Disclaimer: I do not own Disgaea. I do not own Dr. Suess either. I do not like green eggs and ham; I do not like them Sam I Am.

I apologize for taking my damn sweet time with this chapter. I had a lot of prep work to do for this Calculus midterm I have coming up on the fourteenth. So it's pretty chaotic right now. I felt so bad for not updating right away. I still would like to take the time to thank Mei Fire, Clow Angel, and Saiyan Angie since they took the time to review the last chapter. Hugs!

And now without further ado!


Chapter Eight- Confrontation and Surprises

Flonne stared at him with wide eyes. Her mouth hung open as though she wanted to cry out, but nothing seemed to be coming out of her mouth. It was like her voice had curled up and died from the shock at seeing Laharl awake. And...oh, crud, he wouldn't let go of her hand...Flonne felt goosebumps racing up her arm at the very touch--pleasant shivers crept through her body, despite the obvious fact that she was in very deep trouble. Perhaps she was in even more trouble than she had been before she had come into the room. Flonne waited, hardly daring to breathe under the scrutiny the Overlord leant her.

Laharl smirked at her obvious predicament. "You look uncomfortable...Flonne..."

The fallen angel winced at the sound of her name.

"Feeling guilty?" he asked with something like satisfaction in his voice.

"I...I..." she stammered. At the moment, Flonne was really, really hoping that he didn't notice the can of shaving cream sitting on his dresser. But at the moment, Laharl's attention was focused solely on her, so she kept her gaze on the carpet. "I don't understand what you mean..."

Laharl looked slightly miffed. "Don't lie."

Is it that obvious? Flonne thought in desperation, for once wishing that she had more expertise in dishonesty. She actually was wishing she was more like a demon. Trying to recover, she murmured, "I understand that you're upset with me...but...I don't know what I did that made you so mad."

"Like hell you don't."

"No, really, I--"

But Laharl held up a hand to silence her. His gaze had shifted to Etna, who was watching them with a very intrigued expression from across the room.

"Get out," he said flatly.

"Oh, come on, Prince!"

"Dammit, Etna! Now!"

"But I--"

Laharl pointed imperiously towards the door. When Etna didn't move, he sighed and allowed for his entire hand to be consumed in the raw energy that was the beginning of his Overlord's Wrath spell. "Last chance. Get out before I make you."

Etna shot him a venomous look and stuck out her tongue. "Fine. But I had nothing to do with this."

"You're a worse liar than Flonne," he replied. "Now go."

The demon girl huffed and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her. As she traversed the remainder of the hallway, uttering swear words and graphic phrases, Flonne knew in the pit of her stomach that a couple of prinnies were going to die that night. It was just the way things usually turned out.

There was a long silence afterwards, during which Flonne quietly tried to peel his fingers away. As soon as Laharl realized that her intent was to escape again, he glared at her. "Stop it," he snapped.

"Your grip is too tight..."

Laharl averted his gaze in order to appear indifferent, and suddenly spotted the shaving cream. In his interest, he inadvertently let go of her hand; and quick as a flash, Flonne withdrew to the opposite side of the bed. She knew that it would be extremely unwise to try to bolt--even when the Overlord was distracted, he was not a fool. He shot her a side-ways glance as she squirmed away from her.

"You better not try to run," he said. "I'm not finished with you."

Flonne made a noise of protest and edged a little farther away. Laharl rolled his eyes.

Without even looking her way again, he absent-mindedly put his arm around her waist and jerked her closer to him. A hot flush crept up Flonne's cheeks as she found herself practically sitting on his lap. Her breathing became shallow as she tried to calm herself, but she had never actually been in his arms like this before. And, yes, he was restraining her; but nonetheless...

"Now sit still and calm your ass down," he commanded quietly.

Flonne didn't reply. She was too distracted by the sensation of feeling his heartbeat, throbbing quietly beside her own. And strangely enough, it was even more frenetic than hers--and he looked so calm, so indifferent. Flonne trembled quietly as she tried to sort through her thoughts.

Then she looked up and saw him reaching for the can.

"L-Laharl...!"

But it was too late. His sharp eyes were already reading the label, and Flonne felt her stomach plunging as they narrowed into slits. "So..." he murmured. "Where did this come from...?"

