AN: Have you ever read the email forward 'Wax On, Wax Off'? Funniest thing ever. This has been hiding away in Van's 'vault' so to speak, waiting for a dead moment in the fandom or during my own writing. I decided to post it up just for fun and to lighten the mood after LHD before diving back into BY&M.

~Van

Disclaimer: I do not own HSM.

~*~

Where I Want You

"In the bathroom is where I want you."

-Nightmare of You

~*~

Gabriella Montez had experienced countless embarrassing moments and survived. As the constant New Kid at more schools than she could recall, she had learned to pick herself up after each awkward moment and carry on as if nothing bothered her. She learned to keep her embarrassment hidden beneath two small dustings of pink instead of a beet red face, and she learned to keep her tears at bay until she was safely home. Those experiences had taught her to be a soldier. A survivor. Thick skinned. Tough. Determined. Resilient. It was who she was, but that didn't mean she never wished things had occurred differently.

Her first day at the school in Washington, DC, Gabriella had slipped on the monkey bars during fourth grade recess and flashed all the boys her kitty printed underwear beneath her dress. One of the boys in her class (who in retrospect was a complete asshole for a nine year old) decided from then on, that it would be appropriate to greet the New Girl with a purring sound and an imitation of a cat licking their paw. Not only did it creep Gabriella out, but it also instilled a natural dislike towards felines in general. She had only been at the school in Boston for five days when she accidently walked into the boys' bathroom instead of the girls'. She was in the seventh grade and in five seconds was abruptly introduced to the functioning of a urinal when the eighth grader standing before her turned around from his task to see her staring at him. Thankfully, her mother was only stationed there for another five weeks before her company uprooted them again.

There were more moments, each shaking her confidence or causing her hands to tremble, as the years progressed towards high school. In New York, there were two whole weeks of school where she was always picked last for gym class teams after the first day when she tied her sneakers wrong and fell on her face two steps outside the girls' locker room. In Dallas a milkshake found its way into one of her classmates' hair and in Phoenix she managed to have her volcano science project erupt fake lava all over the classroom and its occupants. Each memory was repressed, until the next event occurred and she was reminded of every other similar situation she had found herself in. Even at East High, although the pattern was broken by her ability to stick around and move past New Girl status, she welcomed the New Mexican school by dumping lunch on the Junior class diva. Another notch on the humiliation scale; another moment she'd rather everyone forget.

Leapfrogging through time, one could see that Gabriella had been on a winning streak as time was put between the last embarrassing moment. It had been Chad walking in on her and Troy mid-orgasm and the screaming became contorted and intermixed until the whole Wildcat gang had charged into the room, having thought that someone was murdering their friends in the Evans' guest room. In fact Gabriella contemplated as she mulled it over in her current position, it had been eight months and fourteen days. It was bound to end sometime, she further admitted, but it didn't make her feel better as a familiar voice called through the door to her in a frantic and confused voice.

"El, please just open the door and let me in and we'll fix whatever is wrong. You can't leave me out here to wonder if you're bleeding to death or something. Taylor said you were trying something new; did you pluck all the hairs out of your eyebrows or something?" Troy asked, and Gabriella set her mouth in a grim line.

"Troy, go away, please," she pleaded, having passed ordering and demanding an hour ago.

"Babe, it can't be that bad. I don't care if you have eyebrows," he insisted. She watched the doorknob vibrate as he jiggled it desperately from the other side.

"I have eyebrows, Troy. Both of them, actually. That's not my problem."

"Then what is your problem?" he sighed. She tilted her head to the ceiling and squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to answer. "El? Seriously, I promise not to laugh."

Oh, if only he knew.

~*~

Her phone had rang sometime after her third coffee of the day and sometime before it caused her to go pee in the bathroom on the fifth floor of the massive library in her section of Stanford University, and she and Troy had scheduled a date night for the evening. Squatting on the toilet, Gabriella couldn't help but notice the flyer advertizing the upcoming game between Stanford and UC: Berkeley. Smiling as she thought of Troy, she finished and pushed her way out of the stall to the sinks. Another flyer was taped to the mirror and she didn't notice that she was staring at it with a smirk on her face until the girl beside her offered her a knowing nod.

