A series of drabbles with everyone's favourite losers. Let's do this.

He could have kicked himself he'd been so stupid.

When he'd overheard Espella talking about Eve's birthday, his heart swelled– then again, it always did when he heard her name. He saw it as his chance, his one chance to show the object of his affections how strongly he felt for her, but those feelings soon evaporated, and his heart shrivelled back to its typical size. He didn't have a chance. She was too beautiful for him, too elegant and sophisticated and intelligent for such a coarse and disorderly man such as himself. The least he could do was make her the perfect birthday gift.

And yet I couldn't even do that, he thought to himself outside the courthouse, softy banging his head against the wall. He'd failed, he knew he had, and had instead succeeded in humiliating himself in front of her, in front of Espella and in front of everyone eagerly watching his mortification. Their relationship was doomed from the start, he realised, and sighed. He knew he'd never have a chance with her. He shouldn't have tried.

"Zacharias?" He jumped and looked up at the slight figure leant against the wall beside him. "If you are planning on making that racket for much longer, may I suggest you continue it elsewhere?"

"M-My apologies, Miss Eve. I was just leaving." He bowed slightly, and turned to head back to the bakery, or the tavern, or a hole to curl up in and die from embarrassment. The third option seemed the most palatable.

"Zacharias, wait." She stopped him with a hand on his arm, sending sparks of electricity through his body as her touch lingered just above his wrist. "I-I…" She blushed and coughed awkwardly, eyes darting everywhere but him. "…I truly appreciate the effort you went to for the éclair. It was delicious."

There was a moment of hesitation, before she stood on her tiptoes and planted a brief kiss just shy of his jaw. It was short and dry and completely innocent, but she'd kissed him.

She'd kissed him.

He stood there, shell-shocked, face turning a rather garish shade of pink, so lost in his trance that he didn't even notice her leave.

She hated sentimentality.

She'd always said she'd hated it, and she'd reminded everyone of it every Christmas, every Valentines and, of course, every birthday. And it was true. She did hate sentimentality. But that one Christmas, as they sat on the couch by the bejewelled tree in the bakery, surrounded by presents and discarded wrapping paper and the sound of Espella and Patty's relentless jovial chatter, she couldn't help but adore his present the most.

"Where on earth did you find it?" She held the painted teacup up to the light, turning in over in her hands delicately.

"I went to your father's old house. With Jean's permission, of course," he added. "Looked through all the cupboards in the kitchen, the bedrooms, the basement, but I couldn't find anything. I went into the attic and found all these little pieces of China, and saw it had been crushed by another box. So, I got some glue and sat up there and stuck them all back together."

She blinked, not taking her eyes off the cup. "…You did all that for me?"

"It wasn't much really. It didn't take long. Just a few hours or so. I remembered when you said how much you'd loved it as a child. And anyway, I knew that if I didn't get you a decent present this time I'd – Oof!" She cut him off, flinging her arms around his shoulders, hugging him close in a tight embrace.

"Thank you, Zacharias." She whispered into his shoulder, happy tears staining his shirt.

He paused for a second, but returned the hug and smiled against her forehead. "Merry Christmas… my darling Eve."

"Wakey-wakey, Sir Barnham!" Espella barged through the door, clapping her hands over his head, which only made him sink deeper into the plush pillows. "Patty needed you downstairs an hour ago; what on earth were you doing all night to sleep in this late!?"

"Ugh…Espella…" He mumbled blearily, not opening his eyes.

Then Eve sat up, emerging from under the sheets and stretching her arms high above her head, wearing nothing but her undergarments. Espella gasped, then exclaimed out loud in shock, then started to laugh.

Both their eyes cracked open, and Zacharias cursed. Eve took a second to react, but when she did, she was suddenly wide awake. "Espella get out!" She all but shouted, her young friend continuing to shriek with mirth. "Out! Now!"

Zacharias didn't move from under the sheet, no doubt indecent himself, only sitting bolt upright when Eve scrambled out of the bed, covering herself by clutching her dress to her torso. It was creased, having been carelessly discarded on the floor the previous night. "Out, now! Show's over! Get out of here!" She steered her towards the hallway outside Zacharias' room, slamming the door shut behind her and locking it tight.

"Hope you two didn't get too wild last night! Patty won't be happy when I tell her!" She called, darting down the stairs, still laughing herself silly. Eve closed her eyes and sagged against the door.

