AN: Note the rating change.
Rapunzel made her way down to the pizzeria that evening after a five hour nap, a shower, and several pitiful dates with her ice packs. She found Charlie in the kitchen, spreading black olives over a pizza, with another about to come out of the oven. Eugene stood on the other side of the counter, reading the day's newspaper and scowling.
"Something wrong?" she asked, her voice sounding rough from discomfort and disuse.
Charlie turned to beam at her with a "hey, girlie," and Eugene snapped up from his paper, quickly adjusting the angle of his hold on it in hopes she wouldn't see the front page.
This plan didn't work so well for him.
"Local hero defeats giant octopus, recovers Plutonium."
There was a large picture of the destroyed dock with several police officers looking down into the wreckage. One of them was probably Sargent Weaver. She wondered if he gave a statement.
"Nope. Nothing wrong here," Eugene said.
"You're frowning."
"Oh. Yeah. The damned Fighting Tunas lost again."
"Those bums!" Charlie gruffed.
"I know, right! It's the pitching."
"It's the management!" And thus Charlie set off on a long tirade against the entire coaching staff, management, owner, a few key players, and their rival team.
Eugene seemed to breathe easier with this distraction in place, and he folded the newspaper again, hiding it away under his arm and nodding distractedly with a few choice additions to the conversation to make it look like he was paying attention. "That game was a disgrace." "If only Bradford wasn't on the DL."
With a clenching of emotion in her stomach that she couldn't quite identify, Rapunzel realized that he was worried about Blondie.
Eugene looked over at her, past Charlie and his ranting. His eyes roamed over her form once, taking her in before he smiled at her. Somehow it didn't seem like he meant it.
"You look nice."
"Uh. Thanks?"
Charlie snorted without looking up from his diced peppers.
Eugene raised an eyebrow at her, his eyes darting to Charlie and back.
Oh right. The bruises. Wouldn't do to talk about them in front of Charlie.
Eugene's smile became more genuine as he laughed under his breath at her slow comprehension.
She'd covered all the purple marks with makeup and a long sleeved shirt. It was good industrial strength makeup, the kind they used in movies, the kind that could cover anything. Edna had given it to her when she finally got fed up with Rapunzel appearing in the newspapers with great black and blue splotches across her face. She claimed that the bruises were detracting from the outfit and went after Rapunzel with a rolled up magazine shouting, "In- correct- accessories!" Then she sat back and sighed, rubbing her forehead, and tossed a jar of makeup at the younger woman.
It worked amazingly well, but covered her freckles. Sometimes she wondered if that would give her away, especially when she only used it on one side. But then she reminded herself that no one looked at her that closely. They just nodded at her and possibly smiled, then turned back to their business. Like Charlie was doing now.
Except Eugene was looking. And maybe he was putting two and two together if he hadn't already. Octopus battle plus weird shaped bruises equals Holy Crap! Rapunzel and Blondie are the same person!
She shifted and looked away, down at her hands as they traced the edge of the counter, as if a change in the angle from which he saw her face would stop him from seeing a resemblance. "You look nice too, I mean."
That was a stupid thing to say, and she just knew he had one of his horrible Flynn Rider smirks plastered across his face. Her cheeks reddened just at the thought.
But when she glanced up, the look on his face surprised her. It was more a smile than a smirk, warmer, more enamored. Shocking.
"Nah," he said, mimicking her posture by grabbing the edge of the counter. "I smell like pizza."
"I like pizza." Then she felt stupid again. There should have been more smirking, but there wasn't and that was still confusing. It made her insides feel all warm.
She ran her hands back and forth across the edge of the counter, lingering a bit when they came near Eugene's hands. "And anyway, how you smell doesn't have anything to do with how you look."
"That's true. Good thing too. I don't want to look or sound like pizza."
"Do you taste like pizza?"
Oh God. How many stupid things could she say in one conversation? She needed to go climb in a hole or go to another social skills seminar.
"That depends," he said, his hands shifting nearer to hers.
"On what?"
He leaned in close until she could see the little freckles in his eyes, his shoulder brushing temptingly against hers, his voice dropping secretively. "On what kind of pizza. I refuse to be associated with anything involving bell peppers."
"I like bell peppers."
He shook his head in mock sadness, his face still very close to hers. "That's disappointing."
"Alright," Charlie growled, pulling the finished pizza from the oven and slipping it from the cutting board into a cardboard box. "Flirting time's over. Get back to work."
"You're cruel," Eugene said, pushing himself from the counter as if he didn't care about the interruption, as if he could still breathe and walk in a straight line and everything. He took the box, shoving it in a hot bag.
"Yeah, and they'll be another ready for you when you get back so don't take too long."
"Alright. I'm going." He pushed the door to the alley open with his back so as not to squish the pizza, and paused long enough to shoot her half a smile and a little wave.
Apparently that in itself was enough to make her blush because Charlie scoffed at her and shooed her out of his kitchen.
After his lengthy absence, Flynn finally decided to make an appearance the next evening.
She probably should have rested another day or so, given how after an hour of waiting she ached all over. But she had a feeling that he would show up and she would never be able to live it down if she wasn't there to stop him.
She thought she should have stayed home again when she dropped from a fire escape to land right in front of him as he darted down an alley, bringing him to a skidding halt and jarring every bone in her body. She rose slowly from the crouch in which she landed, glaring at him because her legs hurt and it was all his fault. He fell back into a defensive stance, bobbing on his toes, ready to dodge, a determined, angry set to his jaw.
A whip of hair lashed out to his left and he ducked right, only to find her waiting for him with a flurry of punches to his stomach that made him crumple slightly in on himself before blocking and then grabbing her arm. Another coil of hair lashed out at him, slapping around his leg and he dropped her arm. He ducked as she twirled, aiming a round house kick to his face.
Then he reached down for her hair as if struggling to break free, to escape, but instead he grabbed it with both hands and yanked, causing her to stumble and fall against his chest where he pinned her arms to her sides, his fingers still tangled and pulling at her hair, and clapped his mouth hungrily over hers.
He held her so tight it hurt, his fingers digging into her sore muscles. He crushed her against his chest and pulled her up onto her tiptoes, making her dizzy and tired and annoyingly elated that whatever awkwardness had set them back was now wiped away, that all the tension they'd built as Rapunzel and Eugene dissipated in a flash of heat and recklessness.
"Where's Mergirl?" he demanded, ending the kiss abruptly to glare at her.
She blinked at him, still slightly dazed. "Wha-"
He rolled his eyes and exhaled in irritation, then his lips were back on hers, one hand pressed firmly to the small of her back, the feel of his palm sinking into her skin through her suit. He held her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. From anyone else it would be a caress, from him it was demanding and aggressive. His fingers slid way too close to her mask, and yet she kept kissing him anyway.
"Where is she?" His voice came out something between a growl and a gasp, his lips barely leaving hers. "She did that photo op with the mayor a few days ago, so I know she's in town."
"I've no idea."