"I see you're a fan," she said to Gabriella who tore her eyes away from the picture of her boyfriend and a Stanford player battling for the ball during a previous game. When the girl saw Gabriella's confused look, she elaborated, "The Berkeley captain. It may be traitorous to school spirit, but I would gladly become a traitor to see what he can do with those hands."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Gabriella finally responded, "You mean Troy?"

"What?" the girl frowned for a moment as she let her eyes scan the flyer for the small detail Gabriella had given away.

"Troy Bolton," Gabriella repeated, annoyed at how someone could claim to be a fan and know nothing but what he looked like. "He has a name, you know."

"Well, yeah, obviously," the girl replied with a roll of her eyes that was meant to brush past the awkwardness of her ignorance. "But you'd have to be seriously hardcore into him to bother stalking the Berkeley site for that type of information."

"Consider me hardcore, then," Gabriella grumbled as she dried her hands and leaned a hip against the vanity to inspect her eyesbrows. It had been awhile since she'd sat down and done anything with them. In the mirror, she could see the girl raise a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her while she smoothed on lipgloss. "I figure knowing his name would be an important factor for getting to know him."

Gabriella was not one to boast of her relationship with Troy, especially to people she didn't know and didn't care about. This girl, with her perfect straight brown hair and big eyes didn't know the first thing about Troy other than he had talent on the court. She wasn't worth the hassle of informing her that she knew Troy quite well and that his hands could....Well, the point was, Gabriella didn't feel the need to sink to the petty level of this stranger by discussing Troy as if he were a conquest.

"That's a cute little daydream," she told Gabriella, rubbing her lips together to even out the gloss. "I mean, he's gorgeous; what are the odds that if you ran into him in a room full of people, he'd pick you? You seem sweet and all, but I doubt he's your type. Now, Danny on our varsity team, he's known to really dig the girl-next-door type. Have you met him?"

"Excuse me?" It was Gabriella's turn to lose the flow of the conversation.

"I'm just saying," she responded offhandedly before huffing from the room and letting the door swing behind her, "This Tye guy probably has girls all over him; he'd want to pick a girl that stands out in a crowd, someone who comes across as daring, outgoing and confident."

"His name is Troy, not Tye," Gabriella snapped, ignoring the fact that some girl she didn't know was highlighting her biggest insecurities when it came to her and Troy. "And he has a girlfriend so don't bother inflating your ego any more than it already is."

The girl sighed patronizingly before running a hand through her hair and adjusting her shirt, leaving the bathroom with nothing more than a quick look at the blush on Gabriella's face that could be determined somewhere between embarrassment and anger. Gabriella watched her go before turning back to the mirror, her cheeks flushed and her forehead wrinkled. She was used to girls being jealous or making moves on her boyfriend. Hell, she'd dealt with Sharpay for two years before they found themselves going in separate directions. Yet, this girl had hit a nerve and Gabriella didn't know why; she didn't even know who Gabriella was or that she was more than a fan.

Narrowing her eyes to inspect the reflection in the mirror, she turned over the girl's snarky comment about being 'a girl next door'. She was wearing East High sweatpants that still fit from three years ago, although they looked more worn now than then, and a loose white t-shirt over a red tank top. Nothing remarkable or flattering but it was suitable for a day of studying in the library. Her hair was glossy and smooth but tossed upwards in a messy bun that allowed small tendrils to escape. Her sneakers were untied, having been shoved on her feet for the quick trip to the bathroom and her face was void of any makeup except a dash of mascara and a hint of lipgloss. Sighing, she tried to push the past few minutes out of her mind but they kept coming back.

Maybe she did need to start putting in a little more effort. Maybe Troy and her were a bit too comfortable and it had turned her into someone who didn't second guess whether he was attracted to her. She couldn't remember the last time she wore heels or a dress. Makeup to any class before eleven in the morning rarely happened and her hair hadn't been cut in months. Making a decision to prove to herself that the girl's comments were wrong, Gabriella pulled out her phone as she walked back to her study space.