That's the last time they ever spent a night together in the bakery.

"I hope you plan on finishing that soon," Eve said absent-mindedly, motioning to a report on his desk. "That was supposed to be done yesterday. Please, focus won't you?"

He was trying to focus. In fact, he'd gotten rather good at focusing on his work– provided she wasn't in the room at the time. On this day in particular, though he knew the report had to be done, he still remembered her flushed cheeks, and her desperate expression as she moaned and writhed beneath him that very morning.

She was the worst kind of distraction, and the desire to do it all again, to grab her and throw her down on the desk right now, was overwhelming. And yet he remained motionless, as she sat right there opposite him, working hard, breathtakingly beautiful, and completely oblivious to his lecherous thoughts. She was not so easily swayed from finishing a task.

He watched her still, marvelling at the way she moved, replaying this morning over and over again in his mind. It started off chaste, but eventually grew less and less so, as the loving whispers became lewd groans, the gentle kisses becoming nips and love bites; there was still small marks all down her neck and chest, he could see. He recalled how fluently her body fit with his, how her curves felt beneath him, how right it was, like there was no one better suited for him, though he knew there probably wasn't.

It was perfect. Not just for the sex, but for the closeness they shared. He enjoyed her company, spending time with her, and he cherished every second he could stare and appreciate her unending beauty. To someone like him, sex was just the cherry on top of their relationship, a cherry he would be perfectly fine with not having at all. It was just a bonus in his books.

"Later." Eve said from across the room, and he jumped. Could she read his mind or something?! "Be patient. We'll have dinner at my house after work. Tell Patty not to wait up." She finally raised her head and shot him a bewitching smile (pun intended). "But if you don't finish that report of yours, you're getting nothing. I'll make you finish it at the table if I have to."

Zacharias grinned and scribbled at the report as fast as he could. At least now he had an incentive to work, but he still couldn't stop his mind from betraying him sometimes.

He had never been a very patient person.

"You drew these yourself?"

Eve turned the pages of the leather-bound sketchbook, careful not to smudge the intricate drawings etched delicately onto the no doubt expensive paper. There must have been hundreds of drawings and doodles, and book was almost full. Pictures of Constantine, of the bell tower, trees and birds and townspeople and knights and Layton and the all the others…

"Hm?" Zacharias looked up from his own book, some kind of crime novel, and waved his hand dismissively. "They're just doodles, Eve. I just kind of like doing them. Something for my hands to do, you know?"

The sketches got progressively better, she noted, the misshapen plants and animals becoming flawless works of art, perfectly capturing the blunt shapes of a man and the smooth curves of a woman. Lots of women.

Eve smirked, and held up the page showing a nude girl with short hair and large breasts, arms folded in front of her, complete with a bubblegum smile and bright, wild eyes.

"I see this in particular is one of the best. No doubt you spent plenty of time examining it...?"

He chuckled sarcastically. "Hysterical. You truly missed your calling as a comedian."

She smiled and hummed something under her breath. "So, who is she?"

"Nobody," he said distractedly, going back to reading.

Eve curled her lip and scowled, staring at the page. She was beautiful, there was no denying that. Not sharp like Eve, but softer and curvy, lighter somehow. He had put far more energy into her facial features than her body, she realised. The hair alone must have taken forever. He'd even done a little love heart next on her shoulder, a detail so tiny she hadn't even noticed it before.

Eve had no problem with him having previous lovers. It was only natural of course; if she'd fallen for him, other women were bound to have done the same. And yet, as she looked at all the women he'd drawn, she'd noticed a distinct pattern. These women were broad and confident and short haired and even a little muscled. They were short-haired, strong willed, some with tattoos, all with heavy make-up and wasp waists and ample bosoms and birthing hips.

This meant Zacharias had a type. And it was a type she most certainly did not fit.

"Is something the matter?" He frowned in concern from where he lay on the bed behind her, sitting in the armchair at the desk in the corner of her bedroom. She looked back at him and felt her anger spike at the sight of those doe eyes and puppy-dog face. He was annoyingly adorable sometimes.

"Nothing." She snapped, more harshly than she'd intended. He jumped and put down the book, marking his place with a pencil and walking to stand beside her.

"Come now, what's wrong? If it's about those drawings, just say the word. I'll stop making them if they offend you."

"No, it's not… It's not about that."

"Then what is it?" He kneeled next to her, eyes full of concern.