His fingers tightened against her back. "Blondie," he warned.
"It's the truth. I don't know where she was. I wish I did. I just have good timing and was in the right place at the right time, so I took care of it."
"You call that good timing?"
She shrugged.
"I don't like this uncanny knack you have for finding trouble."
She smirked, sliding an arm around his shoulder to pull herself up, her lips brushing his jaw line as she spoke. "Yes. I can tell. You hate it."
"I'm just going to have to pull more jobs to keep you out of trouble."
"This is keeping me out of trouble?"
"Sure is."
And then they were kissing again, fervent as if they could somehow devour each other if only they wanted it badly enough. He didn't even stop her when she slipped the bag of diamonds he stole from his back pocket.
Maybe he didn't notice.
There were things about being with Flynn that weren't easy. Like how he was frustrating and obnoxious and arrogant and how she always had a nagging feeling of guilt hidden just beneath the adrenaline. But it was much, much easier than being with Eugene.
He picked her up for their date the next time he had a night off. Just as he promised, he took her to dinner. It ended up being a very nice place where they both felt under-dressed despite the fact that she wore her nicest sundress and he was always too attractive for his own good. He brushed it off with a laugh and a comment about how everyone was giving him the jealous stink eye because he got to eat with someone so pretty.
The sense of awkwardness and dread in Rapunzel's stomach only intensified.
She half expected him to use her as some sort of distraction so he could steal something from one of the more wealthy patrons. She expected a horde of ninja henchmen to drop from the ceiling and attack her and everyone around them. Why was he being so nice to her? There had to be a catch.
And why had he taken them somewhere so exorbitantly expensive? Her eyes widened slightly at the price of the grilled chicken, and she nearly tossed her menu away in horror at the price of the salmon.
She glanced up over her menu to judge his reaction. She imagined that Flynn was well off, what with the amount of valuables he'd stolen, but Eugene was a broke pizza guy. Was he going to pay for their dinner with dirty money? He'd probably think that was really clever.
But Eugene's eyes had stopped moving, his whole face frozen in place as he took in his options. He swallowed noticeably, then set his menu down and smiled at her as if he were worried but didn't want her to fret.
She narrowed her eyes and he started a conversation about an innocuous topic: traffic on the tollway, and then which of the elevated train lines were her favorite when she mentioned that she didn't drive too often. Her favorite was the green line, which ran past her house to the library and free museums downtown. Everyone said it was sketchy and dangerous, but that didn't bother Rapunzel and she felt it had more character than the other lines. She liked talking to the other riders as they warned her to get home before dark. Eugene's favorite was the red line, which took passengers off the island. They both agreed the blue line, which ran around the western shore line was the worst. It was always full of sand and tourists, and the seats were always damp from the swimmer that had sat there just before. There was always someone to accidentally hit you in the head with a surfboard.
It was nice, she supposed, but everything between them felt so restrained, like they were walking on eggshells, tiptoeing around each other. The lack of honesty was palpable, and she couldn't figure out why that was the case with Eugene when the same thing was happening with Flynn without it bothering her. Maybe because she and Flynn could admit they were doing something wrong and that brought them closer. With Eugene, they had yet to hit upon anything that could bring them together. Even their conversations only seemed to skate across the surface of their lives.
Or maybe this was just how first dates went, when you were trying to impress someone, trying to figure them out without letting them see how crazy you were. And Rapunzel was really crazy, so hiding it didn't leave much to discuss.
When their waiter appeared, Eugene ordered a glass of water and an appetizer special. Rapunzel ordered a milkshake. Then they both stared down the waiter as if this were a perfectly normal thing to do at a nice restaurant, until he left with a sigh.
A moment later, Eugene snorted, and Rapunzel couldn't help but laugh with him.
He kissed her good night in the car when he dropped her off, leaning over the gear shift and cupping her cheek gently, as though he thought he would break her. It was simple and sweet and so kind that she felt fluttery afterward, like she might sprout fairy wings and hover off the ground. But he was still holding back. They both were. And she was left confused and frustrated and overjoyed and unable to wait for their next date, which might go better.
She grabbed Flynn by the belt as he ran past her hiding place that night, jerking him into an abandoned warehouse where she made him kiss her thoroughly. She could barely see him in the dark, but she could hear him groan against her ear, his arms holding her tight, her hand slipping under the hem of his shirt to feel every warm, jumping muscle in his abs.
It took far longer than usual to remind herself not to get distracted. She had a job to do, after all, and she eased one hand free from its needy groping in his hair to take the handcuffs from her belt and lock him into place for the police to find later (or for him to escape before the police found him.)
But her handcuffs weren't there.
Flynn broke their kiss to grin at her in the dark. "Missing something?" He waved them in front of her face, dangling them from one finger.
"Give them back," she snapped.
"Now why would I do that?"
She growled and tried to pull away, but he held her in place with a hand held firm and low against her spine.
"You'll have to fight me for them," he said. Then he kissed her again.
And she shoved him, causing them both to nearly lose their balance.
She and Eugene went to the movies next, because that's what normal people do on a date. They stood in front of the ticket seller for far too long trying to decide what to see. The animated thing about penguins looked fun, but she didn't want to admit that to Eugene. His eyes seemed to linger on the action movie poster – something about high speed car chases - but when she asked if he'd like to see it, he said no. They should see what she wanted.
The romantic movie was probably out and the depressing award season contender was probably out too.
"The war movie?"
"Huh? Really?"
"Umm. No. Never mind."
They ended up seeing a documentary about bears, which was neat because Rapunzel learned so much from it and now she loved bears, but she still spent the whole time worrying that Eugene wasn't enjoying himself or that he would say something rude about the bears.
Then she had to try not to eat all the chocolate covered mints. She had to leave some for him, which was really difficult.
She decided that they just weren't very good at normal date things. Or maybe that was just her and not being good at normal things. Either way, she was tired of all the stress and decided she'd had about enough of his fake, mellow identity and whatever it was he was attempting to accomplish by being so sweet to her.
She wanted him to let her in, loosen up. He acted as though he was casual, as though he was telling her things about himself and what he liked and what he wanted from life. But he was so obviously holding things back. She couldn't tell if the pieces she glimpsed were real or some sort of act he was putting on to fool her.
With Flynn there were no holds bared and the lines that held back their secrets were clearly marked and not to be crossed. With Eugene she had no idea where the lines were, so it seemed as though everything was a secret.
Everything but the way he looked at her.
Flynn caught her that night, pinning her to a pipe, pulling her leg around his waist, making her breath catch and her eyes close as she clutched his shoulders and bit into his earlobe.
It only made her more determined to make headway with Eugene. Maybe someday he'd kiss her like this too. She wanted more passion in their goodnight kisses.
She wanted him to be himself, but that goal was always swept to the side where it went unnoticed, never crystallizing completely in her mind. She wanted all of him and maybe this alternate persona was the way to accomplish that, but that idea was so absurd that she just kept coming back to how he must be using her and laughing about it later.
