Passing Strange
Summer has come and gone, leaving autumn in its wake. The asphalt stops sizzling with heat, the ground cools, and the leaves begin to turn beautiful oranges, yellows and reds, falling to the ground and crunching beneath Sweeney Todd's boots as he makes his way across campus after his last class of the day. The chilly October air reminds him of London, and the way the damp atmosphere clings to the skin, creeping into his bones and chilling him right down to the core. It permeates everything, taints every aspect of one's life with the icy breath of the coming winter.
It has only been a few weeks since that night at the bar, when he and Eleanor had agreed upon the terms of their relationship, and so far things have been better than he ever thought they would be. If he is being completely honest with himself, he has to admit that part of him had thought a relationship with Eleanor Lovett would be a complete disaster.
He is also willing to admit that there are still times when things are a bit...odd. But he supposes that is to be expected from two people going from enemies, to friends, to lovers. Most things have managed to stay relatively the same however, save a few exceptions. For instance, instead of retiring to the guest bedroom every night, Sweeney finds himself in Eleanor's bed with her head on his shoulder. Instead of reading until his eyes are too tired to focus on the page, his nightly routine consists of watching her fall asleep, her hair tickling his jaw, feeling her breaths slow to the deep and even pace that comes with sleep, before finally shutting his eyes and surrendering to dreams as well.
As Sweeney walks through their apartment door that evening and is greeted by the sight of a basset hound lying on the floor, slobbering on a chew toy, he is reminded of another thing that has changed. Louie no longer sleeps in Eleanor's bed, or even in her room, but on a dog bed at the end of the hall. Sweeney takes immeasurable pleasure in this, but the dog seems to know why it has been downgraded to the hallway and has since brought the war between professor and mutt to a whole new, elevated level.
Sweeney frowns as he realizes Louie isn't slobbering all over a chew toy, but rather, one of his leather boots. Growling to the point where he is practically baring his teeth like the dog on the floor, he leans down and yanks his shoe from Louie. Disdainfully holding the shoe up and away from his person, Sweeney regards the shoe laces dripping with drool and gags.
Turning sharp eyes to the dog, he sneers, "This means war, mutt."
"Darlin' are you threatenin' the dog again?" Eleanor calls from the kitchen and Sweeney is so startled at the sound of her voice that he drops the shoe, arms falling to his sides. Louie takes this opportunity to scurry over as fast as his short legs will carry him and snatch up his prize, running off down the hallway.
Sweeney glares after him, too tired to chase the dog around the apartment for a shoe he'll never wear now anyway. Instead, he meanders in the direction of the kitchen to find Eleanor standing over the stove, stirring something. "I don't threaten the dog," he gripes, putting his briefcase on the counter.
She turns to him with a knowing smile. "Right, so you were in there declarin' war against yourself, then?"
"Why are you home so early?" He asks, pointedly ignoring her last comment.
Eleanor turns back to the stove and picks up a salt shaker, shaking it over the contents of the pot. "Way to make a lady feel welcome," she says teasingly.
She freezes mid-stir when she feels him walk up behind her, arm sliding around her waist and pulling her into him. He presses his lips to the back of her neck and her grip on her wooden spoon becomes so slack that she drops it into the boiling pot. She barely notices, too wrapped up in the sweet smell of aftershave and leather. His fingers dance over stomach before settling at her hips. "Feeling welcome yet?" He asks into her ear, and she fights to keep her body from quivering at the sound of his voice.
"Y-yes, I believe so, love," she breathes, and it takes a very serious effort on her part to even manage that much.
"Good," he says, abruptly letting her go and leaning over the stove, sniffing. "What is that?"
"Priest," she says, almost automatically, still dazed from their close encounter.
He looks up at her quizzically. "What?"
Eleanor blinks, shaking her head. "Um, new spaghetti sauce recipe. What was that?"
"What was what?" He asks, poking experimentally at a tomato in the sauce.
She gestures between the two of them. "You just tried to seduce me against the oven and now you're leavin' me 'igh an' dry, that's what!"
He frowns, looking down at the sauce. "Well...I'm hungry."
