WARNING: Slash (male/male) relationship. Possible mpreg. Crosddressing. Fluff. Smut. Drama.

Disclaimer: I don't own POTO. I wish I did. Then I would kill Christine Daaè and have Erik and Raoul be together. POTO belongs to Gaston Leroux, and the vesions I base this fic on belong to Andrew Loyd Webber and Susan Kay.

As much as the Phantom had thought about introducing himself to the new patron that night, he sure as hell wasn't expecting this… rudeness. He was a vicomte for god's sake, he surely knew better than to invade other people's properties. Like his box.

And yet, just before the opera started, as the Phantom was about to enter his box, he found the blonde teenager (he didn't know his age, but judging by his factions, he could tell Raoul couldn't possibly be older than Christine. That is, 17. At most) sitting merrily in his box, on his chair. And he was outraged. How could he?!

And as much as he wished to storm inside and kick the young vicomte out of his box, something stopped him from doing that. Maybe the fact that the blonde looked too defenseless and harmless. Maybe he didn't know about him yet. He had to be fair with the boy, he had just come to the opera earlier that day. He hadn't had the chance of speaking to the corps de ballet yet. If he had then he'd known of the infamous Opera Ghost by now. Yes, and he'd stayed away from his box. That had to be it.

The thought surprised him. Why was he being so considerate of a snobby teenager? If it had been someone else, maybe some other snobby vicomte and not this one, he'd done anything to scare them out of their silk petticoats. But now he was frozen in place because he was sure if he moved even a little Raoul would notice him and run away. Probably.

Something similar had happened once when he was but a young boy in the woods. But that time it had been a beautiful fawn the one creature he didn't want to scare away, not a snobby, girl-faced vicomte he hadn't even formally met yet.

He thought about leaving, after all, he could watch the opera from his privileged seat back stage like he'd done many times before but then his mind went back to its usual self. Why would he let the vicomte keep HIS box?! Just as he was about to go and kick him out like he'd initially thought, the new managers came in. And he went back to his hiding place. Because he'd still thought maybe he'd kick Raoul out nicely… and he couldn't if those two pigs were there. So he ran away, back to the tunnels that lead to the cellar. He suddenly wasn't that excited about the opera. And besides he could still listen to Christine while he was in the tunnels. If she did well he'd let her finally meet him.

After the opera ended and Christine was thoroughly congratulated for her impeccable performance (he also took credit for himself, he was her teacher after all) he waited for her in her dressing room, behind her mirror. He thought maybe getting to meet him would be a good reinforcement for her to continue her lessons. Or not. He wasn't sure anymore.

And just as Christine was getting out of her costume, that snobby teenage vicomte entered her room like it was nothing. And he learned they were childhood friends. Also, he learned that Christine thought he was the ghost of her father. And then he invited her for dinner. It really didn't make him that mad, Christine could do as she pleased with her free time, and besides he wasn't that sure he wanted her to meet him anyway, but he felt strangely… jealous. Not because he didn't get to congratulate Christine, but because she got to speak to the vicomte and he didn't. It wasn't fair. It was his opera house and he had to speak to the new patron. Never mind Firmin and Andrè, they repulsed him, but Raoul didn't. Yet.

So naturally when the blonde left, he let jealously get the best of him and prohibited Christine from going out with him. Obviously. Smart move.

Instead he had her follow him to his home under the opera. He had to improvise, he hadn't thought Raoul would have the guts to ask her out. He didn't even know they knew each other. And perhaps Christine got the wrong idea as they crossed the undergrown lake. He wasn't particularly interested in her in a romantic way. Only as a teacher and to a certain degree as a father figure. Oh well. He'd surely have to talk about that with her. He didn't want her thinking he was teaching her because he liked her, no. It was because she had a nice voice, and honestly, she was his second option. The first one was Meg Giry, but she was terrified of him. What a Shame. She was prettier, and also, the idea of teaching a mezzo and not a soprano was thrilling. Not because it was any different, but because he'd never seen a mezzo prima donna before. All sopranos. And he knew how sopranos usually ended. Like Carlotta. Annoying brats.

He swore to himself he didn't want Christine to faint, she just did. For the second time that day he asked himself "why?". All he did was tell her he wanted her to sing for him and then she just fainted. He knew his music was better than good, but was it really that exciting? He was still debating if it had really been because he said that, or the fact he had little wax dollies of pretty much everyone who had ever worked in the opera house. Really, he just made them out of boredom, but he had to admit maybe it was a little creepy.

And so he stood before the unconscious body of Christine on his bed. It was a rather uncomfortable situation to be in. He didn't know if he should take her back to her dressing room, and besides he was almost sure at least the new managers would be looking for her by now. Also, the vicomte. And then he thought maybe he could use Christine as a bait to get to speak to him. He would never hurt her, of course… if the girl wasn't such a hormonal teenager, he could talk to her without her either thinking he wanted her or fainting. He sighed heavily as he exited his room. Maybe not everything happened like he intended it to. At least not always.

But on second thought, yeah, maybe it did. He'd go back to Christine's dressing room and hopefully the vicomte would be there, and then he'd get to talk to him about certain box which should remain empty because, for god's sake, it was HIS.

Reviews are welcome and appreciated.