A/N: Hey guys, thanks for the reviews! Here is the third and final chapter. I hope that you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.

Chapter 3

"Aw shit!" Bender splashed over to the railing, Claire in hot pursuit. He raced over to his clothes and flew past Brian into the hallway. He could hear the patter of Claire's bare-feet and the clomp of Brian's "dress shoes" following him.

"Guys, there's no point in running. You're dripping everywhere, he'll know where to find you."

"Shut-up!" Bender and Claire roared.

Bender had no idea where he was going, and he didn't care. The adrenaline rush filled him with confidence. He was really pushing some buttons, running around the school at night during a function, practically naked.

He stopped suddenly, grabbing the neck of Brian's sweater. "Go get sporto. Tell him to pull around by the west entrance."

"Okay!" And Brian was off.

Bender shook his head. "I'll be damned if he isn't caught. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

He didn't answer. Instead he dragged her into the closet that he'd been locked into during detention.

It was too dark to see a thing. He shushed Claire, who was protesting rather noisily, and pulled out a match, lighting it with his teeth. He glanced about at the ceiling until he spotted the panel he'd slid through before. He blew the match out and stepped forward, hoping for the best.

"You better not try to put the moves on me while we're in here, Bender, or I'll –"

"Calm down and be quiet! I'm trying to get us out of here." He gritted his teeth, frustrated that he hadn't the time to do what she was so obstinately against.

He knocked his shin against something solid. He swore under his breath, climbing onto what he thought was the shelf. He reached upward until his hand touched the grating. He pushed; he heard it scrape open. Thankfully the pile of junk he'd assembled hadn't been disturbed. Shoving the bundle of his clothes under his arm, he continued to climb.

"Take my hand," he mumbled, despising the clichéd line.

"I can't see it!"

"Here!" He thrust his arm outward, not knowing she was standing so close until he whacked her in the nose.

"Ow! What did you do that for?"

"Just take my stupid hand, okay? We don't have much time!"

She grumbled under her breath but listened to him. Her slender fingers were surprisingly cold. He pulled her up to stand beside him on the shelf.

"I'm going to lift you up," he explained. "You're going to climb into the ventilator."

"Into the what?! Bender, my dress!"

"Damn it Claire, just do it!"

"Okay, stop yelling at me!"

Scowling, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her sharply. The knock that sounded alerted him to the fact that he must have rammed her head into the ceiling. He grinned. As she shimmied into the ventilator, the end of her skirt was practically kissing his face. He wished the light was on. He gradually slid his arms up her legs.

The powerful kick she gave to his face told him that there was to be none of that.

Once she was inside, he quickly followed her. "Start going forward," he whispered, thinking this environment gave him even better chances of harassing her.

She was on the same page. She scuttled forward at such a rapid pace that he found it hard to keep up with her.

"If you keep going so fast, they're gonna hear us."

"They're already after us, who gives a shit?"

She had a point. "Hey Cherry, you ever hear the one where a naked blonde walks into a bar with a two-foot under one arm salami and a Chihuahua under the other?"

"No. Where are we going, anyway?"

"Remember when I fell out of the roof in the library?"

"Yeah- Oh shit!"

Apparently they'd gotten there faster than he'd anticipated. Claire tumbled forward through the new "entrance" that Bender had created last Saturday and was now in the process of being reconstructed; in the meantime, the entire library was off limits.

"Claire? Are you okay?"

She only whimpered in response.

These classy girls were so delicate, and he was just the sort of clumsy idiot to shatter them. In his hurry he also fell through, bumping his head against a beam.

"Aw shit!" He rolled over, cradling his bruised crown. "Claire? Are you all right?"

She was crumpled on the floor, her arms hanging limply at her sides. "Does it look like I'm all right?" she said in a venomously quiet voice. "My dress is ruined, my hair has gone to hell, and I just fell eight feet from a dusty, moldy ventilator. DO I LOOK LIKE I'M ALL RIGHT?!"

"Well that's gonna put the construction workers back a couple of weeks. You need to start cutting back on the sushi, Claire."

"Don't you even –" She raised her fists, ready to pummel the life out of him.

