Me: Hello Earthlings! Welcome to the last chapter of A Grouchy Love Story!
Grouchy: Finally. I hate this fanfiction.
Me: Now I can focus on getting you together with Vanity in Compulsions!
Vanity: Yes, how lovel-say what?
Randomwords247 chapter 4 . May 7
Me: Grouchy. You. Are. One. Mean. Smurf.
Esther: Can I use 'It' on him?
Me: No. Instead, I'll use 'it' on him :3! Wanna know what 'it' is?
Everyone: Yes please
Me: *brings out a giant hammer* I think 'it' speaks for itself ;). Better run Grouchy! Because HAMMER OF HEADACHE- wait what? 'Hammer Of Headaches' right, who named this? I have a bone to pick with them... anyway HAMMER OF HEADACHES IS COMING FOR YOU! AND IT DON'T HAVE MERCY!
Me: May I suggest this new "Death Mace" instead? *Gives spikey ball of death to Randomwords247*
Grouchy: Woah, woah, woah! What did I do? Smurfette's the manipulating temptress!
Vanity: WILL SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT SHE SAID!
Me: You're hooking up with Grouchy. Next.
Vanity: WHAT?
FrittzyCrazy chapter 4 . May 7
Awwww... There, there, Smurfette, it will get better eventually. Now I want to give Smurfette a big hug, and I also want to give Grouchy... A MAINMING! That little $$%*!# is gonna get it! Wait, hold on a minute. Smurfette toyed with Grouchy's emotions, and Grouchy understandably snapped at her. So... Which one of them do I maim? By the way, thank you very much for reaching a verdict. Hefty dies, not Gutsy, got it! Is it asking to much if I happen to use the mallet from the "Taking over fanfiction" armory during this killing? I understand if I can't, I'll just use some other weapons instead. Hmmmm, let's see now, there's definitely going to be a chainsaw, a few Smurfsized bear traps and regular sized ones just in case, pits full of metal spikes, and at least a dozen mines. THE HUNT IS ON! (Thanks for this chapter, and I'm awfully sorry to hear about your mother. I hope she gets better and that the cancer isn't too painful for her.)
Me: Thank you so much for your sympathy and gratitude. Wish us luck and pray for us to whatever God you believe in. Of course you can use the mallet, as long as it's the new Shinigami 3.0. We need to test this baby out!
Smurfette: Say, where are Gutsy and Hefty? They usually pop right up in your A/Ns.
Me: Well, I know Hefty dragged Gutsy out into the woods, but I haven't heard anything since the sounds of mortal agony rang through the night like demented funeral bells. What a wonderful sound...
Smurfette: Mortal agony?
Me: Yeah, couldn't tell which it was coming from, though. Hopefully Gutsy. You know Fritzy hates her food half-chewed. As for which to maim, I need Grouchy for Compulsions, while Smurfette is now totally expendable! Aim for the hair.
Vanity: Actually, if it would mess with that stupid romance...
Me: Vanity, because I'll be weening you off that mirror during rehersals, I'll let you say the disclaimer!
Vanity: ...
Me: Well, get on with it.
Vanity: No... not the precious... NOT THE PRECIOUS!
Me: Uhm, Vanity?
Vanity: DEATH TO THE DOOMSAYER! *Crouches in corner with mirror* No one will harm you, don't worry, daddy's here...
Me: Well, Smurfette, guess you're up!
Smurfette: Did you really just-you know, nevermind, I'm not surprised. Smurfs belong to Peyo.
The next few days passed as a blur of dark storm clouds. Smurfette had wandered back into the village in a tear-streaked daze, ignoring the concerned calls of her friends as she retreated into her house. Once there, she buried herself in her bed. Her friends were banging and calling through the door, their voices laced with worry.
"Lassie? Are ya' alright?"
"Smurfette, darling, be a sweetie and open up. Want to talk to dear old Vanity about it?"
"Did Grouchy do something to you? I swear, I'll find him and knock his smurf off!"
Yes, Grouchy had done something to her. They'd never know how much he'd done.
Eventually the voices dwindled and doorknob stopped rattling. Smurfette continued to swelter beneath the covers until she fell into a carousel of fevered dreams filled with thorny black vines soaked in boiling water. They wrapped around her legs and hissed "Hate you," over and over again until she woke up screaming. Confused, she rubbed her throbbing ankles—why they hurt she couldn't recall—and fell back into a flurry of nighttime illusions.
Smurfette winced as her door shook in its frame. Her brothers (she could hardly think of them as anything else now) were becoming frantic. She supposed they had reason to be, but all of the noise was aggravating her headache, which screamed in protest when she whipped around at the sound of a key turning in the lock.
The door opened and Papa slid in, the universal key swinging on a right. Smurfette sighed. Of course.
"Now, Smurfette, we've let you alone, but it's been two days. Don't you think it's time to stop this silly moping and come out?"
Smurfette remained silent.
Papa sighed and lowered himself onto her bed. "Well, why don't you tell Papa what's wrong? I'm sure we can fix it."
Smurfette chewed her bottom lip and held back a fresh wave of tears. "I don't think we can fix this, Papa," she choked. Her father simply waited patiently for her to continue. Smurfette brought a hand to her heart and took a deep breath. "Papa, I'm broken," she blurted out. "I'm broken and I don't think I'll ever be right again."
