I've been on a trip to bonny Scotland, the side-effect of which is that travelling makes me prolifically inspired to write, which is good for you guys so I guess everyone wins.
Flynn Wanted
~9~
Eugene and Rapunzel talk fast and simultaneously, so absolutely nothing makes any sense at all.
"What!-"
"How-"
"When?"
"Who?"
"Why-"
"Rapunzel!" he cries in an attempt to get the upper hand over the situation.
"Eugene!" she mimics back, just as set on exactly the same goal.
"Okay," he tells her, "just slow down. Tell me how you-"
"-know Francis and-"
"-what you're doing out here in the-"
"Castle, and I ran away to find you and then..."
"Wait," he interrupts, "you ran away?"
"Of course," she says impatiently. "I came to find you."
"Well, you found me," he answers hastily. "Now will you tell me how you found Francis."
"Only after you tell me how you know him," she shoots back, and Eugene throws up his hands in frustration.
"Forget it, I'm going after him," he says, realising he's wasting precious time as the person he's been hunting escapes. "He can explain for himself. Wait here." He sets a hand on her shoulder and starts toward the way Francis fled, but Rapunzel grabs him by the sleeve, digs her heels down and anchors into the forest floor.
"Don't!" she pleads. "It's pitch black, you'll never find him, and... and.. what if it's dangerous?" Listening to her own words, she appears to think over the prospect for a moment. "Oh no!" she cries. "What if it's dangerous? FRANCIS!" she shrieks, running straight past Eugene. "Come back!" He grabs her by the wrist just as she did him.
"You're right," he says remorsefully, holding her back lest she actually run off. "Neither of us are gonna find him in this light."
"But-" she begins desperately.
"No, come on," he adds with a pleading tug on her arm, leading her back to the light and warmth of the campfire. "It's useless."
"I..." She hesitates for a moment, and then accepts his unfortunate reality. "Oh, Eugene," she heaves, and throws herself against him, hugging him tight and burying her face against his chest, feeling the warmth she's missed. He holds her close, but his tongue burns with questions he can't keep contained – not when she is exactly the very last place in the Kingdom that she should be.
"Seeing as we have the time," he says pointedly, "you might as well tell me what you're doing here." He pries her gently away – as much as he wants to forget the need for words and talking, she shouldn't be here, and especially not with Francis of all people.
"O-okay," she relents, and they sit; curling up next to his feet like a cat, she rests her head against his knees and tells him the story from when he left her – about the second Flynn Rider crime, finding Francis wounded in the forest, and about his agreeing to help her. Eugene listens patiently, never interrupting or questioning until she's finished – but when she looks up at him, his expression is dark and foreboding.
"Oh man..." he murmurs. "Where do I even start?"
"I don't know?" she says meekly. "At the beginning?" Eugene's face falls to his hands and he groans; raking his fingers back through his hair, Rapunzel is almost sick with dread – he hasn't looked so serious since he died.
"I'm just gonna come out with it," he decides in the end. "Francis... he... he's the new Flynn Rider." For a moment Rapunzel doesn't speak, her mouth just hangs uselessly half-open; then her eyes widen, and the burnt, red firelight sucks the colour from them, turning them dull and lifeless.
"He's... no," she gasps. "He couldn't be."
"I'm almost certain he is," replies Eugene, and then goes on to tell her his story – right from the start; from the orphanage to the message on his bedroom wall – then finding out what became of his once-friend, and how he put all the pieces together.
"But why?" she asks disbelievingly. "Why would he do that?"
"I think he' angry with me – for giving up the Flynn Rider game," Eugene explains. "I think he's trying to take my place."
"But..." she mumbles, her hands folded tightly in her lap; it's clear she doesn't want to believe him.
"It fits," he points out. "You found him the night of the second crime, right? I heard from folks at the Snuggly Duckling 'Flynn Rider' was wounded escaping from his last crime." He frames the name with hand gestures and sarcasm, making clear his feelings on the impostor, even taking their past into account. Once he'd left the Kingdom, the Snuggly Duckling seemed like a good place to go for information, and once the thugs were convinced that he wasn't the Flynn Rider everyone was looking for, they were happy to help. None of them were actually criminals or bandits any more, they just hung around the Duckling for the atmosphere.
"Well, maybe it was just a coincidence?" Rapunzel suggests hopefully, but he stares the idea down. "But... but why didn't he tell me?" she bursts at last, caught somewhere between upset and confusion.
"He was probably scared," explains Eugene. "Scared you'd turn him in." Rapunzel tries to laugh at the comment, but it's a hollow sound.
"Here I was worrying he'd turn me in," she laments quietly. "I just..." Her hands come to her face, and she rubs her temples as if it will help her find the answers she seeks. "I just can't believe it."
"I can," he replies shortly.
"But it seems so... so..." she flusters, and then hangs as she tries to grasp for the right word. " So – impossible."
"Well," remarks Eugene with half a smile, as he thumbs through the top of her hair fondly. "Impossible things always seem to happen around you." As difficult as the current circumstances are, he's still glad to have her back.
"I lived a pretty boring life until you came along," she counters righteously.