Flonne kept quiet, hoping that he would forget that she was there.

"Flonne?"

Damn!

"Yes?" she breathed.

"Answer the question."

"I...well...I mean...Etna and I...she...well..."

"She wanted to play a prank on me, I guess," Laharl interjected, not at all in a patient mood. "And of course you're gullible enough to go along with her schemes..." He reflected on this for a moment before adding, "You know, you're gullible enough to walk into the arms of an enemy and not know it."

Flonne went very still. "What do you mean?"

"You tell me," he snapped. For a minute or two he glared at the wall, but then slowly, turned back to face her. She was looking up at him in bewilderment, and that too was unbearable. "On second thought," he amended, "don't tell me. I'm too tired to yell at you now, and I'm still pissed at you."

"Then why are you being nice?"

Laharl's face turned bright red.

"S-shut up!" he stammered. "Idiot! I'm not being nice to you! Didn't I just get through telling you how tired I am?"

"You seemed wide awake when I came in," Flonne noted.

Laharl made a noise of disdain and shoved her away from him. The fallen angel landed softly against the mattress, but found herself sprawled on her back. At first, he really hadn't planned on looking at her at all for the rest of their conversation. In fact, he was just about to send her away. But when he pushed her, Flonne had cried out in surprise, and Laharl involuntarily looked towards her again. He found himself staring straight at her thighs.

All the blood seemed to rush into his head at that moment.

"Dammit, get up already," he snapped, hastily averting his gaze.

Flonne pulled herself into a sitting position, a blush lingering in her own cheeks. Barely recovering in time, she scowled defiantly at him. "Don't push me over then!"

"Hmmph! I'll do whatever the hell I want, Love Freak."

Despite his curt tone, the fallen angel could sense a distinct discomfort in his voice. She looked up at him and noticed how his gaze kept darting to his pillow.

"If you really are tired," she said resignedly, "I can leave."

Laharl glowered at her. "I'm not letting you leave. You're the one who was dumb enough to trespass in the first place. Deal with it."

Well, wasn't he being stubborn. Flonne felt a little frustrated. She knew that the Overlord wouldn't be too reasonable after their argument before, but his behavior now seemed far too petulant. He was acting like a spoiled child who wanted to have his way, but couldn't--and therefore was trying to make everyone around him miserable. As if that would compensate for whatever he was missing.

What is he missing, anyway? Flonne wondered.

Even if she wanted to ask him, Flonne knew that she couldn't. Laharl had that look on his face that clearly said that the next person who asked him an unnecessary question would be sentenced to death. It didn't matter if she felt it was necessary--in this castle, the only person whose feelings mattered was Laharl.

If Flonne hadn't felt so torn, she wouldn't have known the difference. She was always thinking about how Laharl was feeling--so much that she had lately neglected her own emotions. And it had finally caught up to her too.

Laharl hadn't said anything for the past ten minutes, and Flonne hadn't dared to break the silence. So he got up from his coffin and began to stalk around the room--very much like a tiger that had been penned up in its cage for too long. Occasionally he would glance at her, his crimson eyes scanning her in an instant and moving on. It seemed as though no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his gaze away for too long. Finally, he turned to face her.

"Well don't just sit there," he snapped.

Flonne looked up. "What should I be doing? You're the one who wanted me here..."

Laharl said nothing. He too looked torn. "Just...I dunno...relax." The last word came out a little forced, and a split-second's worth of pain flashed across his face for that rare impulse of kindness. He turned away and glared at the wall so that he didn't have to look at her.

He couldn't help but think about how happy and calm she seemed around that Vlanaar guy. The thought made him feel sick to his stomach again.

"Laharl-san?"

Laharl didn't move. "What do you want, now?"

Flonne didn't know what made her say it. It wasn't the fact that he was being receptive, because he wasn't. His shoulders were tensed, and his arms were folded across his muscular chest. He looked like he was about to snap, as a matter of fact. The sight made her shiver inside.

But nonetheless, the words seemed to tumble out of her mouth. "Do you remember when you became a demon again?"

There was a pause.

Laharl turned a fraction of a degree towards her. "Yeah. I do."

There was a connection--a bridge from which Flonne could cross from obscurity into a world of understanding. She hastened to cross it before it could vanish. "It was a year ago...a year ago today."

