Author's Rant: Thanks very much to everyone who has given this story a chance. I'm in a hurry today, so please excuse any mistakes. I'll take care of them later. Enjoy the next chapter!

Warning: A little hanky pank ;)

Added Sweetness

Peach Ice Garden

Half a dozen blenches were arranged in a staggered horseshoe around the theater platform. People filed in by the throes, filling in every seat and when none remained, they took to gathering on the high grass hills behind the blenchers and in the blimps the princess so kindly provided.

The Garden was an excellent choice to hold the performance. The surrounding lush shrubbery and vibrant flowers were nothing short of exotic quality, trimmed to perfection. Just beyond the first round of brush, a glimpse of the Peach Fountain can be seen spouting sparkling spurts of water high in the air.

It's all so wonderful and exciting. I hardly know what I'm more enthusiastic for, watching Luigi and Mario's dance—even seeing Bowser—or from how the audience will receive us during our surprise intermission. The event promises to be a thrilling one. I can't help hugging myself from the funny tremors racing throughout my body.

"Gosh, I never imagined the princesses to be so dazzling up," I hear Pink whisper next to me. "Just look at them, simply lovely. It's like the heavens themselves breathe life into carved jewels."

Near the top on a privately sectioned off level in the stands were Princess Peach and Princess Daisy were settling in dressed in their finest summer attire. Pink's description didn't do them true justice. Breathtaking is the more appropriate word.

Simply put, Princess Peach is a goddess amongst mortals, her beautiful superseding mere common standards. Her long, flowing hair gleamed like sunlight reflecting off water. The sparkle in her eyes twinkled like polished sapphires whenever she smiled from coral pink lips. The cut of her clothes never failed to emphasize her flawless curves, and today, her long, simple yet elegant pink sundress doesn't fail to show off her beauty.

Then there's the rough and strong Princess Daisy. Many would say that her looks couldn't match our beloved princess, but I say they're sadly mistaken. Unless Peach's fair skin, Daisy possessed a near golden hue that represented her more outdoorsy personality. Her long mahogany hair lays in flipped waves over her shoulder. The dark yellow halter sundress she wore exuded her radiant, muscular shape and brought out the mischievous glow in her blue eyes.

"Yeah," I agree pensively. Not that beauty wasn't a commodity around the kingdom. I've seen my share of gorgeous people, but the princesses were unrivaled. Nothing, nothing could and will ever compare to their alluring charm. Something in me begs to be jealous, but I've never had the heart to envy others. I admire them though, simple as that. I vaguely wonder if the brothers were ever attracted to the princesses. Even I find myself captivated beyond reason whenever I see them.

"Don't fidget like that," Magenta fussily corrects a stair below me, batting away my twiddling fingers. "If you looked any more envious, I'd almost feel sorry for you."

"Pardon?"

Magenta's expression softens a smidge as he nods his snout towards the princesses' section. "If you ask me, their long legged, glittery exteriors are the biggest turn off of the century."

"Magenta, be respectful!" Black hisses next to him. "They're royalty!"

"And that's supposed to manner to me, why?" A dull scoff. "You've clearly got me confused for a Toad."

White whips around, pressing a finger to his lips. "Shh, the show's about to start!"

Thankful for the interruption, I settle in my seat, stuffing my hands between my thighs. The pleated burgundy curtains twirl open as the stage lights dim. A gradual hush overtakes the audience when the beat of the first song slowly hums through the speakers. Two, four, and then ten spotlights shun in interchanging fluorescent crimson, green and white spotlights racing across the stage, scattering and blooming like retractable fireworks.

The first song explodes in sync to Luigi and Mario appearing from opposite sides of the stage and hustle to the center, breaking into a swinging hand sway, head bob. The DJ Toad leans forward into the mic and yells, "Got that funky rhythm comin' at cha' baby. Garden Boogie!" The stereo system ignites with dynamite bass.

