I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I wish I had a pool. Well, you'll get it.

Beauty and the Beast: A Freak Show Fairytale

Wolfy Guardian Angel

The day was lazy, blue sky clear.

And the small hidden waterhole she'd discovered perfectly warm and cool at the same time.

She floated there, uninhibited, letting all her thoughts and worries and cares drain out of her toes.

Until she was free and light as a feather.

Ten minutes, no more.

Just ten good minutes.

Then she'd get back to the neverending chores and lists and duties of preparing for tonight's show.

But for now, she floated.

Birds chirped, squirrels argued with one another over ownership of forest nuts.

And Angelica Mayweather floated.

Her unadorned body caressed and enveloped by the warm and cool currents.

Silken tresses haloing her head as her arms drifted out from her sides.

Her fingers mindlessly curling and uncurling the strings of her life.

It was bliss.

It was heaven.

It was time to go back.

She opened her eyes.

Gazed up at the puffy white clouds overhead.

And sighed.

She would be 'handling' the Angelfaced Wolfboy tonight.

She didn't know how it would go.

She wanted the world to see his mystery.

His beauty.

Her pride in him.

She only hoped when they clapped and cheered, it would bring him joy tonight instead of shame and humiliation.

The act was fun. For both of them.

Or had been.

Lately he'd seemed slightly moody after the shows, as if something was bothering him.

But he wasn't talking.

And she was growing tired of waiting.

She stood up in the hip deep water.

Reached up and squeezed some water from her long, straight hair.

Her clothes were folded neatly on the shore, along with her towel.

She turned.

And saw him.

Michael.

Crouched behind a blueberry bush, peering at her.

His dark eyes open wide, drinking her in.

In all her bare glory.

He averted them as she gasped, ducking herself back into the water.

"Michael! What are you doing here?!"

He didn't answer, only hunkered down out of immediate sight.

She knew he wouldn't speak until she made him.

So she swam to shore, keeping herself as much under the water as possible.

Wrapped herself in the towel. And approached him.

"Michael," she repeated, much quieter and gentler. "What are you doing here?"

He did not look up, only concentrated on the stick scratching at the dirt between his shoes.

"Protecting you," he replied, voice barely more than a husky whisper. "So no one can hurt you."

She knelt carefully, long dripping hair curtaining her oval face.

Touched a gentle hand to his chin.

Made him look into her eyes.

"Michael, you don't have to worry. No one is going to hurt me."

He gazed at her.

"No."

It was not an answer but a self-assured statement.

One of the few things he ever seemed sure of.

And she found herself asking her own question.

"How often do you . . . watch over me?"

He didn't answer right away but glanced here and there around her general vicinity.

And finally back to her.

"Every time," he admitted. "To keep you safe."

She found her fingers caressing his slightly scruffy jawline.

She thought of the devotion to always be vigilant for another.

To never falter, never fail them.

She leaned forward and pecked his lips, quick and light.

"Thank you for looking out for me," she whispered.

And as his eyes darkened further, she rose, still clutching the damp towel around her.

His face dropped down and away from her again.

She began to move toward her clothes.

Then turned back.

"Michael?"

He looked up again.

A shy smile wafted across her face.

"How often you watch me?"

He grinned back, dimples embarassed.

"Well, you are very beautiful."

She knew she shouldn't smile back.

It was an invasion of privacy, really.

But that face, those eyes.

His care and sincerity.

And she smiled anyway, cheeks reddening as she tucked her wet hair behind one ear and turned away.

She dressed quickly then as he carefully kept his eyes averted from her, studying only the area around them.

Then they walked back to camp.

Together.

Not touching.

But together.

She floated up out of the dream slowly, smoothly.

Her hazy dream-like remembrance of that afternoon melting away as she became aware of the real world around her once more.

She hadn't moved yet so the aches and pains of her attack were distant and muted. Unimportant for now.

And she could appreciate other things.

Better things.

Softer things.

The relaxed darkness of the caravan.

The comfort of the pallet.

Early morning birds chattering outside.

The warmth and comfort of Michael's body resting easily against hers.

His breath deep and even.

Eyes closed again, she moved her head lazily against his arm and his embrace tightened just a little. As if drawing her close. Wanting to protect her, even in sleep.

She smiled.

And decided to stay still a little while longer.

So they did.

Nothing big and wild here, nope. 'Cause sometimes you just gotta take a break.

Hopefully Michael's vigilance didn't come across as creepy here. It really wasn't meant to.

Anyway, thanks to King Reeses, DinahRay, Cherryfreckles00, and anonymouscsifan for those lovely reviews!

Thanks also to Squintz18 for adding your support to this story.