Happy 2014 babes!
Have a good Christmas? New Year?
I did, because get what?
I GOT A BRAND-SPANKINg-NEW LAPTOP, BROTHA!
*Preceeds to dance around the room while you read forward*
Story news in bottom A/N.
February 23nd, 2026
"Absolutely not! I refuse to let this proceed any further!"
"Chase, we already have the dress and shoes, why not give this protective father bit a rest already?"
Cosette sat at the island, holding a bowl of Frosted Flakes as her parents continued to argue the fate of her Quinceanera, even though all thirty-four invitations had been sent out and the ballroom at the Sundance Hotel secured and paid for. She raised her spoon and chewed her cereal thoughtfully, wondering how her father was going to survive standing up to the wrath of Christine Davenport because no one came back from that battle without some wounds.
That wasn't to say that her parents weren't happily married or that they weren't in love, because they were and always would be, but they were so different from each other that butting heads over pretty much every thing that had two ways of being done was unavoidable.
"Why spend should a ginormous chunk of money on a party when she could using it save up for college?" he tried again, but was failing miserably.
"Chase, Cosette holds straight A's in every class and has perfect attendance in school and all of her six extracurricular activities," her mother pointed out dismissively. "I would be highly surprised if more than a few scholarships weren't in her future."
Cosette saw her father's shoulders slump downward in defeat. "Does it really have to be a party?" he asked in a moan. "Can't we get her something like a puppy?"
"I'm afraid not, Sad Clown," her mother disagreed, "the venue's already booked for next week, anyway."
Cosette tried to hold back a laugh as her mother victoriously sauntered back to the sink, where she resumed washing dishes as her husband gaped her.
"It's booked for when?"
February 30th, 2026
There were a couple perks to being the children of a world-famous scientist and a nationally known CEO of the second-biggest economic company in all of California.
One of them being that from all the galas and banquets they were forced to attend, Cosette and Johnathan formed an alliance of sorts when it came to formal wear.
"You know, one these days not being able to knot your own tie will become pretty pathetic," Cosette noted drily as she stood on tip toes, finishing off her brother's tie and smoothing it down with her fingers carefully and straightening out his jacket.
He smiled wryly, making a turning gesture with his finger. Cosette sighed and turned, lifting her hair up so that he could zip up her dress.
"And one day you're dinosaur arms will bring the same feeling upon you," he teased, letting the zipper drop from his hold.
Cosette sighed again, letting her hair drop.
She felt sparkly and squeezed, her nerves running haywire. Was this how a princess felt during a coronation or when she address a crowd populated by her entire kingdom?
When she was little, Elizabeth and her dreamed day and night about becoming princesses and ruling their own kingdoms, with matching castles and twin princes that showered them with gifts like it was their birthday every day of the year.
Cosette didn't think she'd want to be such royalty if she knew what kind of feelings would come along with it.
But that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the look.
Her mother had a blast calling upon Cosette's many aunts for help with prepping her for her big day, with Elizabeth tagging along and giving her sarcastic, yet somehow both comical and offensive comments in the background.
Cosette felt flustered, feeling hands and fingers pull and twist her hair into place with glimmering clips - both scored from Aunt Ashley and Aunt Sammie's owned beauty company that varied in salons and spas - and Aunt Rachel making certain adjustments to her dress so it will frame and hug her body in just the right way.
With three aunts ambushing her, Cosette could hardly make out her fourth of the five, Aunt Janelle, murmuring with her mother fondly as she enjoyed the show.
Elizabeth sat on the couch, grinning up at where her best friend had been commanded to stand on the coffee table.
"Ow! What up with the pin in my butt?" Cosette demanded, looking down.
Aunt Rachel looked up at her, face set apologetically. "Sorry, hun."
Elizabeth let out a snort of laughter.
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Cosette asked in monotone.
Elizabeth nodded her head, wiping away imaginary tears of joy from her eyes. "Oh, you have no idea."
"Hey, mom?" Cosette asked after another aunt head count. "Where's Aunt Bree?"
"Trying to bring your father out of his sour mood," Christine said with a hint of exasperation. "I swear that man will hold a grudge to anything."
"Amen to that," Rachel cackled as she did another unnecessary stab to Cosette's thigh.
A handful of hours and annoying pricks to the butt later, Cosette's dress was officially one that was suited for a princess.
Now, she took in the look, rubbing her thigh as the memory of the million little stabs came back as well.
