Disclaimer: I don't own DP, Ghostbusters, Back to the Future, or Labyrinth.

Thanks to Invader Johnny, Iblamepie, starwater09, Lady Audentium, Zone Robotnik, Yasz1221, KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun, JadeliketheGem, Trish, monsta, aipom4, and Noname for reviewing last time!

To my anonymous reviewers (Trish, monsta, and Noname), I'm sorry I can't send private messages replying to your reviews. But please know I'm so excited that you continue to read this crazy collection, and I really appreciate your thoughts and support and kindness!

(I love our little dark gray fandom so much!)

In other news, apologies for such a late upload, everyone. I'm having some pretty significant life events happening (explained in the author's note at the end of the chapter). But in good news, I wrote a monster-length chapter, haha. I hope you enjoy!

Series Summary: Dan is the rich playboy son of the mayor. Valerie is a poor waitress who hates him. Neither is sure who is the beauty and who is the beast. Human!AU. Genre: Humor/Drama/Romance.

Chapter Warnings: Language and sexual innuendoes


Deliverance

Shot 58: Caution: Hot, Part 3


The day of the bachelor auction soon came upon them, with Dan in a bitter, anxious mood. His face had not fully healed. He'd spent most nights in front of a mirror, vainly attempting to determine how to best cover his facial scars, which were no longer scabbed but remained as reddened depressions in his skin. Any attempt at skin resurfacing would simply worsen the appearance before it healed—requiring more time than the bachelor auction afforded.

Media had begun to advertise the anticipated return of Daniel Masters. They'd been blocked from the Masters lands (Channel 4 had been paid off, and GBC News had been given a restraint order), and many stations had resorted to simply speculating what he might look like now. It was the speculation that made Dan nervous, even to a point where Valerie did not see or talk to him once that day—besides a half-desperate text she received from him. Are you still coming tonight? it asked.

Yep, she texted back. As long as you pay me.

But his anxiety had begun to rub off on her. Valerie looked down at her ratty jean shorts and baggy shirt and realized that the cheap sun dress she had from a few years ago would likely not be acceptable for such an event, even though she'd told Dan she didn't need his help getting a dress, thank you very much.

She was beginning to regret agreeing to go at all.

A sharp-looking Vlad Masters appeared from one of the halls just then, still tying back some of his silver hair. There was a bounce to his step as he whistled merrily. "What's this?" he hummed, looking her over. "It's already four o'clock, and you're not dressed?"

Valerie grimaced. "I just…I don't know." She clenched the dress in her hand tighter.

Vlad looked down at the dress, then raised a brow. "You were intending to wear that, my dear?"

"Uh, yeah?"

He gave her a fond look and pulled out his phone from his back pocket. "Oh, that will simply not do. Allow me to help you."

She flushed. "No, I couldn't ask—"

"—Nonsense," he waved her off as the phone dialed by his ear. "This is a black-tie event. Given that my son has pulled you into it, the least I can do is offer you some clothing. I have a family friend who's very good at this sort of thing. She knows all there is about fashion and trained all the royal families on etiquette."

Valerie's blush deepened as once again she felt shame. "I can't accept that. I'm already in so much debt."

"It's my treat." He then spoke jovially into the phone. "Ah, is this Dora? Yes—hello, my dear. How on earth have you been?"

There was a pause as a distinctly female voice cooed over the phone, and then Vlad chuckled in delight. "Just fine, just fine. Listen, I have a last-minute favor to ask of you. I'll pay whatever overtime charge you like, but I have a charming young lady here in need of a dress for the bachelor auction tonight. And I trust no one but you to help."

Another pause with the woman on the other end asking a question, the muffle of her voice lifting up. Vlad repeated, "Makeup and hair too? Why, that's not a bad idea. Yes, I think the whole package would be nice."

Valerie swallowed hard.


A short while later, one Dora Mattingly swept through the front door. She was an elvish-looking woman with graceful limbs and a lithe body. Her long blond hair shined down to the small swell of her hips. Her skin was a ghostly white, and she wore an expensive blue and green dress. "Vladimir," she greeted.

"Hello, my dear," the man welcomed her, giving her a soft look as he gently grabbed her delicate wrist. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "You're looking absolutely ageless."

Dora raised her chin, as if preening at the compliment. "You're too kind." Her green eyes focused sharply behind Vlad. "Now, where is this young lady in need of my help?"

Valerie scratched her elbow from the corner of the foyer, feeling uncomfortable as she stepped into the light with her ratty jean shorts and baggy shirt. Even Dora's voice was refined. Compared to this woman, Valerie felt like an elephant. "Uh, hi."

The woman's sharp eye—something about her seemed almost snakelike—roved over her. And then her gaze lightened with curiosity. "Hello. Valerie, yes? You must be a very special woman, for Vladimir to take such an interest."

Valerie blushed and pressed her lips together. "It's not because of him—I just—"

Vlad cut in to save her. "—My son has invited her to the auction but did not think to ensure her comfort at it. Valerie is not used to such events. I have great faith that you can save the day."

"Your son?" Dora raised a sculpted brow, walking past the man. She looked Valerie up and down again as she narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "I'm surprised. Real women such as this one are usually not his type."

"Shocking, isn't it?" Vlad murmured in agreement.

The girl's eyes hardened as she turned with Dora. "What are you doing—circling me like a vulture—?"

Dora gave her a motherly look. "Oh, I'm just looking you over, dear. You're a bit rough around the edges," she said distantly. "And those hands—we'll need gloves to hide your callouses. I'm thinking long black ones. Velvet."

Valerie stuffed her hands into her pockets, partially fuming in embarrassment. "It's not a crime to do hard work, you know."

The woman hummed, her sharp eye noting the smudge of dirt along Valerie's leg and the smell of cleaning products from her clothes. "Of course not. But Vladimir is paying me to make you fit into a far different crowd." She pulled out a measuring tape from one of her dress pockets and began to smile. "Now, let me get your measurements, and I'll turn you into a princess in no time!"


Over the course of the next few hours, Valerie found herself measured, shoved into the shower to scrub herself clean of dirt, pushed into a dress, and then forced down into a chair so Dora could work on her hair and makeup.

Dora's thin fingers swept through a lock of Valerie's dark hair. She said lightly, "You will make his jaw drop, dear. You are very beautiful."

The younger woman made a face as she watched Dora work in the mirror before her. She could not help the odd blush that swept over her cheeks. "I'm not trying to make his jaw drop," she retorted shortly. "I just want to get this whole thing over with."

Dora smiled as she twisted Valerie's hair back, fluffing out some of her black curls to frame her face. She wisely avoided speaking of the girl's blush and instead said, "You might as well have some fun while you're there. It's been a few years since Amity Park held a bachelor auction of this magnitude. You'll be brushing shoulders with many celebrities and heiresses."

"And what the hell am I gonna say to any of them?" Valerie complained. She did at least enjoy the feeling of another person playing with her hair. "I'm just going for the auction part, saving Dan's ass, and then going home."

There was a pause. Dora gave something of a nervous laugh. "You don't seem particularly excited about this event, do you."

Deep down, Valerie was beginning to enjoy the feeling of silk on her skin and the expensive makeup. Some selfish part of her wanted to preen in front of a mirror and gaze on her own beauty forever—and it terrified her that her association with Dan had resulted in these things. For that reason alone, she knew she couldn't allow herself to enjoy anything to do with the auction.

She pressed her full lips together, unsure of how to express her feelings. She picked at the silk of her golden dress while Dora clipped in a diamond beret into her hair. "I'm trying not to think about how this dress could feed me and my dad for a year. Which I'm sure you think is a pretty stupid thought, because what poor girl wouldn't jump at the chance to look like a princess."

The older woman remained silent as she fluffed out a few more curls to accent the angles of Valerie's face. As she looked in the mirror, she caught the uncomfortable guilt radiating from the girl's eyes, and something within her pulled in pain. She stopped working and set a delicate hand upon Valerie's shoulder. "I can't pretend to understand your struggles," Dora said softly, "but the money you bid on Dan will go to real people in need. You being there will help drive up that amount. And there's nothing wrong with looking good while helping out others."

Valerie's deep red lips stretched into a tentative smile. A small weight from her shoulders lifted. "You think so?"

Dora flipped her brush in her hands and gave a mischievous smile. "Oh, I know so. And you're betting on Dan with his money?"

"Yep."

"Then drive up that price however high you want." Dora sniffed playfully. "He can handle the hit."


A few hours later, Valerie stood in a long, gold dress that hugged her curves and flared to the floor. Her long curls twisted to the side and down her shoulders. She wore a gold eyeshadow that cost more than three months of groceries. The string of diamonds across her neck were on loan from Vlad himself—and she did not dare to think of their value or of how old they might have been.

Valerie tugged at the sweetheart line of the dress, her face flushed at the cleavage she was showing. "You sure this is a good idea?" she asked.

Dora fluttered around her, fluffing her curls and adjusting the angle of Valerie's off-the-shoulder sleeves. "Absolutely," she breathed in delight. "You are just beautiful like this. I have such great taste."

Vlad reappeared then, knocking on the door to the bedroom. "Are you both decent?" his muffled voice called.

"I'm finished!" called Dora happily.

The door opened, and the man appeared, wearing a sharp tuxedo of his own with a deep red tie. He looked naturally handsome as always, his pale blue eyes sharpening upon Valerie. He blinked, and then his thin lips spread into a delighted smile. "Ah, what a lovely picture, my dear! You shine brighter than the sun."

