Across The Years
Acepilot

AN - Part of the Valentines Day Fanfiction Festival. One of the worse C/A fics I've written, but I kind of like it for my own personal reasons. I hope someone out there enjoys it. The Age 9 sequence is inspired by Chuckangies brilliant "Cootie Breath" picture.

Disclaimer - The AGU gang are property of KlaskyCsupo.

-

Age 4

"Angelica"

She sighs and turns around, and her eyes are all mean and nasty looking. I step back, and my legs go all googly. "What do you want, Finster? Can't you see I've got people to charm" She waves her arm toward where Timmy McNulty is standing.

I frown slightly. "Sorry, Angelica. I just wanted to give you a valentine..."

She still looks mean, but at least she doesn't say anything when she sticks her hand out. I give her my card and smile quickly before getting even further away from her on my jello-like legs.

"This is just a bunch of scribbles" She complains.

"I'm still learning how to write..." I admit, and start looking for places to run to.

She huffs. "Thanks anyway, Finster. Now beat it"

And I run.

Tommy shakes his head slowly at me. "You know, for a 'fraidy cat, you're the bravest baby I know."

-

Age 9

Right. The 9 years of my life until now have been nothing but training. This is it. This is the big moment. The moment I find out if I'm a man or a mouse.

Cool blue eyes meet mine unflinchingly. We circle slowly. I feel the bass line thump through my body. The pink hearts draped across the roof and tables seem horribly inappropriate. You can feel the tension between us, like a tangible thing. Her eyes are daring me. Saying"Come on, Finster. You know you want to."

I can't let her beat me. Not this time. This time, I've got to win. I've got to stand up to her, I've got to beat her down. This could be my only chance.

And then the music stops.

I'm quick, but she's quicker, and I feel myself shoved out of the way. But, thinking quickly, I grab the lone seat in the room and yank it away. She catches herself by grabbing my arm, but by then it's too late for her. I drop into the chair and crow triumphantly. I can see Tommy and Phil cheering me on from the sidelines, and my body feels lighter than air.

Angelica Pickles glares at me and makes a kind of "hmph" noise. "So, you finally beat me at something, huh, Finster"

"Yep" I boldly declare, getting up and holding the chair above my head...before tripping over and falling in a heap on the floor.

"You're priceless, Chuckie" Angelica tells me, before offering me her hand.

I look at it stupidly for a second.

"Do you want help up or not"

I grab it quickly and she hauls me to my feet. "Thanks, Angelica."

"You okay"

I nod. "Yeah. Nothing broken this time."

"Good" she says, and turns to walk over to the punchbowl.

"Wait, Angelica" I call to her"I have something for you."

"Make it quick, Finster" she warns me.

I pull out my valentine and offer it to her. "Happy valentines day, Angelica."

She looks at me with an expression that suggests she doesn't think I have quite all my marbles in place. "Yeah, okay, Finster. Thanks."

I take a deep breath, and lean in and kiss her on the cheek.

Wow. This day does bring out odd things in people. Like me being sort of brave. You don't get that often. Or like the shade of red in Angelica's cheeks. She doesn't normally have that. And the giggles from those girls over there. They're new, too.

"You're dead, Finster"

A few minutes later, I watch through the tablecloth as determined pre-teen feet stomp past.

"You pushed it too far" Tommy observes from where he leans against the buffet.

-

Age 17

I look up to see Angelica wander into the Java Lava, looking slightly dejected. She has a pout down to the point of being perfect, I've got to admit. And I've always had a distinctly unhealthy weakness for her.

"Hey, Ang. Can I get you something" I ask, wiping down the bench.

"Nope" she says, sitting down at the counter and resting her head on my neatly polished benchtop. "I'm fine."

I cast a critical gaze in her direction. "I can tell."

"I don't have a date for tonight, alright, Finster? Happy now" She raises her head enough to glare at me, but can't seem to hold it very long and collapses onto the bench again.

No, not really. "Why? I thought you were going out with Timmy"

She shakes her head slowly. "He broke up with me."

