A/N: Hello, all! It's been a while. I started this when The Atlantis Complex first came out, and only just recently got around to finishing it.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, although if I did, I would have that last book out already. I hat waiting!

– PARODYBECAUSEI'MJUSTTHATAWESOME^_^

"What's the matter?" asked Foaly. "I thought that went pretty well. It seemed to me that Commander Trouble Kelp, a.k.a. your boyfriend, gave us the green light to investigate."

Holly turned her mismatched eyes on him. "First of all, he's not my boyfriend – we went on one date, and I told you that in confidence because I thought you were a friend who wouldn't trot it out at the first opportunity."

"It's not the first opportunity. I held it back the time we had that lovely tea."

"Irrelevant!" shouted Holly, through funneled hands.

- The Atlantis Complex, p. 251-252

"I hear that you were on a date with Trouble Kelp. Are you two planning on building a bivouac any time soon?"

-Artemis Fowl, TAC, p. 353

– PARODYBECAUSEI'MJUSTTHATAWESOME^_^

There are romances rooted in deep, philosophical conversation. There are romances held together by the jaded love of its mates. There are romances in which the partners are brought together by such serious circumstances that they weep just to think of it.

Fortunately, this story contains none of those.

Artemis Fowl kicked in the door to Holly Short's cubicle. Not that cubicles have doors, and quite frankly he usually didn't have enough strength to kick in a wet cardboard box. But anyways. The kicking open of the door.

"Captain!" he bellowed, puberty making his voice crack in a very anticlimactic way. Holly looked up from her lawsuits with a beautiful glimmer in her hazel, blue, mismatched, not-the-same-color eyes.

"Yes, Arty?" she breathed. It was super romantical. No, seriously.

"Holly," he breathed back. There's a lot of breathing going on here. *snort* Anyways. He knelt on the dirty floor in front of her, ignoring its desperate need of a vacuuming and the wad of old gum now stuck to the knee of his suit trousers. "Holly. I love you so much. So, so much. So, so much, you don't even freakin' KNOW." She blinked. He coughed and moved on. "Please, Holly Short, marry me."

Holly jumped to her feet with an inhuman speed. Get it? Inhuman? "Arty!" Now it was his eyes that were glimmering. "Arty . . . it's true. I love you. Let's get hitched right now!"

The two cross-species lovebirds were holding hands and preparing to skip out the door when Trouble Kelp dropped in. Quite literally. From where, I don't know. Geez, just read.

"No, Holly!" There was an odd echoing sound from his shout, despite the fact that they were still in Holly's cubicle. "Don't go with this scoundrel! I love you!"

Artemis made an odd growling noise that sounded interestingly like the author thought she was writing a scene in a Twilight book. Holly clicked her tongue in sympathy. "Hey, Trubs, no hard feelings, but I was kind of on my way to go marry the Mud Boy. Could we discuss this later?"

"Obviously not!" bellowed both Artemis and Trouble, then glaring at each other for being in sync.

"Look, I really don't like all this attention," Holly insisted, clearly liking all the attention. "Could you guys go beat up Foaly, or something? I have things to do."

"Mwa ha ha," cackled Artemis. "Woman, you have no idea of how to devise a proper battle between suitors! Allow me to demonstrate." He snapped his fingers, and on command, Butler poked his head into the cubicle and tossed Artemis a set of numchucks. "Thank you, old friend," said the Irish boy. "Now, Trouble, I think we have some unfinished business to attend to . . .?"

Trouble yanked Holly away from the human's side to his own. "You heard me, boy," the commander barked. "You don't deserve Captain Short's heart."

"You are pathetic," Artemis shot back before pausing to blow the captain a kiss. She caught it and blew him on back as well. It was only then that he could return to the macho repartee. "You are pathetic, and not rich at all. You couldn't possibly provide for Holly properly."

"You're fifteen years old!" bellowed Trouble, his pride obviously wounded.

"Legally, I'm nineteen," said Artemis smugly. "Thank you very much."

"Ooh, nineteen," mocked Trouble. "You can't boss me around, bucko! I'm sixty years older than you are!"

"If you compare the lifespans of a fairy and a human, you're only the equivalent of a few years older than I am." Artemis pointed to a complicated chart of mathematical equations as proof.

Trouble turned a shade of reddish-purple reminiscent of Julius Root. "Let's see if you can put your money where your mouth is!" he hollered, whipping a mace out of his back pocket.

"I do have a lot of money," Artemis agreed cheekily.

"The testosterone in here is starting to stink," Holly said casually, but nothing could deter them now.

Artemis leaped into the air (yes, they were all still in Holly's cubicle) to avoid a lethal swipe from Trouble mace. In return, he hit the elf over the head with his numchucks. Trouble lashed out with his mace, clipping Artemis on the arm. The battle continued despite the blood apurting from Arty's arm, but eventually the boy tired, and Trouble took advantage of his weakness.

Trouble raised his mace in triumph . . .

. . . only to be promptly thrown to the ground and stomped on my a silently peeved Butler.

Holly sighed, causing Artemis to hurriedly scramble to her side. "Please don't kill him too badly, Butler," she said. "He promised me a raise next week."

Butler looked up from his brutality. "Oh, okay," he agreed, cheery enough, and he propped the heavily beat-up Trouble onto a cushy chair he dragged over from the cubicle across thye aisle.

With the blood and gore pretty well over, Holly and Artemis were able to get back to their getting hitched. However, there was a small matter they couldn't agree on.

"Let's get married in Ireland," Artemis suggested.

"Nahhh," Holly brushed him off. "I want to get married in Haven."

"No, Ireland."

"Haven."

"Ireland!"

"Haven!"

Butler stood to his full height. He set his garbage-can-lid-sized hands on their heads and proclaimed seriously, "I now pronounce you man and wife."

Artemis and Holly blinked, argument forgotten. There was no arguing with Butler.

The giant turned to lead them out of the cubicle. They followed pleasantly, gazing deeply into each other's eyes.

On the shuttle aboveground, Holly thought of something. "Was Butler's marrying us legal?"

Artemis pondered this a moment before pointing out, "Is any priest really going to tell him it wasn't?"

Holly shrugged. "Fair point."

And they drove off into the Irish sunset together, little hearts drawn in the dust on the Bentley.

Fin