She rolled her eyes to hide a flush. "All this fine stuff isn't me," she said roughly. She looked almost uncomfortable in her own skin and the fine silk of the golden dress. "I'm just hoping I don't stain or break anything."

The response made him chuckle. Vlad approached her. "May I offer some helpful advice?"

"What," she said without enthusiasm.

He tilted her chin up with gentle fingers. "Look down to no one," he said softly, searching her anxious eyes, "and they will all bow before you. You look like a queen."

The man's fingers were warm and halfway reminded her of her own father. Valerie felt an uncharacteristic pull of emotion in sudden pain for her father's presence. She inhaled as she pulled away and attempted to straighten her bare shoulders and level her chin with the floor. "Right." She hesitantly patted the diamonds that sparkled across her collarbones. "But are you sure you want me to wear these? They look expensive."

"And you are a woman worthy of wearing them." Vlad held out his elbow and raised a brow. "Now, I know you're used to the chauffeur, but what say you to a real sports car, hmm? I can be your escort to the event."

Valerie swallowed hard at the compliment, then gave him a grateful look. Instead of placing her hand on his elbow, as Vlad had expected of a lady, she linked her gloved elbow through his and grabbed onto the long hem of her dress with her free hand. "Thanks, Mayor Masters."

He simply carried on with their elbows linked as if it were the most natural thing. "My pleasure. And you know you can call me Vlad."

Her red lips pursed. "Yeah, but it doesn't feel respectful."

"Nonsense!" he said jovially. "After putting up with myself and my son in such close quarters, you can call us anything you want."


The bachelor auction was held at a prestigious opera house in the downtown circle of Amity Park, where all the best restaurants and designer shops were. Valerie stared out from the window of Vlad's Ferrari, her eyes wide. She had been to this section of Amity Park only once—as the result of a few wrong turns. Most people avoided the nice section until they at least had designer clothes to fit in. "Jesus," she breathed.

Vlad looked over at her briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. "It's a sight, it is not?"

"You got that right," Valerie said distantly, realizing she was making a spectacle of herself. She suddenly sat back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. The weight of her curls and the diamonds at her neck felt heavy against her. She felt terribly stupid—like a pretender. This was not her world.

"I do hope," the older man said, "that agreeing to help my son hasn't cost you any great grief. I want this evening to be fun for you."

Valerie huffed. "He's paying me to do this, remember?" She subconsciously uncrossed her arms to pull up her dress. It was too low for the likes of Daniel Masters. "Not that I'm not ungrateful—for, you know, everything you've done to help me or anything. I just—" She cut herself off.

The rich man pulled the Ferrari up to the entrance of the opera house, which was flanked by velvet banners advertising the auction. Several well-dressed women were already walking up the red carpet, their elegant gowns brushing the ground. "—I understand this is a bit of a 'transaction' between you two. For the record, I signed him up for this in hopes that he would reach out to you for help."

She blinked. "What?"

He waved her off. "All part of making him a better man. Now, I'm afraid I must drop you off here, given that I'm part of the auction merchandise." Vlad flashed a smile not unlike one of Dan's smirks. In that moment, Valerie could see the slight family resemblance between them. "And you don't want to keep your damsel in distress waiting, now do you?"

Valerie snorted despite her blush, and then she opened the door to the Ferrari. "My damsel in distress. Right." And then she shut the car door, turning to view the opera house entrance. A cold wind brushed against her, goose-bumping her skin. She pulled on her elbow glove in a hint of nervousness as she began to walk up the red carpet in her high heels. One of the ushers opened the door for her.

"Thank you," she said without thinking.

The usher looked up in surprise, used to not being thanked, but by then the mysterious woman in gold had disappeared into the vast crowds of the bachelor auction.


The inside of the opera house was opulent with golden trellises and crystal chandeliers. Valerie tried not to look overwhelmed as she gazed around, her red lips gaping open a fraction once more. It felt as if she had ascended to some strange new dimension. The Masters Mansion was opulent as well, but it was dark and sharp. Here, things were soft and light—like a dream.

The intricate moldings upon the ceiling expanded into a massive theater room. Valerie looked down and found herself at a stairwell. She set her gloved hand upon the mahogany railing and descended into the audience, where there were many round tables lit by candlelight and covered in white table cloths.

Many women—some young, some older—were already sitting down in their clique circles, murmuring to each other while checking their makeup and preening in their expensive dresses. They all seemed so terribly beautiful that Valerie looked down, feeling out of place. She chose a table in the far back corner where no one else sat—and only then allowed herself the small thought that she did at least like her dress and, if nothing else, this would all be a story her father would not believe.

"Welcome, welcome, ladies!" called out the auctioneer, who as a portly but well-dressed man in a tux. He stood next to a podium as he waved his arm. "The auction will be starting in just a few minutes. You'll see our agenda on your table—with the list of eligible bachelors in order of presentation. Please be ready to bid on your favorite! All earnings go straight to the organizations listed on your agenda card."

Valerie, only half-listening, grabbed onto the card and ran her gloved finger down the list of men. Among the first was Vlad. Third down the list was Dan's name, along with a picture of him prior to their coffee incident. An almost fond smirk stretched her lips.

As she looked, she began to overhear nearby conversations.

At the table next to her, a woman with a petulant, entitled tone said, "Can you believe Daniel Masters is going to show his face here?"

Valerie discreetly looked up. The woman was young and beautiful, wearing an orange dress. Her golden hair hung down her swan neck in a way that reminded Valerie of Dora.

One of the other women, who had brown hair and a green dress, said in amusement, "Oh, Star. You aren't still mad that he never called you back, are you?"

The first woman, Star, huffed like a princess as she fluffed her hair. "I called seven times after I heard about that psycho waitress, and he never even gave me a text. If he's so afraid of what he looks like now, then he shouldn't be here trying to pick up another girl."

"Are you going to bid on him?"

Star wove her thin, lithe finger around her blond locks. "Of course not," she smiled sweetly. "It's obvious he doesn't want me. And I hear he's not even that cute anymore."

The other girl leaned in. "But he's loaded," she whispered. "I mean, just think about it—get your hands on his inheritance, and your family's debt is gone."

Star said petulantly, "Their name isn't as old as ours."

Valerie's fist clenched, feeling her hackles rise. She couldn't explain the hot iron of anger that surged through her as she listened to the others. Something about it reminded her of Paulina's advice to dig on Dan. Was that all anyone was really interested in? Looks, money, and prestige?

Another woman at the table spoke up. She had a voice like velvet, and even from a short distance, Valerie recognized her in surprise as the increasingly popular singer Ember, minus the stage makeup. Her face still seemed a few shades too white, her black dress the edgiest of them all in the room. Her hair was a bright teal. "Probably for the best," she smiled, her white teeth brilliant against her black lipstick. "You look like the type of girl he'd break in half."

Star raised a perfectly sculpted brow. "And you look like a whore," she said with an equally demure smile.

Ember's smile turned a bit demonic. "Between the two of us," she said, voice lowering, "who slept with him for money, hmm?"

"—Excuse me," came another female voice to the right of Valerie. Bewildered, Valerie turned around to face a beautiful older woman with bright red hair. "Is this seat taken?"

Valerie's tongue was frozen for only a second of fear—she was going to have to actually interact with people—before she lifted her chin, pulled together her pride, and said as primly as she dared, "No, it isn't."

"Oh, good," the older woman said. She set her purple clasp purse down on the table and pulled off her outer jacket to reveal a sleek purple and red dress. Valerie began to wonder if the woman had paid for plastic surgery, between the perfect hourglass figure and wrinkle-less face with the tell-tale widened mouth. "A seat in the back lets me watch everyone—you'll have to forgive me, there's a particular man I'm hunting tonight." She winked.

Valerie repeated, "Hunting?"

"Why yes, Vladimir Masters himself." She gave a cultured sigh as she sat down and said, "He's a little too old for you, but ripe for the picking for me." She smiled and leaned her head against her hand. Her fingernails, even through her purple gloves, seemed a bit sharp. "There's just a sense of energy about him that I can't help but find…attractive."

The young woman wrung her hands nervously beneath the cloth of the table. She was trying not to give away her lack of education or etiquette. "Have you ever been to an auction like this before?"

"Oh, heavens yes," she said. "I feed off these sorts of events. Especially with having a hot bachelor all to myself for a night. But what about you? I don't believe I've seen you before."

Valerie's heart began to pound as she tried to smile. She had a lie on the tip of her tongue about having just turned old enough to attend one, but then the lights dimmed, and the auctioneer reappeared. "Ladies!" he called out into the vast theater. "Hello, and welcome to Amity Park's first annual bachelor auction! Our greatest hope is that tonight, we might help out our fellow citizens in need—and also get you some dates!"

A few of the younger women cheered; many politely clapped.

"We have fifteen eligible bachelors who have selflessly donated their good looks and time tonight. We'll bring up the lucky men one by one. The lady with the highest bid wins the man for a night." A drum roll began to play from a small pit orchestra beneath the stage. "And with that, we'll start off this auction with one of our most beloved bachelors in the whole town. You know him by his smile—and of course, all those billboards. Ladies, may I present the one, the only, Mayor Vladimir Masters himself!"

The auctioneer swept his hand to the velvet red curtains, from out of which the man in question emerged. Valerie couldn't help the amused twitch on her lips. The man seemed entirely comfortable as he stood in his sharp tux, smiling at an older woman in one of the front-row tables. He was such an image of an older Dan sometimes that, for all the speculation of Dan's parentage, Valerie did not doubt Vlad was truly Dan's father.

