Chapter 2 – Art and Animals
-:-:-
Here was the thing about Chadwick. Chad. Chaddie.
The idiot.
He was oblivious. Mal didn't know if this was a coping mechanism or just the unfortunate hand genetics had dealt him, but he was, as Mal had initially suspected, blissful in his ignorance. He was always cheerful about the smallest things, which made sense for a child of the Isle who needed to hold onto a loaf of barely-moldy bread or a jacket with only a few tears in it and less sense for a guy that would be ruling a kingdom one day.
But there it was. Chad smiled at flowers and spent his mornings feeding corn and shit to ducks, he hummed to himself while he walked down the hall, he seemed delighted by the prospect of homework, but most of all, he smiled at Mal.
And also Doug – let Mal never forget Chad's 'roommate Doug', who Chad seemed to enjoy discussing at length, likely because the poor asshole had been putting up with the relentless sunshine that was Chad for the past year.
Of her two new pets, Doug was the more tolerable. Doug seemed to understand that Mal lacked a certain cultural knowledge that hadn't translated over to the Isle and was always quick to rectify that ignorance in as helpfully neutral a fashion as possible. Doug wasn't a social player in Auradon Prep, but he had a lot of pull with the non-royal kids by way of being one of the smartest – dominating the extra curriculars that weren't favored by royals like academic decathlon, marching band (he was in-line to become drum major, whatever that was), and treasurer of the Sophomore Student Council.
Doug was a nerd, but Doug was a useful nerd.
Chad, Mal was beginning to realize, was just sort of a mess. He reminded her a lot of Gil, and in a way she resented that because she didn't want to be a sucker like Uma with a braindead henchman she had to keep an eye on all the time, but she took comfort in reminding herself that 1) Chad was way prettier than Gil any day and 2) he was a damn prince. That meant something to some people.
It certainly meant a lot to Mal, who got to invent spells to rock that prince's world until he was at his most vulnerable and reaching towards her with wide, hopeful eyes.
The first Monday after they started dating, Chad had approached Mal while she was alone (having already waved the others on while she scouted the area – Auradon folk seemed to be less alarmed by females, because they were stupid) with Doug in tow.
"Hey," he greeted, seeming so pleased by her presence that he was practically bouncing in place. "Can I hold your hand?"
"Why the fuck would we do that?" Mal asked, wondering if he was attempting to make a joke or something. Why would she sacrifice one of her hands, willingly handicapping herself in public? She wasn't that certain in her safety.
Doug cleared his throat. "That's something dating couples do, sometimes."
"But we don't have to do it," Chad rushed to say. "You're not um- obligated or anything just 'cuz we're dating. That's why I wanted to ask."
Fucking Auradon people.
"You purposefully display your relationships here?" Mal asked, aiming the question at Doug.
She knew Audrey had been open about her claim on Ben, but as heirs of two of the biggest kingdoms in Auradon, that had seemed like a power move. Something to assert her dominance.
"Most of the time," Doug said.
"We don't have to do that, if you want," Chad added, getting a startled look from Doug. "If that makes you more comfortable, I mean. We can keep it a secret! Like, a special secret, just for us."
Mal knew, at this point, that Chad was scrambling to appease her because he had not been lying about not having friends. Despite the fact that Doug had definitely had his dick inside the prince, Chad probably saw his roommate's connection as fair weather, and was eager to please them to confirm that they'd stay. In a very small way, it reminded Mal of Evie. But like, the weakest parts of her.
But then Doug was nodding, thoughtful. As the smart one, he'd already put together the fact that they didn't have dating on the Isle. They didn't have displays of affection. Well, few that didn't get you killed.
"Whatever you're comfortable with," Doug said, giving her a small grin. The downside to being the smart one was that Doug wasn't as blindly devoted to Mal as Chad was. In reality, Doug had likely only submitted to this arrangement so he could get a piece of Chad, or because of some misguided noble compulsion to help Mal navigate Auradon social expectations or whatever.
It was ultimately irrelevant. As long as Mal got what she wanted, things were fine.
"We keep it to ourselves," Mal declared. "This is ours, not theirs."
Fuck appearances and fuck the rest of Auradon, Mal didn't feel like sharing with them. She was a greedy dragon, and this was her hoard.
"Okay," Chad chirped, seeming to entirely believe this. "Then um- see you after school? I have Tourney practice and Doug has marching band rehearsal but um- we could always- if you want to meet up to do art things or sword things-" He blushed furiously. "Like um- actual sword things-"
"I'll meet you in your dorm room later," Mal declared with a roll of her eyes, and Chad lit up like she had offered him an actual hoard of treasure.