"I…" Eve paused, finding the right words. "Do you ever wish I looked like these women?"

"Of course not!" He replied without hesitation. "Why on earth would you think that?"

"Who are they anyway? Your ex-lovers? Sexual partners?" Eve asked bluntly, flicking through the pages. "Is this the type of girl you like, Zacharias? Because if it is…" She didn't finish her sentence and he looked shocked.

"What do you mean the type of girl I like? Does it matter?"

"Well clearly it does! There isn't a single picture of me or even a girl who resembles me in this whole book!"

He shook his head and straightened up, and Eve twisted to see where he was going. He fished a key out of a vase on the window sill, and unlocked a small drawer by her feet. Pulling the whole thing out, he upturned it onto the desk before her. There were several books, and loose pieces of paper and parchment and scraps and receipts, all covered in doodles and notes and letters. Eve recognised one as a note she'd left when couldn't make it to dinner one night. Another, a love letter she'd written briefly when she'd forgotten Valentine's day and felt guilty.

"You really think I don't care?" He leafed through the paper to retrieve the books, opening them all for her to see. The pages were chockfull of slightly less lustful drawings of women. Only this time, not of just any woman; of her. "I kept everything. I'm a hoarder, remember? I kept every single card, note, letter, present, scribble, postcard, everything. I have whole books dedicated to you."

She was speechless, that was for sure…

"I love you, Eve." He said, and the intensity behind his words almost shocked her. "Not your shape, or the length of your hair, or the size of your breasts or whether you have tattoos or wear lipstick. I love you. These women don't even exist, at least not in my life." He leaned down, kissing her temple. "Relax. I'm not going anywhere. Don't think you'll be getting rid of me that easily," he winked, and sauntered back to the bed, picking up where he left off in the book.

Eve paused before cracking a content grin, turning the pages of the sketchbooks. The two sat in silence for a while.

"You do have a talent," she remarked after eating her way through all the books. "Though I must say I'm glad you didn't draw me like you drew those other girls; if any sketches of me unclothed were found by Espella, we'd both be screwed."

She chuckled, and Zacharias glanced up from his book, eyes darting about the room and face flushing. "Uh, yeah. Yes, of course."

Eve gasped as the penny dropped and ran across the room towards him. He threw the book down and sprinted down the hallway as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Where in hell are those pictures Zacharias?! You can't run forever!"

"I-I don't know! I got rid of them, I promise!"

"If I find that there are any left in this house, I swear to God…"

"…Maybe if you were to pose for me, I could make more?"

"Ack!"

Lazy Sunday mornings were always his favourite. It was maybe the best time he ever got the pleasure of having with her. She always woke up early, even on weekends, and he eventually got into the habit too, sometimes even stirring before her.

The sheets protecting them from the cold air, he kissed her gently to wake her up, ignoring her dizzy and sleep deprived mutters of protest, as she tangled their bodies together and melted into the kisses. They didn't make much noise, just quiet sighs and hums with each lazy thrust, and eventually collapsed onto the mattress, sweaty and naked and relaxed, as they drifted back into a calm post-coital doze. Zacharias smiled softly as she snuggled against him.

Yep. Sunday mornings were the best.

§§§§§

"He never would have approved, you know." Eve muttered, tilting her head. Her father's gravestone stood proudly next to her mother's, away from the other graves in a secluded area of their own, shaded by a tree whose leaves always seemed to stay the same shade of wine red. She wouldn't want it any other way.

He laced his fingers between hers, smiling sadly. "No, he wouldn't have."

"He would have told me you were my co-worker. That he knows what men like you are like, and you probably had a new girl on your arm every other day. He'd have begged me to stay away from you." She chuckled a little, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"And then," she continued. "he'd turn on you. He'd show up to your door, tell you to leave me alone, not to be with me outside of work, not even to speak to me unless it was absolutely necessary. He'd say, 'I know exactly what you're like. I don't trust pretty-boy knights with devious grins. Keep your hands off my daughter'."

There was a moment of silence.

"We both knew this was a bad idea. Right from the start." Zacharias whispered. "We knew we should have stayed professional; I knew I shouldn't have kissed you that day. I shouldn't have taken you to bed so soon."