"The bidding starts at five-thousand dollars," the auctioneer reminded them all. "Who will bid five thousand on this fine gentleman?"

A few older women in the front were the first to raise their bid cards along with the red-haired woman, and so the auctioneer upped the price. Vlad seemed to preen under the numbers, looking devilish as the numbers began to climb, with several women still not dropping out.

"Fifteen-thousand dollars?" cried the auctioneer. "Can I get fifteen?" And finally, some of the bid cards began to fall.

Valerie turned in amazement to her table mate and whispered, "Are you still gonna bid on him?"

The woman seemed entirely preoccupied as she continued to hold up her bid card. "Oh, this is pocket change to me, dear."

At twenty-thousand dollars, the only other woman bidding on Vlad lowered her card and pouted.

"And sold!" cried out the auctioneer, "to the woman in the back, with the purple and red dress."

The redhaired woman preened in dark delight as she met eyes with Vlad, who bowed and blew her a kiss before he exited the stage. Valerie nearly rolled her eyes, thinking the spectacle on the border of disgusting. If these were the sort of events Dan was around growing up, then it was no wonder he was so obsessed with sex.

Another bachelor—one she vaguely recognized—walked onto the stage then, with many of the younger women murmuring in excitement now. He had blond hair and strong muscles beneath his suit. He seemed to be around her and Dan's age.

She looked down at the agenda, and suddenly his name registered. Dashiell Baxter. Paulina's old boyfriend, before her family fell from grace.

Valerie looked up at the dozens of women actively bidding on him. He gave a schmaltzy smile back, looking for all the world just like a man Paulina would want. She decided immediately she wouldn't tell Paulina that her old boyfriend had appeared to move on.

"And sold to the woman in green for seventeen-thousand dollars!" cried the auctioneer, striking his gavel upon the podium. It was then that Valerie began to feel a hint of nervousness. Dan was next. She would have to actually do her part and call attention to herself, which meant both the other women and Dan himself would see her.

"And now," said the auctioneer, "the favorite bachelor of Amity Park, the son of our very own Mayor Vlad Masters. Ladies, get ready to bid for…Daniel Masters!"

After a few seconds, the curtains pulled away to reveal a lithe, tall figure. Valerie bit her lip in apprehension, and then a great guilt. Dan wore a sleek, dark blue suit with double-breasted gold buttons down the front, his dark hair in his signature low ponytail. His white undershirt had the first several buttons undone, revealing the sharp of his collarbones and shadows of his muscled chest. He seemed in that moment such an image of aristocratic wealth and beauty—except for the red scars on his face. They stood out on his pale skin in a way that the stage lights seemed to highlight. Like an ugly tear in a painting. Valerie's face flushed in discomfort. She knew him well enough now that, despite his prideful stance, she could see the lines of apprehension in his body.

"As always, we'll start the bid at five-thousand dollars," the auctioneer said cheerfully. "Can I get five thousand? Five thousand, I say?"

The red-haired woman sitting beside her leaned over and whispered, "Oh, look at the misery on his face." She giggled, revealing her sickly delight. "It must just kill him to stand up there like that. Those scars—they certainly make him look ugly."

Valerie's face twitched in an odd rise of irritation. "He's not ugly," she whispered defensively, voice strained.

"From the neck down, maybe. I don't know why he even signed up for this without plastic surgery," the woman continued, staring at Dan as if he were a specimen under a microscope. "No girl in her right mind would want to look at that face."

Valerie gave the woman a look of disbelief, as if suddenly realizing just how shallow she genuinely was. "So his face is a little red still, who cares," she snapped. She then went to raise her bid card, and the woman suddenly pressed her hand back down.

"Not yet," the woman advised in delight. "Really make him sweat it."

Valerie, meanwhile, felt a cold water storm down her hand from the woman touching her. It felt as if the woman were sucking out her energy. "That's not nice," she hissed. "Just let me bid."

"I'm trying to help you," the woman crooned. "His face is so…marred now. If you swoop in last minute, he might spend more cash to give you a good time. Although if he takes you back to his place, be sure to have a blindfold."

Valerie could hear the whispers from the nearby table. "Look at him," said the woman named Star. She giggled. "His eyebrows aren't even. It looks like the right side of his face is older than his left, and that scar!"

Meanwhile, Dan stared out at the silent masses of women, a deep fear unfurling in him. It crunched into his collarbones and made his prideful stance falter. He back-stepped a fraction, then swallowed hard and forced himself to lift his chin. The lights were hot and hid his view of some of the audience.

The auctioneer looked surprised as well—but he was facing Dan's left and not his scars. "Ladies, ladies, do you not recognize Daniel Masters? Voted the Sexiest Man Alive for three years in a row?"

Again, more silence. But now whispers were stirring, and some women were pointing.

Against the will of every cell in Dan's body, a blush began to rise upon his face. He wondered if Valerie had decided not to show, just to spite him—a final knife in the gut for teasing her. In that moment, he desired nothing more than to disappear like a ghost. To not exist. This wasn't his life—it wasn't his life—it wasn't his life—

No one wants you, the dark side of his mind whispered to him. Valerie was right. You are too ugly to be loved. Who could care for a monster like you. He felt foolish, standing in his fancy clothes in the silence of the auditorium, as if he were a jester masquerading as a king.

In that second, Valerie's fist clenched as a steel of hot anger torched through her. "Dammit, this is stupid." She decided to forgo her bid card still in the woman's hand. She suddenly stood up. "Five thousand dollars," she called out.

The room fell still at her strong voice, many of the patrons turning around. Dan's eyes snapped to her, widening a bit in suspicious hope that she had, in fact, not run out on him. His thin lips dropped a fraction when he finally drank in her appearance.

It was then Valerie remembered to lift up her chin and straighten her spine, her eyes as hard as emeralds as she looked around and dared anyone to defy her.

The auctioneer looked relieved. "Five thousand dollars. I hear a five-thousand-dollar bid. Do I hear a six-thousand-dollar bid, anyone? Six thousand?"

Valerie's bid raised an increased murmur in the room. The singer, Ember, had been curiously staring at Dan—and then she had looked at Valerie with almost a predatory, territorial gaze. She raised her bid card. "Eight-thousand dollars," she called out petulantly, staring back at Valerie.

"Oh, he's not worth that, dear," the redhaired woman murmured to Valerie. "Just let the edgy one get him."

Valerie could not help the odd rush of jealousy in her. "Nine-thousand dollars," she said, not even listening to her table mate.

On the stage, Dan's face began to ease with relief as he stared at her in wonder.

Ember was perceptive enough to see Dan's reaction. "Twelve-thousand," she called, narrowing her eyes. Her velvet voice had taken a dark edge of curiosity, as if she had not expected competition.

Others were beginning to murmur even more. Perhaps it would be no surprise that the eccentric, dark singer Ember would find Dan still attractive—but this woman who had started the bid; who was she?

Valerie pressed her lips together tightly, her heart beginning to pound. She knew Dan would like a competition—she was getting paid to make it look good. "Twenty-thousand," she called, distantly aware that such an amount would be going to homeless shelters and soup kitchens. The other women gasped in awe at the jump in price.

The beautiful singer began to glare now. "Twenty-two thousand."

Valerie raised a brow, halfway enjoying the game. Between Ember's bank account and Dan's, she had an idea that Dan would pay anything to still be the most valuable bachelor at that damn auction. "Forty thousand."

At that, Ember inhaled sharply and remained silent. Her lips pursed with great displeasure, an almost vengeful darkness around her.

"Going once!" cried the auctioneer. "Going twice! Sold, to the lovely lady in gold for forty-thousand dollars. That will have to be one hot date for that price."

On stage, Dan's thin lips had twitched into something of genuine delight, not even one bit fazed by the dollar amount of his own money. He figured Valerie would drive up the price some—but to fight off an old lover like Ember was an additional plus.

Valerie stood in triumph as she eyed him, raising a brow. She looked so terribly regal with her sleek curls and even sleeker gold dress that Dan had to bite his lip to hide a love-sick look. That woman, he thought.

He bowed to her, his dark bangs temporarily brushing over his scars, before he straightened again and exited the stage. His delighted expression fell only when he caught the eye of his preening father, and when he heard a woman in the front of the stage say snidely, "Forty-thousand for that face? What a rip off."


The remaining bachelors were quickly auctioned off, with Valerie and her table mate sitting in a bit of tense silence.

"Why on earth would you spend so much on him?" the redhead murmured curiously.

Valerie gave her a flat look. "Because I'm here to help people in need," she retorted, waving her velvet-gloved hand at the agenda card that carried the names of the sponsoring organizations. After the woman had tried to hold off her bidding, Valerie felt no desire to even socialize with her, instead feeling pity that Vlad had likely been shackled to some kind of conniving witch with a fake face of her own. Valerie was beginning to feel an anxious excitement just to escape from such a vindictive crowd.

The night wore on fairly quickly, with a glass of red wine to help soothe her nerves.

As the last of the bachelors met his doom at the hands of another grabby rich woman, the auctioneer said, "And now, we'll bring the lucky bachelors back so they can ask their dates to the first dance of the evening."

Valerie's jaw dropped. "The fuck?" she whispered tightly under her breath. She darted panicked eyes to the others around the room, who seemed entirely expectant for this sudden revelation. Valerie's heart stopped as she set down her wine glass. She couldn't dance.

The woman beside her stood up, primly dusting off her gloves. "Well, it was certainly an…experience," she said. "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Because I didn't give it to you," Valerie retorted, no longer playing the part of a refined heiress and instead panicking over the fact that the last time she tried to dance, she stepped on her partner's toes.