Ugh, to be stupid.
-:-:-
Here was the other dumb thing about Chad, amongst the growing list of irritations that were not nearly as big of deterrents as they should be.
The dude liked animals.
A lot.
He whistled with birds, he gave squirrels part of his lunch (Mal witnessed this from afar since their relationship was a secret), and on the odd occasion, he'd go out in the fucking rain to rescue them.
Mal hadn't been looking for Chad, exactly. It was another Saturday, and while Carlos was probing for a technological loophole to get them through the museum's defenses, Evie was sewing in her corner with the money Mal had gotten from makeovers (like these Auradon shits weren't already pretty) while Mal sprawled across their window seat for no other reason than the fact she could, and the water couldn't get her because the windows weren't shattered or broken or cracked, so she could stay perfectly dry and stress draw while counting down the minutes until she could sneak off and coax Doug into letting her sex spell him.
Another drawback to being smart, he was understandably and appropriately nervous about that. It was as irritating as it was invigorating.
But Mal did love a challenge.
She was considering her options, making a list of suitable arguments (because Doug appreciated that sort of thing, he was on the Debate Team for evil's sake) when she caught a flicker of movement outside the window, towards one of the many scenic gardens that littered the school's campus. Her survivals instincts had her tracking the movement on reflex, and after a second or two to adjust for the torrent of falling rain, Mal saw the drenched form of fucking Chad crouched down in front of some bushes, holding out his hand like an offering.
The dumb fuck.
He'd probably found another baby bird or some shit. And he was just going to stay out there, in the rain, risking an illness that probably wouldn't kill him because they were in Auradon instead of the Isle, just so he could look at it.
Mal found herself moving before it was a conscious decision, her sketchbook abandoned on her mostly bare desk as she strolled towards the door to the room.
"You going to check on the boys?" Evie asked, looking up from the hem she was ironing.
"I'm gonna investigate something," Mal decided – the best lies based in truths. "Don't wait up for me, and make sure Carlos fucking eats something."
"I will," Evie sighed, saddened that she would have to get to that point rather than being put off by the order itself. Carlos' paranoia was entirely justified after the torments he'd endured at the hands of Cruella, but if he didn't start eating some of the food provided by this fucking school instead of scavenging shit on his own, Mal was going to have to start force feeding him, which was the last thing she wanted. Carlos was the one who was currently being the most useful in their plot to steal Fairy Godmother's wand, she didn't need to throw him off his game by putting him in a corner, but if she had to-
Well, there was a reason she was the leader.
Mal braced herself for the falling rain just before she pushed out into it, and while it was relentless, of course it was nicer too. On the Isle, rain ranged from humid, sticky, and unbearably hot to freezing cold bullets that drilled into your skin. There was nothing pleasant about it, aside from the prospect of collecting some drinking water, assuming no one stole your collectors.
Here, the rain was heavy but cool and refreshing, plastering Mal's hair against her head as she marched through the downpour.
"-kitty," Chad was cooing through the rain, snapping his fingers. "Come on, kitty. I know you're wet."
"Chad," Mal snapped, her voice loud enough to make him jump. "What the hell, you idiot? You're going to get sick."
Even through the thick sheet of water, she could see Chad blink up at her, surprised by her presence, and then immediately delighted. "It's okay," he said, because one could casually toy with colds in fucking Auradon. "I'll risk getting sick if I can save the kitty."
"What kitty?" Mal snapped, and then she followed the line of Chad's finger, staring into the shadowy recesses of the bush.
There, of course, was a small slip of a kitten, soaked to the bone and shivering, and of course Chad had somehow spotted it because Chad could locate every animal within a ten-mile radius with seemingly no effort.
"Here, kitty-kitty," Chad sang, holding his hand out again. "If you come with me, we can get you some place dry with a nice bed."
"Why are you doing this?" Mal asked, sick of Chad's casual generosity. "No one's going to give a shit if you help a cat."
Chad paused again, looked back up to her. "I mean… I will."
Of fucking course, he would. Mal was about to snap out another frustrated accusation when a shadow fell over them, and then the rain suddenly stopped.
Well, not completely, just around them because Doug was there, holding this weird looking contraption covered in material that kept the rain at bay.
