Author's Note/Disclaimer: First chapter written in the new Microsoft Word 2003! Okay, so it's not that new, but it's new to me since I've been using Word 2000 since I first got a computer. So yay.

At any rate, nasty cliffhanger coming up, so don't kill me. Read and review people, onegai? Thank you.

Oh, and Foster's is not mine.

Chapter Eleven: Unpleasant Surprises

Blooregard Q. Kazoo eyed the enemy warily and narrowed his azure eyes. Folding his blobby arms across his chest, he leered and waited for his opponent's next move. Unfortunately, he failed to anticipate that folding your arms across your chest when you've been using someone's head to prop yourself up might not be the best idea and proceeded to drop off his shoulders and onto the ground. Grand, now he had to leer up. Where was the fear in that? At least on Mac's shoulders there wasn't as substantial a height difference as there was now. Goddamn it.

Mac too, drawn by Richie's stance and insinuations, glanced briefly down before returning his eyes upward. On the blond boy's face danced a smirk and a challenge. Blakesuperior wrapped a furry and supposedly affectionate arm around his creator and, if possible, Richie's smirk broadened. Mac's eyes narrowed to slits. Something was fishy here, but he wasn't certain what yet.

"Do you really believe your puny imaginary blob can be as a suitable lover as my Blakesuperior?" Richie scoffed, as conceited and snobbish as he'd been when they were eight. The only difference now was that he had a following…and he knew Mac and Bloo were more than friends. Come to think of it, around the time Mac realized his feelings for Bloo, Richie had propitiated the idea of imaginary lovers. Hmm…

Growling from the pavement, Bloo retorted, "I'm three times the lover your stupid liger is. And I don't have a swishy cape, either. I'm the real deal, buster!"

Calculating blue eyes glared at Bloo, but he held his ground. He was used to this, considering a lot of creatures detested him to begin with. He'd even distinguished levels of loathing, much to Mac's chagrin. He pointed out imaginary friends and detailed why and what the subject disliked. The only thing was here the reason was sketchy and his ego dove in front.

"Is that so?" he murmured, a threat dangling. Blakesuperior snickered and stroked his face. Peculiarly, Mac found the display sickening, like it was just that, a show. He glanced at his own imaginary friend and scooped him up again. Safely ensconced in his arms, he blew the two a raspberry and then snuggled against his chest.

"Look, I don't care what kind of lover he is. Love isn't something you can bet on. It's a real emotion that comes from the heart," Mac protested, stroking his creation's face and hugging him tightly.

Bloo smirked. "So, what do you wanna wager?"

Mac, though he probably shouldn't have been after ten years, was aghast. Slackening his grip, he glanced, outraged, at him. He might know his best friendboyfriend innately, but he never failed to surprise him. Bloo was like a cannon ready to explode without provocation. It made life exciting, but as safe as eating meals on top of a moving train.

"What? You can't be serious," he cried, wishing Blake and Richie didn't find his response terribly amusing. They snickered, sizing them up. Apparently, they decided they were beneath them, for another round of snickers erupted. Mac clenched his teeth.

"Come, how much do you wanna bet we're a better couple?" he replied. "I bet we can kick their ass!"

Shaking his head, he muttered, "This isn't a contest-"

"A hundred dollars," Richie replied smugly. "You have one month to prove that you two are better suited for each other than we are. And whoever loses has to break up- for good."

"You got yourself a deal," Bloo shot back and held out his blobby arm to shake. Flabbergasted, Mac stood motionlessly as the two shook on it and then waltzed off. His imaginary friend had just bet their romantic future. The shock had rattled him and delayed any response.

When the two were out of earshot, Mac dropped Bloo like a brick and gawked. Blinking, he berated him and dusted himself off. The glazed look left his brown eyes and he snapped to attention, folding his arms across his chest, eyes blazing. Such fury that he hadn't seen directed at him in at least three days and from his creator in a week. Even so, he retreated, slightly intimidated.

"What do you think you're doing? Bloo, you just bet us for a hundred dollars!" Mac cried, frustrated and furious almost beyond words. He began to pace, randomly kicking rocks in the schoolyard. One of them flew at least four feet before stopping dead, embedded in a metal swingset.

Bloo gulped, not comprehending the gravity of the situation. What was Mac freaking out over? This was just a bet, nothing more. And a bet meant a competition which he would win. There weren't any consequences because he would win. Therefore, he hadn't even bothered to listen further. He was already plotting how he'd humiliate Blake and Richie afterwards.

"Relax, what's the worst that could happen?" Bloo grinned consoling and Mac scowled in response.

"They could force us to break up! Weren't you even listening?" he cried, throwing his hands up.

