It has to be you...
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He was so fucked. Monte could only imagine how fucked he was once Dante and Cecil got wind that he was sans the required wife per their double or nothing bet. This whole thing was a fucking disaster; he thought for the hundredth time as he stomped down the sidewalk in no particular direction, just as long as the courthouse remained a distance non-visible memory. Certifiable, grade-A, royal, fucking disaster, he thought again, shoving his hands deeper into his trench coat pockets partially out of anger, partially out of cold.
And it was all because of her, Lucy. She couldn't be bothered to show up on time. They'd had a deal and she reneged. He held up his end, got her everything she'd wanted. He even went out of his way to track down that damned, bomb of a Houdini ring just because he knew she wanted it so badly. He planned to surprise her with it as her wedding ring. Just because this was a business deal didn't mean he didn't want it be at least a little romantic. And to think he actually liked her, was starting to trust her. He might even be...He was a complete git.
Lucy probably didn't care one wit for him. Probably couldn't care less that he would be killed if he returned to dear Ole England. One of the few things he hadn't lied or withheld information about. Just proved him right after all these years; can't trust anyone. So what she returned his kiss in the freezer, so what it was the most amazing kiss he'd ever experienced, and so what he couldn't stop thinking about her. So what. He, Montgomery Smythe, had more important things to think about than dishonest, two-faced, American women who also happened to be beautiful, unique, challenging, and...And...
Monte ceased walking once he realized that he'd unconsciously brought himself back to the bar where they'd shared their first real drink after her humiliating escape artist audition. Where Lucy first began to open up to him and afterwards asked if he planned on seducing her. He lied when he told her he hadn't really thought about it. God, he thought about it plenty ever since that night at The Dali when she first spoke to him, putting him in his place and he quickly realized that she was a different breed of woman. The kind of woman who didn't charm easily, smart, sarcastic, and more than a match for him; oh, yes, he lied smoothly to cover his eagerness to drop that damn bag full of restraints, grab her, and kiss her senseless.
Then she continued; suggesting that perhaps she should sleep with him since he'd been so nice to her and he'd nearly dropped the bag anyhow. So when she finally gave him the opening he wanted without looking like a randy wanker, he feared he sounded a little too eager in his response. Lucy, fortunately, didn't seem to notice as she appeared just as eager to kiss him, but then she held back.
Always, she held back at the critical moment and he was left wanting. Just like now when he needed her the most. Now he was well and truly screwed, and not in a pleasurable way. Monte walked away from the bar entrance, unwilling to subject himself to more torture than absolutely necessary. He lied about pride to Lucy as well. He may not have much but he did have a modicum of pride. Enough that he wasn't about to enter that damn bar to be reminded of her nor crawl to anyone else for help. He'd figure this out on his own using his wits, like usual. After all, you can't trust anyone but yourself anyhow.
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Saw that this little gem of a cheesy movie only had one fan fic so I just had to write a one shot, Enjoy!
Reviews are appreciated!