Rolling her eyes, Eleanor snatches the spoon from him and swats his hand away. "Go sit down, s'almost done." He turns to take a seat on a barstool at the counter and she mutters, "Bloody frustratin' man."
When he is happily sipping a glass of wine with a plate of spaghetti in front of him, Eleanor deems it the right time to broach the subject she's been struggling with all day. Holding a slip of paper between her fingers, she watches Sweeney carefully, absentmindedly sipping her own wine.
"So," she begins, and inwardly winces because he will immediately be on his guard when she begins a conversation with 'so'. "You plannin' anythin' special tomorrow?"
He pauses in the middle of taking a bite to his mouth, and lowers his fork to his plate. "Not really. Why?"
He sounds suspicious, so Eleanor shrugs nonchalantly. "Oh, just wonderin' if you 'ad any plans, that's all."
Deciding he isn't in immediate danger of being forced to do something he doesn't want to do, Sweeney goes back to his meal. "I have a few papers left to grade but that's all."
She grins, showing him the invitation in her hand. "Excellent. So you won't mind comin' with me to a Halloween party Nate and 'is wife are throwin' tomorrow tonight?"
Choking on a bite halfway down his throat, Sweeney hurriedly reaches for his wine glass, gulping it down. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he tries not to notice Eleanor hiding her smile behind her hand and manages to regain his composure. "That wasn't fair, you tricked me."
Eleanor removes her hand from her mouth, smiling openly at him now. "All's fair in love an' war, dear."
"Eleanor, you know I hate parties," he says. "Besides, isn't tomorrow awfully short notice?"
She gives him a guilty look and he narrows his eyes at her. "I've 'ad the invitation for weeks. I just didn't show it to you 'cause I knew you'd try to find an excuse to get out of it." He gapes at her and she rushes to explain herself. "It's a costume party and I know you 'ate even regular parties, let alone ones where you 'ave to dress up but I really wanted to go and you know 'ow much I love Nate and 'is wife! I want them to meet you! And 'sides, I'm just gonna wear one of my old gowns, you can wear some of your old clothes so s'not like you'll be in costume. Please, love?" She takes a deep breath, winded from saying so much in one breath but as soon as she recovers herself, she gives him her best hopeful look, brown eyes pleading.
As annoyed as he is, Sweeney can't suppress a small smile. The sneaky little minx has gotten the best of him again, and he is growing to admire her for it. "This is important to you, is it?" He asks slowly, and she nods. Sweeney sits back in his seat leisurely, folding his hands over his stomach and closing his eyes. "Then persuade me." He opens one eye to peer at her challengingly.
For a moment, Eleanor can only gape at him in bewilderment before a vindictive smirk settles across her lips. Rising from her chair, she moves languidly to his side of the dining room table, placing her hands on his shoulders as she lowers herself to his lap, straddling him. If he wants to be persuaded, she'll use her feminine powers of persuasion to do just that.
Surprised, he opens his eyes fully to look up at her, eyebrows raised. "Yes?"
She leans down, face hovering over his invitingly. Licking her lips, she holds his steady gaze with her own. She waits a good few seconds, building up his anticipation before she finally presses her lips to his and his response is immediate. As he opens his mouth against hers, his hands find her waist, gripping tightly and pulling her nearer. Eleanor moves her hands from his shoulders to his chest, rubbing in slow, soothing circles that immediately relax his death-grip on her. Pulling away from his lips, she begins kissing along his jaw line, proceeding to the hollow beneath it and slipping out her tongue for good measure. She feels his pulse racing at her touch and smiles to herself as he squirms beneath her.
Sliding her lips back to his jaw, she places one last kiss there and then brushes his ear with her mouth; he shivers as he feels her hot whisper. "I'll give you five dollars for every person you don't growl at."
Shocked to his senses again, Sweeney stares as Eleanor straightens in his lap, looking down at him primly. "What?" He manages to spit out, sufficiently addled by her powers of persuasion.
She smiles, a provocative smirk that makes him shift uncomfortably against her. "If you come with me to this party, I'll make it interestin' for you. I'll give you five dollars for every person you don't growl at like a bloody bear."