"I know. What's your point?"

Flonne shrugged before remembering that Laharl couldn't see her--his back was still turned. "Nothing...I just...I just wanted to know if you remembered, is all." Hearing him acknowledge that day made her feel marginally better. At least the event was notable enough to be worth remembering. She would have lapsed into silence at that point if Laharl hadn't interjected, butting into her thoughts once more.

"Is that what you were hassling me about this morning?"

"Yes...I'm sorry."

"Hmmph...whatever. Stupid Love Freak."

At that moment, it suddenly occurred to Laharl that the whole incident with Vlanaar that afternoon may have just been a pathetic ruse to get his attention. If Flonne had still been an angel, he would have immediately ruled it out as being way out of her character. But lately he noticed that the fallen angel was growing more and more like a demon--it wasn't completely unlikely that she could plan a deception like this now.

The thought that Flonne had come up with such a ridiculous plan to make him jealous served two purposes: it boosted his ego, and it made him feel superior. Laharl never had to resort to such ridiculous actions. He was above that.

She really is just a Love Freak...hmmph...

From Flonne's perspective, the Overlord seemed to be thinking long and hard about something--but after five minutes of silence, he turned around to face her, the slightest hint of a smile on his face. It made Flonne start. Then, a strange warmth bubbled in her heart, sending a comfortable flush rushing to her face. The corners of her mouth tilted upwards into a smile.

"You're hopeless," he said.

Flonne got up out off of the coffin.

"I know," she said softly. "For a long time I knew..."

Now it seemed as though they were talking about something else. But neither of them were very subtle at concealing what it was.

"How long?" Laharl wanted to know.

"Since I first saw that you were capable of..." she stopped herself from saying love, knowing that it would only upset him. She shook her head, blushing fiercely.

Laharl's cynical smile deepened into a smirk. Now he was definitely in the mood to play her game--pointless as it was. He strode over the rest of the length of the room until he was standing right in front of Flonne. Immediately, he saw her freeze like a rabbit caught in the path of a hunter and felt himself torn between sadistic pride and frustration that she could never relax when he was this close. Scowling, he took her by the chin and forced her to look at him again.

"Of what?"

Flonne's lips barely moved. "Affection."

The smirk returned. "Oh, I see..."

He brought his face tantalizingly close to hers now, savoring the look of shock on her gentle features. It was comical how such a simple motion could make her squirm. He thought that her spaz-like tendencies were both endearing and frustrating at the same time. Though Laharl would sooner kill a baby than admit that to anyone.

He tried to act indifferent. He really, really did. But somehow, just seeing Flonne happy made him forget all of his reasons for remaining aloof. The thought of what other demons would say about the Overlord growing soft, the thought of his vassals losing respect for him completely left Laharl's mind as his eyes met hers.

"And are you this hopeless towards everyone? Or just me?"

"Just you..."

"Don't move," he breathed, closing the gap between them.

Flonne held her breath as Laharl inched closer and closer, sensing the mere centimeters that separated their lips from each other. She felt frozen in place; those crimson eyes seemed to stare right into her heart, could sense exactly what she wanted right then and there--and Laharl seemed to be enjoying what he was seeing.

"Dammit, Love Freak..." he murmured, "you might just be contagious..."

Before she could reply, Laharl's mouth molded perfectly against hers, overwhelming her in a kiss. Her heart squirmed violently within her, half protesting her own helplessness, half leaping in excitement. In the haze of the satifaction that swept over her, she felt his hands gripping her waist, holding her still as he continued to probe and explore past her lips. Flonne shuddered and moved her arms around his neck, crooning with pleasure as he brought her even closer still. She could feel his heart beating as frantically as hers, as though they were racing each other towards cardiac arrest.

It was a shame that things wouldn't stay this way for much longer.

Suddenly, a large explosion shook the palace. The shockwaves knocked them both off of their feet; they wound up sprawled on the floor, blinking in bemusement as the blown apart stone crumbled from the ceiling, showering them in a pale white dust. Flonne coughed and sheilded her eyes, trying to keep from inhaling the irritating fumes.

