Hola amigos! New chapter, yaaayy! I made it waaaay longer! So I hope you enjoy. Jane and Gunther are OOC I'm afraid. Gunther isn't annoying enough. I just can't bring myself to do it. And Jane is being really bleergghh- I didn't realize until after, but, whatever. Sorry for any mistakes, I saw so many in the last chapter, I kept mentally cringing. Uggh.

Disclaimer: I do not own Jane and the Dragon or any of the characters.

Chapter Two.

"I hate you. You are the reason fungus exists. You are the slime that grows in swamps that even acid can't break down-"

"How long do you plan to keep this up Jane?"

"Why?"

"Because I was going to hail down a bottle of beer and I figured you might get thirsty having your mouth open so much." Gunther sighed.

"Make it a white wine," Jane scrunched her nose in distaste. She was eighteen now and thought she might just give it a try just to forget the chaos right now. "And I'll keep it short" Jane pouted. With a laugh, Gunther got up from his chair and rolled his eyes. "No, you won't, but it might slow you down. Be right back." How he managed to get such a lanky body out of a chair that gracefully would always be a mystery to her. The man was one length connected to another length. And that tux should be illegal. Or at least have some sort of warning on it. Caution: Long exposure can cause blindness.

Or stupidity.

Jane looked at the faces across from her on the round table. Three girls, three boys. Alternating. The girls were all trying to make eye contact in some way or another. The boys were taking gleeful pleasure in stopping them. Until Gunther left. Now all eyes were on Jane.

For the first time ever, she couldn't wait for him to come back.

"What are you doing here?" A little blonde girl asked in a not-so-conspiratorial whisper.

"Yeah. Is that your husband?" A measly boy asked in a loud voice.

"Are you divorcing? My parents are divorcing. They don't talk nice either." The wide-eyed brunette frowned, a picture of pity. Gunther seriously needed to hurry up. "They're nicer than you though, they don't call each other names in front of us kids." She frowned.

Is this what guilt felt like?

"He was really nice before you got here," the blonde commented, placing her napkin on her floral dress's lap. "Gave us quarters, told us jokes. Do you have quarters?"

"No, I make real money."

"So you got dollars then?"

Ambitious little thing. "Only for quiet children."
"I'm quiet." The last little girl said, green eyes huge and beseeching. Where the hell was Gunther?

"Sorry, Jane, they only had white zinfandel. I figured you'd be able to handle pink-" Gunther quieted abruptly when she jumped out of her seat and directly into his path. His eyes widened when she took the glass and gulped down the contents only to practically toss it on the table. "You okay, Jane?" He said, eyes narrowing in suspiciousness.

"Not really, but if you get me away from this table, I promise not to call you anything mean for a whole three minutes." Spotting the DJ across the room, she frowned. Under normal circumstances, she would have avoided dancing at all costs. Adding a pompous dress, over-complicated hair, caked makeup, Gunther Breech and six measly children to the mix, Jane couldn't help but feel desperate. She could barely live with that. The DJ was just finishing his set up, so she grabbed Gunther's hand and pulled him along with her. "I hope you have money, Gunther, because we're going to need it."

"When did my wallet get involved in your hysteria?"

"When you got me stuck at a table with six versions of 20 questions." They reached the DJ, an almost smiling man with a receding hairline trying a little too hard to be hip. "Can you get the music started now?"

"Now?" the man looked at Gunther for verification. Gunther sighed, reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bill.

"Sure. You want slow songs?"

"Anything." Relieved, Jane started towards the dance floor, but stopped after two steps. She had to, the train of her dress wouldn't follow. "Can you get off my dress please?"

Gunther waited until she turned around to lift his shiny black wingtips from the pink train. "You owe me fifty bucks."

She unwillingly lifted her arms, quite a feat in the over-tailored corset-turned-bridesmaid's-dress-from-hell. "Does this thing look like it has pockets?"

He took a little too long with his inspection. "Are we dancing or what?" she huffed. He blinked at her as if she woke him from something. "Who said anything about dancing?"

"Would you rather go play with the Harry Potter crew?"

He looked at the table and shrugged. "I'm out of cash no matter which way I go. Might as well take the lesser of two evils."

She was prepared to call him seven different names her mother would disown her for when he cupped her arm and led her onto the empty dance floor. She looked up at him, temporarily at a loss.

"Don't sweat it, Jane. If I let you dance all by yourself, your mother would never forgive me." Gunther smirked. Jane had a questioning look in her eyes, but let it pass.