Regarding her with a hint of interest, Sweeney tries to clear the lust-induced haze his mind has become in order to think clearly. "Are you trying to bribe me?"
Tilting her head to the side, she concedes, "Maybe. Are you above a bribe?"
"Not always," he answers, eyes drawn to the bare thigh revealed to him in the pencil skirt she'd chosen for the day. "What are the stakes?"
Brightening now that he is deciding to play along, Eleanor purses her lips in thought. "You go, in costume," she emphasizes, "and I'll give you five dollars every time you're sensibly polite."
"Make it ten," he counters, not about to let her have her way.
She squints at him, toying idly with his black necktie. "Seven dollars and I'll throw in a massage. An' if you end up with less than thirty dollars by the end of the night, you pay me and I get the massage."
"Fine," he bites out, as if she has just handed him the biggest burden he will ever bear.
Smiling brightly, Eleanor slides from his lap and wanders back to her side of the table, picking up her glass of wine.
Feeling oddly unsatisfied, Sweeney stares glumly at his plate, no longer hungry for food. He looks to Eleanor, watching as she goes about her meal like she hadn't been in his lap just seconds ago. "You're a tease," he accuses darkly.
Around a mouthful of wine, Eleanor counters, "An' you're a manipulative bastard. We're a perfect match, love."
For once, Sweeney cannot argue with her.
--
The following night, Sweeney is reluctant to go home, knowing that when he does, he will have to put on clothes he hasn't worn since the 1800's and drive to a country house outside the city for a Halloween party he has no interest in. The only thing that keeps his feet headed toward their apartment is that when he wins this bet with Eleanor, he'll have a massage to look forward to.
When he walks through the door, he finds Eleanor in her bedroom, leaning toward the mirror over her dresser, applying the last of her lipgloss. She sees him through the mirror and turns to face him, accompanied by the rustle of fabric. She has already put on her costume, and he recognizes it as an old gown of hers from their days on Fleet Street. As she nervously reaches up to fluff at the curls piled on top of her head, he dimly notices she has even managed to find her old black lace gloves. For the most part, he can only bring himself to stare stupidly as she adjusts her corset, turning back to the mirror to make any last finishing touches.
"What do you think?" She asks, twirling playfully just to feel her skirts whirl about her ankles.
Blinking, Sweeney clears his throat. "Nice," he says vaguely, when truth be told, he wants to ask her how he'd managed to keep his hands off of her for as long as he did.
"Just 'nice'?" She asks, quirking an eyebrow as she makes her way toward him. He can tell by the look on her face that she knows she looks better than 'nice'. "You've lived 'ow long now an' you still don't know 'ow to compliment a woman?" Standing in front of him now, she slides her arms around his neck and looks up at him. "Wanna try that again?"
He pretends to think for a moment before saying, "What about 'alright'?" She shakes her head, sending a glare his way. "Pretty?" She wrinkles her nose. Finally giving in, Sweeney lowers his head and suggests lowly, "Enchanting? Stunning? Beautiful? Any of those working for you, pet?"
Eleanor gives him a coy smirk, eyes dancing at his words, however prompted they might have been. "I think I'll take all of the above."
She moves to turn from him and finish getting ready but he catches her wrist as she pulls away. "Do we really have to go?" He draws her into him, hands resting on her tiny waist. "I'm sure we could find other ways to pass the time besides going to a party out in the country." His lips find her neck and her breath hitches in her throat. "Come on Nellie," he murmurs into the scented skin of her neck.
Up until this point she had lost herself in the way his words seem to roll off his tongue like silk, and the feel of his muscled chest against hers, but when he uses her nickname, she is brought crashing back to the present, eyes snapping open. He so rarely uses the nickname, but when he does, it is sure to garner her attention. She glowers up at him. "It's either Nate's party or the Halloween Parade in Greenwich Village in a few weeks."
He growls low in his throat and Eleanor makes a clucking noise with her tongue. "Uh uh, love. That's not goin' to win you any money tonight."
"The bet said I had to be civil to other guests, you never said anything about yourself," he clarifies, eyeing the outfit she has put out on the bed for him.
