Erik left her for a few minutes to bathe and dress, and when he showed up at her door again it was clear he had done the same. His attire was once again flawless and his hair was slightly damp. What she could see of his chin was neatly-shaven.

"You'll have to forgive me for not having something prepared for you," Erik told her a few minutes later as he escorted her to the room he used as a kitchen. "I wasn't expecting company. I'll have something made up in a moment, though."

"May I help?"

It was rather interesting, seeing Erik doing such domestic tasks as slicing fruit and measuring flour. He did it with aplomb, somehow managing to look graceful and self-possessed even with a smudge of flour on his waistcoat. Christine washed and hulled some strawberries while the crêpes were cooking, smiling to herself at the thought of making breakfast with the opera ghost.

"I was just wondering…" she began.

"Yes?"

"Where do you get your food from?"

"I buy it, just like anyone else."

"But if you never leave the opera…"

"Jean-Claude does my shopping for me, and I pay him out of my salary," he explained. "And I do leave sometimes. I'm very glad I was out last night, for instance."

"So am I!" Christine agreed vehemently. Then, "You have a salary?" she asked in astonishment.

He tilted his head. "Of course. That is I did, until the Cholettis came and took charge. I was Gerard's assistant, and he paid me as such." He put the plate of crêpes on the table. "There, now. Bon appetit."

"What will you do, now that he is no longer manager? The Cholettis… do not seem inclined to put up with a ghost in their opera house." Christine rolled up some strawberries in a crêpe and started eating.

Erik's lips tightened, but "I have a few ideas," was all he would say.

After breakfast, Erik offered to take her back up. "I assume you must have some pressing things to take care of, since you never made it home last night. I'll take you up as soon as you're ready."

"Oh, no, please…"

"What is it?" Oh, how could Erik possibly make his voice sound so deep, as if it were lined with velvet?

"It's just… I'm sorry. You must have things to do, yourself," Christine back-pedalled.

"Christine."

"It's just that I haven't seen you for a long time, Maestro! It's been weeks and weeks, and I know you were angry with me for last time, but I've missed you so much…"

"Hush." That one word, spoken in his quietly commanding voice, made her close her mouth abruptly.

"Are you saying that you wish… to stay here, with me?" Now the voice lost its edge of command and took on an air of disbelief.

Christine nodded, but did not meet his gaze. "Yes. For… a little while, anyway. I have missed… the time we used to spend together. Very much."

He nodded, his eyes softening as he came closer to her. "So have I. Very much." He lifted one hand and grazed her cheek with his knuckles. "I would love to have you stay." He came closer, so that she had to tilt her head back to look at him.

He's going to kiss me, Christine thought, heart pounding. He bent his head down, but paused a scant inch from her mouth. Christine could feel his breath on her lips, smelling of strawberries. Why was he hesitating? He was so close, so close… she touched his arm and felt him tremble. He straightened slightly, and then she felt his lips touch her temple. He gave her a lingering kiss there, and then slid his lips down the side of her face to press them against her cheek just in front of her ear.

Christine shivered. "Erik," she whispered. "Erik." She clutched at his shoulders helplessly.

He withdrew a tiny amount, enough to gaze into her eyes. His eyes were dark and hooded. He bent down towards her mouth again, stopping a hair's-breadth away. She could feel his lips graze hers when he whispered her name, and it was too much for her. She closed the distance, pressing her lips lightly against his.


A/N: This was mainly for Ripper, who specifically asked for a kiss. Whoo! (Honestly, I was going to write one anyway, but hey, why not make Ripper feel good while I do it? Hee hee;)