Laharl on the other hand was more productive. As soon as he hit the floor, he instinctively reached for his Cosmic Blade, which he kept sheathed within the folds of his cape. It was a good thing he had those combat reactions practically beaten into him. Immediately after he brandished his sword at the haze surrounding him, he felt a blade of cold steel colliding with the flat of his sword. Because he was caught off his guard, the force of the blow caused his legs to buckle. Gritting his teeth in anger, the Overlord pushed his assailant backwards with brute strength. Soon, he was back on his own sturdy two legs.

Damn, he thought. Whoever the bastard is, he's strong. Hmmmph...I bet I can still take him, though.

The smoke had thinned out slightly, and Laharl was able to see the assassin's face more clearly. Unfortunately, it was hidden behind a dark blue material that he took to be a mask.

On the other hand, Flonne, who still hadn't completely grasped the situation, found herself gazing wordlessly up at the attacker--and felt her heart skip a beat. It wasn't just his face that was shrouded in the dark blue substance; it was his entire body. Her mouth opened in a silent scream at the exact same time she sucked in her breath. As a result, her voice was trapped in the back of her throat.

"Prince!" came a loud cry from down the hallway. "Flonne!"

Flonne wheeled around and saw Etna racing into the room. She had her spear drawn, and several prinnies were gasping for air as they struggled to meet her frantic pace. They all stumbled inside after her, collapsing on the floor. Etna barely had time to shoot them a withering look.

"Dammit," she muttered. "I knew they'd be useless."

"You're one to talk!" Laharl snarled at her, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly in his hands. "Quit your...yakking...and do something...!"

Etna recognized the urgent rage in his tone--it was how she knew that Laharl actually needed some help for once. From a distance, she could see that he was actually struggling to keep his opponent's blade from slicing through his body.

"Hey, Prince!" she called, readying her spear. "Let me take a stab at him!"

"Be my guest," Laharl muttered. Hastily, he bent his knees and sprang backwards, aiming a blow at his face. It was a perfect move. The Cosmic Blade cut clean through the enemy's skull. Simultaneously, Etna charged forwards. Her spear stabbed through the attacker's chest and pierced through his heart...or should have...she could see the point of the spear peeking through his back.

But they both knew something was wrong when the body didn't crumple to the ground. At the very least, there should have been blood or scraps torn brain-tissue dangling off of the edge of the Cosmic Blade. But Laharl looked down and saw it was as clean as it would be if he had tried slicing through a cloud. Meanwhile, Etna was having trouble pulling her spear free. She tugged and tugged obstinately, but it refused to budge. She swiveled her gaze to look up at the stranger, her eyes wide and confused.

"Who are you?" Laharl demanded, looking furious. "How dare you attack the Overlord's castle!?"

The stranger gaze silently at him. But only for a moment. An instant later, he turned his gaze away from the two demons and stared at Flonne. She cringed and backed away into a crumbling wall. She stumbled a bit and would have fallen over if it hadn't been for a pair of strong hands forcing her body upright.

She froze. The hands were cold as ice. It felt like they were holding onto her spine and gripping it tightly, making it rigid and straight. Flonne couldn't have moved to save her life; and she realized that the reason had something to do with the way the assailant had his arm outstretched towards her. It was as though several invisible strings bound her limbs to his fingers. He had complete control over her for the moment.

With his other hand, the stranger grabbed the hilt of Etna's spear. Instantly, a cold charge went through the weapon, causing the demon girl to scream in pain. She let go of the spear and staggered backwards, clutching her hands to her chest.

"What are you?" she whispered angrily.


A/N: And that's Chapter Eight. I also just wanted to point out that I stopped using the name endings (-san, -chan, etc.) because I felt that at this point, the characters should be close enough to call each other by their first names. Though occasionally Flonne might lapse into old habits and address Laharl with an ending. I wanted to clear that up in case there was any confusion.

I also hope that I didn't make Laharl too OOC in this. I wanted him to seem smug and overconfident--telling himself that Vlanaar was just a tool Flonne was using to make him jealous. That's why you see him taking what he wants with no regrets or hesitation. The kiss scene was really bothering me in that regard and took me quite a while to get it satisfactory.

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. I know it was a while since I updated, but I appreciate those who leave reviews despite all of that...heh, heh...

Anywho, please review!