"Oh no, don't you try pin this on me," he jokingly reproves, wagging a finger at her, but the humour is ill-sustained; Rapunzel cups her face in her hands, and Eugene sets a palm against her back consolingly. "Hey," he murmurs. "Take it easy, huh?"
"I just..." she half-starts, and breaks away, fisting her hands against her forehead. "It doesn't make any sense," she cries out at last. "He seemed like such a nice..." She doesn't notice, but Eugene's face begins to sour. "He was so sweet, he – he just wanted to help me... if he's the new Flynn Rider, why would he..." she trails off helplessly, turning up to Eugene with bright pleading eyes, but he only scoffs.
"I'd think it was pretty obvious," he answers coarsely, and there's an antagonism in his voice Rapunzel has never heard him use with her before.
"Um... not to me?" she says timidly. He looks down to her, eyes burning, but it's nothing like the smoulder – it's anger she sees.
"Of course, who'd ever want to help a pretty girl stranded all alone in a forest?" he mutters sarcastically. As much as he's tried, Eugene can't blot out the image of Rapunzel and Francis together – the two of them travelling, bonding, becoming close, just like they did. The more he thinks, the more it feels like there's something closing around his neck, imagining what the boy must have thought, must have felt for her – it chokes, sticks in his throat.
"What... do you mean?" she breathes fearfully.
"Oh come on!" he snaps – too frustrated to keep a firm grip on his temper. "He likes you, that's why he helped-"
"No!" she interrupts shrilly. "No, Eugene, that's not... I don't know where you got an idea like that from but-" she chatters, but there's a denial in her voice that betrays her.
"Don't, Rapunzel," he interrupts bluntly, and now it's real anger in his voice, biting through teeth clamped together so hard his mouth barely moves. "Just don't." He knows what men think, being one himself, and loves her enough that he is individually and painfully aware of every single trait that would make another guy fall for her, just as hard as he has.
"But it's not true," she protests. "I never – I mean he never... you don't know Fran-" she tries to argue, but the words are sickly and forced, and Eugene cuts her off.
"Know him?" he growls. "I don't know him? I grew up with him! I know him better than you ever could." He's truly lost his temper now; his words scare and hurt, so Rapunzel wraps her arms around herself and hugs her own fragile frame.
"I don't... I didn't..." she mumbles pathetically, unable to fight his anger, and pinches her eyes closed before tears have a chance to form. "I didn't want to think about it," she confesses at last, rips the secret from her chest and lets her head fall down. She wasn't blind to Francis's attachment by accident, it was deliberate, she didn't know what to do, so just shoved her fingers in her ears and blocked it out. She was so sure everything would work out, but nothing has – if anything it's worse, and she's ashamed of herself – it's her fault Eugene is angry.
It's always been that way, just as it was with Gothel – maybe he's the bad guy for losing his temper, but she knows she's responsible really. So she huddles tighter and hides her face, because she doesn't want him to see her like this – lying, crying like a child – messing up, because maybe she can't do anything, maybe she should have stayed inside.
"I'm so sorry, Eugene," she sobs at last, though it makes no sense muffled through her arms. Eugene can't make out the words, but it's enough to get through to him, lure him out of the angry haze that muddles his head, collapsing his temper like a card house.
"What..." he says looking down. "Rapunzel? Oh sweetheart." His heart bleeds when he realises what he's done to her, and scrambling from his seat he falls to her level, feeling for her desperately, cursing himself. He cradles her face in his hands and twists her unwillingly to face him, pulling her apart like picking out a shellfish."No, please, I'm sorry," he begs, but she resists, drawn back into herself, hurt and scared, so he forces the reluctant truth from his lips.
"I'm not mad... I didn't mean it. I'm just... I'm just jealous," he spits out the word like he can exorcise the feeling, but it doesn't work – though it is enough that she listens, and peers up at him through teary eyelashes.
"What? R-really?" she murmurs disbelievingly. "You're... jealous? Over me?" She didn't think Eugene could be jealous, much less over her.
"You kidding?" he groans. "So much it hurts, Rapunzel." She'll move freely under his touch now, and he lifts her face and traces his thumbs along her cheekbones tenderly, treasuring her for a moment.
"But... why?" she questions.
"Why? You can't ask why," he tells her in exhaustion, sliding his hands down to rest on her shoulders as he releases a sigh.
"But I love you, Eugene," she says simply, and it makes his heart lurch like she's pulling on it with a bell-rope. "You don't need to be jealous."
"That isn't how it works," he bites grimly – if he could choose not to feel this way they wouldn't be having this problem. He wants to explain it all to her, but the words won't come to him, and he just squeezes and stares while she waits for an explanation that won't form.
"I just... I... I can't help it. Seeing you with him... it makes me think – what if?" he finally shoves something half coherent off his tongue, but it's largely for nothing because Rapunzel looks just as confused.
"What if?" she parrots. "I don't understand."
"Errrgh," he moans, letting go of her to bury his face in his hands; it seems to be so simple for Rapunzel – she is sure of their love because she's never known another, she believes in destiny, fate, true love. He doesn't have those advantages.