The redhead smiled tightly. "No, I suppose you didn't. Oh well, I'm sure someone of your…unrefined taste will do well with such damaged goods as Daniel Masters. Tah tah."

And with that, she left to move toward the open ballroom floor, connected by double-doors to the auditorium.

Valerie stood up, feeling her hackles rise. "The fuck? You old, fake—" she hissed under her breath, her charcoaled eyes narrowing to slits. She was half-tempted to trip the woman or punch her in the eye. What was it with these people at this auction? They seemed to all be stuck in high school. Or worse.

The sound of a string quartet began to play from the ballroom. And suddenly, a familiar baritone voice broke her thoughts. "Valerie?"

She looked to the side, and there was the sharp-dressed Dan Masters, peering at her curiously. She cut him off before he could say another word. "I am not dancing," she said tightly. "I don't dance."

He beheld her for a few silent seconds, a flush of pink tinting his face.

"What?" she snapped, feeling self-conscious and half-afraid that her dress had fallen in the front. In paranoia, she pulled at the material over her breasts, just to make sure everything was still in place.

He tilted his head in a sort of miserable amusement as he searched her eyes. "I'm tempted to give you a compliment, about how beautiful you look."

Valerie's own face flushed. "Oh." She swallowed hard, then tried to downplay any value or reason for a genuine compliment. "Well, your dad let me borrow some diamonds, and he made some lady named Dora dress me up because my other dress wasn't a designer."

The coarse description inspired a handsome smile upon his face. "You would have been beautiful, even with your baggy shirts and jeans." He held out his strong hand, opening his palm to her. "Will you dance with me?"

She looked increasingly pained. "Do I have to?"

"I know you don't want to, but we would look very odd to set our own dance out. Please, Valerie." Beneath his halted tone was a glimmer of desperation. "It's all part of the overtime I'm paying you."

With a sigh, she grabbed onto his hand. "What is it with you rich people and all these stupid expectations for things?" she demanded quietly of him. "This would've been something kinda important to tell me ahead of time, you know. Especially before I drank something."

Despite her taciturn manner, Dan felt a jolt in his skin from her willing touch. He wrapped his fingers gently around hers to guide her to the ballroom, marveling at her heat. "Dancing is easy," he murmured to her. "Just follow my lead."

Valerie gripped his hand back a little tighter in nervousness. "I feel stupid when I dance," she hissed, face flushed red in panic. "I don't know how, and I'm gonna step on your feet, and everyone's gonna think I'm stupid and realize I'm not a miss moneybags."

His thin lips stretched. "Oh, Valerie. You are many things, but you are not stupid. Do you not hear the whispers? Everyone thinks you some mysterious heiress. They're having a conniption fit trying to remember who your family might be."

She looked terrified. "That is not funny."

Dan hummed and tilted his head. "Oh, but it is. You make a convincing heiress. Perhaps, they think, you're new money attempting to make connections by taking pity on my poor, wretched soul." His voice took a bitter turn despite the ease of his expression.

"They'll figure out who I am eventually," she hissed. "And then we'll both look stupid."

"Not likely," he said. "The news never obtained a photo of you to include in their stories—thanks to me. You are simply an anonymous face here."

The ballroom opened up into shining tiles and soft white lights, the string quartet playing a gentle, romantic tune. Many of the other bachelors and their dates had already begun their dance, many of them lightly conversing and inspiring smiles from the women. A few event photographers were taking pictures. "What do I do?" she whispered to Dan.

He turned to face her then and murmured quietly, "You keep this hand in mine." He tightened his grip on her one hand, intertwining their fingers. "And then you place your other on my shoulder." He stepped closer as she tentatively touched him, and he added, "And then I put my hand on your waist. Please don't add to my scars for touching you."

The dryness of his voice made her giggle nervously as she felt his large hand settle upon her waist. "Oh, come on. They don't even have coffee here."

"Perhaps," he murmured in miserable amusement. "But I've no doubt you could wield a wicked glass of wine."

The comment was so inane that it made her genuinely smile. "Well, then," she said. "Just keep those hands where they're at, and we won't have a problem."

His lips stretched. "Duly noted." The flash of a distant camera sparked into their vision at that second, capturing their moment of peace. "Now, I'm going to move side to side a bit. Move with me."

Valerie hesitantly did so, saying for good measure, "For the record, this is the only time in your life where I'll let you tell me what to do. So you better enjoy it."

He leaned forward, his brilliant eyes searching hers. "You know I love control," he murmured. "But I do not think I could ever control you. Nor would I want to." He moved in such a way that Valerie, without even realizing it, turned with him.

She began to relax, the two of them settling into a consistent rhythm. "Why the change in mind, mister my-way-or-the-highway?"

Dan flickered his gaze over the ballroom. "Perhaps," he said, "I simply don't want more scars with which people can denigrate me."

A silence stretched between them at that. Valerie knew exactly what the other women had said about him. "Well, maybe you shouldn't have harassed me to start," she retorted to cover up her guilt.

"Hn." He turned to look at her, a spark of indignance in him. "And if you were so morally high and mighty, you would not have burnt my face off for saying something wrong. We're both assholes, and you know it."

They turned again. Valerie's face held a conflicting expression of contempt and curiosity. "So you agree what you did was wrong too?" she challenged.

The handsome man rolled his eyes and deadpanned, "As if you could ever let me forget." His hand tightened gently over hers. "We're two peas in a morally depraved pod."

"I wouldn't go that far," she huffed. "You're in a pod all your own."

As they danced, the silk of her dress brushed up against him. "Am I? I'm more afraid that you've spoiled me," he said. "What with you as the caustic, unending thorn in my side." He had a playful lilt to his voice. "And me a thorn in yours. It's very difficult to feel alone like this."

"Don't get used to it," she warned.

"Oh, but I already am," he teased. "Which reminds me. After this dance is usually more intermingling—the women showing off their dates, pictures, so forth. I imagine you'll want to skip that."

"Absolutely."

He said almost hesitantly, "I suppose you do have me for the evening. The night is yours. Is there anything you would…like to do?" He asked the question as if he had never asked it before.

She gave him an odd look, searching his eyes. This man had afforded her more grief than she could describe, between the debts he'd levied on her family and his degrading propositions for sex. But as he'd stood on that stage while his own people judged him unworthy, reaping the consequences of her own outburst, she couldn't help but feel some pity for him. More than likely, he wanted to get away from everyone else as much as she did. Her red lips stretched. "Well. I guess I did just pay forty-thousand dollars for a night with Dan Masters, didn't I?"

"You mean, I'm paying for you to pay for a night with myself."

"Yes, that." There was an evil glint in her eye. "Hmm. I have to think of something you'll hate for making me dress up and deal with rich snobs."

His handsome face faulted. "That is not what I was thinking."

Her mind was racing with the possibilities now. "No, no," she said. "This is my chance to corrupt you with the not-rich way of life."

"Oh, no."

A lightbulb went off in her brain. "Oh, yes." The song was ending, and she pulled away to poke him in the chest, quirking a brow. "You. Me. Greasy pizza, flat beer, and my favorite 1980s movies."

Dan narrowed his blue eyes at her. "…1980s movies?" he repeated slowly. "Greasy pizza?"

She flicked a finger at his abs, which were as steel beneath his white shirt. "I'm sure it won't wreck your muscle building regime for one night."

He sputtered. "But greasy? Why greasy?"

Valerie readjusted one of her black velvet gloves. "Because. Us poor people don't have servants to towel off the pizza grease before we eat it."

"Perish the thought," he said, scandalized.

"So that's my plan. Pizza and movies. Unless you want to actually to actually hang around all these weird snob people?"

Dan gave her a pained look. "I don't."

"Perfect. Then it's settled." She rubbed her velvet hands together in a dark glee. "And I have just the movies to torment you with."


After riding in Dan's sport car—it had glowing green lights hooked to the undercarriage, and a curious Valerie had been half-tempted to drop down on the asphalt to see how it'd been hooked up—they arrived back at the Masters Mansion.

The problem came about ten minutes later, with Valerie standing in a guest bedroom, face turning red with horror. The zipper on the back of her beautiful dress was too high. No matter how she contorted her arms, she couldn't reach the zipper. That left her with one terrifying and embarrassing option.

Enlist the help of Dan.

"Oh, fuck," she breathed, peeking out the door and feeling stupid. She suddenly damned Dora and Vlad and the entire fashion industry for existing.

She found him still standing in the hall, looking at his phone. He seemed to hear her approach and called dryly, "I just finished ordering the pizzas from that hole-in-the-wall delivery place. They'll be here in about twenty minutes."

She looked put out and nervous as she said, voice strained, "I need help."

He raised a brow as he set down his phone. "Oh?"

She turned around and admitted, "I can't get out of my dress. The zipper's too high. Can you, uh, help?"

Dan, as intelligent as he was, blinked for a moment in lack of understanding. And then it hit him. His lips stretched. "Ah, what is this? You want me to undress you?"

"No," she retorted quickly, the lines of her body stiffening in that beautiful dress. "I just need you to pull the zipper down, like a couple inches so I can reach it."

He paused for a bit, as if a snide or lewd comment were on the tip of his tongue. Then he gave a dutiful sigh and relented, "Oh, fine. Take the fun out of it." He walked toward her. His long, calloused fingers gently clasped onto the top of the zipper, his bare skin brushing against hers.

She goose-bumped at the feeling.

"For the record," he murmured, "you were truly beautiful in this dress." He began to zip down, fighting not to think about how Valerie was braless.