"Well excuse me for thinkin' it was implied," she snaps, turning back to the mirror. "Now put on those clothes. We're goin' to be late."
"Wouldn't want that," Sweeney mutters under his breath.
Eleanor leaves the room to put out Louie's food for the night and when Sweeney comes out of the bedroom, she has a sudden flashback to a murderous barber pacing his shop wielding a razor, glaring at her when she came in to deliver his breakfast. Swallowing, Eleanor walks up to the former barber and adjusts his cravat, smiling thinly. "There you are, love."
"Let's get this over with," he mumbles and she sighs, feeling as though she is dragging along an unruly child rather than the man she is sharing a bed with.
The drive out of the city to Nathan's country house is a long one for the two occupants of the rented car. Sweeney passes the time tapping his fingers against the steering wheel impatiently, still pouting, and Eleanor uses the confined space to her advantage, annoying her companion with her song selections and singing along with the radio whenever a particularly filthy rap song comes across the airwaves.
Pulling up into the circular driveway as the sun begins to set, Sweeney switches off the engine and turns to Eleanor. "How long do we have to be here? I need something to look forward to."
Eleanor turns her eyes skyward. "Oh for heaven's sake. It's a party, not a bloody torture chamber." Gathering her skirts, she opens her car door, setting off the indoor light. "No one is askin' you to be the life of the party. Just stand around and be civil."
Stepping onto the wrap-around porch that creaks comfortingly under her light steps, Eleanor can see through the windows how crowded the house has become, and she idly wonders how many people from the hospital have shown up. Not seconds after she presses the doorbell, the front door swings open and they are welcomed with open arms into the swarming mass of party-goers.
"Ellie, I knew you'd make it," Nathan pulls her into a one-armed hug and his wife hands her and Sweeney a cup of punch.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, dear," Eleanor pats his cheek affectionately before turning and reaching out for Sweeney's hand, pulling him into the group from where he stands on the sidelines. "Nate, I want you to meet my- " She falters suddenly, unsure. What is she supposed to call him? Her boyfriend? Her partner-in-crime? Her partner? Her attempted murderer? Her special friend?
"Sweeney Todd," the man in question finishes for her, sending her an inquiring glance.
"Ah," Nathan smiles knowingly. "The man himself. I've heard a lot of gossip about you. Between Carol and Ellie gabbing all day, I feel like I know everything about you." He laughs, and Eleanor elbows Sweeney discreetly when she senses a sneer making its way across his face.
"Massage," she murmurs a reminder through her teeth, and he changes his facial expression to the most pleasant he can muster. She can only grin at how forced it looks and as Nate and his wife wander off to mingle with their other guests, Eleanor spots Carol hurrying toward her in a french maid costume, dragging with her a man dressed as a butler. "Carol's comin' this way so be nice." She turns to Sweeney, not caring that the look she is giving him falls under the category of begging.
The look on his face morphes into one of complete horror. "Isn't that the woman with the ability to undress me with her eyes?" He asks, and Eleanor has to stifle a giggle at the trepidation in his voice.
"She'll hardly be hittin' on you tonight," she whispers. "She 'as 'er fiancé with 'er."
"Like that's never stopped a woman before," he mumbles and slips his arm loosely around her waist. Normally, Eleanor would have thought this a sweet gesture, but now she knows he is only doing it so Carol will leave him alone.
Carol finally reaches them, stopping to adjust her fishnet stockings, before looking up at them, grinning from ear to ear as she brandishes her feather duster. "Guess what I am," she asks, laughing.
"A nun," Eleanor deadpans and Sweeney snorts next to her.
Ignoring them, Carol takes Eleanor by the hands, and steps back to get a good look at her. "Oh my gosh, I'm so jealous. Victorian period clothing!" She fingers the lace of the dress, in awe. "This is gorgeous! Is that an actual whalebone corset?" Eleanor nods. "I can't believe how authentic this dress looks! Which costume shop did you go to?" Carol gasps. "Oh, it was that one on 72nd wasn't it? Ugh, I knew I should have gone there!"
"Yes," Eleanor glances up at Sweeney with a knowing smile. "That one on 72nd."