She really wished he'd get on with it, whatever it was – opening up or snapping the trap closed. The anticipation and uncertainty was killing her.
So she tested him. Their next few dates, she told him where they were going and bit down her painful desire to falter and ask him if that was alright. Of course he went along with it, smiling slightly and letting her lead the way.
They went rollerskating.
They went to a pumpkin patch even though they were out of season.
They went to a concert where the performers only whistled.
They ate at a restaurant where the food still wriggled.
She wanted him to dislike it. She was mad at him, so dragging him over the coals seemed a good revenge. She wanted him to snap and let slip whatever fiendishness he was plotting. She wanted to get a rise out of him and the only way she knew to do that was to start a fight.
But he didn't snap. He caught her as she fell rollerskating, then fell to the ground himself before she could kick herself for messing up, and she plastered a band-aid to his elbow where he fell, and he grinned at her, letting his hand linger against her side as he kept her from rolling away.
They sat on a hay block, admiring the empty pumpkin patch, and she prevented herself from feeling awkward with a glare and sheer determination.
He lazily pulled a piece of hay from the bock and tickled her ear with it, making her jump, and he laughed before asking why she liked pumpkins so much. She didn't really. They were neat, but they were mostly neat when you could see them and touch them and eat them. She was just there because it was decidedly not fun, and that's probably what he was getting at with the question.
She scowled.
For a moment he looked confused, worried that their date was going so poorly or worried for her mental health or his weird plan or whatever. Then he took a deep breath, slapped his hands on his knees, pulled her to her feet, and drove them both to the supermarket where they bought some squash. He then brought them back to the pizzeria to settle into the kitchen where they carved funny shapes into their newly acquired produce.
And they started talking. They probably talked more than they should have. She told him far too much without meaning to. And his lies were so sad, so believable, so honest sounding. He didn't have friends either, he said, which she found hard to believe until she remembered that he had very, very little free time.
He said he didn't have a family. She stared down at her squash and admitted she didn't have anything like that either. Then she forced herself to stop talking, and he thankfully changed the subject to something less depressing.
The whistling concert quickly turned into a joke, and they got through it with Eugene's whispered side comments that made her giggle. They made it through with his hand carefully holding hers.
Then he straight up asked her what they were doing eating live squids, and when she couldn't answer, he told her she was weird. Somehow when he said it, he made it sound like an endearing quality rather than an accusation.
He held a squid up between two fingers, watching it wriggle. "This is unattractive," he said. "I'm not getting any action if I eat this."
She had been carefully eating all the garnish around the squid on her plate, but his words made her pause. He'd made it pretty clear that he wanted to spend time with her more than he wanted to suck on her neck.
She didn't get it. Did he not like her neck? Was he trying not to get distracted so he could focus on getting to know her and find out all her secrets? Was he trying to take it slow because he liked her? She'd heard about that on television, but didn't really understand it. This was the case with most things in Rapunzel's life.
She blinked at him. "You were expecting some action?"
He shrugged, pointedly not looking at her in favor of inspecting his food from another angle.
She couldn't tell if that was a proposition or a slip when he was actually talking about Blondie. Lately she'd been using her industrial strength makeup to cover the hickeys Flynn gave her so Eugene wouldn't see them. It'd be a dead giveaway if he left some kind of mark on her, then found it later when she was out of costume.
Plus it would really hurt Eugene's feelings.
Poor Eugene.
She'd started getting these flashes of Eugene's smile when she was with Flynn. The thought ripped through her mind as she bit down a moan against the roll and pull of Flynn's tongue on her neck, as they toppled to the ground. He kicked a trashcan as he fell and landed with an "oof," his breath tickling across her skin, the deep timber of his voice rumbling down her spine to the pit of her stomach. She pinned his arms over his head, still pressing her throat to his lips so he could continue even as he struggled against her grip and bit her.
Poor Eugene.
"Because," she said slowly, setting down her fork and giving up on her food, "I'd be alright with that."
He looked up at her, staring her down, seeing if she was serious.
She was.
"I'm not eating this then. And you don't eat it either. I'll get you a burger or something, just... Yeah, let's get the check."
Eugene's face was set in deep concentration, fingers pressed to his mouth, eyes scanning back and forth over the game board in front of him as if he were reading. The seriousness with which he was taking this idea, which she knew was pretty silly, made her heart flutter.
But then again, his determination in the face of frivolity and his general good looks were distracting her into making stupid mistakes. It occurred to her briefly that he might be using it as some kind of strategy, distracting her so he would be victorious.
She pushed away her suspicions with more ease than she had a week before. It was fine. There was no way she was going to lose. No one could beat her at board games.
They were sitting on the worn hardwood floor of her apartment, playing Battleship. It was still a weird date, but they'd moved on to things she actually enjoyed – things she was sharing with him. She was letting him in, which filled her stomach with something trembling that she couldn't quite label as fear, but couldn't quite call excitement.
Coming to a decision, Eugene sat up straight, rubbing his hands on his knees. "B6."
Rapunzel glanced down at her side of the board, noting the location of her battleships as related to his attack. She tried not to let the result show on her face as she asked, "You sure about that?"
He smirked. "I am now."
"I'm just trying to help you so you don't lose again," she said innocently.
"Oh yeah?"
She nodded. "I think you should pick a different spot."
"Hmm. Well, if that's what you think." He rubbed his jaw and shot her a sly grin, watching her over the top of his glasses.
"I am the expert," she said.
"That's true. Alright... F8."
"Miss!"
"Crap!"
She laughed as he marked his failure, still smirking slightly to himself.
He really was a good sport. He'd prove himself an even better sport when he found out that that his first guess would have been a miss too. He thought he knew where almost all her ships were now. Whenever he eventually decided to attack them and end the game, he'd find out they were never there at all and she would win in a landslide.
No one could defeat her at Battleship. She was way too sneaky.
Maybe he was doing something similar, only his sneakiness involved being nice to her and letting her win.
She was okay with that.
And he was cute when he was very obviously trying to give her the advantage that she didn't even need. If she had needed it, it probably would have irritated her, but as it was...
She grinned, then clambered forward, crawling over the game to take his face in her hands.
"Hey! You're kicking my board," he said, trying to stabilize her with one hand on her waist and trying to push his board out of the way with the other as she accidentally kicked it. "You're gonna send little pegs flying everywhere and I'm not helping you find them... And now your behind enemy lines, you spy. This is cheating!"
She giggled as he wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her closer. He didn't stop grumbling about her foul play until she cut him off.
Whenever she interrupted Flynn mid sentence by grabbing him by the hair or the front of his shirt or the back of his neck and kissed him just because she hated him so much, he would keep trying to talk even as he attempted to sink his teeth in her lower lip. He fought to finish whatever annoying thing he was saying, because he felt like it and he would do whatever he wanted and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
Eugene just surrendered. He stopped what he was doing and kissed her back.