"Thanks," she said, voice tight. His touch was a burn upon her skin. It was a damningly pleasant burn.

He paused again and asked, "Can you reach this?" As it were, he could see the graceful slope of her spine. His heart had begun to race.

She fumbled a bit, and then her fingers managed to grasp onto the lowered zipper. "Yes," she said in relief. Or disappointment? "Yes, thank you."

Before Dan stepped away, he allowed himself to trace one of the diamonds in her necklace, noticing the goose-bumps upon her skin. "Before you leave, I want to know," he murmured to her, "why, out of all the necklaces we own, you chose this one."

She turned around then, holding tight to the front of her dress, which now hung loose off her frame. She said, "Vlad picked it out for me."

An odd, awkward silence came over them. "Oh," he said.

Valerie dared to narrow her eyes in curiosity. "Why, does it mean something?"

"Forget it," he waved her off.

She stepped forward. "Was it your mom's?"

Dan's entire body suddenly stiffened—and it seemed the air around them dropped several degrees. "I don't have a mother," he said stiffly.

"Everyone has a mother. Or had one." Valerie gave him a hesitant look. "Mine died from cancer when I was five."

The boy crossed his arms and looked uncomfortable. "How mundane," he said, voice halted.

Valerie face-faulted. "Dammit, don't just side-step the question."

"Why not?" he demanded, his eyes shifting. "If you want to know about my mother, watch an old news reel or read a magazine. There's dozens of them. It's not a secret."

Of all the things Valerie had imagined for the evening, standing before Dan in a partially unzipped dress while discussing his mysterious mother had not been one of them. But it was so rare to find a sore point upon him that she could not help but push. "Oh, come on," she said. "No one believes the bull shit that not even you or Vlad know her."

The handsome man's face began to bloom with an odd red—in anger and embarrassment. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Why?" she pressed. "You just don't want people to find out that she was a hooker or something?"

Dan's fist clenched. "I said, I don't want to talk about this."

She pushed again. "How the hell could a mom leave behind a baby, and the dad wouldn't even have a clue who that mom could be? Vlad's a little loose, sure, but I'd think even he'd be able to figure it out."

"Dammit, Valerie," he hissed. "Just drop it."

"Why are you so uptight about this?" she demanded. "It's not like I don't know how screwed up you are. It's just a simple question."

"Because I don't know!" he finally snapped, his blue eyes bordering on something demonic. "Okay? I have tried to find her and cannot. She may as well be a ghost."

Valerie's face twisted. "Doesn't Vlad have, like, any idea?"

Dan crossed his arms and looked uncomfortable. "He says an angel of death dropped me off at the doorstep," he muttered, pulling his tie off with a snap, "and ruined his happy, little bachelor life."

A deep silence fell between them, with Valerie still holding up her dress and Dan's jaw so tightly locked that she could almost hear his teeth grinding. She realized she'd hit something too important to him. Her voice softened in a halted way. "I doubt he really said that."

His blue eyes flickered to her. In that moment, there was such a pained need in his face that it made him seem much younger. "That's what he meant," he said.

Valerie began to feel that terrible feeling once more that the great Daniel Masters, playboy extraordinaire, was just another complicated human being. She somewhat disliked the feeling, because it meant too many things. She licked her red lips in nervousness, feeling embarrassed that she'd encroached on what was a major rift in the Masters family. "Look, I was just…curious. I'm sorry."

The man's eyes searched hers. For a time, he said nothing. Then he murmured, "That was your most genuine apology yet."

The rough edge to his voice relaxed in a miserable humor.


Fifteen minutes later found Dan at the main door, paying in cash for a few pizzas, with Valerie sitting on the couch in the theater room, puzzling over the complicated remote for the TV. She had returned to her old, ratty jean shorts and baggy t-shirt, but she still wore her makeup and had piled her sleek curls into a ponytail. On the coffee table, she'd placed the diamond necklace, unsure of what else to do with it.

Dan soon returned, gracefully carrying the pizza boxes in one hand and a pack of beer in the other. He wore dark jeans and an old shirt, his ponytail messy. "I want you to know, Valerie dear," he called out, "there is such a thing as Netflix and chill. I highly recommend we try it out."

She raised a dark brow, not looking up. "I know what that means, and that's not what we're doing."

"What else is there to do while watching a movie in the dark with a beautiful woman, hmm?"

She paused, looking up at him. It was strange—his innuendoes had taken on a different tone as of late. He was still a flirtatious man, but she found him far less insulting, as if he perhaps genuinely meant to compliment her. She tried not to show any emotion about it. "Uh, you watch the damn movie while the beautiful woman stuffs her face with pizza."

Dan snorted. "I can't believe that out of all the things you could demand of me tonight, this is what you've chosen. I could have taken you to Bijou, or to the Broadway show in town. They even had an exclusive wine tasting at Le Chateau tonight."

Valerie raised her nose. "Your fancy places can't beat pizza grease and cheesy movies from the 1980s."

The man set the pizza boxes down on the coffee table, eyeing the diamond necklace Valerie had carefully laid on the wood. She was by far the strangest women he'd ever known. Most would have asked to remain dressed up for as long as humanly possible. "Do you genuinely not care for the finer things in life?"

She pointed the remote control at the TV and turned it on. "These are the finer things in life," she retorted. "I can't believe you've never seen Ghostbusters or Back to the Future. You need culture, dude."

"Oh, I'm sure," he said dryly, angling his brow as he lifted up the lid to his pizza box, which held inside a Hawaiian pizza—something he'd been wanting to try for a while. He pulled out one of the pieces, and its cheese hung off his hands in strings.

Valerie's gave him a weird look. "Pineapple pizza. Really?"

"I like pineapple."

"You didn't order me one, did you?"

His voice was muffled. "No, you wanted that deluxe crap with the olives."

Her face faulted. "Uh, because black olives are amazing."

"Pineapples are better."

"But on a pizza?" Her tone was incredulous as Ghostbusters began to play. She sat down cross-legged beside him on the couch, grabbing for her own pizza box. "That's just weird."

He suddenly picked off one of the pineapple pieces and chucked it at her hair. "You're weird."

She yelped in surprise when the cheesy pineapple piece struck her face and then fell down her shirt, leaving a greasy trail. "Oh, gross." Heart flaring for revenge, she tossed the piece back at him—it struck his chest—and then she grabbed for his bottle of beer while he wasn't looking. "Your face is weird!"

Dan set his pizza down on the top of the box and surged forward to grab for the beer. "And who's fault is that?" he demanded, the scarred side of his face illuminated by the opening scene of the movie.

"Not mine!" she called out playfully, scooting back on the couch. "And just for that, I'm drinking all this beer by myself—none for you!"

"Oh, no you don't." He swiped for the beer, an almost playful glint in his eye. His hand managed to grasp the bottle, but he'd overextended himself. His eyes widened suddenly as he fell on her.

She gave a cry of surprise as they both tumbled backwards.

Suddenly, Dan found himself straddling Valerie, with her staring up at him in surprise. Her long, bare legs brushed against the sides of his thighs as his weight sunk them both a bit farther into the couch cushions. The smoky, dark makeup upon her face made her seem almost other-worldly in the dark, with her eyes glowing from the TV—as if he had caught some mysterious and beautiful elvish creature. Her hair seemed to curl about her head like Medusa snakes.

They stayed that way for an odd moment, Dan so entranced at the sight of her—the feeling of her—that his brain stopped working.

Valerie's face began to tinge red, even as she said dryly, "You're spilling your drink."

His blue eyes darted to the beer in his hand, which had begun to drip onto the carpet. "Shit," he breathed, righting himself and the drink before pulling away, his pale face blooming with yet again the slightest indication of embarrassment.

The woman sat up, looking at him curiously. "Are you…okay?"

Dan looked at the spilled beer upon the carpet and tossed a few napkins over it. His lips were pressed tightly together. "I'm fine." Then he took an unnaturally large gulp of his beer and sat back down on his side of the couch. "Now what the hell is this movie about anyway."

She crossed her legs again, looking unconvinced that he was okay—and feeling a bit uncomfortable that her skin still tingled from him touching her. "Well, thanks to you, I'll just have to restart it because you made us miss the first five minutes."

"No, you made us miss it." He sniffed and took another long drink of beer, as if in a mad attempt to distract himself from Valerie and the feel of her skin and the fact that despite all the torment she'd bestowed on him, he still found her attractive. He set down the empty beer bottle and reached for another, popping off the cap with a strong twist of his hand.

Valerie huffed at him and clicked to rewind the movie. "Now actually watch it this time," she demanded. "I'm trying to help you grow a soul here."

He eyed her as she took a swig from her own beer bottle. "Help me grow a soul? With Ghostbusters?"

"Yeah. With Ghostbusters."


About a half-hour into the movie, Dan began to lose himself into the corny plot, making side comments to Valerie while they munched in contentment on their pizza. Valerie had stopped eating after her third slice, rubbing her full stomach and leaning back into the couch like a limp noodle, while Dan proceeded to engulf nearly half of his entire pizza.

The beer between them had taken the edge off their weariness with each other.

"Their version of ectoplasmic residue," Dan declared, "really does look like snot."

Valerie gave an amused snort. "I mean, that's kind of the point."

"But why snot? Ghosts are supposed to be super powerful, terrifying creatures."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Ghosts can have snot-like qualities and still be scary."

Dan's lip curled in a bit of disgust as he leaned back into the couch as well. "Why not leave behind ghostly flames or something more terrifying than snot?"

"I'm pretty sure if I got snot on you, you'd think that was terrifying."