"What is it?" she pleads. "Whatever you're thinking, can't I help?" He tries to explain, because he wants any help he can get, anything to stop feeling the way he does.
"It's just... what if it had been someone else?" he blurts out at last. "Instead of me. What if you'd met someone else? Someone better for you?" He's trying to explain it as best he can, but she clearly doesn't follow.
"You... think I should be with someone else?" she asks in a tiny, heartbroken voice.
"No," he rushes – that's the very last thing he wants. "It's not like that – I just wonder.. if instead of me, what if you'd met someone else? Like Francis – and... what if I'm no good – if he'd be-"
"But you are good, Eugene," she interrupts surely. "I don't want anyone else."
"I know, but it's jealousy – it's not meant to be rational," he groans. "With Francis, he's younger, he's... you said he was... it's similar, isn't it?" he bursts at last, and that's the image he can't erase, the fear he can't bury.
"Similar?" she chirps. "To what?"
"To how we met," he murmurs; it is clearly not the right thing to say, because she looks horrified.
"You think it's like how we-" she trails off. "You think that I'd fall in love with someone else? Just because it's the same way we did?"
"I-" he starts in a panic, reaching for her like she might run away from him, like he could lose her that easily – but she grabs him firmly, holds one hand on each side of his face, and stares straight into his eyes, like she's looking right into his heart.
"Eugene," she says with a soft, quiet sureity. "I fell in love with you because of you, not because of how we met."
He lets out a tortured sigh, and as she's still curled up – knees tucked high against her chest – he lets his forehead fall and rests on them. She raises a hand and combs fingers through his hair, from crown down to neck, soothing and regular, like she's comforting an animal or child. She never thought Eugene – the man with confidence for two personalities, then some to spare – could feel like this, like he's not good enough – that he could be insecure and doubt something so sure as her love.
She thought she was the only person who thought those kind of things, that she'd been made to feel like that by Gothel. She thinks if even Eugene can have insecurities, maybe the two of them aren't as different as they think. Maybe she and everyone aren't as different.
"I'm such a mess..." he mumbles against her pitiably, shamed by his own sad state; he's meant to be her hero.
"Eugene..." she sighs, stroking her hand through his hair one more time, then lifting his head up. He gives her a questioning glance, but then she leans forwards and kisses him, and he'd go cross-eyed trying to look at her from there. She loves him, but sometimes he does talk a little too much.
His eyes close, hands finding her shoulders and squeezing tight – he can barely resist her at the best of times, but he is feeling insecure and jealous; restraint simply isn't something that occurs to him. So Eugene's hands slip lower down her back until they sit around her waist, and he looses a breath and pulls her across him, until she's in his lap and the full length of her body can press against his. While she may have engaged him first, he is the one who takes control.
Rapunzel has never known Eugene like this before, so tense and aggressive – he has no quips or lines, he only kisses her hard and desperate. Roaming from her mouth, he holds her face firmly in his hand and tips back her head, kissing from her jaw along to the hollow below her ear. There's no precision or care for her in his actions, he wants only to taste her, feel her; his stubble scratches, his teeth scrape across skin, but he takes no notice, seems to want marks of where he's been.
Rapunzel certainly doesn't object, but she doesn't quite know what to do with herself either. His mouth comes to her neck and he kisses hard, drawing up blushes against her pale skin; it makes her dizzy, her breath heavy as she clutches his hair in her fingers – it's about all she can do to hang on. Then, without warning, he pulls away and twists her back to face him, diving into another disarmingly aggressive kiss.
She could try to reciprocate, but it'd makes no difference, like she's throwing a handful of gravel against a rock slide. Her mouth slips from his and she lets out a squeak when he his hand – which has travelled down her leg to the hem of her dress – suddenly slips back upwards beneath the material of her skirt, his cold winter-bitten fingers making her jump.
He slowly strokes along smooth skin, fingers tickling the back of her knee when his hand comes to rest there. Rapunzel is aware now as she's never been that Eugene is a man – that he's been holding back, because there's an intimidating passion behind his cool restraint and suavity; something so strong she can't ever hope to fight, that even he has trouble containing.
Suddenly he pulls back – standing so fast he nearly drops her, pushing her away like another second's contact could burn; he wrings his hands guiltily, neurotic, like he's trying to wash them of his own actions.
"I'm sorry," he rushes. "I got-" he starts but never finishes, because Rapunzel leaps up and jumps at him, throwing her arms around his neck to hang at his level, lunging for another kiss. But he catches her before she achieves her purpose, setting a finger over her lips.
"No," he tells her, his breath shallow and weak, but his tone firm. "Don't. Let me stop while I still can."
Ooh urr, this is the slightly less PC-end of Disney, but then this is a story for a significantly older demographic than Disney's target audience. I hope O_o Also this story isn't going to turn into some AND NOW THEY HAVE SEX EVERY CHAPTER FOR THE NEXT 30'000 WORDS, Rapunzel and Eugene were just working out some, ahem. Tension.
I could really go on about how much I've thought about the interaction in this chapter, but instead I will suggest you review and I'll bore you with all of that nonsense in private messages. Peace out!