Title: At Last

By: Old Fiat n. Fr

Summary: When you love someone you'll do anything to protect them.

Notes: I wanted to do a Corny/Maybelle story with intrigue and with a plot other than them just getting together so here goes.

Rating: … with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for Pool!

Why: Violence and some other stuff too.

Currently listening to/watching: The Simpsons: season 9.

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Chapter Two

Cold beer. Corny didn't usually like his beer cold but it was an especially hot Sunday and he just needed something nice and cool in his throat.

He leaned back on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. The teevee was showing some program about a young couple. It was dull and they slept in separate beds, which was creepy. Corny changed the channel so he could watch the news. They were still talking about crime, which was boring if you weren't involved. He changed the channel again. Channel 5 was showing a western, which was actually worth the time of day.

Corny relaxed and took another sip of his beer. He was hungry but his apartment was devoid of all food except some old tartar sauce. He picked up his engraved, silver cigarette case from the table and pulled out a long, white coffin-nail. He turned over the cigarette case in his hands; it had been a present from his parent when he'd joined the army. God, that seemed so long ago.

He lit the cigarette and took a long drag on it. When he'd first started smoking, at about the age of sixteen, the smoke always felt rough when he inhaled and irritated his trachea. However, now it had a sort of soothing effect and, combined with the beer, made him relax just enough to sink a couple more inches into the sofa.

On the television some lady with enormous breasts was yelling at two bandits to stop fighting. The bandits were shooting guns at the sky while riding horses. Corny wondered at how well trained the horses had to be to just prance a little while gunshots—albeit, blanks—were being fired right next to their heads and not just go nuts and buck off the actors. He took another sip of his beer. Life was full of mysteries.

There was a knock at the door.

Corny sat up and turned off the teevee. Maybe, just maybe, if he was extra quiet they'd just leave him alone. It seemed to work with the phone.

They knocked again.

Corny groaned and stood up. He shuffled heavily over to the door and rubbed his eyes before looking through the peephole.

It was Mrs. Stubbs. Corny hadn't really expected a lady to be calling.

He quickly retied his robe and unlocked the door, pulling it open and putting on a charming smile. "Why hello Miss Maybelle. May I do something for you?"

She looked a tad more flustered than usual. "Yes, er, Corny. I was over at the studio straightening up my stuff and Velma came over and asked me to bring you these," she brandished a ream of forms, "to sign." She sighed heavily. "Sorry about that."

"About what?" Corny had become briefly distracted by her hair. "Oh, yeah, the forms! Do you want to come in?"

"Sure," she was still kind of flustered. "But just for a moment, okay?"

"O.K."

She stepped into the apartment. Corny took note of how carefully she placed her feet on the thin, slightly stained carpeting. She was about four feet into the room and didn't appear to want to go any further. Her chest was puffed up and she stood there, taking in the "splendor."

"Hey, do want a drink?" Corny scratched the back of his neck, nervously. He hadn't really had a woman in his apartment for business purposes in a long time. The last one had been Velma, and that hadn't really ended in business. Well, depends on what you call business. "I was going to shake up some martinis but if you want a margarita or something I've got the right stuff for that, too."

She was still just standing there, stick straight, looking around the room.

"Or, you know, I could get you something else..." He trailed off, hoping for some sort of response. She didn't seem to be listening at all; her eyes were focused on some of the posters by the television. Observing Corny's natural habitat from a distance.

Suddenly, she turned towards him, shaking her head a bit, as if finally coming to. "A martini would be great, thanks."

Corny was a little thrown. "Uh... okay." He stumbled, reaching for his shaker, which made him look like an idiot. "Do you want to sit down or something? The sofa's really..." he paused, trying to think of a word that wasn't 'filthy' or 'infested' or 'grimy' or, worse yet, 'reupholstered because of all the previous words.' Eventually, he found his mouth saying: "soft" which was somewhere near the other words, but not so close that she might actually get some kind of idea of what his life was really like—boring and gross.

Mrs. Stubbs moved over to the sofa and dropped down. After the early silence and stiffness she was suddenly relaxed. It was a bit confusing to Corny but he was more used to this Maybelle than the quiet and staring lady who couldn't move more than four feet past the door.

"You were working today?" He asked, trying to stimulate some conversation.

"Just organizing, really," she shrugged and leaned deeper into the couch. "I'm usually too busy with the record shop and all so any extra stuff I need to get done I just do on Sunday."

Corny was impressed. When he'd hosted a radio program at the beginning of his career he had worked every second of the week. Maybelle had been doing this stuff a bit longer than he had and she hadn't lost the momentum. What was wrong with him?

"How do you think the rehearsals are going for the swimsuit episode?" She asked, subtly yawning and stretching.

"That episode's always a circus." He started to shake their drinks. "The rehearsals go great but once you put a bunch of sweaty teenagers in tiny little pieces of cloth and make them dance around together... let's just say that things can go downhill very fast."

Maybelle chuckled and Corny poured their drinks.

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"...So then I slammed the door in her face and walked out!" Corny laughed and took a rather long sip of his drink.

Maybelle hadn't had as much to drink as he had but was appreciating Corny's studio (horror) stories nonetheless. Even though he appeared to have some kind of problem with everyone he worked with; she knew that everyone at the studio admired him. If Corny was ever in any sort of trouble she knew that he'd have at least a one-hundred man army of WYZT employees right behind him.

"How did your date with Mona go?" She inquired.

"Oh...." Corny laughed heavily and rolled his head around on his neck. "You know, these make-up girls..." he ran one sweaty hand through his mussed up hair and sighed. "They... don't really get it... you know? They kind of... just... I used to just want girls that were pretty and easy." He raised his glass to his mouth and took a noisy gulp. "Now... I don't know... things are just different—maybe I'm just getting old. I want a woman who's... smart. You know? Someone I can talk to for more than five minutes without wanting to shoot myself... you know, a lady like... you, or something."

Maybelle blinked incredulously and stared at Corny. He was sitting there, sweating and slouched. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes were a mixture of fear and understanding.

Maybelle was trying to think of something to say—anything—but before she could even get the air to say it Corny had leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was sweet and non-intrusive. His lips were soft and somewhat moist.

When Corny pulled back he still had that somewhat frightened look. Maybelle was too shocked to know what to say.

"Miss Maybelle... I... I'm sorry about that," he looked down at his hands. "You have to know... I mean," he laughed nervously and wiped at his mouth. "It's pretty obvious that I... I mean... since you first auditioned I've always kind of had this..." he gestured vaguely with his drink, "thing for you. I..." He just sort of trailed off looking at her and waiting for her response.

She really didn't know what to say. Her relationship with Corny before this had always been very professional. She supposed he was drunk and that would explain this. Judging by his anecdotes this wasn't exactly unusual behavior for him.

However, when she looked at his face again she saw something that almost never crossed that handsome visage: sincerity.

This was it.

"I love you, too, Corny."

He lopsidedly smiled and laughed. "Really?"

"Yes."

And the moment this word had left her mouth, he kissed her again.