His hands skated up her sides as if trying not to press on any faded bruises that neither of them would acknowledge were there, as if he were hesitant, as if he were asking permission to touch her. She found it adorable and exactly what she needed. She found it frustrating and the opposite of what she wanted. So she sank into his lap and stretched an arm around his neck and moved her lips more enthusiastically against his.
There was a fire just beneath the surface of his skin. She could feel it lying just under his painful restraint. She had felt it in the shadows as she was pressed between a brick wall and his chest. Now it was a kind of refreshing challenge to coax him into letting go, into relaxing his inhibitions and tightening the grip of his fingers.
It was a challenge, but not a fight – one she'd overcome in due time by talking and laughing and playing board games rather than through ferocity and manipulation.
Her heart fluttered as he pressed closer, her thoughts spinning as his fingers slipped over the hem of her shirt, one calloused hand threading through her hair, brushing the back of her neck so that she shivered even with the heat.
A sudden knock at the door jerked them apart.
For the briefest moment her heart leapt, because a knock at her door meant that Eugene was there. Eugene! Yay!
Then through the happy, warm cloud of her mind, she realized that that was stupid because Eugene was obviously in front of her, giving her an odd look, and she shouldn't be that excited for him to visit, and she shouldn't be having these kinds of Pavlovian reactions.
But if he was here, then who was outside? She turned to stare at the door, feeling all different kinds of befuddled. She jumped when the knock came a second time, and scrambled away from Eugene, using his shoulder to push herself to her feet, untangling one of her legs from his, and flattening down her hair, trying to bring her heated face under control before opening the door.
She heard him laugh under his breath behind her as she stumbled, but she refused to look back at him. Stupid Eugene for laughing at her, and stupid her for getting that flustered, and stupid whoever it was who was interrupting them. She threw open the door with a scowl that melted immediately into a look of surprise.
A brown haired woman stood on her doorstep, dressed in neat, professional clothes, looking far too poised to be in Rapunzel's crummy hallway.
"B-Belle?" Rapunzel stuttered, drawing the door closed ever so slightly.
"Hello," Belle said.
How did she find her? How was everybody finding her? Was her address printed somewhere she didn't know about? And - oh no - now the league would know about her hair!
She stopped herself from running her fingers through it, pulling the door even closer to her body. Her last hope was that Belle wouldn't see Eugene. Flynn. Whoever.
Belle smiled, something soft and beautiful that still felt predatory enough to give Rapunzel shivers. Or maybe those were left over from Eugene.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to give you an invitation to Jasmine's baby shower," she said, pulling a crisp envelope from her purse. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to give it to you yesterday at work, but there was a problem at the printer's."
Rapunzel blinked at it. Jasmine was pregnant? Great. There would be even more criminals running around without supervision if Jasmine was going to disappear on maternity leave.
No. Wait. This was a cover. Of course. She wasn't thinking straight.
That was Eugene's fault.
"We're really hoping you'll be able to come." Something glittered in Belle's eyes that made it clear that the invitation was not a request.
In the super hero community, Belle was more commonly known as The Beast. With a roar and the cracking of extending bones and the rippling bulge of her muscles, she could transform into a monster as big as a bear, her brown hair exploding to cover her whole form. She grew horns and claws and fangs like a gargoyle, while her eyes stayed as sharp and dangerous as they were now. Rapunzel had once watched in horror as The Best mauled a mob boss, leaping at him from across the room and tearing into his flesh. Just the thought of it now turned her stomach.
"Yeah," she said, swallowing and taking the envelope. "I'd love to come. That will be fun."
She felt Eugene sneak up behind her, feeling warm even though he didn't touch her. She imagined she could smell him. He pulled at the door handle to try to open it further, and she tightened her grip on the door to hold it still, fighting the urge to glare at him.
Belle narrowed her eyes slightly and Rapunzel plastered on a fake smile that probably gave her away even more.
"I guess I have to bring a gift."
"That's generally the way these things work," Belle said with a smile.
What kind of gift do you get for a baby shower? Rapunzel had never been to one. Then what kind of gift do you get when the baby is entirely fictional?
A cheap gift. That's what.
Eugene had moved to peer through the peek hole in her door. She really ought to use that more. And he really ought to use it less.
"Alright. I'll see you then," Rapunzel said, trying to hurry the encounter along as Eugene pulled on the door handle again.
Belle looked suspicious, then seemed to think better of it. She nodded and turned to leave with a wave. Rapunzel closed the door and locked it, pressing her back against it before scowling at Eugene.
His hair and shirt were distinctly ruffled, which would have been horribly embarrassing if Belle had seen him. Or it would have been embarrassing until she recognized him, and then it would be horrifying.
"Friend of yours?"
"Co-worker," she said, not quite meeting his eyes.
"You know, I'm starting to think you don't want to be seen with me."
"Uh... I... Well..." She shifted and rubbed her arm.
He bent forward to force himself into her line of sight and for a moment they just stared at each other.
What did he want her to say? Was he really concerned about not meeting her friends? Surely he realized that was a stupid idea and what they were doing had to stay a secret. Or – wait – maybe he didn't. It was hard to tell. He shouldn't be worried anyway because she didn't really have any friends.
Or was his ultimate evil plan to let everyone know about their relationship and ruin her reputation forever?
Then again if he really didn't recognize her then she wasn't being the best girlfriend.
Girlfriend?
She shifted again, then muttered quietly, "I just don't really want to watch you flirt with her."
Something in his face softened. "Seriously?"
She rolled her eyes and huffed as she realized that that actually was the truth. At least in part.
His hand found her hip again, the other cupping her face. "Come on, I wouldn't do that."
"She's prettier than me."
He scoffed. "No, she's not. Her face is huge."
She bit her lip to hold back a smile. "You were looking through the peek hole. It distorts the image."
He shook his head, laughing at her quietly, his breath brushing against her skin. "You're prettier and I'm sure you're four times as interesting. At least. Probably more."
She blushed despite herself, feeling the warmth in his eyes heat her whole face.
"You're the only girl for me," he murmured bending to kiss her with such tenderness, she thought she might melt.
For a moment she completely believed him.
Then she remembered.
Rapunzel had no idea what to wear. Eugene laughed at her when she mentioned it, but she saw it as a serious issue.
Was she supposed to wear street clothes or was she supposed to wear her jumpsuit and sneak in through a back window or something? Both had their benefits. It wouldn't do to be the only one in or out of their disguise. She also still disliked the idea of the league knowing what she looked like out of costume. They'd already shown up at her apartment, basically flaunting their knowledge of her identity. Maybe she should fight back by showing up in street clothes, just as a statement that she didn't care if they knew and they had nothing on her.
Then again the league were very buddy-buddy and they didn't mind at all if everyone knew their real names. They told Rapunzel on previous encounters that it was a sign of trust amongst them. Everyone in the league knew everything about each other. So the fact that they had let Rapunzel in on the secrets already, and that they seemed to know everything about her implied that she was part of the league already and fighting against the inevitable was futile. She didn't like that. And to her it seemed less like a show of solidarity and more like a show of strength: together they could neutralize any threat to their security.
