A/N: Ok, so it's been 3 MONTHS since I've updated this story and I am so so sorry to everyone who's been waiting for this (probably not many of you though). But thanks to some new reviewers, I've decided to continue this story again. Shout out to Cammie Cassia Chase for the inspiration! You rock!

Ok, so here we go. P.s. I own nothing.

The Rules:

Chapter 5

Flynn Rider (like any rebellious, arrogant full time thief/part time man-whore that he was) had accepted the fact a long time ago that life would never be normal, or easy, for him. He was a guy who lived in the moment. Who lived for the moment. By design or fate, that's led him into a few complex situations every now and then.

So, in all horrifying honesty. . .getting clobbered by a 5 foot 4, highly attractive, teenage girl with a feakin' mile of hair that looked about as priceless as gold was NOT the strangest thing that could happen to him. What was weird for him was that he didn't even feel a ping of anger toward the blonde. In fact, he was kinda impressed. He always did have a thing for women who could take care of themselves, in more ways than one. And brunettes. He especially had a thing for brunettes. But the incident did however, put a huge damper on what had been a great day for him.

'Did he deserve it?' he had asked himself subconsciously. Naaaahhh, course not. Hell, they barely had a three-minute conversation, and he was the one trying to play nice until she knocked him out. Some might even say it was damn right heroic of him, considering his reputation, acting like such a gentleman in front of a lady.

. . .So why did she hit him?

That was the million dollar question he woke up to 10 minutes later.

!#$%^&*()

. . .

He groaned, struggling to open his eyes at the surprisingly heavy weight of his head, which happened to be sulking rather lazily into his lap. Strange. . . He could've sworn he' been lying face first into the wooden floorboards of the Duckling. And when had he been sitting on a chair with his head almost, repeat: almost, between his legs.

Ok, so not exactly the most chivalrous of positions to find yourself in but, eh, he'd been in worse.

That's when he heard the conversation, if you could call it that, going around.

"Why the fuck did you do that!" he heard Jack Stabbington shout.

He didn't even have to be conscious to know who that question was directed to. Flynn was mighty curious himself about that as he picked up his head and fluttered his eyes open. Nobody paid him any attention. And then he noticed why.

Blondie (whose name he hadn't even gotten) was backed up into the corner of the pub pointing her. . .wait, was that a frying pan? Damn. Flynn Rider—most wanted man alive (however way you look at it, ladies) and thief extraordinaire—got clubbed by a kitchen utensil. That was sure to put a dent in his massive sized ego. Ok, digressing now, back to the point. She was backed up into the corner pointing her now infamous frying pan threateningly at everyone and anyone who tried to come within three feet of her. She still had that fearful, animalistic look he'd noticed before, and her pupils were dilated. Like a dear on the road about to get run over.

Everyone in the pub was up and out of their seats crowding around and starring at the blonde, all wisely keeping their distance I may add. Most (*cough, cough* the Pub Thugs) were looking at her with somewhat fearful glances. Others (*cough, cough* The Stabbingtons) were glaring at her like she was a Royal Guard—which is to say, not too kindly and with a lot of suspicion.

Blondie looked pale, her mouth hung on slightly as if she were trying (and failing) to find the words to answer that. ". . .I. . .uh. . ." Clearly not the smartest of responses, she steeled her expression and said, "He's a thief!"

The guys were looking at each other like it was the most normal thing a person could say. Which, in truth it was.

Still. Flynn faked a wince, "Ouch, Blondie. You really know how to hit a guy where it hurts."

Everyone's eyes were suddenly on him. He ignored them and got to his feet. His head was still feeling heavy and was messing with his center of gravity, but he toughened it out and walked over to face Rapunzel.

"Don't you know it's rude to point out other people's flaws," He patronized, looking up and down at her endless amount of hair. "Looks like you've got your fair share of those."

She pulled back the frying pan to stroke her blonde locks, averting her eyes absently from his gaze. She was nervous, and Flynn could see his words had cut her deep. Part of him didn't know why he was being mean, but another part of him was scolding himself for not going far enough. She hit him for god's sake! Make her suffer!

He didn't, however, expect the next words that came out of her mouth. Still looking nervous and not resuming eye contact, she said, "Don't you know it's wrong to take what doesn't belong to you?"

There was a collective chorus of gasps and ooohh's from the crowd.

Well, well, well. Two can play this game, sister.

He smirked. "Wrong? Maybe. Fun and exciting? Hell's yeah."

She almost looked horrified. "You enjoy being a thief? Stealing from completely innocent people like Mother?"

He didn't know who this 'Mother' was, but he offered her a shrug. "Yep, pretty much. Ya know you should really try it sometime, Goldie. It'll work wonders on that little conscience of yours."

Again, she looked taken aback at his snarky replies. "How can you say things like that? Why would you even need to steal from others?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but then he hesitated. She was looking directly into his hazel brown eyes now. Her face was a bit hardened by their ongoing argument, but beautiful nonetheless. What really made him pause was the concern behind her expression; it was soft, it was caring, and it was genuine. Like this young, energetic, petite blonde from God only knows where actually wanted to know the answer of why he lived a life of thievery. No one else in the Snuggly Duckling, or anywhere else for that matter, had stopped to ask why he did what he did. People simply adopted it as if it were common sense: Flynn Rider was a thief, always has been, always will be. It's not like he could wave a magic wand and turn back into. . .that other guy in him. There was simply no turning back. That deadline passed a long time ago.

He shook his head from the internal debate in his mind. "No, no, no, no, Blondie. I am definitely not having that conversation with you." He looked her up and down again, emphasizing on the 'you'.

She put her hands on her hips, obviously looked a bit offended. "And what's that supposed to mean?" she said, raising a brow.

He raised one back, crossing him arms. "It means that I'm not explaining myself and my life to an under aged, inexperienced twerp that doesn't even know how the world works."

It was her turn to hesitate now. Clearly, that little piece of information was now dawning on her. It was almost ironic; Flynn had no idea how right he was at the moment. It was obvious to anyone that Rapunzel was not your average everyday girl, and that maybe her views were a bit more. . .ideal (and childish). But he could never have imagined that the girl before him didn't know a clue about how the world worked.

He smirked at her silence in victory. She didn't have a comeback for once. Though he admired her resolve, it felt a lot more satisfying to finish this argument and fast.

His little victory celebration was cut short, however, by the pounding sound of a gong in the pub. Everybody shared a glance for a millisecond before scrambling around like animals for the exit. And they had good reason to be.

It was a signal that the Royal Guards were coming. And they were bringing plenty of men with 'em.

A/N: I hate it that it's shorter than many of my other chapters but I really wanted to end it here. Don't know when I'll update the next chapter but I can guarantee it'll be less than a month this time. Please REVIEW! That's the only reason I live to write!