Dan looked over at her. Her teal eyes were a bit lit with the alcohol, as were his own. The logical side of his brain—having been buzzed into a light sleep—failed him, and so he said, "Girls don't have snot."

Valerie blinked at him, and then her lips stretched wide into a delighted giggle. She tiredly reached over and patted his face. "You're dumb."

His handsome face twisted at her insult, but he leaned into her touch anyway on some instinct for human contact. "You're mean."

Her fingers, rough with callouses, dared to touch the scars down his eye. "Sometimes," she agreed. And then her hand fell from his face.

A scream from the TV made them both jump and return their attention to the movie, where one of the female leads had just discovered an alternate dimension and monster inside her refrigerator.

Valerie's eyes slid back to his for just a split second. His had flickered back to her.

Caught, they both turned back to the movie and pretended that they weren't trying to look at each other.


The movie continued on into the late night, inspiring many snorts and giggles and one pillow being thrown at Dan, which he then held to his chest as self-proclaimed armor against Valerie's violence.

They then made it halfway into Back to the Future before Dan noticed that Valerie had begun to fall asleep. Her head was barely propped up by her hand, her elbow beginning to slip off the arm rest. Some of her curls had fallen out of her ponytail—and he beheld in fascination the reality that the caustic Valerie Gray could dare to fall asleep in his presence.

Surely, this meant he'd achieved some genuine level of trust with her.

"Valerie," he called, peering at her in great interest.

"Hnn?" she groaned, not even opening her eyes.

"You're falling asleep."

"Hnn," she grunted again, readjusting on the couch weakly. She managed to crack open her eyes a slit, and her searching eyes landed upon the pillow in his grasp. Somewhat disjointedly, she reached for the pillow and yanked it out of his hands. "I'll slap you if you do anything." Then she promptly laid the pillow against him and stretched back out to lay down.

Dan blinked in surprise as her dark curls brushed against his arm. "Hey, what are you—?"

"—'m tired from putting up with you," she moaned, closing her eyes again as she rested her head against the pillow. "Can't finish movie…go on without me."

He sputtered a bit as he held his left arm in the air, unsure of where to put it now that Valerie had invaded his space. This was the woman who'd scarred his face simply for saying innuendoes—he did not want to imagine what bodily harm he would incur by touching her wrong. "You're on my side," he complained.

She inhaled, and her warm breath puffed against his leg. "Too bad. 'm comfy."

"But you're touching me. And now I have no place to put my arm."

Her thick lips stretched in delight at causing him distress. "Then cut it off."

"Jesus, woman," he sighed in irritation as he rolled his eyes. He finally decided that he could rest his arm over his stomach without necessarily bothering her. "You are impossible."

"Yep." She seemed to take great pride in it.

"A forty-thousand-dollar date," he muttered to himself, leaning his head back against the couch to stare up at the ceiling. "And I'm still in the dog house."

"You owe me overtime too," she murmured petulantly, readjusting on the pillow. "Don't forget."

An odd spike of emotion surged through him as he complained, "Did you demand to watch movies just to get paid more overtime?"

The half-asleep Valerie fell silent, and for a time, Dan thought she had drifted back into sleep. But then she said, almost defensively, "Revenge too. You made me dress up, so I made you dress down."

When he huffed, it made the pillow move a bit. He resigned himself to the thought that there would always be a chasm between them, and that was just the way it was. "Right. Revenge."

Satisfied, Valerie closed her eyes and gave into her exhaustion from the evening. Her breath quickly evened out into sleep.

Dan halfway attempted to watch the movie still playing before him—the 80s really weren't all that terrible—before his attention returned to the mysterious woman partially laying in his lap. It was the closest contact he'd had to a female in two weeks. Usually, his dates ended in breathy moans from the privacy of a bedroom, his body buzzing in triumph from dominating yet another conquest.

Some part of him felt distant about it all. He saw women in fragments, focusing on only the parts of them that could give him a high. But with Valerie, he could no longer do so even if he wanted. He swallowed hard as he stared down at the graceful slope of her forehead, and the lines of her rising and falling shoulders. For the first time, it was as if he were seeing life—that her breath, the beat of her heart carried a value beyond whatever pleasure she could give him.

He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. Dammit, I'm a fucking sap, he marveled. For a woman who can't stand me.

For as much stress as he'd put her under, he figured the least he could do was not wake her up. And so he remained there, pushing back against the couch back to recline and allowing sleep to take him.


The next morning, Valerie blearily opened her eyes to a world of her own matted curls. She inhaled lazily and moved to clear her face, only to realize where she was. The pizza boxes were still open on the coffee table before her, lit with early-morning light from a window, and the pillow beneath her head was warm with not just her own body heat. On occasion, she felt the foundations of her pillow twitch.

Dan.

Her eyes widened, and she tensed. A blush of horror crossed her face as she then froze, trying to think of how to get up without immediately waking him up. Very slowly, she pressed her elbow into the couch cushion and forced herself up, pressing her lips tightly together.

She felt a crick in her neck as she grimaced, and then she turned to look at Dan.

His hair had fallen out of his ponytail and was unkempt around his face, which was turned away from her to rest against the soft couch. His strong jaw bore the signs of stubble from not yet shaving for the day. His hard muscles were fully relaxed as the wide expanse of his chest rose and fell steadily. Like this, the great Daniel Masters seemed vulnerable.

Valerie swallowed hard. It was getting harder to see him as just a bastard. It didn't help that she knew he genuinely was a bastard—some unwanted child—

Then she saw the time on the clock behind him and panicked. She poked him hard in the face. "Hey."

His peaceful face twisted, and a baritone groan escaped from him. "Hmm." He did not open his eyes.

She poked him again. "Come on, sleeping beauty. We gotta get up."

"Why?" he whined. He seemed to petulantly burrow himself deeper against the cushions.

Valerie looked at the clock. "Because it's like ten? And you have an appointment at the hospital, and I'm way behind on my work."

For a moment, he did not respond. And then his eyes shot open in panic. "Oh, damn," he breathed, shooting up from the couch. "It's ten? Appointment—9:30—"

"—It's a hospital," Valerie said dryly. "So if you leave now, you'll probably get there just as they're calling your name."

"Right," he said, distracted. He ran a frazzled hand through his hair, forgetting that he'd had it in a ponytail. His tie nearly slipped out, and he caught it just in time, stumbling over one of the decorative couch pillows that had fallen on the carpet.

Valerie nearly snorted in laughter.

He gave her a dirty look as he caught himself and was about to say something about the smudged state of her makeup—but then the front door clicked and slammed open.

One Vladimir Masters trudged in, bowed over with dark sunglasses over his eyes. His hair was in a frizzed mess. "Oh," he said, holding his head. His movements were disjointed and slow, as if he had pulled several muscles. His tie hung sideways off his neck, and the first three buttons of his shirt were undone, with his overcoat buttoned unevenly.

Dan looked at his father and curled his lip in disgust. "What are you doing here?"

"Seeking the closest safe house," came Vlad's wretchedly pained voice.

The younger man huffed. "You fed me to the dogs last night. Do you honestly think I want to see your face here in my house?"

"Take pity on me, my son," Vlad moaned. "I'm fairly certain I had a succubus as a date." He leaned back in the nearest chair and moaned again. "Oh, everything is a blur—so much wine—"

Dan's face twisted. "—Oh, please."

Vlad tiredly waved him off. "I think she sucked out my life," he groaned. "But she was so beautiful—" He tipped off his sunglasses, and a bloodshot eye landed upon Valerie, who was still wearing her outfit from yesterday. He noticed that both she and Dan seemed unkempt. Despite his nausea, his thin lips spread into a smile. "And…what happened here—?"

"—Nothing," Dan cut in before Valerie could. Something about him was bordering on fury. "Absolutely nothing. Now either get out of my house or go to a room where I don't have to see you."

Vlad seemed to pout. "You can't take that tone with me," his voice sharpened. "I am your father."

"And after last night, you're lucky I don't physically force you out," Dan glowered darkly as he pulled his shoes on, still in a hurry to get to his appointment.

"I should demand an apology," he muttered. With surprising accuracy, he grabbed onto Dan's shirt hem and pulled him closer. He murmured in a near heated whisper, "I got you a night with Valerie, didn't I?"

The son blinked at his father, incredulous. "What?"

"You'll thank me later, when you come to your senses," Vlad warned, voice still low. He then released his son's shirt and leaned back on the chair, closing his eyes. He raised his voice a bit so Valerie could hear. "Now excuse me while I collapse here and attempt to remember my name."


Later that morning, Dan sat in a pensive state while nurse Karma Jones once more inspected his scars.

The woman said lightly, "I heard about the bachelor auction last night. Sounds like a mysterious heiress bought you out?"

He slid his eyes to the side to avoid looking at her face. "Yep."

"How nice," the nurse smiled almost in mischief. Whenever she smiled, a few of her own scars seemed to stretch a bit, making her look a bit predatory. "I heard she was a very beautiful woman. No one knew who she was."

"And?"

"…Well, who was she?"

Dan seemed to sputter, and his face reddened. "No one. Just a woman."

The nurse raised an unconvinced eyebrow. "I guessed the 'woman' part." She poked him with her pen light. "Whoever she was, I hope you showed her a decent time at least."

He grew offended now. "I'll have you know my dates are legendary."

"…That's not what I meant by decent," Karma deadpanned.

He tried to puff out his chest and raised a brow to recall some of his former glory. "Not even these scars can hold me back from showing a woman a good time."