"Listen," Carol says, leaning in. "I need you to help me out in the bathroom. My bustier needs adjusting." She glances at Sweeney with a sweet smile. "And how are you, Professor Todd?"
Eleanor watches Sweeney swallow uncomfortably and grins. " 'E's jus' lovely," she pats his arm. "I'll be back in a tick love, make nice with Tom while I'm gone."
Before Sweeney can object, she disappears into the crowd with her blonde sidekick and he is left with a man he doesn't know. Turning uneasily to look at the man standing just as awkwardly next to him, Sweeney clears his throat. "Your fiancé, is it?" Tom nods, giving him a nervous smile, and Sweeney is struck by how different the man's personality is from Carol's. "Do you find her as frightening as I do?" He asks, genuinely curious.
Tom scoffs lightly. "At least you don't live with her."
At this thought, Sweeney can only shudder. "My condolences, lad."
For the remainder of their wait, the two men are mostly silent, but it is much more comfortable than it had previously been. Sweeney is just beginning to feel claustrophobic around all the unfamiliar people when he finally spots Eleanor pushing her way through the crowd.
"I think that punch is spiked," she remarks on her return. "Frankenstein just tried to feel me up on my way over 'ere!" She laughs when Sweeney's glaring eyes begin searching out the crowd for the offending ghoul. "Come on, love. A few of us are gonna try and make our way through the corn maze in the backyard."
He frowns. "It's dark, you'll get lost."
Taking his arm, she begins tugging him toward the door. "That's half the fun, silly man."
In the span of a few minutes, Sweeney finds himself in the middle of a corn maze, alone with Eleanor in the dark of night, and while he can hear the others in different parts of the maze, he cannot see them.
Eleanor is clutching at his arm as they stumble blindly through the labyrinth with nothing but a lone flashlight. "Can I ask why you thought this would be fun?" Sweeney grumbles, directing his flashlight to a suspicious rustling in the corn. It turns out to be only a cat, a tabby with eyes glowing in the dark.
Cooing at it, Eleanor bends down to scoop it up into her arms. "Oh aren't you adorable?" She holds the cat up to get a better look, smiling when the tabby nuzzles her cheek and purrs contentedly. "Such a cute little pussy cat."
"Don't get any ideas," he says, feeling the question 'can we keep it?' is on the tip of her tongue. "One animal in the apartment is more than enough."
"Apparently not," she says teasingly. "I kept you even after Louie moved in, didn't I?"
"You're not funny," he snaps, and she goes back to cooing at the cat.
She is satisfied with focusing her attention on the animal for a few more minutes while he tries to navigate through another one of her bad ideas, but then she looks up suddenly, expression thoughtful in the dim glow of the flashlight. "You know how earlier, I tried to introduce you to Nathan and 'is wife, but stopped?"
He nods, then realizes she probably isn't looking at him but at the cat. "Yes, and?"
"Well," she prompts. "I stopped because I dunno what to call you."
"Call me?" He furrows his brow in confusion and she sighs.
"Y'know, the status of our relationship," she hisses quietly, as if someone else might hear but Sweeney is beginning to think they are the only ones left in this godforsaken maze. "I feel too old to call you my boyfriend."
"Then don't," he suggests, squinting into the dark. It looks like a turn up ahead, but as they grow closer, he realizes it is just another dead end and takes Eleanor by the elbow, turning her around with him to go back the way they'd come.
She huffs at his lack of an opinion on the matter. "Partner makes it sound like we're denied our right to marriage in most states. An' special friend sounds like a Barney the Dinosaur episode on PBS!"
"Would you stop prattling on so I can think straight," he snaps, and she quiets immediately.
They make a turn to the right, then to the left, find themselves at another dead end, and backtrack to their last turn. "I just don't know 'ow to introduce you to people," Eleanor continues as though he hadn't told her just minutes ago to shut up.
"You need a definition of our relationship?" He asks, stopping in the middle of the cornfield to look at her.
She squints in the glow of the flashlight. "No," she says dubiously. "But I would like one."
