Hey guys!

So okay, for those worried about Spring 3 (skip this paragraph if that doesn't mean anything to you haha), let me just address that: I'm out of ideas for that book to continue, I'm not sure why, the inspiration is just not happening, I guess... I'm not going to say "I give up" because I'm fairly sure that I'll come back to it one day, but for now I'm sorry to say I don't have a clue when I'll continue it.

In saying that - I write like crazy, guys, like all the time, there is not a minute going by where there isn't a Word document open on my laptop with an Alvon story in progress. There are over 200 stories on my laptop, none of which are completed, but a lot of them I'm willing to share with you guys... so I was encouraged to just post some. None of them will be complete, but some will have decent chapter lengths and story progressions, and I just really wanted you guys to know that I'm dedicated to writing, it's literally a matter of which story I'm inspired to write, or start writing.

So, this is one of several stories I'll be posting over today and tomorrow. At the moment, this is it for this story, too, so bare with me on this. All these posted stories will be incomplete. It was already a story starting in the middle rather than at the beginning, so the synopsis of what's going on is below in italics.

Rated: M (for the incest thing and maybe for cross-dressing but they did that in the cartoon so) ALVON most definitely, no sex thus far, all character rights go to Bagdasarian Productions (these geniuses, honestly).

Enjoy!

In order to learn more classical types of dance, Alvin must first discard his "tough-guy" ego. Clearly, this isn't easy for him to do. Conveniently, Simon is very much a natural at any type of classical dance, and needs a partner in order to complete his dance program. Alvin gets ideas. But, Simon needs a girl. Alvin gets more ideas. Without Simon being any the wiser, Alvin enrols as his partner – a girl named "Ava" – and goes with Simon to the academy camp. His cover-up of not being back at home is a "football camp". Now practically stuck as a girl, Alvin has to be careful that Simon never finds out who he is. It would mean a destruction of status for both of them. But things start going awry when Simon develops feelings for his vivacious new partner…

It was killing me.

I honestly didn't know how I had survived this long already – but another three days?

How was I meant to go on?

I felt myself reaching out, but stopped. 'I can't…' I shook my head decisively, and closed the cupboard with a sigh, stopping myself from wearing my beloved red baseball cap.

If I thought dressing as a girl for two weeks was hard, the thing that hurt the most was that I couldn't wear my cap. No, Simon would suspect me… for sure. It was my defining item with him at home – my identity was literally concealed in that cupboard.

Now that the doors were closed I could see my reflection clearly, and tilted my head to admire the way I could pull this all off. I still couldn't decide if I was more concerned or flattered to be able to play a woman this well for this long. Still… it was getting me what I needed to get, and that was that. I wasn't in it for drag practise. Wasn't here for Simon's embrace – definitely not.

With one last smile at my made-up image, I turned and picked up the black shoulder strap bag I'd had with me from the start, cluttered with make-up and emergency backup girl-stuff. Stockings, foam cups (what? If I was gonna be a girl, I was going to be a well-endowed one.), and an extra belt that I'd been using to pull my waist in.

It amused me to remember how Simon used to tease me about how I had a curvy form at the hips. Look what's getting him through his dance course! That's right. These hips.

Of course, I was never discouraged about my architecture. I was what girls called "boyishly handsome", which actually just meant that I was feminine. I had these wide sapphire-blue eyes, little nose and little mouth, my jaw wasn't pronounced – it was like I'd never really hit puberty properly or something. I didn't have the wide shoulders or the perfect guy's trapezium torso – if I had breasts, I would have almost been an hourglass figure. Which I was right now, walking out of the room. I think it might have come with the hula-hoop obsession when I was younger… it definitely didn't run in the family.

Simon had the perfect build. I hadn't even noticed until this whole dance thing, but his back was just the perfect contour for a guy – and, yeah, he had the more handsome face if you rid them of his massive glasses.

And if you ever got the chance, look him in the eye; because his grey eyes are mesmerising. I say that in the most heterosexual way possible, while I pretend to be a girl.

And… maybe I was headed out to go on a date with him.

Look, I didn't call it a date. I called it "professional bonding", but yeah, I could see in his eyes that he had this pinned as an old fashioned, fancy-restaurant, romance-inspiring date. I didn't blame him, of course.

I did to start with – you know – "hands off, brother dearest" – but when I knew I couldn't blow my cover, and I knew that this wasn't a long-term thing, I just let him be a hopeless romantic in peace. No harm done in staring at me for too long, or paying for dinner.

Or the flirting – ha – that was actually a little bit adorable. He couldn't flirt for his life.