A wide smile pulls at my lips in. I never would've guessed the brothers to be skilled dancers. Not just a regular, boring two-step either. These two were really getting down. Look at them. The speedy, even way their bodies hopped, swayed, jumped and flipped is addictive. I can't contain myself. It's too infectious. I shot up to my feet cheering, whistling and chapping with the crowd.

On the next song, at the DJ's shout of "Watch your step, it's Destruction Dance!" I immediately break into a rotating head bob, shoulders keeping to the tune of the ringing tenor of the song. Luigi and Mario built themselves to the smooth flow of the song's beat. Their shoulders rocked, their feet shuffled and it was off to the grander median. It wasn't long before others were too caught up in the music to realize how into it they were and doing their own variation of the songs.

"Bloop, bloop, bloop, Bloooooper Bop!" DJ Toad hollers, tantalizing the people's hype. A slower, easier song to move to, more people were joining in the choppy gist. Mario and Luigi brought out an array of new dance moves that coaxed wilder cheers. They ducked, cartwheeled, and jerked in rapid hand motions that wiggled down to the soles of their feet. The song closed to the brothers' wind milling their arms up and down and to them bumping their shoulders that ended to them swirling to a freeze.

"Alright everybody we got a super one coming for ya'. This one calls for everyone's participation!" DJ Toad shouts, clapping his hands over head. "We need to clap, clap, clap. That's it, yeah. Is it gettin' hot in here or is that Cabin Fever!" Pink, White and I were already on our feet bouncing in delight as Luigi and Mario waggled their hips and shoulders. They did so many move combinations; spread eagle hops, back-flips, shimmying shoulders, shuffling feet, crisscross steps, and multiple half body twist jumps, they executed every one without waver.

I waved my arms in the air, wagging my tail in a way that led to the three of us bumping hips. The deafening music encourages a chaotic buildup and before long, there wasn't a single person sitting. Everyone wanted a closer look at the amazing footwork the Mario Brothers displayed or couldn't keep from dancing in their own fashion.

"Let's give Mario and Luigi a hand everybody, they did a slammin' job!" The two swirl to a bow as everyone stomps their feet and roar for an encore. "Easy folks, they'll be back after a brief intermission. In the meantime, we have an extra special somethin' to keep you all warmed up until the next part of the show."

I inhale and exhale slowly. This is it. Our turn to keep the crowd entertained. Black is the first to rise, beckoning for us to exit the stands toward the back of the stage. I bring up the rear, feeling anxious. I hope they'll all be as impressed with our act as they were with the brothers. At the snap and crackle echoing off the mic from the DJ rearranging his mix table, I look up to see the others speaking to Mario.

I start over to see what they're laughing about when my hand is grabbed. I look to the side, wondering who could be so bold and freeze at Luigi's beaming smile.

"L-Luigi, um, hi. . ." I stare where he's holding my hand in his larger gloved one. A light, delicate grasp like the slightest, marginal squeeze would break what's held. Has he always been this gentle with me? "You were great up there."

"Thanks, I thought I did alright," he snickers, tugging his hat over his eyes. "Considering how much of a nervous wreck I was, I just knew I'd trip over my own shoes or something."

"No way, you were fantastic!" I exclaim. He looks at me strangely. My other hand had moved of its own accord to cover the one holding my left. I clear my throat. "I mean, I don't think anyone else can dance as well as you. The way you moved it was, uh," I chuckle uneasily at a short loss for words, "engaging."

That has to be the most pathetic in the history of most pathetic words I could have used. Engaging? I couldn't do better?

"Really?" Then his other hand falls to finish our little sandwiched embrace. "You think I was that good, huh?"

"Better even!"

"I bet you'll be better."

I smile a little, staring down at the difference in our shoe colors. "Maybe not as good as you and Mario, but definitely a close second."

Out of my peripheral, a white blur moves until I feel the soft cotton texture of his glove graze fingertips beneath my chin and lifts it up. I jump in surprise and stare. A plethora of emotions twinkled in his impossibly blue eyes. I tilt my head ever so slow to the side to enhance his touch and to my utter delight, he spreads his fingers to encase my cheek.