"It's an umbrella," he said, answering her unvoiced question as he tucked his coat – seemingly water-resistant – closer to him. Now that he said it, Mal recognized the metal skeleton of the umbrella. She'd never seen a whole one before – they likely never made it in one piece to the Isle – or were stripped for material at the earliest possible opportunity. "What are you guys doing?"
"Cat," Chad said, pushing wet curls out of his face. "Hey kitty, look. It's all dry under here, see?" He pet a hand against the grass surrounding him. "Would you like to join us under here?"
"It can't understand you," Mal said, feeling restless, the same way she always did when Chad doted something with affection that really didn't deserve it.
"It can understand my tone, can't you, kitty?" Chad asked, waving his hand again. "Please? Please, come over? I promise, we're not scary."
Doug and Mal said nothing as Chad continued to whisper encouragements to the cat. Mal wanted to snap that it was useless, that this was a waste of time, and yet like almost every other time Chad went off on his own, she waited, wanting to see what would happen.
After five minutes of coaxing, the small kitten finally crept out of its hiding space and nuzzled against Chad's leg, looking up at him with wide, needy eyes.
"There, you go," Chad cooed, picking the kitten up and cradling him against his chest. "You did such a good job! I'm proud of you, kitty."
"We should get it inside," Doug said. "All of you guys. You're soaked through."
"Not yet," Chad said, pointing them towards the parking circle where the few vehicles that visited Auradon Prep drove to. "We've got to get this guy to the shelter."
"Shelter?" Mal echoed as Chad fumbled for his phone, likely summoning his driver. Most of the young royals had those, drivers. Chad didn't seem to think it was weird, but he didn't seem to think most things were weird.
"Yeah, yeah," Chad said, grinning up at her. "It's great, you'll love it!"
-:-:-
One step into the building known as the 'shelter', and Mal understood Chad's enthusiasm for the place.
It was filled. With animals.
Brightly colored and well-lit, the place was homey and seemed filled to the brim with an assortment of animals. Mal had spelled the water off their bodies (and kitty's dumb fur) in the limo, so the group that trudged into the shelter was slightly less ragtag than before. Without the distraction, it was impossible for Mal to miss that the facility seemed an awful lot like a fucking jail.
"What's with the cages?" Mal murmured, keeping her voice low so she wouldn't freak Chad out. It still earned her a concerned look from Doug that Chad completely missed.
"That's where the animals stay!" the prince chirped. "When they're not getting walked or bathed or being seen by the doctor or having free time!" He looked at the deceptively cheerful cages. "They actually aren't in there much, but that's where they sleep until someone comes and adopts them."
Mal stared at his earnest expression, at the tiny kitten that was tucked into the front of his hoody, its head poking up just over the neck of the material.
She turned to Doug. "Explain."
"Right." Doug nodded. "Cats and dogs are considered domesticated animals – so in non-woodland areas, they're kept as pets. That means someone has to be responsible for them, so when you see an animal struggling on its own in a city or town, it's our civic duty to bring it in to a shelter. At a shelter, families that are looking for pets can come and adopt them and take them home, normally after completing an application that proves they can adequately handle the responsibility of owning a pet."
"This is the shelter I donate too!" Chad chirped. "Most shelters are non-profits, or they're kingdom-sanctioned. I um- do charity runs for this one. It's one of the best! Animals can come get the medical treatment and rehabilitation they need in order to go to their forever homes."
"So…" Mal began slowly, to ensure she had gotten things right. "This is a holding station so people can come look at unwanted animals and… take them home with them?"
On the Isle it was useful to have dogs because they were protectors, but few of the dogs she saw here seemed to fit that bill. Most seemed cheerful, eagerly jumping for attention, while others seemed content to pass out on their fluffy beds.
Even Auradon's animals were treated better than the Isle kids.
"Hey, Chad!" A guy behind the desk greeted – a chill looking dude with stubble on his chin and the same smooth hands all Auardon shits maintained. "Did you find another one?"
"Hey, Fagin!" Chad cheered, apparently on first-name terms with this rando. "Yeah, I found a kitty out in the rain."
"Aw, tiny guy, ain't he?" Fagin said, grinning at the cat tucked into Chad's sweater. "Pass him over and I'll take him to the doc for a checkup." Fagin looked over to Mal and Doug. "Oh, did you guys want to volunteer too?"
"Volunteer?" Doug echoed, clutching his umbrella nervously.
"Yeah!" Chad grinned. "I um- volunteer here on the weekends a lot. They always need people to walk the dogs or play with the cats or give baths or something." He turned to Fagin. "I guess everyone's stuck inside because of the rain?"