A moment passed as the old man hummed and leaned back. He studied her trembling hands and sorrowful eyes before answering. "A shattered heart is one thing a Papa can't make better. Only one person can do that-"
"-and he doesn't want anything to do with me," Smurfette wailed.
"Smurfette, if there's one thing I've learned in my very long life, it's that love is about compromise."
Smurfette sniffled and wiped at her eyes. "W-what?" she said.
"You know," Papa smiled fondly, "The thing about Grouchy is that he's sensitive. More so than any other of my little smurflings. You have to tread carefully around him."
Smurfette was about to point out that Grouchy hadn't acted so sensitive towards her, but Papa held up a hand to silence her. "The boy is easy to scare off, and quick to lash out. He does not like to be confronted with such strong feelings all at once, Smurfette."
Smurfette's mind was reeling. "Compromise?" she asked.
Papa smiled and patted her hand. "Exactly."
Smurfette disappeared in a blue whirlwind. Papa watched, amused, as she flew around the house, tossing dresses to the floor and tying her neglected hair back in messy ponytail.
"ByePapaandthankssomuchbutIhavetogoseeGrouchynowandthankyouthankyou-" She paused at the door. "Wait, how did you know it was Grouchy?" Smurfette turned around to find an empty room. She hardly stayed to wonder where her Papa had gone to, and was instead running through the village at breakneck speed, astounding all the smurfs who'd been crowding around her mushroom.
She made it to the Great Oak before she realized she had no idea where Grouchy'd be. He could have been back in the village for all she knew. Only slightly deterred, Smurfette worked her way through the forest, climbing over hills and rocks until she found him, crouched in a clearing, glaring at the ants scurrying over the ground.
She waited impatiently for him to look up at her, rocking on the backs of her heels until he glanced at her from the corner of his eye and stilled his twitching movements. The way he reminded her of a cornered animal flashed across her mind before she shouted across the field, "I don't love you!"
Grouchy looked ready to bolt. Smurfette didn't allow herself time to second guess her actions, and ploughed on. "I don't, not really. But, I mean, I care, but I don't need any sort of commitment or anything—"
Grouchy stood up and crept towards her, slowly, like a cautious animal. He got close enough to speak to her but not near enough to touch. "You don't love me?" he probed.
"No," Smurfette wanted to say, "I love you more than I've ever thought was possible." But she'd have to wait a little longer to have him. She could compromise her heart for that swallowed the words. "No," she said.
"Because you can't," Grouchy insisted, "after only just one day. You don't know me."
"I know that," Smurfette lied. "But I'd like to… get to know you."
Grouchy tensed and for the longest moment, Smurfette was worried he'd leave her again. Then he gave a half-way glare and said almost shyly, "Alright."
Smurfette felt a sense of elation as Grouchy settled himself back down on the grass. She smiled as he began explaining to her in great detail exactly what he hated about bugs, especially ants. She'd give up what precious time she could spend loving him to gain a friend. She watched his hands flutter excitedly around his head as he spoke, so much vigor and life pulsing behind that blank mask. And eventually, she promised herself, a lover.
Epilogue:
"I'm telling you, there's something in there!"
"Keep telling yourself that, dear."
Smurfette sighed as a handful of sand sprayed over her towel. Honestly, it was like conversing with a child. She turned, looked over the rims of her sunglasses and said coldly, "Grouchy, there is nothing dangerous hiding in the ocean. Maybe a water sprite, but those are harmless."
"I still think we should have gone camping."
"You hate camping, Grouchy.
"But I hate the beach more."
The only smurf on the beach who'd refused to wear a swimsuit was crouching awkwardly in the sand, clutching his knees to his chest, a position Smurfette had come to learn meant he was anxious. She sighed and rolled over next to him, and joined him in staring out over the rolling waves.
"You should thank me, you know, for staying with you," she grumbled.
"I'm saving your life by keeping you here. You should be grateful."
Smurfette glared at the other smurfs splashing in the waves, screaming and laughing. She was beginning to see why grouchy detested the beach, if every trip consisted of sitting on the shore and watching the others have flaunt the fun they were having. You'd think Papa would know to let him stay behind, Smurfette thought irately.
"He does. Offer to let me remain at the village, I mean."
She must've accidentally spoken aloud again. Smurfette sighed. But…
"Why do you come, then?"
Grouchy shrugged and continued to stare at his brothers, a strange look working its way onto his face. Smurfette shook her head. Sometimes, if seemed like her Grouchy was just set out to make himself miserable. She supposed that was what she was here for. She stretched and pulled herself up, brushing the sand off her white suit. "Well, this is boring," she drawled. "I think I'll ask Papa if I can go in those large caves over there. You like caves, don't you Grouchy? All calm, cool and quiet..."
Grouchy perked up, but stayed silent. "Would you like to come with me?" Smurfette urged. A small nod was all the answer she got. Still, she smiled happily and bounced away. "Love you," she said cheerfully.
"…Yeah, you too," was the whispered reply. Smurfette felt a warm tingly sensation spread out and down to her toes. Grinning like an idiot, she stood there for a moment with him, plastered against the background, looking completely out of place with each other, but feeling exactly right.
Me: R&R if you want, but make sure to check out Compulsions!