"You'll be great," he murmurs. I close my eyes and hum to whatever he's complimenting me on. I'd forgotten what we were talking about because nothing else matters except right now. A funny pang bubbles in my stomach. This touch is so much different from all the other times I've felt him. The contact's so frustratingly sylphlike and tender.

"Yoshi, could you open your eyes?"

"Hmm?" I do, trapped in a daze, and gaze at the hazy image of him before me.

"Wow . . . I never noticed but . . ." Luigi leans forward, his voice so suddenly intense that I blinked at him. He half-closed his eyes, and the way he spoke to me right then, I felt as if nothing else in existence could be as enticing. "You darn near have the prettiest blue eyes I've ever seen."

I could feel heat threatening to engulf every inch of me. Did Luigi just compliment me? I would kill for this not to be one of my delusional daydreams.

I squeeze his hand and yes, solid, warm and comforting. This is real, the most perfect reality. I can only gaze through my lashes as I'm sure my face is probably akin to a Power-Up Mushroom at this point.

"I-I think you do too," I whisper, darting him a tiny glance before fixating on something other than the intense way he was studying me. Try as I might, I can't control the shiver threatening to make me visibly quake under his stare. What is he thinking? Does he want to tell me something?

A distant throat clearing sounds off behind us. I'm the first to yank my hands free from Luigi's and the chill to follow is instantaneous. We both look to find Mario with his hands on his hips, tapping his foot, eyebrow cocked, wearing a lopsided smirk. Black's next to him arms folded, leveling Luigi with a calculative glare.

"Sorry gentlemen, but this tender moment will have to wait." Black comes forward, gripping my elbow. "I'll take this, thank you very much." Then steers us towards the back of the stage.

I whimper at the loss contact. The chill to follow is immediate. I look at Luigi, who looks, wow. Annoyed? Is he as upset as me about our interruption?

White makes a long whistling sound. "MmMmMmmm. My, my Yoshi, if things got any hotter between you two, we'd swear Angry Sun was on a rampage."

I shriek and bat at his head. "Shut up, shut up, shut up. Nothing happened!"

"That's not how it looked from where we stood," he laughs, protecting his head from my weak blows. "I guess he really doesn't need our help."

"Probably," says Auburn. "If not, I won't say this trip was a complete waste. While we're here, I say we make the best of this day and enjoy the activities."

"We'll focus on other ventures after our first mission is accomplished," said Black. "For now, we have a show to put on. Let's get to it."

I cast another lingering gaze over my shoulder. Luigi's still standing there, his thick eyebrows half covering his eyes. My breath catches in my throat when he winks and gives a thumbs up. That's definitely my heart slamming in my chest. I swirl on my heel and quickly catch up to the others.

Mercy Melons, what a hunk.

After the DJ announces a recess, a quarter of the audience dissipated to purchase food or use the bathroom. As for the remaining onlookers, they stuck around to see whether the special event would be as comparatively pleasant.

Curiosity won out over hunger it seems. Man, I'd really been hoping for less people to please. I shut the curtains before my eyes could scour the audience for a certain green-clad gentleman and compose myself. Get it together, Yoshi. The first time's always the hardest to endure. Afterwards, the other times will be a breeze. I close my eyes, suck in a huge chest full of air and release it with determination.

The DJ gives the signal for us to get into position. I take my place in between Magenta and Black as the center attraction. This dance isn't anything new for us. The ritual's a common rhumba on the island. It's done so much that no matter what position we're in, that Yoshi knows what maneuver execute next.

Readying myself, I strike my pose as the start of a tropical piece erupts from the loud speakers. A saucy piano number adds to the mix, fueling the song's addictive pulse. We rise as one when the curtains slide away. One by one we kneel, crossing one arm over my chests and the one behind our backs. The beat swallows and suddenly shoots to ear soothing dings. We swing one, touch our toes and swivel our tails in a wide circle.