"Yep," Fagin hummed. "But the cats would be happy to see you. It's free time, right now."
"That means they've been let out of their kennels to play," Chad explained in the most terrible stage whisper possible. "We can pet them and play with them, if you want."
Mal thought about it, thought about the prince that had given up on friends so he hung out with animals, thought about the smile that wouldn't quit and Doug's slight hope and her own curiosity.
"Okay," she said finally. "Show us to the cats."
"Awesome!" Chad chirped, handing the kitten over to Fagin with a few scratches behind its ears. "You'll love it, I promise!"
-:-:-
Mal did not love the cat room as much as Chad did, but she suspected few people would.
Chad showed them how to play with cat toys, what cats expected from them, which cats preferred to be left alone to do their own thing. Mal found that she related to some of them – the cranky, roughed up looking cats. No matter their appearance, Chad treated all of them the same, like they were all potentially his new best friend, and he would constantly say things about how he was proud of them, or how nice and pretty and loved they were, and the cats didn't care because they were damn cats, but-
Mal wondered how often Chad wished those words would be said to himself. Wondered if he'd given up on it.
It put some things into perspective.
-:-:-
That night when they retreated back to Chad and Doug's dorm room – thoroughly disinfected via Mal's magic – Mal would push Chad back against the bed and whisper what a good boy he was while Doug stripped off his clothes.
Chad's plump lips parted in a silent gasp, his pupils dilating with visible contentment, and Mal would bite down hard against his shoulder, murmuring how proud she was against his skin.
Whether she felt it or not, Chad seemed to buy it, getting wet much faster all on his own. Of course, that might be a side effect of Mal's magic, but…
Well, who knew.
-:-:-
Eventually, they did make it to the art room.
It was Sunday, which meant Doug was having brunch with his family (a monthly tradition on their part), so Chad had decided now was the perfect time to show Mal the wonders she'd been missing.
The art room, much like everything else at Auradon Prep, was so stupidly perfect Mal wanted to tear her own hair out. It was clean and well lit, with dozens of flat, untarnished tables appropriate for laying out sketchbooks or pieces of art or whatever you could possibly want. There were cabinets filled with different art supplies, ranging from pencils in colors Mal had never seen before to pastels and paints and watercolors. No spray paint, of course, but everything available was whole and unbroken, new and shiny because they could have only the best, and apparently there was more than one size of paint brush because there were canisters with about a hundred of them, all of them spotless, seeming sleek and not at all frayed, like the one brush Jay had managed to steal for Mal's birthday. He had hoarded that thing for weeks before finally giving it to her.
And now she had access to a whole array of brushes for free, and as much as she burned for that, her fingers itched to touch them.
"Hey, Mr. Quasimodo," Chad greeted the man who was presumably the art teacher, and it didn't take long for Mal to realize this was the fabled hunchback that had defeated Judge Frollo so many years ago. Compared to most Auradon primness, Quasimodo was a welcome relief with his deformities, at the very least for Mal. He already made her feel closer to home.
"Chad!" Quasimodo grinned up from where he seemed to be looking over some essays – essays, in an art room. Was nothing sacred? "And… Miss Bertha, was it?"
"Yep," Mal drawled, looking over the artworks that were displayed up on the walls. There was a painting done by Ruby F. that seemed sickening in its whimsy, though was handled with a fair bit of talent.
"We were just going to do some art stuff," Chad said, motioning towards the supplies' cabinets with a big grin. "Is that okay?"
Mal would have snapped at him for asking, but she realized at this point that manners were something drilled into Chad's bones. They were just an intrinsic part of his makeup, same as his flesh and blood. There was no getting around it.
"Of course," Quasimodo said, giving them a lopsided grin. "What were you guys interested in working on today? We just got in a fresh set of painting canvases yesterday."
"I could paint something?" Mal asked, doing her best to seem disinterested while Chad grinned like a moron in her peripherals.
"Yes, ma'am," Quasimodo said, getting up from his desk and taking them over to a storage closet that seemed to be filled with beautiful, unsullied paint canvases. Just as he said. "We have a rule about only using one per day, though Princess Ruby has been trying to argue for more." He smiled at Mal as he passed one of the canvases over. "One should be a good start, though."
"And I can paint whatever I want?" Mal stared at the canvas, free of tears, completely untainted. Blank, waiting for her. It was something she had always longed for but had given up on ever achieving. A stupid wish.