"Hey, Beautiful, didn't we just talk?" Troy's voice asked over the line. "You can still go tonight, right?"

"Yeah, but can we make it a bit later? I have something I need to do first," she told him, calculating how much time it would take her to get ready the proper way.

"Oh, sure, I'll meet you at your place?" he queried.

"Yeah. Thanks," she told him and then hung up.

Gathering her school things into her oversized tote bag, Gabriella left the library and took the quick walk across campus to the apartment her mother had rented for her after being transferred out East during the previous year. Putting her things away, she tapped her fingers against the kitchen countertop for a moment as she pondered who to call for advice. Taylor was most likely in class, she decided, so she hit the speed dial for a number she rarely used and waited for the abrupt response she could always anticipate.

"Montez, I am a very busy girl, you know," Sharpay Evans chirped over the phone and Gabriella relaxed slightly.

"Yeah, I know. I need advice," she told the blond on the other end.

"Party or dinner?" the other girl interrupted.

"What?"

"Are you going to a party or dinner?" There was a pause and Sharpay realized she may be slightly off target. "You did call about shoe selection, didn't you?"

"No, actually, it's something else," Gabriella said quietly, licking her lip, "I need something that shows Troy I made an effort to get ready. Something he will notice and appreciate."

"Hmmm, let me think," Sharpay told her and the line went quiet for a moment, "Oh, I got it."

And that was how Gabriella found herself at the drugstore, ten minutes from campus, with a box of hair removal wax in her hand.

~*~

Troy Bolton sat with his back against his girlfriend's bathroom door and let his head fall back against the wood panelling. There was not a sound from the room behind him except for a sniffle every few minutes. Glancing at his watch, he noted that their reservations for the restaurant in town had passed by almost an hour ago. Sighing, he turned to face the door again and leaned his forehead on the door.

"Ella, please tell me how to fix this," he pleaded. There was a sarcastic snort from inside the room and he bit down on a groan. "El, you can't stay in there all night and I'm not leaving until I know what's wrong."

"You're going to be there awhile then," she shot back but he could hear the wobble in her voice that said she was angry at the situation and not him.

"This is ridiculous. We've missed our reservations and there's no point even going out now. Can you not just come out and we'll order in and watch a movie or something? I came up to spend time with my girlfriend but I guess that was too much to ask because she currently thinks sitting in the bathroom is more important than me," he growled, finally frustrated with her.

"It's not that easy," she screamed through the door.

"How is it not?" he asked back.

"Ugh, this is all Sharpay's fault," Gabriella yelled and Troy's eyebrows shot up. "Her and her stupid advice."

"Advice? What could Sharpay possibly need to advise you on?" he asked.

"I wanted to do something special for you. I wanted to show you I still know how to get dressed up even if it was just to go get pizza, but I knew you wouldn't notice makeup or new clothes and I didn't have time for a haircut, so I called Sharpay." He heard another sniffle and his heart wrenched.

"El, none of that is important. I wouldn't care if you wore sweatpants to dinner. I just wanted to see you, so can I do that? Come in and see you?"

"No! Don't come in!" she screeched and Troy couldn't remember her ever being that panicked.

"El, it can't be that bad. Did you dye your hair blonde?"

"No," she grumbled.

"Then what is it? Please?"

Inside the bathroom, Gabriella glared at the box of hair removal wax and cursed Sharpay Evans.

~*~

Sharpay had told her which brand to use and what to look for on the box. She had given Gabriella bit by bit instructions that had been copied with a meticulous hand onto a blue post-it note and slipped inside Gabriella's purse that held her phone and keys. The instructions were vital, Sharpay had insisted, and she reiterated the need to follow the directions on the box once it was purchased. The girl's instructions had been followed and the box of wax bought. Now it sat on Gabriella's bathroom countertop as the math genius stared at it with hesitation while listening to the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Okay, so I have a rehearsal for the next few hours, but just follow the directions and you should be good to go. Have fun tonight and let me know how it goes," there was a pause before Sharpay quickly added, "Well, you know, not all the details. A simple good or amazing or fabulous will do. Just call me."