"Not really, no," he confessed, not troubled in the slightest. "What difference does it make? We're going to win anyway. They're losers."

Taking several deep breaths, he observed the surrounding landscape to force coolness before he responded. Every limb in his body trembled in rage. However, he knew it wouldn't do any good to get angry with him. He had no idea the magnitude of what he'd cockily agreed to. He never usually did.

Through gritted teeth, he retorted, "Do you ever think before you talk?"

"Why should I? Besides, we're going to win. Don't get so worried," Bloo replied, using a branch as leverage as he swung back onto his creator's shoulders and then hopped into his arms. He smiled brightly at him and nuzzled his chest and then his cheek. He wrapped his arms around him possessively.

"We'll win."

Sighing heavily, Mac whispered, "I hope you're right."

Mr. Herriman leaned back in his chair, the only comfort he afforded himself considering how fastidious he was about work and life in general, and gazed at Frankie's picture. Their first date had gone surprisingly well; his anxiety and nerves overlooked by his charm, and the next few hadn't been bad, either. In fact, Frankie seemed to be falling for him- and that was the problem.

Leaning his head on his paws, he stared blankly ahead. Frankie might be falling, but it wasn't really for him. It was for his human form. Madame Foster assured him that she'd love his normal guise as well once she discovered the truth, but he wasn't as certain. He had the sinking suspicion that revealing himself would garner the loss of the love of his life. No ordinary human would be seen dead with a large, imaginary rabbit as a lover. The whole notion was absurd to begin with. Maybe he shouldn't have brought his concerns to his creator in the first place…

Perhaps in tune with his thoughts, Madame Foster knocked on the office door and he opened it to admit her. She took one look at his face and frowned. Hobbling up to the desk, she rapped her cane smartly on the top and waited for him to be seated before she spoke. He swallowed hard, wishing their link were less powerful because then her insight would be much less keen.

"Well, what are you second guessing now? If it's the dating Frankie and pretending you're human thing, then-" she rapped smartly on the cane again and papers scattered. He bent to retrieve them and received a sharp rap on the back of the head. Eyes watering, he hastily straightened them and avoided her stern gaze.

"Ouch! Madame, don't you think this might be stretching it too far? What if she cares for Benjamin, the human?" he murmured, rubbing his sore temples. Though she was practiced at only striking to reprimand and not injure, that hardly extracted the dull throbbing.

Frankie, in the middle of dusting a bust outside his office, stopped to listen. In the past few weeks, she hadn't seen hide nor hare of the imaginary rabbit except slinking off during mealtimes. He was back to holing himself up in his office again and though his behavior worried her, when she brought it up with her grandmother, she merely shook her head. She had the distinct impression there was something going on she wasn't privy to. And if it took being underhanded (though that was how this whole thing started), she didn't care. She was going to find out…and besides, she was supposed to be cleaning here anyway. Anything she just happened to hear couldn't be held against her, right?

"So what if she is? It's not like she's an idiot. She'll figure it out," she reassured her friend and Frankie leaned closer. Curiosity killed the cat- and brought her into this situation to begin with. Come to think of it, if she hadn't snooped in the first place, this whole mess could have been avoided. She sighed, wishing every day she hadn't looked in that diary.

She'd told Benjamin about Mr. Herriman and he'd the weirdest expression on his face. He then hastily changed the subject and she'd blinked. There was something oddly familiar about him that reminded her a lot of her employer, but whenever she thought more on the subject, she discarded that notion. Mr. Herriman and Benjamin were two separate entities and to think otherwise was insanity. Working at Foster's was insanity enough for her, thank you very much.

"Yes, but I feel responsible. I created this human to appease her and even if she does have feelings for him, they aren't real. We are leading her on a wild goose chase and she will not be pleased when she discovers the truth," he sighed.

She eyed him keenly and rapped the desk again. The sharp noise lulled Frankie out of her pensive mood. She blinked, wondering if he was saying what she thought he was. She sincerely hoped not. However, her heart threatened to burst out of her chest and her breaths came in gasps. What if there was more to Benjamin than he was telling? What if he wasn't who he said he was? What if she'd fallen in love with a lie?

And what did he mean, he 'created' him? Imaginary friends couldn't create humans. That made no sense. Intrigued, bewildered, and befuddled, she listened on.

"If she has feelings for this 'Benjamin', then she has feelings for you! Unless you've been lying to her on these dates, you are Benjamin! That mean she's fallen for you, Funny Bunny!"

He opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of shattered clay filled their ears. When he hopped towards the door to open it further, the sound of sneakers pounding the floor greeted him. Only one person in this house wore sneakers that made that particular sound...

"Frankie, wait!"