From one Erik to another, aren't you jealous?

(inspired by a bit from a dream-me, my phangirl Erik and LND Erik)

I do not own Erik (he is just tweaked), Christine, Gustave, Mr. Y, Coney Island, or my uncle's jetski.

Oh how I'd missed Coney dogs! Especially the chile ... soooo good. Coney Island hotdogs were a Detroit Michigan must, and since my Erik was with me this time I was visiting family, he wasn't leaving until he'd experienced them (even if I had to drag him there, which I happily did.)

As a joke, I was singing "The Coney Island Waltz" from LOVE NEVER DIES. Erik was laughing at me.

"Associating one Coney Island with the other, my darling?"

"Of course. I wish I could go to that amusement park in NY, just for the heck of it."

"You don't even call yourself a fan of that musical, you little troll, you! I know what you would do! You'd really just want to ruffle some feathers!"

"I do so like that musical-for the music! I'd pretend that the roller coasters I was riding were Mr. Y's. Maybe I'd survive those." (I've done whitewater rafting, but I'm still iffy about gigantic roller coaster drops.)

"I'd hold you," Erik said. "You know I would."

"Yeah, yeah, Romeo."

After the hotdogs, we jumped onto an innertube. My uncle toed us on a jetski-which I was totally jumping on later! I just wouldn't be driving ... nope. That wouldn't be so great. After awhile, my uncle disconnected the jetski and let Erik and me drift. Erik had oars, just in case.

"Coney Iland, glistening and glimmering ..."

"I-believe that song has worked its magic, dear."

"Huh?"

But then I heard it. "My father was a sailor once. ... This is very relaxing-much different than the big ship we rode here on."

"Well, Gustave, sometimes I just need to get away from Phantasma. When I do not want to work, this is how I relax."

"I like it."

"Good ..."

"Baby, that sounds like Mr. Y and Gustave! Are you doing that?"

"Of course not!" Erik's surprise seemed fake to me.

"Oh, come on! I get it: Coney Island! Hah hah, that's funny."

"No, really, darling. Listen."

"Gustave, would you like to try?" Christine.

"May I?" Gustave.

"Of course." Mr. Y.

"How?" I whispered to my Erik.

"The song, Lauren."

Ooookaaay.

As I heard the LND boat row closer, I felt my Erik suddenly draw me into his arms. I just relaxed; never question an Erik when something like this happens-take advantage of it.

Erik sang in my ear. "Devil take theeee ... toast!"

I laughed out loud. I was about to say something, but Erik (ridiculously romantic Erik) kissed me to shut me up. Again, I didn't question.

Not until the way back to land, at least. (All I had to do was sing a little "Marvin Gay," Charlie Puth's song.) "Erik, what was with the PDA back there?"

I was not aware of the glare that Mr. Y had sent my Erik, nor was I aware of the smirk that my Erik had given Mr. Y. All the answer I got to my question was, "This Erik just wanted to make that Erik jealous. And it worked."

(A/N: If you haven't looked up POTO Youtube poop, please do so! There's LND ones, too.)