These were the kind of power-plays and subterfuge that Rapunzel generally tried to avoid. But what with Flynn in her life, she hadn't been doing a good job lately.
She decided to deal with the issue of what to wear to the fake baby shower the same way she was was dealing with Flynn. She did what was easiest and tried not to over think it.
She wore a purple dress that fell to her knees over a nice pair of pants just in case she had to kick anyone. Staring at herself in the mirror for far too long, she decided it looked silly, then she thought it was kinda fun, then she thought her nose was too small, so she determinedly looked away. She wore her hair short and brown because then she wouldn't have to drag it around or braid it.
Problem solved!
She bought a small stuffed moose that she saw at the drug store and struck her as especially cute. She made sure to wrap her present neatly, going so far as to buy shiny ribbon. Shiny ribbon was fun and would be appreciated even if no one cared about the moose (which they should because it had sad, black eyes and looked like it should be hugged frequently.)
The address on the invitation took her to upscale restaurant owned and operated by one of the league members. Two men in sharp, black vests, shined shoes, and bow ties opened the door for her, bowing slightly as she passed. Another stood at a podium to take her name, make a mark in a book, and then shuffle her off with yet another man in a vest.
He led her on a winding path through the restaurant, past little round tables that sat four and booths snuggled up against the wall. Despite the odd afternoon time, when most people would have long since finished lunch and not yet turned to thoughts of dinner, the restaurant was still marginally crowded. A low, warm murmur of a dozen conversations surrounded her, acting like white noise, and the whole, large main room smelled of fresh vegetables and sweet, warm baked goods.
They walked past the stage where a pianist provided quiet background music. She'd heard that at night full bands occupied the stage and music poured out of every creaking floorboard and the patrons would dance wildly, carelessly. She'd heard that at night the place was lit by the enormous candelabra that twinkled and hovered over her head, but this afternoon the room was lit by the skylights, making the room airy and bright.
The waiter led her up a wide flight of stairs to the private rooms that looked out onto the dance floor below like box seats at the opera. He slid open a thin privacy panel to reveal a room containing only a long table and about a dozen chairs.
She hesitated, then turned to the waiter, who had bowed again as he waited for her to enter. "Am I the first one here?"
He cleared his throat and gestured at the room, like someone presenting the product in an infomercial. "If you'll have a seat, miss."
She did not like the sound of that at all, but she stepped into the room anyway, the door sliding shut behind her. She brushed down her hair on either side with her palm, then took a seat – not at the head or foot, and not directly in the middle of a side, but a bit to the right.
After an awkward moment she crossed her heels under her chair and set her present purposefully on the table in front of her. The curled ribbon had begun to wilt and she fluffed it carefully before pushing the box slightly away from herself as she attempted to make it look casual, then folded her hands in her lap.
With that, the wall slid open, revealing a dim hallway. The movement was surprisingly silent despite the fact that it looked like real brick. She took this as an invitation, and squared her shoulders, collected her present, and marched through the doorway.
The hallway wound around and down, a secret passage through the walls left over from smuggling days. Or maybe it was once used to make the waitstaff more invisible. Maybe both.
Somewhere deep in the basement, the hallway opened out into a foyer and ended abruptly in a great set of steel double doors. A camera on the side, mounted above a key pad and a thumb print reader, swiveled to look at her.
"Umm," she said. "I'm here for the baby shower?"
There was a pause. Then the doors clunked as they unlocked and hissed as they opened outward, causing Rapunzel to take a few hurried steps backward.
In front of her was the league's conference room, white and bright and sterile and in vast contrast with the warm and earthy brick hallways. Everything shone with glass touch screens and quietly blinking blue buttons. All the rounded edges gave it the aesthetic of some kind of a futuristic space ship.
And in the center, around an oval table, sat the League of Peace.
When assembled together, they were truly intimidating. None of them stood, greeted her, or even sat up straighter in their chairs at her approach, and yet every deadly eye was on her. They'd been waiting.
And, of course, most of them were in full superhero regalia, leaving Rapunzel to feel utterly foolish.
Glass Slipper sat the closest, a pale silver band ran across her chest from shoulder to opposite hip, holding a collection of throwing knives that seemed to glimmer with intimidation. Her blonde hair was piled neatly on her head to keep it out of the way, her white mask painted across her eyes, enhancing her features more than concealing. She was the only of the superheroes who worked in heels – long stilettos said to be one of the more deadly and painful weapons at her disposal, said to be made of glass.
Rapunzel had trouble believing it. How did she run in those shoes? How did they not shatter when she landed from a jump out a second story window? How did she not clack with every footstep? Glass Slipper was know for her stealth, which meant the shoes were either forged from some transparent, sound absorbing material (that probably wouldn't be beyond Edna Mode's means) or Glass Slipper actually floated everywhere instead of walking, hovering just an inch above the ground. That would explain her unnatural grace.
Next to her sat the Jabberwocky, a short, painfully thin girl with far too many ribbons setting her hair into a tangled mess of pigtails. Her eyes were sunken and set off with thick, dark eyeliner that might have been black and might have been purple and matched her nail polish. Black and white striped stockings were visible under her pale blue miniskirt, fluffed with a great flounce of ruffles.
Her outfit was completely impractical, but then again the Jabberwocky tended to stay out of the action, disabling her foes from afar with hallucinations that spanned from nagging feelings that they'd left the stove on and should go home and check to horrifying nightmares that could rip the mind apart.
To her left sat Snow White. Her bright red lips were her only facial feature not covered by her blue flight helmet, complete with yellow visor through which she could apparently see. Her red cape draped neatly over her shoulders, arranged more perfectly than Rapunzel could have ever managed. If Rapunzel had had a cape, it would end up waded up behind her or under her butt or on the floor. Like her hair.
Snow had a helicopter and knew how to fly it. The helicopter had a megaphone, and several times she had buzzed over Rapunzel's head, to announce sassy things to whatever criminal she was chasing - usually Flynn, who would roll his eyes and shoot a rude hand gesture, which just encouraged Snow to make further comments.
Belle thankfully wore normal clothes. Very nice, business appropriate clothes, that still made Rapunzel feel under-dressed, but at least it wasn't a full disguise like the others. Belle didn't have a super hero outfit. That's what happened when your power was morphing into a giant bear-dog. But Rapunzel did have to wonder how many of her nice shirts she had ripped to shreds in her transformation.
Tiana was still in her chef's attire, a white coat that buttoned up one side. She was obviously on a break from her work in the kitchen. Lucky for her that she owned a place that housed secret headquarters. Unlike everyone else, she didn't have to take the afternoon off work and she didn't have to force on her usual pair of black and purple tights.
Next to her, Mergirl looked thoroughly put out, her arms crossed over her chest, as if she were protecting herself with the blade like fins on the forearms of her wet suit. Her lips were pulled into a pout, her eyes narrowed. Her mask, which seconded as a kind of scuba gear, was missing today, which was odd, but then again she didn't need it here and it was probably very uncomfortable.