"Ugh, do you think Mom would kill me if I hurled all over my dress?" Cosette asked her brother with a grimace.
Jonathan patted her should sympathetically. "I would be more concerned about what Rachel would do to you, sister dear."
Eric hated tuxes with a burning passion.
They felt itchy and tight like a sweater that hugged you too tight. The tie that his dad had forced him to wear wasn't helping matters either, making his neck feel like it it had its own permanent sauna that was open twenty-four seven.
He shifted in the passenger seat of his dad's Malibu for the umpteenth time since he'd climb into the car.
In an attempt to distract himself from all the spots that itched like the worst case of chicken pox, Eric turned to his dad and forced on a curious grin. "So, Dad, who's this Cosette chick again?"
Hunter scratched his chin, smoothly turning the corner.
"Oh, she's one of those sweet and smart types, son," Hunter began easily, drumming a beat on the steering wheel with his fingers as he spoke. "Looks like her mother, asks like her father. I haven't seen her since she was, what, five years old? God, that kid had the biggest chipmunk cheeks."
"Dad, you think every kid has chipmunk cheeks," Eric pointed out with an eye roll. For his dad, looking at kids was liking driving by houses like up in a cul-de-sac - the same thing one after another.
"Do I? Huh."
The Sundance Hotel parking lot was jam-packed by the time they pulled in, which Eric found surprising considering they were half an hour early.
This girl must have quite the popular one if she managed to pull in such a big crowd as the one the parking lot showed.
Eric gave a frustrated yank on his tie as his dad pulled into a spot near the side of building, shaded by swaying cherry blossom trees that blew its lightly shaded petals on everything within three feet of it.
"Does the tie really have to worn?" Eric grumbled as they climbed out.
Hunter sighed, running a hand through his naturally messy mop of hair. "Yes, son, this is a formal event."
"Yeah, but it's not like anyone's gonna know who's violating what dress code as soon as I slip this thing on," Eric insisted, pulling his mandatory mask from his breast pocket. It wasn't much - a simple silver masked lined with black velvet around its edge and the eyes.
Hunter pulled out his similar golden one, lined with white velvet and slipped it over his eyes as if this was on of thousands of masquerades he'd attended in his time. With his celebrity past and famous lifestyle, Eric had no doubt that it was, except more of the low-key masked occasions.
"It's just for tonight," Hunter insisted, guiding his son to the elegant gold entrance of the hotel. "Once you survive these measly hours, I promise you'll never have to even look at another tie again, deal?"
Eric grumbled a irritated agreement, knowing that this so-called deal would fall through at the next chance of attending some big, extravagant event his father got invited to, which was every couple of months even after his famous life had died down a couple years ago.
The gala veered to the left, expanding off the white and gold themed lobby with a huge chandelier that seemed to be as impossible to reach as touching the sky. The floor shined and made Eric's dress shoes squeak against its polished surface.
While he had grown used to being at parties with large numbers of strangers over the years, the mask made Eric extra jumpy. He looked to his side, hoping to see that his father hadn't drifted off yet, only to be dismayed once he saw the empty air beside him.
He gave an exasperated sigh, shoulders hunching.
Why was he not surprised?
Although she did have a hand in some details - mostly things like "oh yeah, that's the perfect color scheme," and "no, shouldn't those centerpieces be rose instead of coral?" - Cosette was blown away by the crowd her measly Quiceneara celebration had managed to rope in.
The party was nothing compared to past birthday festivities - things that consisted of things like confetti and Mickey Mouse-themed decorations in the dining room of her grandparents' huge mansion when she was five to the slumber parties that began in the kitchen over endless boxes of pizza and bottomless bowls of popcorn and drifted up to her bedroom when she turned ten.
Now she wore jewelry that gleamed bright under the light of the hanging chandelier and a dress that swished and wrapped its cool fabric around her body like a sea of sleek silk.
The unfamiliar territory was beginning to make her nauseous.
Her parents were drifting from one group of adults to another, moving with such a swift vigor in waves of conversation so deftly that it was nearly impossible to keep track of them.
If she swerved and ducked through dancing bodies enough she could make out Elizabeth, her blonde hair bobbing as she shimmied away in her emerald dress and glittering silver and green mask.
Johnathan? He remained stationed at the food, obligated to scarf down as many crab cakes as he could stuff in his mouth at once.