"Perhaps not anything too vulgar or graphic," Quasimodo said. "Though art is an expression, and as such, it often takes us to strange places. Our life drawing class often explores all parts of the human anatomy, so ultimately I suggest you use your best judgement." He smiled at her – not patronizing like Fairy Godmother's seemed to be sometimes, but encouraging, like Fagin. Like he believed in her. "Have you ever painted on a canvas before?"
"No," Mal said, trying not to squeeze the gift too tightly between her hands.
"Then I'll help you get started," he said, voice gentle. "The art room is open until 5, and if you're not done by then, you're always welcome to come after school to work on it."
"I'll be done," Mal said. She was nothing if not fast.
"Okay," he said, motioning her over to the paint storage area. "Now, what colors are you looking for?"
Mal decided, upon further reflection, that she liked Quasimodo. He'd suffered the same way she had, and his happy ending hadn't been given to him on a silver platter. He'd had to work for it. And he found contentment here, teaching kids art and grading papers in soft, comfortable clothes. Mal didn't hold it against him, it seemed like a nice life.
Not what she wanted, but still nice.
There was no question as to what she would paint. It was something she'd been thinking about for months, ever since Evie had officially joined their gang via Carlos. Ever since she'd graduated from tentative ally to crewmate. Mal cared about Evie, probably more than she should, and as such, knew that the princess desperately sought validation. One of the things she wanted more than anything else was a painting of herself – not out of vanity, but for proof that she was a royal. All good royals had paintings of them made, and while Mal had doubted that originally, she'd walked around Auradon Prep enough by this point to know it was true. Royals were an egotistical sort.
Well, Mal could be egotistical too.
She sketched a lot of lifelike drawings but had never been given the opportunity to paint them. She'd spent a lot of time thinking about it, though. About how she'd do it, what her strategy would be. She wasted no time implementing it, and as the hours went on, Evie's smiling image slowly came together, the princess decked in as beautiful a gown as Mal could imagine – a whimsical creation from one of her sketchbooks. Evie deserved the best, and if she couldn't get it in real life, Mal would give it to her in a painting.
Chad stayed with her the entire time, even though hours passed. He was sketching something, his dumb pink tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he stared at his work with an immense look of concentration. He created a handful of rough sketches by the time Mal was done, and all the pages were scattered around him at his table, like he was centered in a blast zone of creativity.
"Finished, Miss Bertha?" Quasimodo asked when Mal had stayed still for too long, simply standing and staring at her artwork, at the thing she'd created.
It was beautiful, just like Evie. A painting fitting for a princess.
"…yeah," Mal said, setting her brush down. Quasimodo had already promised to show her how to clean it all off to increase the longevity of the brush, which Mal may or may not be looking forward to.
"Really?" It didn't take much for Chad to toss down his colored pencil and bounce to her side of the room, audibly gasping when he caught sight of Mal's picture. "Mal, it's beautiful."
"I had a pretty subject," Mal boasted, allowing herself to puff up with pride. Evie was her's, and it was always nice when the princess was appreciated, even if it was just for her looks.
"This is quite wonderful, Miss Bertha," Quasimodo said, grinning at her work. "Usually we leave the finished works on the drying racks so you can pick them up in a few days, but in this instance, would it be okay if I displayed it on the wall for a week? You can come pick it up on Friday."
"You want it…" Mal gestured towards the collection of peppy Auradon artwork that ranged from cartoonish to realistic to blindingly colorful.
"If you don't mind," Quasimodo said. "I like featuring different works to help inspire my students as we progress through the week." He paused for a moment, thoughtful. "Are you taking an art class?"
"Nope." Mal shrugged, fidgeting in place. "They decided our schedules for us before we got here."
"Would you like to be in an art class?" Quasimodo asked, like that was a thing he could make happen.
"Oh, Mal- you should!" Chad chirped. "Then you could use the art room every day!"
"Would I have to write essays?" Mal asked, staring at the stack of papers on Quasimodo's desk.
The teacher laughed. "Only sometimes. Most of our projects are art, though."
Mal supposed if the subject for an essay was art, it couldn't be that awful. "Okay," Mal said. "Art class sounds cool. Don't think you can make it happen, though."
"You'd be surprised by my tenaciousness," the teacher said, and Mal could swear there was a legitimate twinkle in his eyes.
-:-:-
Mal was enrolled in art class within two days.
"Told you," Quasimodo said as he motioned her towards a free chair by the fabled Princess Ruby. "I'm tenacious."