"Uh, sure," Gabriella bit her lip, "Shar, are you sure this isn't going to-"

"Gab, just read the box. Chad could figure this out if he wanted to. You'll be fine. I have to go."

"Yeah, bye," Gabriella answered absently and set the phone aside.

She could do this, she told herself. Sharpay was right, all she had to do was follow the directions. It couldn't be that complicated or Sharpay would pay people to do it for her. Cracking the seal on the box, Gabriella pulled out the wax strips and then flipped the box over to read the instructions on how to self-wax one's bikini line. Sharpay had told her to buy cold wax, since it was less messy and quicker to use, and Gabriella had listened although she was sceptical about its effectiveness.

Step one told her to press one strip between her hands until it was soft and pliable and then remove the paper on one side of the strip before applying it to the inside of her bikini line. Sucking in a breath, Gabriella did as the kit told her, stretching the strip from the outer corner of her hip and thigh, and along the crease of her pelvis and thigh. Still holding her breath, she counted for the mandatory number of seconds and then pulled it off. Oh Mother of God, Gabriella inwardly screamed as she shut her eyes and waited for the pain to subside. When it dulled to an ache instead of agony, she looked down at the strip in her hand and frowned.

The paper backing from the strip was bare of hair and wax. That certainly was not in the directions. She was also fairly certain that was not supposed to be the result. Looking down to where she should now be bald and smooth, Gabriella was horrified to see the wax clumped to the entire inner area of her thigh that was exposed by the positioning on her foot on the toilet seat. Feeling the anxiety build in her gut, she looked for the phone to call Sharpay but then decided against it. The last thing she needed was Sharpay Evans spreading the word to everyone in listening distance that Gabriella had managed to botch a wax job. She could fix this, Gabriella told herself. She was smart and resourceful and not completely incompetent. She could fix this.

Flipping the box on the counter to show every angle, Gabriella tried to find a section in the directions that contained 'a what to do if...' section. Nothing. Sighing and growing increasingly uncomfortable, she took her foot off the toilet and froze. Now, along with the bubbling panic and anxiety in her belly, she had just managed to seal her vagina shut with wax residue. A tear of frustration threatened and she dashed at her cheek while she tried to think. She had exactly forty minutes to get herself out of this predicament and ready for her date with Troy. Taking a breath, she turned and eyed the tub. Hot water should melt wax, right? Or at least make it easier to get off? Running the water in the tub as hot as it could go without burning her, Gabriella tore off her bra and tank top, and sank into the water. Just then the phone rang, and she reached for where it lay on the floor just within her reach. The caller ID was Sharpay and she hesitated answering it, but found some courage and hit the button anyway.

"Did it work?" Sharpay asked, excited.

"Um, it's getting there," Gabriella told her, holding back on the details.

"Oh, good. I just wanted-," she didn't get to finish as Gabriella interrupted her.

"Hey, I got a beep, so I'll call you tomorrow, okay? Great," and she switched lines before the other girl could protest.

"Hey, Babe, I finished class early and I'm on my way up. You ready yet?" Troy asked.

"Not quite," she admitted, "Just let yourself in."

"Sure thing."

Deciding she couldn't handle the burning water anymore, Gabriella pulled the plug and went to stand. Her butt didn't budge. Horrified, she tried again. The same result occurred. The water had melted the wax to the bottom of the ceramic tub. Closing her eyes, Gabriella screamed.

~*~

Troy was thankful for the door between the hallway where he was and the bathroom where Gabriella was. If not for the door, she would know how badly he was struggling not to laugh and would kill him with one look. He bit his lip and tried to school his face into no emotion, but he also knew she would know the minute he walked in the door. His body trembled with suppressed chuckles and the phone in his hand itched to be dialled just to tell Sharpay what she had caused. There was a sound from inside the bathroom and Troy knew he was about to be put to the test.