The audience eats it up, cat calling and whistling. We step forward, rolling our shoulders, spin and spread our arms high, waving to each approaching step towards the edge of the stage. The others retreat back as I take the lead and shimmy my shoulders to the beat, wagging my hips and tail to each foot step. Each Yoshi falls in step, mimicking my move until we sync into a coordinated hula.

The beat picks up rapidity and so do our hips. Magenta leads this time, bowing as far back as he can—his head actually touched the floor! When had he learned that? We do the same, nowhere nearly as boneless looking, but I manage and jerk back up, extending my arms out and rocking in fluid sways.

"Oh mama, wahoo!"

That voice. I keep in step, but my eyes magnetically fall to Luigi standing in the middle of the crowd, wildly clapping his hands, pumping his fist in the air.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah. Yoshi time!"

My heart nearly leapt out at the sight of Luigi's rowdy wolf-whistling. I almost ran off the stage, knowing my face is flushed bright red. It didn't matter how I changed my stance or discreetly switching my dance point, somehow our eyes would connect as long as I were facing his direction. Each time, there's a rapid descent of something dropping in my gut when he stares, mouth thinly pressed line.

I tried to train my thoughts on staying true to our task, performing, dancing, and enjoying ourselves. But it's too difficult, knowing he's right there watching my—our every move. Or was it really me keeping his eyes rooted to the stage? I'd like to think it is. At least that way I can excuse the faltering in my steps, me missing the subtle signals from the others alerting me to carry on my portion of dance.

As the third song draws to a close, we slide to the front of the stage and take our respective bows for the audience. We received a standing applause, much more than I anticipated. I happily wave to everyone, thanking them for their acceptance and then I see Luigi isn't standing like Mario is. He's sitting, dark blue eyes sharply honed on me.

My hand slowly lowers to my side and I gulp. His gaze's powerful, hypnotic. What's on his mind to cause him to stare at me like that? There has to be more to it than the way we danced. No one can be that transfixed.

A nudge takes my attention to see the others exiting the stage. I cast a lingering look in Luigi's direction just to discover he and Mario are making their way towards us to assume their place on stage. I sat on the metal stairwell, not really in the midst of my comrades, but not too far away to hear what the brothers would have to say.

Mario plants his hands on his hips, listing his head to the side, wearing a wide smile. "You guys were terrific. Forget the Mario Bros, this show is all the Yoshi."

"What'd I tell you? Irresistible is what we are," Magenta cockily affirmed. "And who says cute is overrated?"

Mario jerks his thumb at Magenta. "Cute he says," he tells his brother. "I don't think the folks considered those provocative dance moves to be cute. Risqué without a doubt, but cute? Nope."

For the first time in his life, Magenta's left speechless and his skin tone flushed to a darker shade then his namesake. "P-provocative? T-that wasn't our intention at all!" he lamely defends.

"Sure, because those come-hither tail wags definitely weren't begging for a grab."

Magenta starts wailing on Mario's chest demanding he take back every word while the rest of us took part in enjoying his chagrin. It isn't often Magenta's left flabbergasted. During the rare chances it happens, we pounce on the opportunity to enjoy it.

The curtains fall, obscuring everyone's view from the rest of us. There's fifteen minutes before the brothers are scheduled to continue. I sit up on the metal stairwell, gripping the railing and as I watch my steps coming down, a sense of déjà vu propels me to see Luigi's unusually quiet self walking to the stairs. He raises his head and our eyes meet. I return the gaze as he approached. I held up beautifully until he came to stand next to me on the same stair I was on.

Then his eyes are smoothly gliding from my face to my neck and down. . . down my body all the way to my shoes, then back up again until our gazes locked. It took no more than a second, perhaps two, but there's no question that that was a startlingly invasive once-over, leaving me feeling completely exposed. What's more, I'm floored to note that my accessor's expression loudly revealed that he liked what he saw.

Glorious Melons, I'm an inch away from collapsing from overheating. Where is this coming from? Since when has Luigi ever been so flirtatious? Is he . . . would that be considered flirting or am I over exaggerating what's probably a passing glance?