"Yeah, yeah," Mal grumbled, pretending not to be impressed by this.
"Did you make that painting of Evie?" Ruby asked, her smile seeming just as bright as Chad's. "It's wonderful."
"Thank you," Mal said, echoing Chad's dumb manners to prove she wasn't entirely a barbarian (which she was, just not entirely). "I had a good subject."
"And a big fan," Ruby said, pointing to the painting in question.
It took Mal a moment to realize what she was getting at, and then she noticed a blue sticky note on the wall next to her painting, words scrawled on it with golden marker that said, 'Good job, Mal! – Chad :D'.
"Chad," Mal grumbled, letting her head fall back with a sigh.
"I think it's cute," Ruby giggled, and then- "I also think he's onto something."
Before Mal could say anything, Ruby dug through her satchel until she retrieved a set of purple sticky notes. On it, she wrote, 'Nice shading! – Ruby'.
"Princess…" Mal warned, her chest feeling tight despite there being no threats nearby.
"What?" Ruby blinked innocently. "It is nice shading."
And with that, she skipped over to the painting and stuck her sticky note next to Chad's, shifting back to smile at her handiwork.
"Alright everyone, take your seats," Quasimodo said. "Today we're going to talk about Abstract Expressionism."
-:-:-
Of course it became a thing.
Chad dipshit Charming James or whatever his actual last name was happened to be involved, so it was always going to be a thing. Every time Mal created a new piece of art (and wasn't that something, to make art with unlimited supplies under the gentle tutelage of someone who thought her talent meant something), it ended up on the wall, and every time that happened, Mal would discover a new blue sticky note by it in class the next day.
Usually they sported a 'Good job!' or 'Proud of you!' or 'Nice trees!' the one time Mal had dabbled with landscapes, but they were always done in gold marker, all signed with a smiley face, and all so stupidly endearing that Mal couldn't force herself to throw them away even though she should.
It didn't take long for green sticky notes to join in – and it didn't take much to realize that was Doug's neat handwriting. Doug who didn't even take art who would leave notes about her shading or the expressions that she used or his awe for her skill. And then of course there were Ruby's notes, who actually took art and knew art terms but would load Mal down with smiley faces and hearts anyway, or sometimes with rough sketches that emoted how she felt about the picture.
And then it started growing.
One day there was a red sticky note that said 'Kickass warrior pose' on a picture of Jay leaping through the air in his stupid Tourney gear, because for something he'd just discovered, he loved it entirely. That note was merely signed 'Aziz' and it was followed by a yellow note that simply stated 'What he said! -Ben'.
Fucking Ben.
The one time she managed to catch Chad in the act (because it was always Chad that started these things), he wasn't even by Mal's picture (which he had already hit). He was standing further down, eyes wide with shock, sticky note clutched in his hand as he hovered next to what seemed to be a pastel landscape picture.
"…it's Jane's," he said, like that explained anything.
And well, it did, for Chad.
"Whatever," Mal growled, and then she stole the rest of the notepad out of his hands and scrawled a quick note about Jane's shading before shoving it up on the wall next to Chad's.
Of course this earned her a dopey grin. Of course she had no choice but to kiss him. How could she help it, when he looked at her like that?
"You're the best, Mal," Chad said when he pulled away, and while she was used to hearing such things from Jay and Carlos and Evie, it was different from Chad, who seemed so innocently genuine, as though he did not understand how the weight of such opinions could one day very well crush him.
"Yeah," Mal huffed, dragging him into another kiss and letting him grind against her thigh. "Damn right, I am."
-:-:-
Endnotes:
Thank you guys for the feedback! It really is a big comfort as a tackle a new POV in a plot-heavy sense. It was a lot of fun writing this cranky version of Mal, and I'm glad you're enjoying her so far!
Story notes:
Chad is a responsible duck feeder – no bread for that guy!
This version of Chad has the latent animal magnetism of Cinderella. Like, it's not intentional but he's got an inherent connection to them, so of course he's going to chase down cats in the rain :)
Fagin is from the movie 'Oliver and Company', which I highly recommend watching if you haven't seen it yet. It has Bette Middler voicing a poodle and yes, it is as awesome as it sounds ^_^
Literally just googled different eras of art. Abstract Expressionism is the sort of stuff Jackson Pollock did.
The last name James is from the Rogers and Hammerstein musical Cinderella, wherein the opening number addresses prince charming's many first names, with the last being 'James'. I thought it made more sense for Charming to be a nickname rather than his actual name.
Until next time :)