Rapunzel wondered what had her so upset. Everyone else in the room looked somber, but not ticked off.
Then finally there was The Scarab, her long, dark hair pulled up on her head in such a way as to set off the harsh arch of her eyebrows. The scimitars at her hip glimmered in the bright overhead light as Rapunzel moved towards her, setting her present on the table in front of her.
"For your baby shower," Rapunzel muttered.
The Scarab lifted an eyebrow, something like amusement playing about her lips, and Rapunzel looked away quickly, slipping into one of the seats left vacant for Aurora and – she guessed – herself.
That thought caused something to sink in her gut.
"Hello, High Tower. We've been waiting for you."
Rapunzel bit down a cringe. You don't get to pick your super hero name. The press does that for you. But she thought her name (derived from the location of her first heroic activities) was especially awful. It gave her chills and she used it as infrequently as possible. She'd even gotten the police, and Flynn, and a handful of reporters to stop using it, but the league was immovable.
"Sorry?" she said. Out of disguise and with everyone looking at her, she felt small and meek. They made her feel inferior, like a helpless child again.
She set her shoulders and tried to shake away the feeling. She was capable. She was fierce. They couldn't bully her like this.
"Why did you ask me here?" she asked.
The Jabberwocky clicked several keys on the panel in front of her and one wall of the room lit up like a giant movie screen. They projected a picture of the dock, ruined from her battle with Ursula, the same picture on the front page of the Corona Tribune that she had found Eugene reading.
"You've been fighting enemies that are not your concern," Glass Slipper said.
Rapunzel blinked. Was that it? Was that why Mergirl was so angry?
"Why were you pursuing Ursula?"
"I wasn't. I was at the dock and she attacked me. I only fought back to defend myself. If any of you had shown up I would have gladly let you have her."
"But what were you doing on the docks?"
"I was sent by the police to protect the trident." And why was it any of their business what she was doing? She didn't have to report to them.
"You stole the trident," Mergirl snapped.
"I stole it to keep it safe. I was delivering it when I was ambushed."
Belle held up her hand gently, telling them both to calm themselves, then she spoke softly. "The police have no record of sending you to protect it." She was stating a simple fact, but also showing that they had already checked, and that wasn't a good sign.
Rapunzel glared and crossed her arms over her chest until she looked like Mergirl. She wasn't going to give Sergeant Weaver away. He got in enough trouble because of her already.
"She wasn't your villain to deal with. It wasn't your problem," Tiana said.
"If someone is threatening my city or the people in it, they are my problem. I'm not going to let bad guys run rampant because you've called dibs on all the criminals. If you're going to do that then you actually need to take care of them when they show up."
"You already have a criminal to deal with. One who is still at large."
"I've caught him several times," Rapunzel said. "He keeps escaping from jail."
"Then maybe he needs to be put someplace more secure," The Scarab said. "We have facilities that can hold people like him. If it's like you say and his threat to the city is the responsibility of every crime fighter, then you won't mind if we take a shot at putting him away."
A white hot drop of possessiveness oozed down her throat. No, they were not allowed to go after him because he was hers. She was the only one able to predict his movements, the only one who had come close to catching him.
An image flashed across her mind of Flynn fighting with someone else, of his smirk, of the way he would pull them close to distract them. They'd be pressed tight against his chest, their fingers in his hair.
And Rapunzel would rip their head off in a jealous rage.
The league should stay away from her man.
Disgusted with herself, she realized this was an especially hypocritical view point. It didn't make it any less painful to hear, but it was still hypocritical and she should acknowledge that. Maybe Mergirl felt the same way?
Rapunzel kind of hoped not.
She hoped the jealousy and hurt didn't show on her face as she softly replied, "No. No, I wouldn't mind."
The Scarab nodded.
"Good," Glass Slipper said, her voice a bit too happy in light of how Rapunzel's stomach churned. "Now that we have your cooperation, we can get down to business."
"Business?" So their main purpose in calling her here wasn't to scold her? Then what was the point of that? Just to set her on edge? It seemed to Rapunzel like they would do better to make her feel at ease rather than putting her on the defensive. But they never did operate the way she thought they should.
And who said anything about cooperation?
"Yes. We need to catch Flynn Rider as quickly as possible."
With a few more keystrokes, a complicated table of times and dates and figures spread across the wall. "We've analyzed his recent heists along with his attempted heists." Mostly attempted heists. "And we were unable to find a pattern." Some sort of graphic worked through the table, pulling up common threads – times or the value of the object taken – but each algorithm failed to explain every robbery. Rapunzel couldn't tell much of what they were looking for, and thought the graphic a bit strange.
"You however, seem to understand the pattern to his madness," Glass Slipper continued. "Would you care to elaborate?"
Rapunzel blinked at her, then turned slowly to stare at the rest of the league. "I- I don't know. I just kind of... know?"
The league stared back at her, making it clear that that was not an acceptable answer. "Umm. I know he reads the Tribune. And if there's anything worth stealing mentioned in it, he'll go for it. Or if they have banners advertising museum exhibits or posters on the train. If someone else tries to steal something and fails, he'll try as soon as they make bail so they can see him do it."
She also knew what nights he had off because his work schedule was not only posted in the pizzeria office, but he would also tell her so they could go on a date. But she wasn't going to tell them that part.
The Jabberwocky took note of everything she said, pulling up the newspaper archives and running some sort of search. Pictures from the paper flashed by, occasionally pausing and blinking as it matched with an item on their list of Flynn's crimes.
If she really wanted to help them, she could say, "Well, this is where he works and he'll be there at 9. It wouldn't be that hard to set a trap for him." But she didn't really want to help them.
What if they did manage to catch him? She'd never see him again. Not that she wasn't trying as hard as she could or anything...
"Why do you want to catch him so badly all of a sudden? I mean, I want to catch him too, but – I don't know, it seems like you generally go for bigger culprits." Culprits who were actually hurting people, who were threatening something besides overly shiny necklaces that were far to valuable to ever wear.
Glass Slipper pretended not to hear her question and asked her own. "How do you keep up with him? The police always lose him when he runs. Do you know where he's going?"
"I have an idea. A general direction. I haven't been able to pinpoint it yet. And as for keeping up with him... I run fast?"
"He's not letting you catch him?"
She barely held back the chill that slipped through her veins. "I don't think so," she lied. It was an okay lie. Even if he was letting her catch him, he still made it hard enough that they lost the police, so she still had to work at it and anyone in good enough shape should be able to keep up.
Everyone was staring at her, waiting to hear more, making her uncomfortable again. "I'm missing something. What happened?"
For a moment there was only silence, then Belle leaned forward in her seat to rest her forearms across the table. "Two weeks ago he stole from Ariel."
What? "From Ariel?" Rapunzel turned to Mergirl, who was purposefully glaring down at the table in front of her.
No wonder she was so upset.
"What did he take?"
Mergirl refused to respond, her lips pressing tightly together. Belle hesitated a moment then said, "He took her television."
