sly gleam creeping into his eyes, “All of your favorites. Your best stories and memories. Your hopes and dreams. Your laugh when you just can't stop. How you look when you're doing the things you love. How you look in the summer sun, and bundled in ugly Holiday sweaters, and when you wake up every morning. What your hair smells like. If you lips are as soft as they-”

“Okaaay, slow it down there, eager beaver. It's only the first date.” she waved her hand, cutting him off. He smirked, leaning back and observing the pink blush spreading across her cheeks to her ear tips, “There'll be other opportunities.”

His smirk grew wider, a brow raised, “Ahhh, so I have snared your interest then?

She hummed, “I wouldn't say that just yet. But I do like you.”

“I'll consider that a small victory.”

“How about this, I'll answer three questions every date.” Marilynn said, holding three fingers up, “But I get to ask three of my own back and we both have to be honest. Deal?”

Vlad shrugged once, nonchalant, “Deal.”

Marilynn gestured for him to go first. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, “Let's see.....You said that The Count was one of your favorite musicals. What's your absolute favorite?”

Her head fell back, “Ohhh, that's such a hard question right off the bat! I have so many that I love! Wicked, RENT, The Scarlet Pimpernel! But I'm gonna have to saaay....Chicago. It's got a special place in my heart.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“It's the first one I discovered, the one that started my love for musicals and theater. When I was younger, I actually wanted to be an actress because I liked it so much.” she explained, flashing an innocent smile, “That counted as two, by the way.”

He frowned, “I hadn't even thought before I asked, but fair is fair. What do you want to know?”

Marilynn tapped her bottom lip with her finger, humming. He could almost see the ways the gears turned in her skull, in the way her thin brows crinkled and her eyes wandered. For a moment, her eyes lingered on the white stripe parting his silver hair and he could practically feel her mind questioning it.. But she didn't voice any aloud, instead moving on and looking elsewhere.

Eventually, she made vague motions with her hand, “You know I'm learning German, right? But what about you, do you speak a second language or learning anything?”

Vlad hummed, “Ahhh, interesting. I speak a couple, actually. My first language is actually Romanian, English is my second. I'm fairly fluent in French as well.” her brows raised.

“Romanian? That's one you don't hear about any day. That's neat.” she leaned forward, table creaking lightly under her weight, “Can you say something in it? For me?”

Vlad chuckled, “Sigur. Cred că am îndrăgostit de tine.”

“That's awesome. What did you say?”

“Ahhh, but you've already asked your three questions tonight, my dear.” Vlad smirked, amused at her dumbfounded expression, which he found absolutely adorable, “I guess you'rer going to have to wait until next time to figure it out.”

“That's just mean.” Marilynn muttered, and he chuckled again.

“Go ahead, ask another; I won't count them, since one was technically a request.”

For a moment, she looked like she was going to protest. Instead, she asked, “Why me?”

Vlad frowned, “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, “Why did you decide to message me? What made you interested?”

Vlad stared at her. After a moment, he looked away, towards the tile of the wall, thinking. What, exactly, had made him interested in her? More interested than the other five? Her interests? Her profession? Her looks? He couldn't pinpoint it. Well, he could, but he attempted to ignore that particular reason right now. She was certainly beautiful, yes, and he did feel attracted to her, but there had been something else, something he couldn't figure out. Something he knew he saw, but couldn't identify. Or was he overthinking it? Thinking there was something else when all that was there was the physical attraction, and the similarities of Maddie? He...honestly, he didn't know. He was dumbfounded for a second time.

“Vladimir?” he looked back to Marilynn, broken from his musings.

“My apologies, I just hadn't thought about why you stood out to me before. It's a good question. I guess I....well, I don't want to paint myself as being shallow, but a substantial factor was your beauty. The other part was that I was reading your profile and I couldn't stop thinking that this was a woman I wanted know more about. I felt more magnetized the more I read, But I haven't any idea why.” he said.

Marilynn's face softened, her smile brightening, “I've asked every single previous guy that same question, and most of them tried to come up with some superficial vague crap; not one of them admitted it might have been because they thought I was attractive. Thank you for being honest.”