The second he took her into his arms, causing a sensation she couldn't quite describe in English as anything other than "mmmm", the music started. Jane faltered in her steps, tripping over her dress and squashing Gunther's toes. This didn't happen just once, this happened twenty billion times more. Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. Every time, she cringed and carried on, missing every beat, moving as gracefully as an elephant on the dance floor.

"Jesus, Jane, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm sorry," she looked down, avoiding his glare. "I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't even know why I dragged us out here." Gunther's expression softened a little and smirked.

"No, you clearly don't. Luckily, I am quite the expert when it comes to dancing." This made Jane laugh.

"Yeah, right. I'm leaving." She began to walk off when he caught her arm. "Now, hold on. I did not waste fifty god damn dollars to make a fool of myself by stumbling around like an idiot with you. We are doing this properly whether you like it or not." Whilst placing his hand on her hip, Jane blushed. What was he doing? This was not the bog weevil that she knew. Nervously, she lightly rested her hand on his shoulder.

"Take my hand." So she did.

"Take a deep breath." She closed her eyes as she did so, feeling him holding her closer.

"Take one step, and keep your eyes on mine." She followed his steps, slowly, one at a time. Her green orbs locked onto his grey ones. She sucked in a breath. His eyes were beautiful. Before now, she could've easily said they were a boring, light blue. But oh, was she wrong. They were misty and gray, like the sea after a storm. Or like heavy clouds. They seemed so close, but she knew that behind them, they were somewhere far away, hiding mischief and secrets.

"Now, just listen. Listen to the music. Let it be your guide." He whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

Soon enough, she got the hang of it. They were no longer awkwardly swaying to the music. Now, with every step, she just got better. Gunther abruptly stepped away from her. Jane felt a little hurt.

"Why did you stop?"

Gunther smiled, bowing gracefully with an outstretched hand. "Can I have this dance, Lady Jane?"

Oh, how gentlemanly. Jane mentally rolled her eyes as an embarrassed giggle emerged from her lips. She curtsied as if they were at a ball.

"Why, of course you may, Sir Gunther." She took his hand as he pulled her close once more, only closer than before. He took the lead, as they turned, and twirled she felt safe with him. She wasn't afraid to fall, not with Gunther here.

The music suddenly shifted.

Well, at least the DJ was good. Anything Bryan Addams was good, but the flamenco thrums of guitar started. 'Have you ever really, really ever loved a woman?' did something unusual to her heartbeat. It wasn't until Gunther breech, of all people, dipped her about halfway through the song that Jane realized she might have been safer with the kids.

Kids didn't touch her. Kids didn't wink at her.

Most importantly, kids didn't know how to make her body move and fit to theirs like a glove.

Gunther brought her up from the dip slowly, somehow or another making her neck fall back so that his face was less than an inch from her chest.

Oh yes, this was definitely a bad, bad, bad idea.

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"You sure you're okay, Jane?"

Not the voice she wanted to hear, especially not haunting the outside of the bathroom, but Jane had finally resigned herself to spending the entire wedding all but glued to the most exasperating person she'd ever met ever since she was eleven.

She'd tried to escape the intimacy of dancing with him, she really did. She tried to capture the attention of the happy bride and groom from all the way across the room, but to no avail. She searched the room countless times for Jester, her best friend since the third grade. Where the hell was he? Jane suddenly wondered why she hadn't seen him all day. Odd. They were usually inseperable.

She did manage to spot Smithy at the open bar with a fake blonde clinging to his arm. All he could do was smile apologetically and dodge the silly, naïve girls attempts to lure him into her bed.

Jane sighed, but Gunther's eyes took on that gleam she knew so well. The one that said he was hatching something. So, she'd stayed, twirling and twisting to his every whim, watching that gleam grow brighter and his smile more predatory.

She decided to discount what he did to his hips.

For two hours, they kept going, she, afraid to give him time alone to make whatever arrangements that might torture her, and he, looking happier and happier about it. If his hands cupped her hips and something jumped in response, it was for the sake of self-preservation. If, during that one song when he turned her so her back was to his front, her heart stopped beating because his hand slid across her from her shoulder, down between her corseted breasts and over her opposite hip…well, she was just horrified.

