A/N: This story is set after Edna leaves Seymour but still during the time frame that she clearly was keeping him around. like, when for instance, they had sex in the golf course, which'll be mentioned later in the story so yeah. enjoy~!
Looking up from between the legs of the woman he wished he could call his own, Seymour said quietly, "You know, we have been doing this quite often. Are you sure there are no feelings for me in your heart?"
As he kissed her bellybutton, Edna shut her eyes. "No, Seymour."
"Not even a little bit?" he ran a hand along her thigh.
Edna sighed. "Look, jammie boy . . ."
Seymour looked down at his flannel pajamas. The pattern almost made it seem they belonged to a small child. "Is it the PJs? I can fix that . . ." he started unbuttoning the front of his shirt.
Edna bit her lip for a moment before barking, "Seymour, finish your job, or you're not getting any!"
Seymour sighed and dipped his head back between the woman's legs.
"And don't you stop again!" she said before falling on her back again, closing her eyes in pleasure. "Please don't stop," she whispered, stroking the man's hair.
Upon hearing her last moan, knowing she had been completely spent, satisfied Seymour. Knowing her could still make her happy, if only in sex, meant the world to him. While it meant next to nothing to her, he would still do it again and again just to see the short lived smile on her face.
And there it was, on her face now—that smile he loved so much. He took that opportunity to take her hand and kiss her cheek before boldly kissing her lips. He knew at moments like this, were the only chance he would get to kiss her. Any other time, she would blatantly refuse.
Edna allowed this and found herself kissing him back, running her hand inside his shirt. It was moments like these that Seymour doubted Edna's lack of feelings for him, and as Edna felt butterflies in her stomach, she questioned her feelings for him. But she wouldn't admit that, though she allowed herself to kiss him with passion for a few moments before rolling on top of him and saying, "Your turn," with a grin.
Seymour glanced at the clock. "Well, we better hurry. Mother's going to be angry if I don't return home by 7:30. It's silhouette night, you know."
Edna stared at him in bewilderment. "Then why did you come in your pajamas!?"
"I was already in them. I saw no point in changing."
Edna groaned in frustration.
"I'm sorry my mother is such an angry woman . . ."
"Go home, Seymour."
"We still have time . . ."
"I said . . . go . . . home!" She said as she whacked him in the face with her pillow repeatedly before rolling off of him and sighing.
Seymour sighed sadly and stood up, buttoning his shirt back.
"Go!" she shouted, throwing a pillow at him.
"Yes, Edna," he said quietly, walking out of her bedroom.
As soon as he left, Edna couldn't help burst into tears. She assumed it was out of frustration, but she couldn't be sure. She hadn't even known what her motive was. Sex? If that was all, she could have had anyone in the snap of a finger so why choose Seymour? Perhaps it was familiarity, or was it something more?
Helen Lovejoy had gone on a late night run to the grocery store because her husband suddenly insisted she make a pie. She had said she would go to the store in the morning, but he wouldn't have that. She was flattered that he liked her pies so much, but this was a bit ridiculous.
On her way home, she noticed something as she passed Mrs. Krabappel's apartment—Principal Skinner leaving. Why had he been at her apartment? Were they back together? Helen would have to look into this, to satisfy her own desire to know everything about everyone.
Once she got back in the house, Tim appeared beside her, wanting to help put up the groceries.
"I didn't get much, Tim. I can handle it myself." She was expecting him to move along, but he stayed put. "Shoo, Tim!"
The way she was standing in front of the groceries as if she was guarding them made it seem like she was hiding something. "I insist," Tim said, reaching in front of her and pulling out—as he suspected—something out of the ordinary. "I did not ask for a case of wine, Helen."
Helen blushed a little and grabbed the case from him. "Well, it's not for you! You wanted pie so I wanted something for myself."
"Helen," he reprimanded.
"I don't see why it's a big deal." After Tim rolled his eyes and went to sit down in the living room, Helen followed him and said, "Guess what I saw on my way home?"