He wore a purple mask much like her own, except it lacked the black lace detailing that hers had.
Cosette sighed, leaning against the wall in a slump.
"Wow, I didn't think someone could look so depressed while dressed like royalty," a voice chuckled to the right of her.
Cosette looked up from the tops of her shoes. "Oh, how could you tell?" she asked the mysterious boy wryly.
Was she supposed to recognize that voice?
"Our parents are friends and my dad pointed you out," the guy shrugged, the suit tightening around his rising shoulders. "Apparently not even a pretty mask like that can disguise the lady of the evening."
"Hmm," Cosette hummed, squirming under the title. Being center of attention wasn't one of her best traits, and having an entire evening dedicated to her was bearing its weight on her.
"So, what's your name, stranger?" Cosette asked, turning toward him. "It's only fair, considering you know my identity."
The guy tilted his head at her, styled hair not moving an inch. "How about for now, I go by Prince? If I turn out to be bad company I don't want to give out any information that could lead you to me."
Cosette gave a small laugh, feeling the knots of tension that had been building up loosening slightly.
Okay, so maybe this Prince dude wasn't that bad.
"Dude, keep eating that many and there won't be any more crabs left in the ocean."
Johnathan looked up, half a crab cake dangling from his mouth, to see a blonde sauntering toward him with her hands placed on her emerald-clad hips.
And damn, she was gorgeous.
And really, really, familiar...
"Whoa, Elizabeth?" he mumbled around a mouthful of food, nearly gagging on it in the process.
The blonde leaned over, mirth dancing in her eyes behind the mask. She used one hand to snap his mouth closed. "Better not keep that open - you'll catch flies."
"Do you know what you want to do when you grow up?" Eric asked.
Cosette cocked her head, looking at the moonlit gravel underneath their feet as they walked through the hotel's massive garden.
It had been four hours since the party began to move in full swing, and Eric had only seen his father during the two minute walk through the parking lot, and hadn't thought about him since then.
He had better things to think about.
Like the girl currently standing beside him, close enough for their arms to brush with each step they took.
"I don't really know," she admitted shyly. "When I was little - like, kindergarten age, you know? - I would say the most dangerous jobs I could think of: stunt woman, acrobat, astronaut, some kind of world-known sports player on steroids." She shrugged her shoulders. "Now I want something calm and steady that would take me to a cool place, like an apartment on Broadway in New York or an art studio in Hollywood."
"Whoa," Eric choked out, "I hardly ever think of a life outside Mission Creek to be honest."
Cosette nodded, turning to him in the dimness of the nightly lit outdoors. "I can't say I do much either; the idea of traveling has just always been so addicting, that I sometimes picture what it would be like to move from our small town, away from Principal Perry and all the other evils, no matter how lesser."
Eric shuddered at the mention of his horrible high school principal. How could she be such a demon at sixty?
"Ah, so you have had to endure the same wrath as I," Eric said with a chuckle.
How could he walk through Mission Creek High without knowing a girl like this existed?
"Yeah, I wonder what happened to that woman to make her so...deviously gnome-ish, you know?"
They made a right turn, laughing as their path widened to a concrete fountain of posing angels with huge wings and dresses caught in a captured wind, hands poised on harps as they spouted water between them.
"I'm guessing our parents," Eric mused, running his hand along the petals of a roses as they bloomed from a nearby bush. "My dad is always full of stories about when they were our age."
"So, Prince, our parents know each other," Cosette gathered in a playfully calculating tone. "Well, that doesn't mean much; my parents know more people than the President, possibly."
"That is a lot of people," Eric agreed after giving a low whistle.
Cosette sighed, giving a small shrug. "Yeah, I guess." She paused standing right in front a particularly large rose bush, reaching out to finger a vibrant rose that stood straighter, taller than the rest. "Sometimes it's tiring, being the daughter of people who are so involved in the swing of things, you know?"
Eric did know; hell, he couldn't be a country star's son without knowing how it felt to have a parent so social, even if their connections to everything were purely incidental.
"Oh god, I probably sound like such a brat," Cosette said in a nervous laugh. "Complaining about such a beautiful party and all."
Eric gently bumped their shoulders together. "Nah, I get where your coming from."
"Oh, do you?" Cosette asked. "So, you know what it's like to wear fancy dresses and have a million needles put in your butt while getting fitted for said dress?"
"Okay, so I don't where you're all coming from," Eric admitted, tossing his arms up in defeat. "Geez, girls don't take sympathy well, do they?"