"Today" I ask. "That's a bit tasteless..." I catch the look on her face "...but you already knew that."

"I can't believe that bastard" she mutters against the table. "Why haven't you made me a drink yet"

"You told me you didn't want one" I remind her.

"So, don't you know never to listen to me when I'm angry"

I nod. "Yes, but that gets mixed results at best."

"Just shut up and make me a smoothie" she orders, and I'm already working on it.

So, how to approach the obvious topic. How indeed. "You know, I'm not doing anything tonight, either" I tell her as I drop a scoop of sorbet into the blender.

"Why am I not surprised" she says, before clapping a hand over her mouth. Her eyes suddenly go very, very wide. "Oh, god, Chuckie, I'm so sorry." She grabs my arm. "I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did" I tell her. "But that's okay."

She lets go of my arm, but she still doesn't look really comfortable with the situation.

"Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to do something? As friends, of course."

I'm tempted to close my eyes and wait for her to slap me, but I fight the urge. Take it like a man, Finster.

She quirks an eyebrow. "Friends on Valentines Day? Sounds kind of hokey if you ask me."

"It was an idea" I tell her, pouring her smoothie into a glass. "Enjoy."

"When can you pick me up"

"Eight"

"Sure." She toys with the straw on her smoothie. "Thanks for the smoothie. I guess I've got to go get ready."

"For four hours? For a friend"

She furrows her brow at me. "Of course! I'm not being seen out not ready for it"

Tommy gets off the computer he was surfing the web on and comes over to the counter. "So, how long have you had this death wish"

-

Age 25

I take a deep breath and knock on her door.

She opens it so fast I'm nearly knocked off my feet. "You're late, Finster."

"My apologies" I offer, stepping into her apartment and taking off my coat. "The traffic was terrible."

"Oh well" she mutters, walking over to the makeshift dining room.

I let out a low whistle. She's wearing a stunning blue dress, one that I can't believe she owns, almost. It's cut so low on her back I'm tempted to ask her to put on a coat. "Did you dress like that for me"

"Of course" she tells me. "You don't like it"

I shake my head. "No, it's not that, it's just that it's so unlike you."

"Well, even I like to look pretty for my boyfriend every once in a while" she informs me. "Now sit down and eat. And try not to talk too much."

"How romantic" I mutter, taking a seat.

"What was that" she asks as she takes a seat opposite me.

"Nothing, nothing" I tell her. "This looks great."

"Thanks." There's a few second silence. "If it looks so great why aren't you eating it"

I grin sheepishly and pick up a fork.

"You look like you're going to throw up, Chuckie" she observes tactfully. I'd normally banter with her over this, but for once she's right. I don't feel too good. Of course, I know why I don't feel too good.

"Yeah, I know" I tell her.

"What, something you have for lunch disagree with you"

I shake my head. "No, just nervous."

She raises an eyebrow. "My food isn't that bad."

"No, no" I quickly reaffirm. "It's nothing like that. It's just..."

I take a deep breath.

"I'm planning to propose at some point tonight, and I'm really worried about it. I guess nerves still get the better of me."

I've done something previously thought impossible. I've rendered Angelica Pickles speechless.

"So, do you want to marry me" I ask, pulling a ring box out of my pocket and sliding off my chair to get in a traditional 'bended knee' position that I hope she appreciates.

She nods slowly. Almost disbelievingly. I'll admit, I don't entirely believe it either. Angelica Pickles, of all people. A girl who used to dump sand on my head and stick "kick me" signs to my back. A woman who still possesses a razor-sharp wit that I'm often on the wrong end of. A woman who's relationship with me would be, you'd think, balanced on that same razor. But somehow, it isn't. We're as solid as a highly-amusing rock.

So here's hoping she says yes.

She nods again. "Yes, I think I do."

I grin. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"I'll bet."

Some hours later, she's gone to get changed so we can go out for celebratory drinks. I told her she looks stunning as is, but she insists that she has to wear something that "matches the ring". Women.

I relate my recent experiences over the phone.

"Good luck" is all Tommy offers. "You might need it."

-