Act Four, Scene Four: Mischief, thou art a-foot.

Warning- this chapter rated for suggestive teenage themes. Nothing explicit, just suggestive.

Practice was over- it was time for everyone to be going home. It seemed too soon for that, although when Neil glanced at his watch, he was surprised to see that Friday was over and it was already a little ways into Saturday. This was it; tomorrow (that is to say, today) was the show. No more rehearsals, no more calling for a line, no more abrupt pauses. Just Shakespeare. Neil slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the doors, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Hopefully he could get home and get a few hours of sleep without waking anyone.

"Neil, wait," Evey said, holding him back from the crowd going for the door. "I want to show you something," she whispered to him, glancing to see that Miss Pevensie wasn't looking and then pulling him into the scene shop.

"Evey, what-"

But Evey put a hand over his mouth, waiting for Miss Pevensie to shut the lights off in the theatre, leaving the building pitch black. "I have a surprise for you," she said, leading him into the darkened room, picking her way around set pieces and cans of paint. But it wasn't totally dark- there was a light on in the far corner, a tiny beacon out of the dark, imposing shapes of shows past and props beyond their prime.

It was a cosy hideaway, a mattress with a dubious past underneath what had some shows ago been a boardwalk of some kind, or a castle wall. A desk-lamp was clipped to one of the beams, illuminating the scene with a modest glow. "Evey, what is this?" Neil asked again, looking from the lamp to the mattress to the pillows stacked on it.

"Show opening gift for you," Evey said. "I made the bed up with sheets this afternoon, and all it requires is two willing and able young bodies."

"Evey," Neil cautioned, enthralled and afraid at the same time of what she was telling him. "We shouldn't even be here."

"We shouldn't be doing this, either," Evey said, stepping closer to him, unbuttoning his shirt. "But we are. Carpe Diem, isn't that what you say?" she asked, kissing him softly. "Seize the day? I can't think of a better way than this," she said.

"You do impeach your modesty too much." The line came out of nowhere in his mind, a scene they'd done a dozen times tonight.

"Neil, I have no modesty," Evey said flatly. "I want to be …immodest with you! I offered to be immodest the first day we met, but you were too much of a gentlemen to do it then. Well, we've known each other for nearly four months now, and I still want to be immodest. And now seems a good time to do it, because if I don't get you, someone else will at the cast party. So please," she said, pulling him closer again by his belt, "Let's be human together."

"I don't know how," Neil admitted sheepishly.

"Well, that's not hard," Evey said. "Just kiss me, and we'll get to the rest later."

Clearly it wasn't that simple – after the kissing came the undressing, which was very hard when you are struck with a sudden urge not to let the other person go, and after the undressing came the… mechanical part, which Neil was also unfamiliar with except in a purely scientific sense, but they got that eventually, with a little help from Evey and a few coaxing and suggestive sighs to speed things up a bit.

And it wasn't everything everyone said it was. "That was just the first time," Evey said, letting Neil sit back a little, catching his breath. "It gets a little better with practice. You didn't know what to expect."

"You seem to be speaking from experience," Neil accused, and Evey nodded, leaning on one elbow.

"I was on vacation in France and this really good looking grad student from the Sorbonne asked me out for drinks. Needless to say it was more than drinks, but we went out a few more times before I went home. I learned a little. Then in San Franscico last summer there was this poet in the Haight- Ashbury. A puny little man," she said, staring up at the ceiling.

"I'm not-" Neil began, and Evey laughed, looking over at him.

"Men! All concerned with one thing. No, I liked you. Just the right size," she said, reaching out to touch the offending tissue. "D.H Lawrence refered to this as John Thomas through most of Lady Chatterly's Lover," she said, her index finger petting the soft, ribbed skin. "Maybe we should call yours Robin Goodfellow."

"You're obscene," Neil said, feeling very exposed.

"Yes, Puck," Evey said decidedly. "Yes, I am. But really, you're better to look at then me. More statuesque."

It was true, Evey did not look like a statue, or at least, any Greek statue Neil had ever seen in a museum- she was a little more broad in the hips, with bigger breasts and a thick thatch of hair where her legs met. But she was magnificent, Neil thought to himself, and pretty in a different way than statues. "You're beautiful," He said aloud.

"That's him talking, not you," Evey said, peeling a strand of hair back from her forehead.

"No, I mean it," Neil said, inching closer to her. "If I could stay in this moment forever, I would."



"I should probably let you go," Evey said, sitting up and shuffling over to where their clothes were sitting, looking for her watch. "God, is that the time? I should have let you go home, Neil, it's late --"

But Neil had sat up too, wrapped his arms around her from the back, smelling her hair. It was a familiar smell; he remembered her bathrobe. "Why don't I sleep here, and go home after a few hours sleep? They'll never know the difference- I have clothes here." He pushed his nose through her hair, finding the back of her neck and kissing it. "And I'm suddenly struck with the urge not to leave you. Concern for your health, and all that."

"Neil, I'm fine," Evey said.

"See, you say that, and I don't believe you," Neil quoted, bringing her own line back to haunt her. "Maybe we'll get it right the second time," he dared.

"Now who's the wanton?" Evey asked, turning around and pouncing on him.

"Cease, Amazon! I surrender!" Neil said loudly, laughing.

"Not yet you don't," Evey commanded with a laugh.

Act four, Scene Five: The curtain rises again

Neil woke up in the morning and glanced at Evey's watch, hanging from a nearby nail- seven o'clock. Early enough to pedal back to Welton, shower and be up and about with the rest of the crew by the time they all got up. Saturdays were the only late rise days allowed at Welton, and then everyone was up by nine; the successful world did not sleep in till all hours of the day.

"You smell like girl, Perry," Charlie said suspiciously as Neil entered the showers, bathrobed, towel over his shoulder.. "What time did you get in last night?"

"Late," Neil said, smiling to the mirror. Charlie frowned and studied his friend, and, finding what he was looking for, crowed with laughter.

"Neil Perry, you did the unmentionable last night, didn't you?" he asked. Neil turned to look at Charlie, his face full of innocence.

"What makes you say a thing like that?" he asked suavely.

"Because you've got a smirk," said Charlie, pausing for effect. "And a hickey," he added. Neil lost the smirk.

"Where?" He asked, clapping a hand to the side of his neck. Charlie laughed.

"So you were expecting one! That means you did do a little something-something last night. Was it with Evelyn?"

"A gentleman never tells," Neil said stoutly.

"It was!" Charlie shouted. "Oh, you bastard. You brilliant, brilliant bastard!" he went shouting down the hall. "Atta boy, Neil, atta boy! You knock 'em dead tonight!"

Me, tasteful? HA. What's a story about teenagers exploring who they are as people without a little sex in it? I wanted to see if I could still write these silly love scenes.

Neil: I'm embarassed.

Oh, go skinny dipping with Evie.