Cosette gave a breathy laugh, reaching up to tuck an annoying strand behind her ear. She had long, skinny fingers and rounded nails that looked naturally slim; the hands of a musician. "So, Prince, people are going to wonder where we've gone off to - this is my party after all."
She began to walk back down the trail they had come down from, Eric realized a small flaw in his masquerading place.
Cosette had no idea what his real name was, so how could they ever see each other again after tonight?
"Wait!"
She froze, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "Yeah, Prince?"
"How will we ever see each other again?"
Cosette spun around fully, her masked eyes bouncing around her surroundings as she mulled over his question carefully.
"Letters!" she exclaimed brightly, snapping her fingers as the idea came to her. "We can exchange letters and then leave them here - this can be our meeting place for them. We can leave them right under this flower pot."
She walked over to a marble flower pot that sat empty on one of the three stone benches around the fountain.
"I've always like the idea of a secret romance," she told in a hushed, wicked whisper. Her voice floated around them, whistling with the breeze that ran through his hair.
"Um, dear brother of mine, may I talk to you for a minute?"
Chase turned, looking at his sister through the silky navy blue fabric of the mask Rachel had generously made for him. He excused himself from his conversation with a few of his co-workers from a recent convention and looked at Bree pointedly as she dragged him to a seclusive corner, away from the party.
"What up with the strong grip?" he asked, peeling her squeezing hand off his wrist.
"I just though you'd like to know that your wife is currently having a breakdown in the bathroom," Bree informed him, looking both alert and amused at the same time.
This peeked Chase's interest, although not as much as one would have thought; but over the years, he'd seen Christine have an emotional breakdown at him using the wrong type of laundry soap.
"What is there a crisis with the crab cakes?" he joked, smirking as he stuffed his hands in the pocket of his suit.
"Nah, your son's all over that," Bree shrugged off breezily, gesturing to where her nephew was twirling a blonde - while holding a plate piled high with crab cakes.
"So...?" Chase prompted with a hint of impatience.
"Cosette? You know, your daughter of fifteen years, the star of the party? She's gone missing."
His did a double take, his eyes bulging out inches than normal-sized. "What do you mean by missing?"
"As in, location unknown," Bree defined, rolling her eyes. "God, aren't you supposed to be the smart one of the group?"
Chase rolled his eyes. "I'm aware of what the word means, Bree, I mean where do you think she is?"
Bree shrugged, her bare shoulders rising and her chocolate ringlets following suit. "No, that's why Chris sent me to find you. So, have you seen your daughter or not?"
Chase opened his mouth, prepared to futilely defend his actions of kind of completely losing himself in socializing with his friends other than keeping an eye on his daughter, when a murmur swept through the crowd, directed toward to humungous gold scripted doors leading out to the garden.
"Oh, never mind, here she comes," Bree said, the smirk practically smeared into her smug tone.
Chase turned in time to see his daughter stumble in, hair whisked slightly from the wind, cheeks flushed and her eyes so dazed it was noticeable from even across the room.
"What's that look mean?" he asked his sister when he turned around, catching her knowing, smug look even from behind her pearl-lined mask of prim gold fabric to match her sparkling floor length dress that reminded him of white wine.
Bree shook her head, laughing slightly as her tendrils of dark curls bounced with the movement, the grand lights reflecting off her shiny curled ends.
"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all."
Sorry for the terribly long wait, but I started off the year with an extreme obsession for new TV shows to watch, and one of them is Teen Wolf, so everything having to do with Dylan O'Brien or Teen Wolf now floods my internet history. Oops?
AND OH MY GOD THAT SEASON FINALE MADE ME HYPERVENTILATE AND CRY AND ALL THAT FANGRIL JAZZ!
The season premire is February 17th, an hour-long.
Any one else buying that on iTunes at like, five in the morning?
As for story news, I will be coming out with an I Didn't Do It (new DC series, check it out!) one-shot, a Cloud 9 (new Dove Cameron movie; love it!) one-shot, and a new Lab Rats three-shot based off the WOWP special event Alex Vs Alex.
And possibly some Teen Wolf stuff because, seriously, I have caught a case of the Stydias, and it's getting pretty nasty.
Review and tell me what you thought of this chapter; it may help fuel me to write the next one!
(and whoa dude I just now realize how many exclamation points I used in just one A/N. -_-)