He was all: "So," in this really good suave voice, and then he couldn't think of anything and trailed off in this small voice with something nerdy like "you look nice…". And I didn't have the heart to let him know that all my blushing and giggling wasn't because he succeeded.

Sure enough, when I arrived at the diner, it was very posh. I held myself high, because I knew I looked good, and scanned the room for my "date".

I'll have to admit: he cleans up nice. For a nerd, I mean.

I smiled as dazzlingly as I could as I approached him. He stood for me politely and waited until I was seated before he sat down again. In all, he seemed more confident this time (yep, these dates were frequent), and his smile was casual.

'Ravishing as always.' He said.

And just like that; I was impressed. I smiled in approval. 'Right back at you.' I nodded. Alright, so his flirting thing seemed like a practise-makes-perfect gig.

Once we'd ordered, we settled into light conversation; about the day, dancing, how each of us looked, the weather, the restaurant, and so on. It was nice talking to him without having to yell or tackle him. Though I owe that to my great girl impersonation, because I acted no different to my usual self, and he still seemed to like me.

'Ava,' he began in a thoughtful tone. I mentally flinched.

Nope. He's not allowed to do this… 'Mm?' I tried to act like I didn't care. This was my defence mechanism: he gets too clingy, it's time for the cold shoulder. Just a shame it was so early in the date.

'I was just… thinking…' he went on, his gaze averted to the side. This wasn't good.

I gave a sigh. 'And?' I was hoping that was rude. It was rude in my mind. Very rude. The type of rude that usually got him to glare at me.

So why was he smiling so fondly? 'We've only got a few more days left here,' he continued more confidently. I was so confused. 'And I was just thinking about how much I'd miss you.'

Geeze, forward much..? I tried not to cringe. That would have just been cruel. 'Oh, yeah?' I decided I'd do the complete opposite to cold-shouldering: the friend-zone. 'It'll be so weird not hanging out with you. Gotta remind me to add you on Facebook.'

Simon chuckled.

Gah, don't laugh… I bit my lip and tried to hide the new smile forming on my lip-glossed lips. His laughter was one of the things I really liked hearing. I was used to the condescending, sarcastic chuckle he always threw at me at home – so this one? The genuine amusement, the fondness – it made me a little happy.

'I had something else in mind for us, actually,' he said with a modest tilt of his head. 'Something that goes beyond Facebook, hopefully.'

'Right: Instagram,' I winked. 'Gotcha.'

His smile was starting to make me feel defeated. He thought I was joking. 'Seriously,' he bit his lip and our gaze met. 'If I let you go without asking you this, then I'll regret this moment years to come.'

I felt my cheeks heating up. What now..? 'What do you want, Simon?' I attempted anger, but it came out breathy and weak.

'I-I just…' he pursed his lips and looked down again. 'I can't help but feel… that you and I…' He closed his eyes. 'I… I really enjoy being with you,' he met my gaze again. 'And I'd like to continue… being with you.'

I was about to cut in with an "Aw thanks, buddy", but he was too quick.

'Romantically…' he finished.

'Uh…' I wasn't sure where to go with this. My expression had fallen into a defeated, thoughtful one, and I didn't really mind that he could see it. I contemplated a lot in the next five seconds.

Contemplated telling him I was actually his brother. Contemplated making a scene and slapping him before storming out proclaiming "I never want to see you again!". Contemplated running for it using the old "I need to use the bathroom" line…

I even contemplated agreeing to his proposal.

And as he was starting to look a bit hurt, and as that was the last thought trailing through my mind – it slipped out without my consent.

'Me too.' I hadn't even looked at him saying it. When I did look up, I was pretty much disowning myself. I had the nerve to say that without thinking? Who did I think I was? A girl?

'Y-you do?' He said in relief, reaching forward and resting his hand over mine. 'I've… I mean I knew I felt something with you – but girls – they never want me…' he blushed here and looked down embarrassedly. 'Sorry, I-I don't know why I told you that…'

I was too busy kicking myself to generate an appropriate response.

Yeah, great! You're his first girlfriend and you're not even a girl! How nice! I looked him in the eye, my gaze still a little hazy from shock. 'It's okay…' I couldn't think! What was this? No! This was ridiculous! 'I-I want you…'

- What the heck was that, Seville?! Are you insane?!

I blushed crimson. 'Oh god –'

'It's okay,' Simon said shyly. 'I know what you mean…'

Good lord no you don't, Simon! I chanced a smile. 'No, I mean…' Think you idiot, think! 'You mean a lot to me… that way…' WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?! I looked down, trying to hide my frantic cursing.

