Chapter 9

Rapunzel spends the evening tracing the lines of Eugene's back – the strong curve of his shoulder blades, the rise of his vertebrae, the way he narrows at the waist, the way his muscles roll beneath her fingers. She keeps having to tell him to lie still and she suspects that she's tickling him and he just refuses to admit it. His skin keeps rising into gooseflesh, and he keeps shooting her a look of mild annoyance that doesn't even make her pause because he looks so very unintimidating with his face half squished into his pillow and his eyes gradually growing darker. She grins down at him and continues her examination. She decides that she enjoys making him squirm, because Flynn Rider would never let himself be tortured this easily.

She wants to sketch Eugene's back, because it is absolutely fascinating and she's found herself thinking about it a great deal during her lessons when she really ought to be paying attention. She thinks about his back and his chest and his eyes and his hands – mostly his hands. At first she thought that touching him would help. If she became familiar with his body, then the allure they had might be broken and she could focus more readily on her lessons. But it turned out that this plan didn't work at all and she is even more interested and distractible than she was before.

Her new plan is to draw, because that usually helps her sort out her emotions and work ideas through her system, as if when she puts them on paper she no longer has to store them in her head. And also, her father just gave her a new sketch book and showed her where the art books were in the library and sat with her as she flipped through them. The king didn't know much about art, but that didn't really matter because Rapunzel didn't know much either. It seemed as though several other artists were distracted by their loved ones and painted images of delicate kisses and passionate embraces. She could feel the emotion in some of the paintings, she could relate to them, and they set her heart pounding. She decided then and there that her new aspiration would be to express that level of emotion in a painting.

She has only ever seen Gothel's back before. She couldn't even view her own back as it was hard to crane her neck around in a mirror and her back was always covered in a great sheet of hair anyway. But Gothel's back and Eugene's back are worlds apart. Gothel's skin was soft, pale, pristine, and ageless. Eugene's is more coarse, weathered by the sun, and textured from years of activity. Fine muscles ripple just beneath his skin, shifting and twitching against her caress. And then there is the scattered hodgepodge of scars that break up the subtle lines of him and make him look somehow disjointed without looking unattractive.

She used to give Gothel shoulder rubs, and with years of corrections she has gotten fairly good at them. She wonders if Eugene would like it, and decides to try. He tenses for a moment, then relaxes with a groan.

Then she remembers that when Eugene kisses the back of her neck it feels amazing, so she tries that, lowering her lips to his rough skin. He tenses again under her hands, as he forces himself to hold still. She trails down his spine in hopes that she's making him just as ticklish as he makes her. She presses her cheek to the hollow under his shoulder blade and finds that she seems to fit there perfectly. Her massage continues on his shoulders then down his arm to squeeze his bicep, trying to help him relax, but also trying to do exactly the opposite, because she's feeling a flutter in her stomach and she's hoping that he feels it too and any moment he'll snap and grab her and kiss her again.

"Blondie?"

"Hmm?" She smirks and looks down at him to see that his irritated expression has only grown more desperate, which makes that flutter in her stomach twist.

"You about done back there?"

"No."

He grumbles something under his breath, then buries his face firmly in his pillow.

"You're not going to be able to breathe like that," she says.

He lifts his head enough to say, "Passing out is the plan."

She smirks and moves on to investigate the small of his back.

The next morning is spent bowing. Eugene bows to his instructor. His instructor bows to him. He bows to his instructor. His instructor bows to him. Apparently a flamboyant Flynn Rider bow, although dashing and inspiring, is not what his instructor has in mind.

"You look idiotic," the man informs him.

"Thanks!"

"What would the princess think of you if you bowed to her like that?"

"She'd think I was charming and handsome."

"You're not."

"Come on, Phil. Don't be like that."

His instructor narrows his eyes. When Eugene asked what the man's name was he refused to tell him until Eugene was able to introduce himself and inquire after his name properly. Since Eugene didn't know how to do that yet, he made up a name and was determined to continue using it until he was corrected.

"What would the king and queen do if you bowed like that?"

"The king would laugh."

Phil nods. "Yes, he would."

"He'd laugh in a good way. With me, not at me. And then he'd slap me on the back and talk about dinner. Or my adventures. Or the princess. We haven't really branched out into other topics yet."

"I wonder why."

"As for the queen, she'd just roll her eyes and tell me some story with the moral that she's better than me."

"That doesn't seem to bother you as much as it should."

"Of course it doesn't bother me. She's right. She is better than me."

The instructor sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Alright," he says slowly. "Bow like a normal person or I'm going to kick you."

"Ah. Got it."

Rapunzel gives him an odd look as he bows to her that afternoon. She's sitting sideways in an armchair, her legs dangling over an arm, a sketch pad cradled against her bent knees. She frowns, her eyebrows pressing together. "Your bow changed."

"Yes, it did."

"You're not doing that hand thing anymore." She gives her wrist a wave.

"That's right."

"I liked the old one better."

"You and me both," he sighs, flopping onto the arm of her chair to peek at her drawing over her shoulder. She stretches out a bit to rest her head in his lap. "What are you working on?"

"Oh! You'll like it!" She flips back several, several pages, then eagerly pushes the sketch pad into his hands.

He blinks at it. Then he blinks again, thinking that there is just no way this could be what it looks like because it looks like a picture of Rapunzel squeezed fervently around him while wearing her skimpy nightdress.

"Is that… Wow."

"I know. It turned out well, right?"

"I… yeah."

"And look, there's more." She reaches up and turns a page.

Eugene turns the pad sideways and tries not to stammer out something that can in no way express how fantastic the more animalistic part of his brain finds her sketches. He turns a page and feels the heat rise in his neck. "Oh," he says, clearing his throat. "This one's in color."

She nods excitedly even though it's a really poor comment considering the magnitude of the piece in front of him.

"Do you like them?"

"Goldie, there's no way I couldn't like these."

"Really?"

"Yeah… It's like having my own personal pornographer."

"What's that?"

"Sexy pictures."

"Ah."

He turns the page again. "Oh. I like this one."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Look at me. I look great! You should draw the wanted posters from now on, except that – well – I guess you shouldn't really."

"You're not wanted now anyway."

"And look at you! You've got great legs, Blondie. You should really show them off more."

She considers this, looking at her feet and wiggling her toes.

He turns another page. "And this… This is a picture of Pascal… Why is this a picture of Pascal?"

"He was being really cute."

"Ok, I can see that, but it's a bit disorienting to suddenly have a picture of your frog in the middle of all this-" He turns another page. "Wow." He stares for a moment. "Yeah, this picture of Pascal has got to go."

"Don't be mean."

"I'm not, it's just… What do you say we take this page out…" She frowns at him, narrowing her eyes causing him to quickly change tracks. "…and we'll frame it and hang it up in your room?"

She grins. "I think it'd look better in your room."

"Uh… ok… sure. Let's do that."

"Oh, Eugene! This is so great."

"Yeah," he says, staring again at her drawings. "Great."