"You're laughing, aren't you?" she called, her voice laced with annoyance and knowing.

"I told you I wouldn't laugh," he assured her, balling up a fist and cramming it against his teeth in an attempt to stop the bubbling hilarity that rose in his gut.

"Troy, I just told you that I waxed my ass and vagina to the bottom of the bathtub. Anyone with a sense of humour would be laughing." Troy was determined to keep his promise but an exasperated sigh from the other side broke through his resolve. "Just let it out, Troy. I know you want to."

She buried her head in her knees as laughter erupted outside the door. There was a thud and she knew it was Troy collapsing on the floor against the door. Her face burned even though he couldn't see her and she wondered how she would ever face him again. Tears welled in her eyes and her fingers that gripped her legs were white. The barks of amusement died down in the hall and a moment later there was a quiet knock on the door.

"Ella?" he called softly, the full seriousness of the situation overriding the ridiculousness of it. "What do I do?"

"What do you do?" she asked stupidly.

"Well, yeah, it's not like you can stay in there like that." His voice caught on the last word but he managed to keep himself from another outburst.

"Please, don't call Sharpay. Or Taylor. Or Chad. Or...," she trailed off and Troy realized she was crying.

"El, I won't call our friends. Is there a toll free number on the box?" he asked, chuckling.

"Um, yeah," she told him.

"And did you call it yet?" he inquired, hearing the sound of rustling paper.

"No," she admitted.

"Maybe we should try that," he told her, punching in the digits as she rattled them off to him through the door. "Now, what would be a reasonable explanation for a guy to be using a bikini wax kit?"

"No one should use them. They're evil," came the answer from the other side.

~*~

An hour later Gabriella emerged from the bathroom, towelling her hair dry from the most scouring shower she had ever taken. She had almost rub her skin raw to rid herself of the miniscule amounts of wax left behind after following the instructions of the lady at the call center and using baby oil to remove herself from the tub. That had taken fifteen minutes in itself and the humiliation of a lifetime when Troy pried open the door to rummage around under the sink to find it for her in the first place. Thankfully, he knew better than to ask if she wanted him to stay and help. Another twenty minutes were used up scraping the excess wax off her crotch with the small spatula looking device that Troy found inside the box and then massive amounts of body wash and exfoliating soap were used to put the entire event to an end.

Stepping into the living room, she found Troy dozing on the sofa and for the first time that evening, she felt guilty for ruining their night. He had changed out of his dress pants and collared shirt that he had arrived in, putting on the sweats that he continuously left in her drawer. His shirt was discarded on the floor beside the sofa and the remote control for her tiny TV rested on his chest. His hair fell over his face but his eyes flicked open when she took an uneasy seat at his feet.

"Better?" he asked softly and she nodded, not meeting his eyes. He sat up, his hand cupping her chin and forcing her gaze up to his. "What's wrong?"

"I ruined our night," she whispered, "We barely get to see each other except for these weekends and I ruined it by being stupid."

"You weren't stupid," he assured her, kissing her forehead first and then her lips. "But I don't know why you let that girl get to you in the first place."

"Because I thought maybe she was right, at least on some things. You're this hotshot on campus and girls scream for you to screw them at every game. I'm still just the bookworm and although I'd never doubt your love for me, it made me wonder. Are we too comfortable? Do you want me to dress up more and go somewhere other than the pizza place or order in Chinese? Are we getting boring?" He frowned as she caught her breath.

"Do you think we're boring?" he asked her back and she shook her head.

"I like that we can do whatever we want and not worry about what the other thinks. I'm glad we're that comfortable," she told him.

"Me too," he told her, "And that won't ever change. So can we just put tonight behind us and remember to let the professionals do it next time?"

Nodding, she tightened the towel around her body and touselled her hair before laying down on the sofa with him and snuggling into the curve of his body. Her head rested on his chest, his fingers latching onto her hair as the TV droned on in the background. They were quiet for awhile, just enjoying the calmness that each other's presence brought.