A/N: Thanks for your patience - end of semester exams & projects kept getting in the way of my updating time!
Curly wondered, as they made their way through town, why Rhonda Wellington Lloyd of all people was currently letting herself and the person in her presence, hurry down the streets of Hillwood in such a highly unfashionable manner. For starters, there was absolutely no doubt that the very fast manner in which they were moving would be classified as rushing, and if there was one thing a respectable Lloyd did not partake in - it was power walking. Next, there was the notably disheveled mess that had become of their respective outfits; caused by countless impromptu make-out sessions and Rhonda's constant clinging to his arm.
Rhonda's dress, which was no doubt an expensive and exclusive Capirini original, had shifted over her hips at an angle so awkward that Curly was struggling to determine if the back was halfway around the front, or vice versa. Her long jet-black hair, known for its sleek straightness, was frizzed at the back from his hands, and if she were able to see the state of her fringe in the mirror right now, she would surely be horrified.
Personally, Curly had noted an uncomfortable stickiness clinging to his skin in various places - most notably hands, cheeks and lips. One swipe with his tongue had confirmed the presence of sugary lemonade lip-gloss was to blame. His shirt had been clawed and bunched up, twisted around fingers and creased in the palms of feminine hands. As the child of launderers, he was very aware that it would simply never be the same again - not that he was overly concerned.
"Thaddeus..." Rhonda piped up beside him, causing Curly to startle from his blissful stock-take of their garments. Her head rested against his shoulder lightly as they fast approached their destination. "Where exactly are we going?"
Curly carefully considered his response, so as to ensure it sounded as impressive and not-so-mad-scientist as absolutely possible. "To my lab!" he declared after a moments contemplation - and promptly scrunched his nose up at the choice of expression.
Raising and eyebrow and pulling backward from his shoulder slightly, Rhonda shook her head, "Very mad scientist." she pointed out dryly. He further screwed his face in displeasure, because really, he had so very much wanted to avoid the mad scientist thing. "But, the nerd look is in this season."
Refusing to be outdone, he scoffed loudly in protest, "I'm always in fashion, my princess." he retorted confidently. The comment earned him a serious roll of her eyes in response but, seeing as she followed it up by pressing her face back into his shoulder, he hardly cared. His eyes trailed down to the sight of her cheek pressed against his shirt and her hair tickling the skin of his arm, "I think I will miss this once you've taken the antidote..." he mumbled wistfully.
Rhonda raised her head from his shoulder slowly, and intently studied the expression on his face. "I'll keep that in mind." she promised him, "Now, where is this 'lab'?"
Having been closing in on their intended destination for the past few moments, Madame Blanche's brightly decorated storefront was now visible in the near distance. Curly waved a hand in the general direction until Rhonda's eyes flickered to the dimly lit, over-decorated, front window filled with displays of dream catchers and questionable herbs. "Madame Blanche's...?" she asked slowly for confirmation, a slight look of resignation etched across her face.
"Good resources." he explained simply with a casual shrug. 'Good; possibly being an understatement, as if he'd not had access to Madame Blanche's admittedly odd collection of ingredients, he'd never have been able to successfully brew the potion. Madame Blanche was also possibly the only adult in Hillwood crazy enough to let Curly Gammelthorpe, of all people, conduct scientific processes on her premises.
Madame Blanche's deeply green painted wooden door came within reach, and Curly pushed it open before motioning for Rhonda to enter the mystic shop. Following close behind her, they both paused when Madame Blanche tore her eyes away from what appeared to be a heavily beaded headdress she was sewing. She studied the two teens with great interest from her place behind the patterned desk, "Afternoon, children." she greeted them airily. "Do you have a vial for me?" she questioned, her eyes moving to focus on Curly.
Despite the logical conclusion that allowing the potion into the hands of yet another person was possibly far from ideal, Curly had promised her. So, wriggling a hand into his closest pocket, he drew out one of the remaining vials of the Love Potion. "I'm making an antidote now..." he informed her as he tossed the sealed tube in her direction. "Once I've mixed it, you might want to take some of that, too."
Madame Blanche caught the thrown vial with ease, and inspected the liquid as she flipped the tube over in her hands. "Oh?" she responded with an interested quirk of her eyebrow, "And why might that be?"
"It's pretty potent." he explained flatly.
Her immediate response was a sharp laugh, her eyes flickering in Rhonda's direction as she spoke, "Yes, I can see that it's potent, my child."
Curly shrugged in defeat, her point was entirely valid. Rhonda, however, didn't see to see it that way, "Oh please." she scoffed with offense at the older woman's words, "I have full control over my actions."