"Eleanor," he begins, trying to remain calm. "We have known each other for nearly two hundred years. We were tenant and landlady, business partners, enemies, friends and now we're sleeping together. I don't care what sort of name you want to give it. Call me your bloody man-whore for all I care, just stop talking about it!"
Biting down on her bottom lip, she stares up at him. "Callin' you my man-whore is 'ardly appropriate for polite society." Giving up, Sweeney takes her by the arm again and continues stalking through the cornfield, growing increasingly frustrated. "Are you lost?"
"No," he answers, gritting his teeth.
"Are you sure? I could 'ave sworn we just passed that corn stalk fifteen minutes ago," she says, and he can practically hear the sly grin in her voice.
"You're not - "
"Funny," she parrots dutifully. "I know, love." If she could see him now, a murderous gleam in his eye, teeth bared, she would not think this so amusing. "Y'know, I forgot 'ow much I despise these bloody corsets." Her monologue continues without regard to his particular mood, and he lets go of her arm to see if he can peer over the top of the maze to find the way out.
"No one said you had to tie it so tightly," he says distractedly, cursing under his breath when he can't see over the top.
She frowns, scratching the tabby cat in her arms behind the ears. "Just wanted to see if I could still fit into it."
"Of course you can," he says peevishly. "You're exactly the same size you were hundreds of years ago!" He directs the flashlight at her to see her beaming at him, and although he doesn't understand what is so special about what he'd said, she reaches out and takes his hand in hers, lacing her fingers through his.
"Alright," she sighs. "Let's see if we can get outta 'ere. Didn't 'appen to bring a map with ya, did you, love?"
"No," he says dryly. "I'm afraid the front desk was all out."
Taking the flashlight from him, Eleanor balances it and the cat, marching determinedly in a random direction. Sweeney sighs. "You're only going to succeed in getting us even more lost, Eleanor." She disappears around a corner, and he follows the sound of her rustling skirts to catch up. "Eleanor, would you - " He stops abruptly, seeing Eleanor in front of him, grinning like a Cheshire cat and standing in the middle of Nathan's backyard, outside the cornfield.
"Found it," she says timidly, knowing what a blow to his ego this will be.
As he stalks past her with a stormy expression, he snarls, "I made it easier for you."
This reply is very much like the age-old 'I loosened the jar first' argument, but Eleanor only nods sympathetically, hurrying to catch up with him. "Of course ya did, dear. An' I was just followin' your brilliant example." When she follows this statement with a fit of giggles, Sweeney pouts for the remainder of the evening, but Eleanor knows it's all a part of having a relationship with any man on earth - they never stop to ask for directions.
--
He supposes it had been his own fault in the end. Leaving out his briefcase on the coffee table is practically like the thing vocally begging Eleanor to snoop, and of course, it doesn't help matters that the damned flyer had been sticking out, half in and half out of the case. Like a red flag waving her down. How appropriate.
In honor of Halloween, the college is planning a Scarefest movie night in the university theater. Students and faculty were invited to bring friends, blankets and pillows, and the popcorn would be provided. Eleanor, being the social butterfly she is, naturally thought this sounded just marvelous. Now, while Sweeney is trying to grade his papers at the dining room table, she is in the midst of convincing him to attend.
"No," he shakes his head firmly. "You're not talking me into this one, Eleanor."
Pushing away a wayward auburn curl, Eleanor props her elbows up on the mahogany table top, frowning. "But love, this sounds like fun! 'Ow can you not want to go and see horror movies? 'S downright inhuman, it is."
Red pen poised above Kurtis Russell's essay on the Salem Witch Trials, Sweeney sighs heavily. "I have no desire to sit through half a dozen horror flicks with people I am forced to see at work every day."
Eleanor leans forward, opens her mouth to protest, but he beats her to the chase.
"You are always dragging me to things I don't want anything to do with," he says, expertly writing a neat 'D' in the corner of the paper in bright red ink. "But this time I'm putting my foot down. No Scarefest."
She sighs, slumping back in her chair, defeated. "Well...what if we 'ave our own Scarefest?" Eleanor smiles, trailing her foot up his leg underneath the table. "Just you an' me, a bottle of wine and Freddy Kreuger." Her foot inches higher up his leg, sliding along his thigh. "What do you say, love?"