We break eye contact as Luigi takes the next stair, brushing his hand against my side, sending an electric surge through my body. A wide, five finger rub along my flank that drifts away like a breeze off my tail.

I shudder and allow myself to indulge in following his confident, languid stride. My focus must've been as burning as I wanted it to be because before he disappeared beyond the curtains, Luigi checks over his shoulder, finds me staring and winks.

"We're gonna talk later," he whispers and keeps on going.

Goosebumps covered my arms. The things his voice do to my body should be criminal . . . "Sure," I answer when he's already gone.

Forget everything I've ever known impossible. There is no denying it. Luigi was very much flirting with me. He is. Does that . . . does that mean there's a chance? Could he like me too? I don't think I know how to handle this revelation. If this is real, it means my feelings will finally be reciprocated!

"Oh, so we're gonna pretend those two didn't just mentally molest each other right in front of us."

I jumped, surprised out my reverie. "White," I whined, covering my eyes. That idiot. . .

I wonder how wrong it is for me to admit to losing interest in the Dance Off by this point? No, that's wrong. I'm still enjoying the event. The atmosphere overall's taken a dramatic change in pressure for me. I'm eager for it to be over so I can finally talk to Luigi. I can't erase the way he seemed to ogle me in so filthy a manner. It begs to be investigated.

We're entering the third quarter portion of the Dance Off. I think this is when Bowser's scheduled to make his appearance. If the bleachers and hilly pastures were full before, those numbers took a dramatic swelling. There wasn't an open space between anyone. Good thing we already found our seats or we'd have to be fluttering to get a view of the stage.

There wasn't a need for us to perform during the second recess. The DJ was experiencing some minor malfunctions with the scratch table. That gave the brothers some time to recuperate. I wanted to try talking to Luigi now, but figured he needed some peace to catch his breath. But I can't sit here. I'm far too antsy.

I need something to do to shake off the tension.

"Is anyone hungry?" I finally ask, leaning forward to look on both sides of me.

"Oh thank the Stars, I'm glad someone else is too," Auburn replies right away. "I realize we ate a couple of hours ago, but I'm starved. I was sitting here wondering how to break the question in without coming off as greedy."

"Anyone else?"

Pink and Magenta asked for berry flavored shaved ice. Black and White requested grilled Bloopers. Auburn wants both. Fine with me. Anything to occupy my mind. I hop up making them promise to save my seat and weave through the hordes of tiny legs and bodies in the aisles.

The concession stands are nearly deserted. Vendors are standing outside their stands shouting their latest deals and special offers to anyone willing to purchase their products. I find a Koopa Tea stand with a short line and spend a moment fishing through my coin pouch. I take my place behind a winged Koopa, rocking back and forth on my heels, humming to myself.

I'm not entirely caught up my thoughts when I notice a blur of red and blue out of the corner of my eye attempting to camouflage itself amongst the masses. I can easily count on one hand how many people, including myself, were knowledgeable to all of Mario's capabilities. The only time he'd use his speed was when he's in stealth mode. Mario's undoubtedly counting on that fun fact and using it to his advantage.

But why today? What is he up to?

Looking between the shortening line and where I saw him vanish, I don't even debate on the idea long before following. The saying is that curiosity often kills the one using a Super Bell, but I hope fate's kind enough to pardon my nosiness. It's only because he's my best friend and I don't want anything to happen in case he goes headlong into danger half-cocked. Not like it wouldn't be the first time he's lived so dangerously.

I keep my distance, staying diligent to his zigzagging path. He's venturing Toad Town's suburbia neighborhoods, taking cover in between houses, ducking within trees and taking extreme care in making sure he isn't being tracked. This is a bit much, even for him. I have to ponder the importance of this mission and why he wouldn't want Luigi to know?