That didn't make any sense. How did he get to her television? Did she carry it around with her? Did he- Oh.
"Oh."
"He broke into my house!" Mergirl snapped. "How did he know where I live?"
Something unpleasant twisted in Rapunzel's stomach. He knew where she lived too. Was she just a piece in his collection? Was he going to steal from her too? She made a mental note to check that all her stuff was still there, then berated herself for letting the league cause her to distrust him, then berated herself again because she really ought to distrust him just the way she had been distrusting him since he showed up.
She swallowed. Surely there was some explanation. "Rider doesn't take electronics. How do you know it was him? Maybe it was just a random burglary."
Before Mergirl could finish scoffing, The Jabberwocky was already pulling up a black and white video from a security camera.
"We checked with the black market, and all the local pawn shops," Glass Slipper said. "We finally found it here. Someone showed up at the orphanage to donate it. The headmaster thought it was suspicious and called the police to check that it wasn't reported stolen."
The video clearly showed Flynn stroll as casually as he could considering the large flat screen he was carrying without the aid of a box and the wires trailing behind him. He grinned and said something, apparently explaining about the TV. The tape fast forwarded to the point a half hour later when he left, turning just before he opened the door to shot a wink and a salute directly at the camera.
"He helped them get it set up," Snow said softly.
Rapunzel nearly laughed, a kind of ridiculous, hysterical laugh. Had he forced the League of Peace to come in and taken the orphan's television away? Or had Mergirl had to suck it up and buy a new one?
"He also left a note," Belle said. The whole table seemed to stiffen, as if she'd said something she shouldn't have. But Belle's eyes focused only on Rapunzel, watching her reaction with keen, predatory precision.
The Jabberwocky hesitated before pulling up a photograph of a note clearly in Flynn's handwriting.
I've got my eye on Twinkle Toes' stereo system. Digital. Surround sound. Nice. Keep that in mind for the next time you treat Blondie like your babysitter.
And I'm taking this too, seeing as how you're not using this to take down super villains. I think it suits me. What do you think?
Have a great day,
Flynn Rider
She read the note three times, then stared at it as a whole, trying to force the pieces into place. Her voice was brittle and cracked over the words. "What else did he take?"
Glass Slipper made the slightest of shrugging gestures and said simply, "Her mask."
The sickening chill that had been running through her bones, hinting at emotions but never truly taking hold, never solidifying into something she could understand, finally took form. He was sending a clear and dangerous message. And he was doing it because he hated to see her hurt.
Suddenly she found it difficult to breathe. Too many emotions spun through her mind, clenching in her chest. She found herself staring at his signature, using it as an anchor in the storm that crashed and welled around her.
"He's attacking you," she breathed.
"Yes, and we're attacking him back before he does more damage," Belle said.
"He knows where I live," Mergirl repeated. "He knows who I am. Do you realize what kind of damage he could do with that?"
Of course she knew. Rather than answer a rhetorical question (which she'd learned early on didn't need answers) she turned to Glass Slipper in what may have seemed a non sequitur. "Do you really have a nice stereo system?"
The woman's frown deepened, unhappy that she was so easily identified as Twinkle Toes. "Yes."
Rapunzel nodded. "Then he knows where two of you live."
The league was clearly unhappy with this assessment, even though they'd come to the same conclusion even before her arrival. Maybe they just didn't like hearing it aloud.
"That seems to be the case," Belle said. "The question is how he came to posses this information."
Rapunzel shook her head. There was really no telling how Flynn knew everything he knew. He was a mystery.
Then she stilled, her eyes narrowing marginally, that dizzy chill shifting from her lungs to her heart. "Wait," she said. "You don't - You don't think I'm helping him?"
"Are you?" Belle asked.
"No!" The same way she wouldn't help him steal things and she wouldn't help him escape, she wouldn't give him information about other crime fighters, even if they were rude and suspicious. It was like an unwritten code. You just don't give away information about people's identity. That's why she wouldn't turn in Flynn when he was Eugene. That's why the prospect of someone misusing the information was so appalling.
"I honestly wouldn't know enough to help him anyway. I only know your first names. You couldn't find someone's home address with that."
"I'm sure you could," The Scarab said.
"I'm not helping him stalk you."
"Even if it means getting back at us?" Snow asked.
"I don't want to get back at you. I'm annoyed that I've needed to pick up your slack lately, and, yeah, those bruises weren't fun, but it's not like I took this job just so that I could get upset every time I had to fight a monster."
"We're just noting how strange it is that, given twenty minutes and limited resources, you can defeat a fully grown sea monster, but in a year and a half with a single man, you've been unable to bring him to justice," Glass Slipper said.
Rapunzel had trouble keeping the irritation out of her voice. "I told you. I've caught him several times. His escapes aren't my fault."
"And then there's this note," Jasmine said, "where the two of you appear to be very close."
"This latest escapade of his is news to me. Maybe he's even doing it just to get me in trouble."
For a moment everyone just watched her, their faces grim and pitying. "Surely you can understand our concern," Belle said.
"Your concern about him or your concern about me?"
Again, no one answered her question. The answer was obvious.
"You need to bring him in," Belle said. Her voice was gentle yet commanding, making it clear that there was no room for argument and yet implying that she somehow understood Rapunzel's situation. She didn't understand. None of them did. "Do it before he does more damage, or we will feel justified in our suspicions of you and we will take action."
Rapunzel stared at her.
"We will be pursuing him ourselves, of course. But I hope you catch him first." Belle smiled softly, wishing her the best of luck, hoping that this was all some sort of misunderstanding.
Rapunzel felt queasy.
"And take it as a warning," Tiana said. "Personally, I'm convinced you're innocent. So watch out for him. Don't let him steal your identity too."
Rapunzel doubted she would ever breathe again.
Night had fallen by the time she made it back to the pizzeria, and her already precarious mood had deteriorated as she walked.
She had no idea what to do. Her muscles sung with tension that made her head pound as the same arguments chased each other through her mind.
She had to catch Flynn, but she couldn't catch Flynn, and that was fine with her because at least she prevented him from actually stealing things so he wasn't really doing any harm. Why did that have to change? Was it time for a change? Time to put a stop to this?
He had the league more scared than she'd ever seen them. Her heart swelled to think he'd done that in her name, even as she knew that it was foolish and crazy and had gotten them both into more trouble than they could reasonably deal with. She should probably be jealous and worried that he would steal her mini fridge – and she had been earlier – but the league had made her so angry that all that fear and worry directed itself at them.
How dare they come and try to derail her life? This was their fault in the first place. They should just get their act together.
And now she had to catch Flynn.
And she couldn't catch Flynn.
How had she let this get so far, so out of control? What was even happening to her life? How could she put it back together, forcing and kicking it back into a semblance of normalcy or piecing the shards together with painstaking precision?
She had no idea what to do.
"Rapunzel?" She looked up to find herself in the pizzeria with Eugene giving her a very concerned look, pausing as he loaded a pizza into a hot bag. Charlie had stopped what he was doing too and they both stared at her.