"I - " He stops to clear his throat when his voice comes out sounding strangled. "I wouldn't be opposed to the idea."
"Smashing," she says, obviously satisfied with herself.
He growls and shoves her foot from his lap in order to concentrate on the essays in desperate need of grading. How is it that even when she doesn't get her way, she still gets her way? Sweeney Todd is slowly coming to realize what every man in a relationship already knows, he is being trained to be a whipped puppy.
Their very own Scarefest commences the following night, when Eleanor comes home from work carrying a large stack of DVDs under one arm. "What did you do, buy out Blockbuster?" He asks as she tosses them into his lap. Picking them up, he flips through the collection of movies idly. "The Shining, Halloween, Psycho, Lost Highway, The Exorcist, Rosemary's Baby, The Sixth Sense, Nightmare on Elm Street, Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Friday the 13th." He glances up at her in disbelief as she struggles with a package of popcorn. "You can't possibly expect to watch all of these in one night?"
Eleanor smiles, finally using her teeth to yank open the plastic wrapping. "Nope. Five night rentals, love." Beginning to walk toward the kitchen, she says, "Pick one to watch first, I'll make the popcorn!" He shakes his head, finding her enthusiasm as irritating as ever.
They're in the middle of the second movie, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, popcorn bowls and stray kernels littering the floor and candy wrappers and empty bottles of soda and beer on the coffee table. The living room is dark except for the glow of the television, on which the two people on the sofa are transfixed. Sweeney Todd sits very still, eyes glued on the television, and Eleanor sits next to him, legs in his lap, chewing nervously on her nails, eyes wide.
"Don't go in there," she whispers to the girl on the television, desperate to save her from her obvious fate. "Oh you stupid bloody girl, you're goin' to die now!"
Sweeney shoots her a glare and she closes her mouth promptly, going back to chewing her nails in anxious anticipation. He turns back to the screen just as the girl lets out a shrill scream, and he jumps noticeably, the beer bottle in his hand slipping from his grip and he scrambles to catch it again before it hits the floor. Having recovered his alcohol, he leans back against the sofa cushions and hears a soft giggle. Stealing a glance to his counter-part, he finds her holding a hand over her mouth, cheeks red from trying to contain her amusement. Hand tightening on the neck of his bottle, he fixes her with a contemptible glare. "I was not scared. I was startled. There's a difference, Eleanor."
Tears are pricking the corners of her eyes as she nods vehemently, hand still clamped over her mouth. "Yes, love," she squeaks out.
As he warily turns his eyes back to the movie after shooting her one last warning glance, he hears her quiet snickers and from the corner of his eye, he sees her body start to shake from her efforts. Turning on her with a disgruntled sigh, he snaps, "It's not that bloody funny."
She finally breaks into hysterics, laughter pouring from her mouth as she wipes away tears. "Oh I'm sorry dear," she breathes. "It's just...the look on your face." She giggles to herself and he returns his attention to the movie, arms crossed over his chest. "You goin' to pout now?" She asks, still giggling. His only answer is to shove her legs from his lap. Crawling toward him, Eleanor curls up on his lap, smiling into the heated skin of his neck. "I'm sorry, t'wasn't funny."
"No," he says, and he shifts against her. Seconds later, she feels a rain of popcorn pouring over her head, salt and kernels catching in her hair, her clothes, and pooling in her lap. She gapes at him in outrage, open mouthed. He smirks. "That was funny."
"You bastard!" At the haughty look on his face, Eleanor reaches out and snatches his beer bottle from him before he can react, pouring its contents down the front of his white shirt. "Darlin', you should really be more careful with your drinks. It'll take forever to get that stain out."
Shocked by the cold beverage soaking his chest, he bites out tersely, "Harlot."
"Jerk."
"Conniving Jezebel!"
"Arrogant prick," she fires back.