The trip ends before a small, stony warehouse built on the edge of the forest line, sheltered between tall trees. There's no way for me to get in close without him discovering he's being trailed. I hold back in Toad Town until he disappears inside and make a break for the area. I circle the building and as luck would have it, there's a window above my head. I creep toward it, mindful of stepping on any twigs or old leaves and tip toe to peer inside. I near the ledge and hear an unexpected voice.

Bowser? I pause and frown. Is he up to his old tricks again? Did someone leak information to Mario and he decided to check the information for himself? It wouldn't be a surprise, but I don't sense any chance of that happening. Perhaps Mario was here to inspect the rumor or something else.

I lean my ear towards the window and marginally press it forward to crack open some more. Besides a butterfly's squeak, the window doesn't give any indication of being moved.

"I don't know about you," that is Bowser's gruff, growly voice speaking, the tone so sharp and tight with tension, I wince like a child caught before committing the crime, "but enough is enough. This little façade's gone on longer than it should have."

"Maybe it has," Mario's voice wavers with the same kind of tense sharpness and strength that I can't recall ever hearing in him before. "But there's so much standing in the way. I 'm worried about what everyone will say—"

"Damn them!" There's a loud crash inside. I fall back, listening, heart pounding, imagining that Bowser's temper got the better of him and he lashed out at Mario. There could be damage. Broken bones, lacerations from his claws. But instead of pained cries, I hear a muffled sneer, "That hurt more than I expected."

I peek inside. Bowser's staring down at his hand where a trickle of blood is leaking from a broken claw. I see the evidence of his little tantrum in a corner; a poor wooden crate he annihilated with one blow. I hold in a snort when seeing Bowser's bewildered expression. He must've slammed his fist into the crate to make a point and hadn't anticipated the searing pain to follow.

"It serves you right," Mario says. His voice's taken on a lighter, amused pitch, which makes me wonder when he and Bowser had become so comfortable around each other. "What did you think would happen after striking solid Hell Valley Sky Wood? You aren't invincible."

Bowser ignores that. So very like him to probably try covering his embarrassment. "You've never cared what the public thought about you before. What changed now?"

"The public isn't the issue. Their opinion's never influenced my decisions." Mario's tone hardens. "I mean our families, our friends. You can't expect me to believe your son and the Koopalings will be fine with this."

What in the galaxies were they talking about? Is there some kind of conspiracy going on I'm playing witness to? For it to be something Mario fears ridicule from us, makes me worry exactly how serious this situation is. I lean forward some more, shoes scarcely touching the grass in a desperate need to make use of the slight gap in the window.

"The kids already know about our affair. I never had a problem sharing that fun fact with them," says Bowser, folding his arms. "They accepted it long ago. It's you who's spending his days terrified of being judged by his friends and family."

"Yoshi wouldn't judge." Mario paces slowly, adjusting the bill of his hat. "It's not in his nature. No matter how much of a shock this'll be for him, I know I can count on his support."

"Then who? Peach and Luigi?" Bowser's voice lowers. "Is it them keeping you from me?"

There's heavy pounding sounds coming from Bowser as he goes over to Mario, blocking my view with his bulky figure. I grind my teeth and lean in again. By now, the glass is suctioned to my snout. Any attempt thereafter will assuredly give away my position.

"No," Mario softly denies. "They aren't . . ." A long winded sigh. "Don't push my indecisiveness on others, Bowser."

"Why shouldn't I? We've talked about this for months, Mario. I'm sick of playing second fiddle to everyone else." Bowser grimaces his injured fist, but I don't think it's because of the pain. "Watching you fawn all over her like she's fragile crystal when we both know better. And seeing you catering to your brother's insecure drive to live up to your standards . . . it makes me contemplate whether I have a place in your life at all." A small, tense pause, then, "Is there room for me?"

"Oh Bowser, yes," Mario cajoles him, cradling his clawed hand between his gloved palms. "I can't apologize for neglecting to see how much this has been affecting you. It isn't intentional, but if there's nothing else you can believe, know I've never lied about how I feel for you."