"Rhonda... you're attached to my arm like your life depends on it..." Curly almost laughed, but bit back the urge. Her expression showed defiance and she shrugged, although still gripping at his arm like he might slip away any moment. Assuming she hadn't realized the full extent of her actions, Curly motioned toward her torso, "Even though it's creasing your Caprini dress..."
Rhonda looked down slowly, her face flooding with panic and her eyes growing wide as she took in the view of her skewed garment. She groaned loudly, in a very un-Lloyd-like manner, "I need antidote." she griped bitterly.
Curly managed to detach himself slightly, tugging his arm free enough to made way toward the stairwell and pull Rhonda along into his basement lab. She followed closely behind him as they descended the stairs and entered the makeshift lab. Curly motioned toward a small seat in the far corner of the dimly lit room, "Might want to sit in the chair, my princess, in-case there are explosions."
"Demanding son of a-" she began to mumble to herself as she wandered into the corner, shooting him a displeased look. She huffed as she sat down into the chair, "And here I was thinking you'd bend to my every whim once I was your girlfriend."
"Girlfriend?" the incredulous question flew from his mouth immediately, and the hands which had been reaching for a bunch of necessary ingredients fell to his sides. His sudden movements almost caused a small beaker to fall from a nearby shelf.
Rhonda tilted her head and sat up straighter in her chair, "Of course!" she insisted impatiently, her normal demanding and confident tone clear as day. Curly nodded and turned back toward the cabinet, gathering the ingredients and setting them onto his workbench. He had just poured half a cup of lemon juice when he heard her small voice pick up again, her tone now wavering with uncertainty, "I am... right? Your girlfriend?" and with that, she promptly burst into tears.
Considering that she hadn't so much as sniffled since fourth grade, Curly was momentarily startled into a motionless silence. Whilst his initial reaction was to offer her comfort, more than likely in the form of kisses or affectionate hugs, she clearly needed him to finish his current task. "You need antidote..." he said with concern, frowning as he reached for the next ingredient, "I promise, I'll be quick."
Sniffling into her hands, Rhonda nodded and watched on as he shuffled around preparing and adding ingredients. It took no more than five or six more minutes, and a few quick slices and drops of carefully planned ingredients, and the potion began bubbling happily over the Bunsen burner. Curly scooped up a good dosage of a local herb, perfect to negate the stimulant chemical he utilized in the initial potion, and added it to the beaker to complete the antidote.
Quickly scanning Phoebe's calculations one final time, double-checking the correct dull blue colour had been achieved and inspecting the consistency of the liquid now resting on the bench top, Curly assured himself that the process was successfully complete. Rhonda, who had meandered over during his final evaluation, looked at him hopefully as he poured a liberal portion into a nearby plastic cup and handed it to her to consume. Without any hesitation, she sipped the entirety of the the cup's contents all at once before looking down at her hands expectantly. Curly didn't bother pointing out that her hands really had nothing to do with the potions success, and instead went about pouring vials of the antidote.
"Thaddeus Gammelthorpe!" Rhonda's voice cried out not two minutes later, breaking the peaceful silence of the lab and making Curly wince. He looked up from the vial he had been preparing and was met with the frightening glare of an angry Lloyd. "I will simply never be able to get these creases out!" she hissed. Her hands tugged as she twisted her dress helplessly, attempting to flatten and re-position her poor designer garment.
Curly grinned, "Antidote works faster than expected..." he noted proudly, honestly very impressed with his handiwork. Phoebe's too, to be fair. "How do you feel, my princess?"
Rhonda pursed her lips, "I feel fine." she grumbled, still notably displeased, "Aside from the horror of my ruined designer dress!". Her hands ran over the creases yet again, slowly smoothing them down, "I'm not feeling the potion anymore..." she continued as she managed to have the dress sit correctly on her hips once more. "No uncontrollable urges - I could easily resume my prior indifference toward you."
"Oh..." Curly managed to force out, and although he could not see his reflection, he was certain his face had paled. Perhaps not giving her the antidote wouldn't have been too unethical and he could-
"I'm not going to." she said promised with a gentle smile. Curly blinked and probably looked confused. "Charade is over - I'm Curly's girl... should I get a t-shirt?" she laughed a little at her joke but stopped short when he didn't respond.
She barely had time to tilt her head with concern before he wrapped her up into a tight hug, grinning as his arms held her tightly around the waist. Unintentionally, he lifted her slightly off the ground and she cried out in protest, "The dress, Thaddeus! You're creasing my Caprini dress!"
Curly regained his wits and set her back onto solid ground, unwrapping his arms from around her to grab for the vials lined up on his lab bench top. Dropping the antidote mixture into his bag, he extended his arm toward Rhonda and she immediately slipped her hand into his. "Time to go un-crazy our friends?"
Rhonda nodded.