Karma hummed in interested as she measured the millimeters of the scar at the corner of his eye. "And so what happened to the Valerie girl you liked, then? I thought you were pining after her."

His prideful façade faltered, and he grimaced in discomfort. "I am not pining after her."

Karma's brown eyes slid to his. "So you just happened to give a legendary date to another 'no one' then, huh?"

"…Yes." There was an odd strain in his voice.

The woman immediately picked it up. "And what was the name of this mysterious no one, hmm? It's not like there's very many people in Amity Park who could afford to go to your auction. And to bet—what did I heard on the news—forty-thousand dollars?"

His face fully flushed. "None of your damn business."

"You're so touchy," Karma complained. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think we were still talking about Valerie."

Dan fell completely silent then.

"…Are we still talking about Valerie?" Karma dared to ask, pulling away in great suspicion and curiosity.


Damon Gray was just finishing up his latest therapy session by the time Dan left the outpatient clinic. The steadier payments from Valerie had afforded Damon greater attention and longer sessions. He now could stand with a walker, albeit shakily.

As Dan walked past the therapy hall, he caught the eye of the father. He quickly looked away, not in a mood to talk, still in a frizz about nurse Karma's nosiness.

Damon Gray gave him a dark look as he continued to grimace through another step, holding on tightly to the walker, with the therapist's strong arm wrapped around his middle. "You stay right there, young man," the father snapped to Dan. "I got a bone to pick with you."

Dan gave a huff of a groan before turning around. "And what would that be," he called dryly. He leaned against one of the hallway railings. "Your dislike of me? Again?"

The father made it to the end of the walking lane with the help of the therapist, who then congratulated him for his hard work and helped him into his wheelchair. Damon panted out a weak thanks and grabbed a water bottle from the bench beside him. He called out, wiping his mouth, "Yeah, it's something like that. Don't make an old man wheel over there, now."

The rich boy sniffed in irritation before he relented, stuffing his hands in his coat pocket. "What do you want."

Damon eyed Dan with a sharp, singular eye. "I heard about the auction," he said, still a bit breathless. A great displeasure rattled through his voice. "I saw a picture on the news about you. The woman in gold, hanging off your arm? That was my daughter."

The younger man paused. The only sign of his perturbance was the sudden clench of his jaw and the way he looked around the room before he sat down on the bench beside Damon's wheelchair and murmured lowly, "Be careful what you say, old man. It would not benefit either of us if anyone knew her real identify."

Damon searched his eyes. "What is going on between you two?" he whispered in concern. "She bought you at some auction? You two danced?"

Dan grimaced. "It was mutually beneficial," he retorted, voice strained. "The money went to organizations that help people like you, and she helped me not look ridiculous." Almost subconsciously, he touched the scars on the right side of his face.

The father sputtered for words. "B-but…you and her—you're a—"

"—Oh, please," Dan retorted in irritation. "It's not like she made a deal with the devil."

"You're not that far away from one," Damon whispered, but his face was still bewildered. "You two danced. She was all dressed up."

The boy slid dark eyes to the father. "And why does that bother you so much? Worried I'll seduce your daughter with charm and money?" he mocked.

The father hissed, "Don't you dare even try to seduce her."

Dan gave a huff of amusement. "Such concern," he said mildly. He leaned forward. "I don't suppose it's struck your mind, how much you would capitalize off such a relationship, were I to…gain her affection."

"We don't need your blood money," Damon said, voice tight. "Or your fancy things. And I swear if you touch one hair on her head—"

"—Oh, I've touched more than that," Dan cut in, mostly just to tease the father. "Even better, she let me do it."

The father's lips pressed tightly together as he stared at the boy. "Tell me you didn't sleep with her," he hissed in panic.

Dan watched a vein on the man's neck nearly stand out in stress. "Don't have a heart attack on me, old man," he warned.

"Last night," Damon pressed. "Tell me you didn't."

"And if I did?" he challenged. "Would you still love your daughter? Or do you think me so stain-worthy that it would devalue your perception of your precious and stalwart Valerie?"

The father swallowed hard, mind racing. "I know your kind," he said slowly. "You just see her as a challenge to break. A notch in the bedpost—I don't want to see my daughter get hurt by you anymore than you've already hurt her."

"But would you still love her?"

"Of course," Damon said defensively. "She's my daughter. I love her no matter what."

In that moment, something flickered across Dan's face. It was a combination of pain and a great, terrible jealousy in want for such fatherly love. "How sickeningly adorable," he spat out. "But if you must know," he stood up, looking irritated and frustrated, "no, we didn't sleep together. She fell asleep on me on the couch while we watched movies last night."

"…Movies?"

"Yes, yes—they were all horrid 1980s movies, and she made me eat greasy pizza, and then she had the audacity to fall asleep in the middle of it all, but not before threatening my life." He brushed the dust off his jacket. "It was the most unattractive date I've ever endured. I enjoyed every minute of it."

And then without waiting for Damon to respond, Dan turned around and walked away in a huff of irritation.

The father blinked, and his jaw dropping.


The day was cloudy and cooler than usual, with Valerie goose-bumped in her baggy shirt and jean shorts. "Dammit," she sighed in irritation at herself, "why the hell didn't I think my life through." Her face burned with a blush in an odd way as she reviewed the previous night. Her and Dan were acting like…friends. She'd slept on him, and he'd simply accepted it without even one lewd innuendo. She was starting to feel a sense of contentment around him, and that was simply not right. No woman, she figured, should ever feel comfortable around that man.

With a bit of an angry burst of energy, she pulled off the water hose from its wrought-iron stand. Her list of duties for that Saturday was to tidy the veranda, pull out weeds, and remove the cushions from the pool furniture for winter storage. "I feel stupid," she moaned in complaint. "Why did I feel bad for him." She still could not erase the feeling of his body warmth seeping against her, nor easily erase even the makeup Dora had placed on her. She'd tried for about ten minutes to get her makeup off just using a paper towel and water, and she was pretty sure her face was still red from that. "Why the hell did I fall asleep here?"

In between her grumblings, she pulled on garden gloves and knelt down into the mulch patches, yanking up weeds in sharp twists. Something about the action gave her a sense of satisfaction—that she at least had control over weeds if not her own emotions. It felt good to tear something to pieces. Over the course of the next few hours, she managed to pull the dandelions and other weeds growing in the flower beds, filling up a full trash bag.

The dark clouds in the distance began to roll in closer, bringing with them a sharper wind. Valerie began pulling off cushions to the wrought-iron furniture, still grumbling under her breath. To her chagrin, the darkness seemed to call Dan Masters home from the hospital, who reappeared out of one of the many doors of the house. He had a pinched, contemplative look about him as he searched for her.

"Valerie dear," he'd taken to calling her all too easily. He munched on an apple as he watched her untie the cushions and toss them under the overhang of the roof. He leaned against one of the white-washed pillars. "We're on the brink of a great storm. You should come inside."

"I'm almost done," she called back, not looking up. In doing so, she did not realize that Dan had walked closer to her.

"You missed a chair," he murmured mischievously.

She gave him a dark look for sneaking up and then gazed out at the vast expanse around the pool, her eyes narrowed. "Where?"

He sniffed, mischievously eyeing the distance between her and the pool. With all the compliments and bending backwards lately, he couldn't help that his mean streak was aching to rear its head. Temptation overcame him. Suddenly, he shoved her hard. She yelped and stumbled backwards—straight into the cool water in a flail of limbs.

A splash shot up against the poolside while Dan laughed at her thrashing, the delight easing the tension in his body. "Oops. Clumsy me."

Valerie came up in a sputter. Her beautiful curls had fallen out of her hair tie and now hung like curtains about her face. She gasped for air as she growled in irritation, and then she groped for the edge of the pool, dragging her soaking body up from the depths of the water. "Y-you bastard," she hissed. "This is cold."

He kneeled down to face her and teased, "Most women get wet in my presence, but you win the prize for being soaked through."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. She grabbed onto his collar with a steel grip and pitched him forward. He gave an unmanly cry as he fell forward, tumbling into the ice-cold water beside her with a large splash. Valerie watched in great satisfaction as the graceful Dan Masters flailed to right himself. He broke through the water, his hair completely matted against his face.

"You bitch," he breathed in panic. He flung back some of his wet hair out of his eyes, his red scars stark against his pale skin. "Oh, you bitch."

A delighted, evil smile stretched her lips. "That's what you get, Masters," she called out roughly, splashing him. "You asked for it."

On instinct, he splashed her back, and she turned her head with a squeal as the large wave struck her. She splashed him again for good measure, trying to move closer to hit him with a stronger wave of her own.

He took a step forward too. He was half-prepared to splash her into oblivion for daring to fight him. But in that moment, he stared down at her, and she stared up at him, their gasping breaths mixing in the small distance between them. Off in the far distance was the sound of thunder, and it barely registered with them.

"We should get inside," he murmured, voice rough with odd emotions and a quiver of a chill.

Her warm breaths puffed against his face, even as they shivered in the cold water. "Probably." And her face began to heat as she stared up at him—feeling his presence in every nerve of her body.

Despite his teasing, there was something soft about Dan now, as if it were more for the game than to genuinely embarrass her. It was as if he were searching her now, trying to figure her out. She liked that.

For one wild second, she almost thought he would close the gap between them with a kiss. She didn't know what she would do if he did.

Then he blinked and reluctantly pulled away from the pool edge, saying dramatically, "Cling close to me, Valerie dear. In the event of hypothermia, your hot body will sustain my life."

That broke it. She rolled her eyes and splashed him again. "G-gross."