"What?" Tim sighed, knowing gossip was headed his way.
"I saw Principal Skinner leaving Mrs. Krabappel's apartment!"
"So?"
"So? You were there at their wedding! Edna ran out on him!"
Tim shrugged. "Maybe they're back together. Good for them."
Helen pursed her lips. "Oh, you're no fun. I'm going to find out for sure!" She whipped back around and hurried back into the kitchen to start the pie—and to make some phone calls.
Many people got a call from Helen that evening—Luann van Houten, Lindsay Naegles, Elizabeth Hoover—everyone she could think of, and it was all new news to them. It wasn't until Marge Simpson got a phone call that Helen received any information in return.
Marge had been cleaning up the kitchen when the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Marge. It's Helen."
"Oh, hi, Helen!"
"I was just driving home and noticed Principal Skinner driving away from Mrs. Krabappel's apartment. Do you have any idea why he was there? Are they back together, do you think?"
Marge sat down at the kitchen table. "Well, about a week ago, one evening, we ran by her place to question a 100 on Bart's test," she laughed a little. "We didn't believe him, of course, and wanted it verified! Well, turns out, Mrs. Krabappel had left the map out, and it was a test on state capitals! So everyone got a 100."
"How careless of her."
"Yes, well, anyway, Principal Skinner was there! In his pajamas!"
"Oh my word! So they're back together?"
"I don't think so . . . Edna told us that it meant nothing."
"How interesting," Helen said thoughtfully. Having casual sex with her ex-fiancée. How disgusting! "Thank you, Marge."
"Happy to help!"
"SEYMOUR! It's about time you got here. You disgust me. I can't believe you're still seeing that slut."
"Mother, she is not a slut. And I'm hoping our relationship will advance again."
"She doesn't love you! You're a loser. Now come on, just stay here with mommy where you belong."
"You're the reason I'm in this boat in the first place," Seymour muttered.
"What was that? Seymour, you would be nothing without me, and you know it! Now march up to your room. I don't feel like playing tonight."
"But Mother!"
"MARCH!"
"Yes, Mother," the man sighed.
The next afternoon, the ladies' weekly book club meeting was being held at the Lovejoy's house. It was wrapping up and people were starting to leave, but Helen asked Edna to stay a moment.
"Is this about why I didn't read the book? Because I told you I've been busy."
"Oh, I'm sure you have," Helen chuckled.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You know."
"No, I don't know."
"You've been sleeping with your ex- fiancée," Helen said smugly.
"Edna narrowed her eyes. "How do you know about that?" After realizing who she was talking to, she held up a hand. "Never mind . . . I don't see what the big deal is."
"Of course it's a big deal! You should've just married the man!"
"That ship has sailed, sister."
"Then why are you still sleeping with him?"
Edna stood up. "I've had enough."
As she started to leave, Helen muttered, "Slut."
Edna turned around. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Helen shrugged and turned to go about her business, but seconds later, she felt her hair being pulled from behind. She froze.
Edna spoke in a low voice. "Don't you ever call me that."
Helen turned around and smiled. "I don't think you want to mess with me, Edna. I may be a Christian, but I can be vicious if I need to be. You don't want me to be vicious, do you?" The smile remained on her face.
Edna merely laughed. "Ha!"
Helen spoke in a low voice. "You know, I may know more about you than you think. I don't tell all of the secrets I know. I may just be waiting for the right moment to strike. I don't normally use my gossip for evil, but if you test me, I just might have to."
Edna glared at Helen. "You are a little bitch, aren't you?"
Helen smiled and whispered, "Strike two."
"What was strike one?" Edna raised an eye.
"Pulling my hair! It would be in your best interest to leave now, Edna."
"Gladly," the woman turned and started to leave.
"Don't let the door hit you on your way out," Helen said politely.
Edna slammed the door as she called back, "Go to Hell!"
"Strike three," Helen whispered. "Let the games begin."