She decided to ignore that warm brandy feeling in her belly. But finally, the standoff ended. He won. He didn't beat her will, though. No, the only thing he'd outlasted was her bladder and her feet. One was full and the others were blistered. Damn Pepper and her insistence on stilettos that could have double for an S&M device. The laces criss-crossed about twenty times over the top of her foot and her ankle. Each and every one had lacerated her.
Unfortunately, she only had herself to blame for the glasses of champagne they both drank that were making her dizzy and… well, still full. She blamed the kids for the lack of meal. So, here she was, alone in the back bathroom, trying for the hundredth-thousandth time to reach the hooks in the back of her dress so she could relieve herself. "No," she finally grumbled. "I can't- I can't get out of this… stupid thing!"

"What thing?" Gunther asked through the door.

"This dress."

He stayed quiet for all of one minute.

"Gunther?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you help me?"

More silence.

"Gunther!"

"I just want to get this clear s you don't knock my teeth in if I open the door."

"Gunther." She growled. Why did he have to be such a beef brain?

"You're asking me to come in there and help you out of your dress?"

"Yes," She hissed.

"Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay."

"Damn it, Gunther!" she turned as he opened the door. "Hurry up, I don't want anyone to know we're in here together."

"Yeah, they might get the idea I'm getting you out of your dress or something." Gunther remarked with a slight chuckle.

"Keep in mind," she seethed, "I'm about ready to pop here and I'm not afraid to take you with me."

He made a face, then put his hands on her shoulders. Warm hands. They were also rough, probably from the wooden swords they used to practice fighting with when they were children. She remembered he practiced almost every day until he was sixteen just to be better than her. Jane gave it up two years later, when she too was also sixteen.

'Unladylike' her mother had called it. "You're sixteen now, you should be on the lookout for a future husband." She had said. She spoke as if they lived centuries and centuries back.

"Why do you need to take the whole thing off anyway? Don't you just have to pick up the skirt?"

"You'd think." She'd actually begged. Pepper had been insistent. "There's under….stuff." she said with a grimace.

The tiny hooks at the back might as well have been staples instead of closures. Her mother had gotten a few nicks sealing up the bridesmaids and Gunther seemed to be having the same luck.

"Bleed on this dress and I'll kill you."

"I had the strong impression that you hated this dress."

"I do, and I want to enjoy ripping every stitch of it apart without you getting first dibbs on the damage."

"Jesus, Jane, Someone has to do something about your rage issues."

She spun around, too late realizing he wasn't hopping along to the side of her to avoid her and the ripping sound wasn't him trampling her train. "What just happened?" she asked cautiously.

"Well, that bleeding thing is a moot point, now." Gunther said plainly.

"What?"

"Your stupid dress kinda hooked my arm. "Where'd you get this deathtrap, anyway?" Gunther said, attempting to remove the hook sticking out in annoyance.

"Pepper made them."

"I never thought she disliked you this much. She seriously needs to stay in the kitchen." He murmured.

"You're the one bleeding smart ass." She stopped moving around and waiting for him to unhitch them. She felt the urge to tug a few times, but nothing seemed to be happening. "Gunther?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you just hurry?"

"I'm trying," he replied, sounding a little more tense than she'd ever heard him. And she'd worked desperately to rile him over the years.

"Whats the matter?"

"I think your dress likes me."

She tried to twist to see but only succeeded in pulling him back around her and making him pant a little bit in pain.

"Stop chasing your tail, Jane! Bleeding, remember?"

"Wuss. Unhook us already!"

After a couple of minutes, plus a few frustrated, unladylike insults from Jane, Gunther finally spoke.

"Ummmm…."

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening.

"I don't think I can. The hooks got caught in different directions in this cuff and the skin of my wrist is kinda pinched in the middle. We need some scissors."

The both looked to the closed door leading to the kitchen hallway, in hopes of finding Lavinia. Their eyes met, considering walking back into the reception with his hand stuck to her back. Then, as if they both remembered what they were doing in the first place, they both looked over to the white toilet bowl in the corner.

This, officially, had become the wedding from Hell.

Oh maa goooshhh! What is poor Jane and Gunther going to do next?

Yaaaaaaaay! This one was tiring to write. Phewwww, glad I got it done. How was it? Please R&R they would be much appreciated. That little dance scene was inspired by "can I have this dance" from High School Musical 3 3 if you haven't heard it because you live under a rock, go listen! Its so sweet and cute and makes me feel like spewing rainbows. Okay, maybe not. Next chapter will be up by Thursday maybe. Not sure, because I work a lot :D :p yeah, Au Revoir!