Bowser shifts his stance, as if the weight of the confession causes his near imbalance. I see Mario's facing him and his dark blue eyes are vivid and bright and marred with the kind of perseverance he's only ever shown before charging straight into combat. My fingers grip the window ledge and hunch my shoulders to steady my posture, no longer ignorant to the scene.

"Do you think I've been stringing you along all this time?"

Bowser claps his large hand over Mario's after a beat of silence settles between them. Then he pulls Mario so close, he braces his hands reflexively brace against the mighty king's muscled plastron. ". . . Yeah. Yeah, there had been some reluctance on my end about whether this was worth pursuing. I know you care. Who else would go through the trouble of seeing me every chance he got? I hate our predicament and all of this damned sneaking around. . ." His hand goes to curve under Mario's cheek, ". . . but you're worth the wait."

"And all the tedious obstacles that come with it?"

"I, uh, right." Is that a blush on Bowser's face? My diary's not going to have enough room to store all of these historical moments! "Did I really say that last time?"

"That and some other choice words I don't appreciate you using to describe my friends."

"What, are you kidding?" Bowser balks in mocked defense. "They are wishy washy, uppity pigeons who can't seem to mind their own business . . . too busy being caught up in everybody else's drama." The latter half he disdainfully grumbles.

I hold in a giggle when Mario bops him on the nose for that. "Don't be rude. I can say a whole lot about your people too."

"Nothing I'm not already aware of."

"Oh? Like how loud, obnoxious, arrogant, temperamental and self-centered—Wait. . ."

"Right, like that doesn't sound familiar." Bowser chuckles lowly and turns Mario around in his arms in a steep dip. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to sweet talk me."

"You would confuse insult for flattery."

"Only when it comes from you, sweetheart."

I look between them earnestly as the space between their faces decreases. What are they about to do? Was this . . . is this the coming of the fabled kiss I've heard stories of? That singular connection between lovers that is only superseded by the physical bond? I've never seen one for myself. My people have never tried as far as I know. We have our own way of showing affections.

Mario strokes his hand through Bowser's pepper red hair, keeps his touch intimately teasing before he comes to pinch the king's chin and initiates the most powerful thing I've ever seen in my life. Their eyes drift close—my heart's hammering in my chest—their faces get closer—my face's grown so hot.

Bowser tilts his head just the slightest bit and dips his head forward, capturing Mario's lips with the kind of skilled precision that summons a throaty moan from Mario. I watch in baited awe as their mismatched mouths somehow manage to bring forth pleasured sounds and eager touching.

A yearning in my belly swells for me to share the same intimacy with Luigi. Would he know how? Could we do that? Is my mouth made to kiss him? Gosh, I don't even know how to kiss.

They're so taken with each other, they probably wouldn't notice a Millennia Star crashing into the Mushroom Castle. It looks sort of wet and messy. Do people enjoy doing this that much? I suppose I can say that's an affirmative, judging by how possessively Bowser holds Mario to him, like his taste is as succulent as a ripe pineapple.

I come out of my thoughts when a soft gasp and a wet sliding noise redirects my gaze back inside. The spikes on the back of my neck harden into my scales like hot splintered barbs when Bowser's right hand skims down Mario's side, simultaneous to his lips pushing into the space between Mario's shoulder and neck. Mario squirms, face as red as his shirt, mouth slipping open. The sounds he makes cause my tail to curl.

I drop away from the window and quickly leave. Something tells me what is about to happen shouldn't be seen by outside eyes. It felt intrusive. I make it to the edge of Toad Town, mind tasseled with what I've seen, the funny feeling in my belly spreading throughout my body. I'm not entirely naïve to what arousal is. Black and Magenta taught me plenty about what that's like and how my body would respond.

It's happened often whenever I've written in my diary about Luigi. What I saw between Bowser and Mario, I want that for me and Luigi. I look over my shoulder, at the distant warehouse, and blush. I should get back to getting everyone's drinks and food. I just hope Mario and Bowser remember that they're due back in ten minutes.

TBC: Thanks for reading!