They stare at each other for a full moment, eyes locked and neither of them moving. The look in Sweeney's eyes changes from that familiar vengeful glare to something else she can't identify, but the expression makes her stomach quiver. She licks her lips, tasting the salt from the popcorn bowl he'd dumped on her head, but as his mouth covers hers, all she can taste is the odd combination of beer and licorice. She closes her eyes with a sigh and wraps an arm around his neck, somehow knowing in the back of her mind, that Scarefest has been postponed indefinitely.
--
Man does not control his own fate; the women in his life do that for him...
Halloween is one of Urd's favorite human holidays, and she has waited in eager anticipation to see how her two favorite mortals will celebrate. She had been as reluctant as Todd to see them head off to a costume party, but she has to admit how very amusing it had been to see them dressed like the barber and the baker they used to be, traipsing around in a cornfield in the middle of the night. She smiles even now as she thinks of it.
Watching their small tiff on the sofa after Todd's startled jump during their movie night, Urd can only shake her head. Nearly two hundred and they still have moments where they act not a day over five years old.
Skuld leans over her sister's shoulder, peering at the two as well. "My money's on the redhead. She's scrawny but she can really pack a punch." Urd swats her away, smiling. She turns back to the pair to see a rather heated situation, and she waves the image away to give them their privacy.
"Things are going well?" Verdandi asks, and Urd can tell by the sound of her voice how much she is hoping for a positive answer.
Urd nods. "Things are going well." She stands, beginning to pace back and forth, her robes dusting the floor. "She gives him the spontaneity he needs, and he gives her the stability and sensibility she craves."
Verdandi looks puzzled. "So what's the matter?"
"Indeed," Skuld steps in front of her sister in an effort to make her stand still. "Why the pacing?"
Urd neatly sidesteps her sister to begin her pacing anew. "It's too perfect."
Verdandi lets out a soft laugh. "That's absurd, sister."
"It's not," Urd insists. "They're getting along, barely even arguing."
Skuld sighs. "Things aren't going well and you worry. Things are going well and you still worry. You're impossible to please!"
"I agree," Verdandi joins in. "They're acting the way they always have, only now they have the benefit of being a couple."
Urd bites down on her bottom lip, uncertainty evident in her expression. "I just don't know. Healthy couples fight, I've seen enough of them in my day to know. They still have things left unsaid, issues to get over! They're not even close to saying those three magic words!"
Realization dawning, Skuld takes a step back, waving her hands. "Oh no. You can't possibly be thinking what I think you are."
"Maybe," Urd ventures.
"You're going to get them to argue, aren't you?" Verdandi asks, crestfallen.
"Well I think it is for the best, really." Urd sighs. "Either I can stage one for them that they can eventually get over and that will bring them closer together, or I leave it to them and the tension mounts until it results in a huge blowout they may never recover from."
Skuld looks resigned, knowing once her sister has made up her mind, there is no use trying to change it. "Just know," she says with reluctance. "That I think this is not a wise decision."
"Duly noted," Urd answers distractedly, mind already occupied with scheming, the most smug and cunning grin making its way across her face.
A/N-Hey gals(at least I'm pretty sure you're all gals. If not, apologies)! How was your fourth of July weekend? Mine totally sucked. My weekend involved a trip to the ER, a nice IV and my first 'peeing in a cup' experience. Endless entertainment, right there. No fireworks and none of those awesome looking chocolate brownies:( Total bummer. Anyhow, just thought I'd explain the reason this chapter is late getting up is because I've been doped up on meds for days.LOL Oh, and the quote is by Groucho Marx;) Review!
Bloody Pumpkinhead-Thanks so much! I know it was mean of me to scare you all, but I couldn't help myself. Hopefully you'll forgive Sweeney for needing a caffeine fix;) Thanks for the review!
MK-Aw, thank you! I hope you're not disappointed with how their new relationship is coming along, it's difficult to keep them in character and still smooch.LOL Thanks for the review and I hope you had fun on your vacation!
lucyfer-I'm sure you're really "eager" for this chapter, with how long I made you wait, but hopefully you're still checking for updates and didn't give up on me:D Seriously though, your constant checking is awesome, I do that with a few stories I'm obsessed with in this fandom. Thanks SO much for the awesome review, and the blush-worthy compliments. I really appreciate it!