Eugene moved towards her slowly as if worried he would spook her. "You alright?"
She nodded, but it was shaky. Her whole body was shaking. Her stomach was knotted and she felt cold all over.
What was she going to do?
Before the sob she felt rising in her throat burst free, she was in Eugene's arms, clinging to the back of his shirt as he held her close, running a hand through her hair and whispering hushes. She buried her face in his chest and inhaled the familiar smell of pizza and cheap laundry detergent. He felt so warm, so soothing, the opposite of how she had felt in that conference room.
"Take her upstairs. Get her settled in," Charlie said, patting her back in the space between Eugene's arms. Eugene nodded, pressing his lips to the crown of her head before turning her to guide her up the stairs.
"It's alright, girlie," Charlie called. "I'm sure all baby showers are awful."
Eugene let her plop on the edge of her bed in her apartment, kneeling in front of her, resting his elbows on her knees. "You want to talk about what happened?"
She shook her head and turned away. Of course she didn't. She didn't know where to start.
His fingers brushed across her cheek, dragging her gaze back down to look into eyes so warm and perplexed and worried that she faltered.
Her lips parted, the words catching in her throat. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to rage at him for being stupid and then make him brainstorm solutions with her, make him help her sort through everything because he was the only one who understood. Or maybe he didn't, but looking into his eyes she was convinced that he did.
They were in this together. Despite their bitter differences, she held far more loyalty for him than she did for the league, than she did for anyone else in her life.
She took his face in her hands and kissed him.
Eugene seemed surprised at first, his breath catching before he gave in, just as he always did when she kissed him. His hands slipped to her hips, and he sat up on his knees as she pulled him closer.
Her kiss was urgent and demanding, coaxing him into showing the same level of affection, pulling and enticing as if she could drag the raw urges out of his chest and inhale them.
She slipped off the bed, as much into his lap as she could, to press herself tight against his chest and wrap and arm around his shoulders. His restraint cracked slightly as he held her close, his fingers melting into her sides to set her on fire, his kiss deepening as the angle changed.
And then her hands were twisting in the hem of his shirt, and she pulled away from him as much as she could let herself. Her breath came in pants, empty without his body pressed to hers, without his breathing reminding her how it was done. His hands held her in place until she could latch onto his bare chest and he could release her enough to pull his shirt off the rest of the way, grabbing it by the back of his collar and throwing it to the floor before drawing her up into a kiss again, fumbling to keep his glasses in place.
His skin was so warm, his heart pounding beneath her greedy palms as she mapped the contours of his chest, of his shoulders, as if she could leave her mark there and claim him as her own. And with every motion of her hands, every scrape of her nails across his back, he gave in just that much more.
She grappled with the zipper down the side of her dress, then sucked in her breath as Eugene took over for her, dragging it down with painful slowness that had her squirming against him. His hand slipped inside her dress, rough fingers brushing against her ribs, making her feel small and fragile, yet not weak.
She needed more and grabbed at the dress, pulling it over her head in a rush. Eugene had to pull his hand free and help tug at the fabric when she got an elbow caught in the sleeve and the netted skirt caught between their bodies. Her hair stood frazzled and on end, her cheeks flushed when her face appeared out of the tangle, and she huffed as she shoved it aside.
He laughed, a rumble that pulled her back against him to be closer to his joy. His hands ran to smooth her hair and cup her face, tilting her head back to press his lips to her neck. Closing her eyes, she reveled in his attention, her body gloriously relaxing and tensing simultaneously. His arms tightened around her with the wonderful sensation of skin on skin, and his mouth found that spot against her collarbone that made her toes curl, that spot that was so familiar against Flynn's tongue.
With her legs tight about Eugene's waist, he lifted her easily, depositing her on the bed, and she hooked her fingers through the belt loops on his pants to pull him on top of her, to cover her completely and wrap her in sensation.
Her thumb traced his jawline, rubbing deep circles in time with the movements of his mouth against hers and his hands against her skin and – her fingers bumped his glasses, which just wasn't going to work. And she was pushing him off and scrambling away and switching off the lights to plunge them into semi darkness.
Just the horizontal, orange lines from the streetlight through he slats in the blinds illuminated the room, outlining his shape, the curves of muscles in his arms, across his shoulders as he sat up in bed, probably looking confused. She had to feel her way back into his arms, which wasn't bad at all except that she had just decided that looking at his abs was one of life's joys.
He removed his glasses even before she reached for them, letting them clatter onto her bedside table as he enveloped her in another heated kiss.
His hesitations fell away with his glasses. Abandoning pretense or propriety or fear of displeasing her, he touched her and stroked her, rocking against her to build an ache in her stomach like burning timbers that threatened to collapse in on themselves in a violent storm of flames. He wanted her and he needed her, and unlike Flynn, he didn't care if she knew it. He didn't care if it made him vulnerable, because she would wrap her arms around him and protect him.
Unlike Flynn, he let affection mix with desire. He let his tongue linger to taste her. He held her as if she were beautiful and powerful and loved.
And maybe he wasn't even Eugene anymore, but some wonderful combination of the two, and for the first time she felt true honesty from him – honesty that pulled her in and had her gasping out little cries of want and elation.
And he was massaging her ass and she was kicking off her shoes and he was unhooking her bra and she was grappling with his belt. His hips shifted beneath her as he pulled down his pants, and she pressed her forehead against his shoulder, dazed at how good the motion felt. He caught the jeans before they were kicked away, sitting up to grab them, pulling her with him into his lap. Distractedly digging through his pockets, he swore between kisses, and she giggled until he'd found the crinkling packet he was after and pulled her back down with him, giving her his complete attention once more.
Her pants were harder to peel off, and she thought she might scream - she might whimper, she might laugh - as he fought with them, leaving kisses down the inside of her thigh, nuzzling against her to scrape his stubble against her skin.
Then she was free, her bare skin singing in the cool air, her legs wrapping around him. Her fingers pressed deep into the rolling muscles of his back, and he was teasing her, and she was flipping them to be on top again, to look down at him in the dark, to have him reach up for her.
She'd never made love before, and maybe it should have been more frightening, but Eugene was so careful with her, so gentle, so entirely distracting from all her fears. She had swept them up into a frenzy, and he carried them the rest of the way, just the two of them, just the bare essentials of their personalities without clothes or masks, just Rapunzel and Eugene and sweat and tangled limbs and the rhythm of her pulse in her ears and the pulse of their forms moving against one another that left her so blissfully dizzy, left her clinging to him as if she could squeeze him and all the growing, taunting pleasure inside her would explode.
"I love you," he rasped, his breath warm against her neck, setting her skin tingling until she thought she might burst from it, until her heart threatened to melt with a moan and burst into a million pieces.
His hand tightened in her hair, every fiber of his being tensing.
"Oh God, Blondie."
And she froze, her eyes snapping open as he collapsed, boneless and panting beneath her.