"But you did. I'm glad you did," Eve murmured. "I don't know… maybe if he lived, I might have listened to him." She untangled herself from his arms, and placed the bouquet of flowers onto his grave. "But probably not. I would have told him, 'I'm not a child anymore, Father. I know Zacharias far better than you do. You've never even spoken to him. Perhaps we should get dinner together sometime, you two can get to know each other. I know you'll love him," her voice dropped. "because I do. You always said I was a smart girl, and if you trusted me then, you'll trust me now. If you only got to know him, you'd see that he's sweet and kind, and I certainly have no intention of leaving him anytime soon. So trust me."

Zacharias stepped forward, kneeling beside her and holding her close as she began to cry softly. "Oh!" Eve exclaimed suddenly, getting to her feet and wiping her eyes. "Sorry, I promised I'd meet with Boistrum about fixing the gym equipment at the garrison. I-I really must go," She gave him a brief kiss goodbye, and jogged down the path, leaving him alone with her parents.

He sighed, standing himself and placing a hand on her father's gravestone. "Yeah, you would have hated me. You would have hated to see your daughter with me." He paused. "But I think you would like that she was happy, that I made her happy. And for that, I think you'd have liked me."

"Now," he whispered, bending closer to the stone, though he didn't quite know why. "I know you're a very traditional person, as am I. I feel as though the fact you're not alive shouldn't prevent you from this particular tradition. I have a proposition for you." He sat down, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket, and opening it to expose the object inside.

"I've been meaning to ask your permission for something…"

"Just a minute!" Espella shouted when Rouge banged on the door for the fifth time. "We're coming, I swear! Just one minute!" Her dress was red and knee-length, simple yet elegant, practical yet stylish. It was perfect.

"It doesn't look right." Eve said, staring at herself in the mirror in Espella's room. The blonde turned around and gasped.

"Oh Eve! You look wonderful!" She exclaimed joyfully, barely able to contain herself. Eve's dress was longer than hers and strapless. It was crisp white, with tiny flowers from around her house woven into the hem of the skirt, her hair free of its usual ties and falling in loose curls down her back. Her shoes were mid-heels, her make-up nude and minimal, and yet she still didn't feel right.

"I don't know," Eve shook her head, pulling her dress up a little. "Is it too sheer? Because it feels too sheer."

"Looks fine to me," Espella shrugged, reaching into the delivery box for the veil. "It's not it's anything he's never seen before right?"

She tutted as she clipped the veil into her hair, and groaned in frustration. "This is terrible! It so traditional! He's not a traditional person! What if he doesn't like it?"

"Eve, it's Sir Barnham! He adores you! You could walk down that aisle in a potato sack and he'd still say you were the most beautiful woman on the planet."

"I just want everything to be perfect." Eve said, tearing off the veil and adjusting her hair for the thousandth time. "It's my wedding day. It has to go just right."

"There isn't going to be a bloody wedding if you two don't get a move on!" Rouge burst through the door in her black Best Man's dress. "We've got the bride, the groom and the maid of honour all not ready yet! Let's get you two married before you change your mind!" She stormed out, slamming the door behind her, and went down the hall to where Barnham was. She rapped her knuckles on the door.

"Zack? Can I come in?"

"Come in."

She opened the door a little more gently than before and sighed. "Well you look great. As usual."

He smirked and shook his head, fidgeting with his necktie. They'd had the suit specially made, and Eve had insisted on choosing the colours herself, as she 'didn't trust his dress sense, or lack thereof'. Black pants and jacket, gray waistcoat, and dark brown shoes. He scowled at the tie in his hands, tugging it from his neck.

"This is wrong. It's not the right colour." He held up the three ties next the each other. "Black, blue or white?" Rouge rolled her eyes.

"You really are made for each other, aren't you?" She laughed. "Your bride-to-be is having the same freak out just next door."

"She is?" Barnham's eyebrows shot up, throwing the ties down. "What's going on? Is she alright? Is she having second thoughts?!"

"Jesus Christ, no!" He went to run to her room, and she darted forward to block the doorway. "Bad luck to see the bride, remember? And it's not about that. She's just faffing about with her dress and her hair and all that. Boring girl stuff."

"Rouge, let me pass."

"No way," she shook her head. "You're way too smart to screw this up, Zack." He scowled and turned around, wandering back to sit on the bed.

"…I don't know if I can go through with this." He swallowed. "I've been wrong about love before; what if I'm wrong now? What if she's wrong about me?"