He spat out water with a laugh, even as his long fingers curled around hers beneath the water. His hands were genuinely shaking from the cold, as were hers. He said merrily, "D-don't worry—I'll sh-share my h-heat too."

The dark clouds around them began to drizzle with rain, and thunder rumbled. The both of them quickly began to escape from the pool, with Valerie calling out, "And if w-we g-get electrocuted?"

They reached the pool steps, the cold water a wild splash around them as they flailed out. One of Valerie's sandals remained floating in the water. Dan looked back and said, almost in delight, "Then w-we'll fry together."

Lightning flashed in the sky, and a second later, thunder crashed all around them. Valerie laughed when Dan flinched in surprise, and he gave her a dark look, shoving her to the side while he ran up to the patio door, struggling to open it.

Valerie quickly shoved him aside, and then the two of them desperately attempted to fit through the threshold at the same time.

"You're too big," she huffed with a glint. "Move your fat ass back so I can get in."

"My fat ass?" he repeated incredulously, grimacing as he pushed his way against her. "You're the one with hips."

There in the doorway, she turned to him and glared hot. "You sayin' I'm fat?"

"I'm saying you could give birth easily," he retorted, voice playful. "A great asset for any other moment but this."

The skies began to pour with rain now, the sound of the rainfall pounding the roof. Valerie narrowed her bright eyes at Dan. "You better watch it, buddy," she said, poking him in the chest. His shirt was as soaked as she was, but the muscle beneath was steel hard and burning with a living heat. "You're already in trouble for pushing me into the pool."

There was a miserable amusement in him as he murmured, moving away to offer her full access to the door. "I do enjoy being in trouble with you."

Her face flushed as she quickly skirted through the threshold. "That's weird, dude."

Dan huffed. "What? I'm simply being honest." She grabbed onto a few towels from the shelf and tossed one at him. It hit him in the face, and he sputtered, complaining, "And what is it with you and hitting my face?"

Valerie paused for a moment, then said, "I dunno—probably because it's ugly."

His handsome face faulted and froze a moment, a genuine hurt flickered across his features. He turned away, the scarred side of his face still shining with water.

Valerie's hands tightened in her towel as she bit her lip. Even with his scars, Daniel Masters was an incredibly handsome man. "No," she said suddenly, "that's not true."

He hesitated and then turned to her, even as he wrung the water out of his long hair. "What isn't?"

"Your face being ugly," she said. She pressed her lips together and said, "Because it's not."

A sort of hopeful suspicion rose in his gaze. "You like my face, scars and all?"

"Your face is fine," Valerie said. "It's just how you act sometimes that's ugly."

His expression faulted once more. "But I thought we were having fun."

"We were—until you pushed me in the pool." She was still shivering beneath the towel. "Now I'm fuckin' freezing and don't even have anything to change into, thanks a lot."

Dan angled his good brow. "If you need a change of clothes, I do have an extra French maid outfit in—"

"—No," she said shortly. She gave him a tight glare. "Absolutely not."

Dan whined at her, "After calling me ugly—"

"—No. No. And no."

"Then the only other option would be to provide you with my own clothes," he said merrily.

Valerie shivered for a few seconds before she said, "…What do you have?"


A few minutes later, they'd trailed their sopping wet bodies across the mansion to Dan's private wing. He was currently rummaging through his large closet, and Valerie stood outside, somewhat uncomfortable with the fact that she was near Daniel Masters' bedroom. The room was modern and tasteful, with dark gray accents along the white walls. His bed was large and pristine, and it made her face flush to consider him and the word bed in the same thought.

Some part of her balked at the reality that he had probably entertained numerous women like this—pushing them in the pool, offering them his shirts, seducing them into bed. Perhaps this was all some kind of smooth game he'd perfected years ago. Like an assembly line.

Her fingers tightened into the towel, feeling her face flush in anger and uncertainty at the thought. Was he going to proposition her again?

Dan tossed her one of his own shirts. "Here," he said, not looking her way.

She grabbed onto the black shirt, which carried the scent of his cologne. Something about it all felt too intimate. "Uh, thanks."

Dan did not yet turn around. He didn't want to think about the fact that her soaked orange shirt now revealed the black of her bra, or how her clothes clung tight to her sleek curves. He figured she'd kick him if he said anything about it. Or hit in the face with something else. For good measure, he tossed a long robe at her and said, "You know where the dryer is, if you want to use it. But this should keep you warm while you wait."

The woman looked a bit overwhelmed by the heavy, soft material of the black robe, which hung like a river down her arm. It seemed like a personal thing too. "Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly. Afraid of sounding too vulnerable, she forced her tone into a deadpan. "Or is this what you always give the girls you push into the pool?"

He rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall beside his dresser. "If you must know," he said dryly, "we have guest robes in some of the rooms. But they're all thin—and I'd rather you not freeze."

She hesitated. "It's clean, right?"

This time, Dan gave her an exasperated look. "What, do you think me a savage? Yes, it's clean. Or are you just fishing for me to buy you a new wardrobe while you're at it?"

Something about that ruffled her with a sharp, indignant irritation. "No," she said defensively. "I'm not some gold digger or whatever the hell you usually offer clothes to. Thanks for the loan." And then she turned and walked away to change in one of the bathrooms, her wet hair leaving droplets wherever she went.

The man watched her walk away, his eyes trailing down the toned edges of her shoulders to the swell of her hips. A sudden longing came over him. "I did not mean that," he called after her, voice petulant. "I could get someone to bring you a new robe. If you want it. I don't care."

She paused in her trek, then turned around. Her hands were tightly gripped into the black cloth of the robe. "…Nah," she said, her irritation slipping away. "This is fine." A small glint of defeated merriment lightened her eyes. "You're already paying me overtime for the weekend anyway—I could probably buy my own damn robe one of these days."

The rich Daniel Masters narrowed his eyes curiously at her. And then a huff slipped from his lips, which stretched into a genuine smile.


Valerie returned to the main living room, feeling a bit exposed still wearing his shirt and robe tied tightly around her. The soft cloth—she didn't want to think about the value—felt like velvet against her. It hung strangely off of her, the sleeves too long and shoulders drooping. With any luck, she might have been unattractive in it. She felt unattractive at least, with her hair fully tangled and eyes a bit reddened from the chlorine of the pool.

The windows outside had darkened with the storm, the rain still falling in thick, silvery sheets. She supposed she was going to be stuck at the mansion for a little while yet. "Hey," she called out, "I am gonna use the dryer."

From the hall leading to the kitchen came his baritone voice. "Try not to fall in."

She face-faulted. "Hey, that was only one-time, and it was the washer."

"Details, details," his muffled voice called out, teasing and whimsical.

"Hnn." Her full lips pursed as she headed to the laundry room, where large state-of-the-art washer and dryers rested. It'd taken her three days to understand how to operate them and even now were still a bit intimidating. One of the dryers seemed to be running—Dan's clothes.

By the time she returned, Dan was sitting on the living room couch. He had changed into dark lounge pants and a zip-up jacket, his hair pulled back into straggly ponytail. "It appears you will not be able to finish your work today," he called to her. He held a TV remote in his hand and was peering closely at a weather channel on-screen. "This storm will last for a few hours yet."

Valerie crossed her arms as she walked over. "Well, I guess I could work on some of the inside chores."

He gave her a look and gestured to the coffee table, upon which two cups of coffee rested. "But if you do that, then you can't drink coffee with me and watch more disgustingly corny 1980s movies."

Valerie paused. Her eyes narrowed in surprise. "…What?"

He tried to wave off any sincerity in his gesture. "The coffee is to warm you. The movie is to distract you from actively throwing said coffee in my face if I say anything wrong."

"Ha," she said dryly, giving him a dark look. She nonetheless grabbed a cup and held it between her hands. The expensive ceramic was wonderfully warm. "Did you put sugar in this?"

"Two cubes," he said distractedly.

Pleased that he had remembered, she dared to take a sip and found it to her liking. She then sat down upon the couch, bundled up in the too-big robe. "Okay, you've convinced me. I vote we watch Labyrinth. You haven't seen it yet, have you?"

He gave her a bewildered look. "The weird puppet movie with the famous singer?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Why that one?"

"Because it's a cult classic, that's why. You don't need any other reason."

He hesitated, then pulled up the movie on the TV. "I have a feeling I'm going to groan a lot and not in pleasure."

That inspired a smile on her face. "That's kind of the idea."

"You're impossible," he retorted playfully at her. But he relented.

The two of them, for all of their differences, sat together in contentment as the movie began to play.

Down the hall, hidden in the drawer of Vlad's desk, was the strange medallion with the letters CW engraved on the front. In the darkness, another notch on the gear began to lose its shimmer, dying out into a dull metal.


A/N: Hello, everyone! Apologies for being a few weeks late with this upload. My best friend got married, and both my grandmother and grandfather are sick in the hospital, so I've been making a lot of cross-country trips to back home, which has eaten into my free time.

I should additionally apologize that I now expect a fourth and final installment for this thread. Caution!Dan and Valerie are difficult enough that I believe their characterization warrants a final chapter. They seemed to need some relationship building in this upload. I do hope you are continuing to enjoy this AU, but I promise to get back to ghost!Dan soon.

After Caution is complete, I intend to upload the long-awaited sequel to the VALentine thread (sorry I've gotten so far behind). I am very excited to return to my favorite universe—do you have any requests or things you'd like to see happen? (Or, alternatively, different/new storylines you'd like to see?)

Please review with your questions, thoughts, constructive criticisms, and ideas! Thank you!