His face contorted in confusion, “You're quite welcome? I don't understand, why does that please you?”

In an instant, her face hardened. Eyes narrow, jaw tight, smile gone.

“I hate being lied to. I can't stand it. I don't appreciate when people, particularly men whom I go on dates with, attempt to pull wool over my eyes with fluffy words and a sickeningly sweet disposition. It's a game to them, they're focused on a goal rather than who I am. I'm not a possession, nor a trophy, to be won. I don't play the game.” she explained, and Vlad could only stare at the dull, nearly irritable tone, “They only get one chance. Either be honest with me or get out; I haven't time for the bullshit.”

'Seems like I'm not the only bitter one here still compensating for past grievances.' he thought, nodding. 'Daniel's goth friend would like this attitude.'

“Makes sense, but, still...Why?” he questioned, thought to be honest, he didn't really know how else to respond.

“I've been lied to enough in my life. I refuse to have my time wasted. Never again.” she replied, adding, “It's also easy for me, because I'm very well aware that I'm beautiful; there's no denying that.”

His brows shot up, “I wouldn't dare, I quite agree.” she laughed, and he relaxed a little.

“Since I've most likely used my third question, and fourth and fifth probably, it’s still your turn, my dear.”

“I've lost track, honestly.” she admitted and he chuckled, “Let's go with something easy since it's getting a little late. Any fears?”

'Too many.' he mentally kicked the thought in its nonexistent ass.

“Death.” he replied, “Hospitals. Being alone. Bees. A few superstitions, as well, thought not as badly. Your typical sorts of things. What time even is it?”

Marilynn checked her phone, “12:22. I think I should head home.”

Vlad nodded, his spirit deflating. He didn't realize they'd been here for so long; it was a good thing the pizzeria was a 24-hour one. He was quite sad that he'd have to say goodbye soon, and a tad surprised by that. It'd been a very enjoyable evening, one he didn't quite want to end yet. But it needed to, as he assumed she had work to do later and he himself needed to get back to Amity by 8 am for a meeting. Most likely because of Daniel's destructive heroics, the brat went out on a limb to make his work even harder.

They split the remaining few pieces of pizza into to-go boxes, and left together, a handsome tip left on the table while Marilynn's back was turned. Outside, she hailed a taxi, and he caught her hand before she got in.

“Allow me to pay for your cab. It's the least I can do-”

She shook her head, “You've paid for enough tonight. I appreciate it, though. I'll be fine.”

He nodded, and released her arm. “Very well, Marilynn, if you insist.”

she smiled up at him, “Thank you again for tonight. I couldn't have asked for a better night.”

“It was my pleasure, I'm glad that you enjoyed yourself. I'd love to take you out again sometime, if that's alright with you?” her sculpted brow raised.

“You're just full of surprises, aren't you?” she said, but her smile told him she didn't really mind. She pulled out a post-it pad from her purse and scribbled something down. He tried to look at it, but she hid it, and tucked it into his breast pocket with a playful pat. “Call me.”

Vlad was stunned, jaw slack for a second before he closed it, “I most certainly will. Have a goodnight, my darling.”

She smiled, a playful glint in her eyes. She took one quick step towards him, and placed her lips on his cheek, then stepped back again, “Goodnight, Vladimir.”

Vlad didn't respond, stunned. She chuckled as she entered the cab and waved as it pulled away. Dumbly, Vlad waved back, watching the vehicle disappear among the hundreds of others. His brain felt like a rug had been ripped out from under it, and it couldn't figure out how to get back up. He barely recalled calling his own chauffeur to come pick him up until he was actually in the back seat and on his way back to the airport. He raised his hand to his cheek, fingers brushing over the place where her lips had been for just a fraction of a second. It seemed to tingle a little at the memory, and he snapped from his daze. He hid his face in his hands, his cheeks burning.

'Oh my god!'

-O-

AN: Oh Vladdy. Getting all flustered at a cheek kiss.