"Well you guys have certainly had an eventful relationship," Rouge sat beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But who am I to give advice on love, eh?"

"What if this is a mistake?" he whispered. "What if we get married, and wake up ten years from now full of regret? I'd be throwing my life away. Are we too young to be doing this?"

"Oh, come on! You're grown-ups, not horny eighteen year olds in Vegas." She chuckled. "And if you don't want things to turn out like that, then they won't. Do you love Eve?" He looked up at her.

"I do."

"And does Eve love you?"

He snorted. "I'd hope so, otherwise today's going to get really awkward."

"So go for it." She grinned. "Take the plunge. It's not a risky thing you're doing. Hell, you're getting married! You're so damn old!"

"Speak for yourself," he muttered, but laughed all the same. Rouge slung an arm around his neck and ruffled his hair. "Watch it! You'll mess it up." He ran his fingers through the thick strands and she tutted, getting something out of her bag.

"I was going to give you your present after the service," she said, handing him a small package. "But I think you could use it now." Barnham pulled open the ribbon and carefully unwrapped the gift, revealing a white box. He opened the lid, and smiled. Inside was a tie and a tie clip. The fabric was blood red and pure satin, the pin gold and encrusted with tiny purple crystals.

"Well?" She nudged him. "What do you think?"

"…It's just right." He grinned. The pair stood at once, and he tied it around his neck. "How's it look?" He asked, hand on the door handle. Rouge smiled.

"Perfect."

Then the door flew open suddenly, and a small figure fell through holding a handful of flowers.

"Got 'em!" Maya Fey exclaimed with a grin, thrusting the bouquet towards him proudly. "Flowers from around Eve's house! And Nick thought I wasn't the girl for the job," She teased to the gentlemen standing behind her. The Professor chuckled and Wright rolled his eyes, the pair coming forward to shake his hand and offer their congratulations, as Maya and that Triton boy ran off to find Espella.

Barnham rubbed his hands together. "Right," he said with a smile. "Let's have a wedding, shall we?"

It was a simple ceremony. The sun shone brightly, the bell tower casting a long shadow over the town, though thankfully not blocking out the sun that shined on their service. They hadn't invited many guests, though once word got out that the wedding was happening today, more and more townspeople showed up to watch on the side-lines. Eve scowled, and briefly contemplated asking them to leave, but decided against it. They weren't causing any trouble.

She walked down the aisle arm-in-arm with Espella, holding the bouquet Maya had been so kind to fetch for her. Sure enough, Zacharias beamed at the sight of her, insisting she looked amazing. The clothes she'd loving picked suited him well, she noted, and told him he looked amazing too.

Few words were exchanged, short vows were spoken, and everyone 'awwed' at ring bearer Constantine, in his own adorable little suit that matched Barnham's, the rings tied to his collar. They had asked Patty to be the minister, and she'd agreed whole-heartedly, but now it had come to the day, she was emotional, and her voice shook as she spoke.

"S-Sorry," she sniffed, wiping her eyes. "I-It's just so…" She cleared her throat and smiled at them. Barnham smiled back softly, holding back tears himself.

"Stop it," Eve hissed at him, her own eyes filling up.

"I'm not doing anything," he said, his voice shaking.

"If you start crying then I'm going to cry, and I don't want to mess up this stupid make up!" She said, and he laughed, a tear escaping from his eye. He blinked the others away. Meanwhile, Eve was becoming a hot mess, tears streaming down her face like a waterfall.

"C-Can we get on with it? Please?" She coughed, composing herself.

"Yes, yes," Patty said, looking down at the cards where she'd written what she had to say. "Well I've been asked by the groom to quote – 'Skip all the boring bits' – so let's wrap it up. I pronounce you husband and wife and you may kiss the bride."

The square erupted into noise, every single towns person cheering for them. Even Emeer Puchenbaug put down his flagon for a moment to start clapping. Espella and Maya hugged, as the former broke down into tears. Luke was bawling, and even Wright's bottom lip trembled. The Professor remained as stoic as ever, but Zacharias wasn't looking at any of them. All he was looking at was her, at his wife. He'd done it, he thought to himself. He'd succeeded.

Eve sighed. It was such a cliché. She'd gotten that fairytale ending that all the girls she knew had dreamt of as children. The princess swept off her feet by a knight in shining armour. She chuckled and looked up at Zacharias, as they shared another kiss.

Maybe clichés weren't so bad after all.