Simon had leaned over, tilting my head up with a finger to my chin. 'That way..?' He gave me one of the most scarily knowing, seductive smirks I've ever seen and I was surprised my face didn't burst into flames.

'Yeah..?' I guessed, not even sane enough to figure out why he was looking at me like that. What the hell am I doing?! His face was coming closer. Just run! His eyes were closing. RUN! NOW! OUT! DONE!

I was frozen the moment our lips connected, I admit to jumping a bit in shock at his audacity.

ABORT LIFE! Nausea was among the first of the emotions to hit me. Simon's soft kiss was making me so uncomfortable I thought I might have fainted –

He pulled back after a while with a small reassuring smile. 'You don't know how to kiss… do you..?' He guessed.

Is he serious? I must have looked a little incredolous, because he shrugged.

'Well, do you want to prove it?'

Did he just… I blinked. Dare me..? Like, I know I act like myself around him – but that much? So much that he knows exactly how to make me do what he wants? Is this a healthy relationship?

OH MY GOSH YOU DID NOT JUST ASK YOURSELF THAT!

I was out. My brain was done with me. I couldn't decipher all the screaming, I couldn't register all the emotions.

So I pulled him by his collar, and kissed him with all I had.

I don't even remember the meal.

Did I even eat?

I remember sitting there blankly at desert, noting that he liked mint ice-cream and thinking "well that explains why he tastes like it"…

And, no.

NO, that is not a normal thing for a brother to know about his brother. Let alone think it so casually.

It was like the next thing I knew, I was back in my dorm, alone (thankfully), and incredibly confused. I looked over at my reflection in uncertainty. Was this worth it? Was this whole charade worth this uncomfort, this violation of morality?

I shook my head and turned away from the mirror.

If I did anything against Simon now, there would be too much conflict. Leaving him and going home now would make him depressed, he'd try and look me up, he'd realise that I wasn't who I said I was – and even though that wouldn't affect me directly, I would still see him every day at home, and know that he was upset and felt cheated. His first girlfriend… I was such an idiot…

If I "broke up" with him, he'd question me. And I can't do the thinking under pressure thing (could you tell?), and I'd surely spill everything and blow my cover.

Then there was the option of just telling him and getting it over with. But that would be disastrous. I'd lose my reputation. I'd be so humiliated. And believe it or not, my ego is more important than my morals.

Between dating my brother or being publically scrutinised..? I wouldn't hesitate to put all my energy into being his "girlfriend". That's just… who I am. I didn't know why. I was too afraid of failure, I guess, and would put everything on hold for my reputation.

As it was, I started to undress.

I pulled off the stockings first, because they were hell to wear all day. I had no choice, though: they gave my legs a feminine look, and they held… things in, around the more boyish area…

Last thing I wanted was to blow it just by Simon noticing a bulge. That would just be a rookie mistake.

My feet were always on the smaller side, so wearing girls shoes weren't all that difficult. But I avoided heels when I could – like tonight, I just wore slight pumps. Simon took this as me being a little bit of a "tomboy".

Once the shoes and stockings were off, I lifted the red satin dress over my head and off, discarding it as carelessly as I did with my usual clothes. Then went the foam breasts, and the singlet that held them in place. I unclasped the tight belt around my waist and could breathe a bit easier, treading casually to my bed in this state and beginning to take off the dark auburn wig.

Once the clips were un-clipped, the item came off easily and I placed it on my nightstand, where I opened up the first drawer and got out a make-up removal wipe, starting to rub the stuff off as I meandered back to the mirror.

This whole charade had made my eyelashes stand out from being dyed black every day, so even after removing my make-up, my eyes remained looking wider and "prettier" than usual. I hoped that would fade quickly…

And just like that, I was a boy again!

I crossed the room again and found my pyjamas underneath my pillow, pulling on the pants thankfully – they were the most comfortable things I had with me here – and pulling the top over with satisfaction at my natural, flat chest.

After this, I swear, I would never cross-dress again. If I don't see another tight-fitted, flawless dress again, it'll be too soon. How did girls have the confidence to flaunt around in those things all the time? Is that why there were so many insecure girls?

Shaking my head of the thought, I switched off the main light before quickly turning on the bedside one, and raced over to the closet.

I opened it with a sort of desperation, retrieving my cap lovingly and placing it over my head.

There was just something so secure about it. I felt as if it gave me a whole personality to hide underneath, and that made me safe.

With a content smile, I moved back to bed and got in, shutting off the light and curling up on the side comfortably. This was me. And I loved these few hours to remember it.

Like I said: that's it for this one right now, sorry guys, I know I'm annoying. It'll be added to later I'm sure.

See you in my other stories! Thanks for reading :)