"Hey, hey," he said soothingly, pulling her over to him and cradling her in his lap. "Are you sure you're okay? Are you…hurt?" The concerned statements tasted like overly sweet caramel. He was turning into such a lame ass…

"Just a little…my knees…"

He ran his hand over them, afraid he'd feel a scrape or the damp kiss of blood. She winced. They were only bruised. This still bothered him more than it should.

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah…" she whined, sniffling.

He smirked. Claire loved sympathy.

"We better get going then."

She stood, brushing her raggy skirt off. In the meantime he slid into his pants and boots, pulling on his shirt without bothering to button it. Claire's gaze followed him intently. The room suddenly seemed musty and dormant, intimate.

"What?" he asked, his tone hostile, although he was worried she'd noticed a cut or a bruise, or maybe just found him plain disgusting.

"Nothing."

Of course, that would be what she felt whenever she looked at him: nothing. He ignored the sting; this wouldn't be the first wound he'd sucked up.

The whiskey was starting to turn sour in his stomach. It probably hadn't helped that he'd been swigging off of his dad's bottle of Jim before he came to get Claire. And that fall wasn't treating him so nicely either…He shook his head, swallowing.

"How are we going to get out of here?" she asked stiffly.

"The window."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Got any better ideas, princess?"

"It's freezing outside! At least you have pants and a long-sleeved shirt; I've only got this skimpy thing…"

He scowled and tore off his shirt. "Here, put this on. Andy should be around back with his truck. We'll get in, he'll have the heat blasting, and you'll be snug as a bug in a rug."

"What makes you think he'll listen to you?" she asked, slipping into the shirt, which was three sizes too large for her slender frame.

It was so pleasant to see her wearing something that was his, something that declared she was his, he almost forgot to answer her question.

"Sporto always does what he's told," he said at last.

"What if Allison doesn't want him to?"

"Then we're gonna freeze."

He bounded up the stairs before she could continue the interrogation. She could be so irritating and bossy sometimes…

"Why'd you come back in here?" she called from the lower floor.

He paused, leaning on the railing. "What do you mean?"

"During detention."

He grinned. "I forgot my pencil."

"You liar."

"If you want me to say it was for you than you can just forget it, because it wasn't. I wanted my dope."

That shut her up. He unlocked a window that opened over the kitchen, which was on the bottom floor and extended out from the building. They could jump onto its roof and scramble onto the ground. He couldn't see Andy's truck from here but he knew Letterman would come through.

"Okay…come here princess."

He yanked the window open. It was going to be a tight squeeze for him, but Claire should be able to wiggle out with ease.

"Go out feet first," he instructed, "and then let go. You'll land safely."

"Yeah, right," she grumbled, glaring at him. "If I die I'm going to come back and haunt you for the rest of your life."

"I wouldn't mind that so much," he said under his breath as she began to shimmy outside. He wished he'd gone down first; the view right now would be fascinating.

She fell into a frustrated huddle. She barely had time to crawl out of the way before Bender leaped down from the window and onto the flat roof.

"You okay?" he asked, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. It hadn't felt this cold out when he'd been dry and wearing his coat…

She managed to nod, arms wrapped tightly around herself, knees knocking.

"I'm g-gonna k-kill you," she snarled.

Her threats were so endearing.

"I'm gonna go down first, all right?"

She made no protests.

Bender climbed a few feet down the drain pipe before casting his fate to the winds and letting go. He'd never been bungee jumping but he thought it sounded amazing. The sensation of plummeting through thin air, not knowing when you were going to contact the earth again, was exhilarating.

He landed on his ass. It didn't feel excellent, but it wasn't too terribly painful either. He brushed off his slacks and waved Claire onward.

She obviously wasn't as used to traipsing around roofs. Instead of going down the drainpipe, she tried to climb down the front and use the window sills as steps like it was a rock wall. Had it been anyone else, he would have found it amusing; since it was Claire, he was a bundle of nerves.

He hovered beneath her anxiously, arms outstretched in the event that she slipped. As she was trying to maneuver to reach the bottom ledge of the window, she happened to spot Bender watching her.

"You jerk!" she shrieked, letting go and pulling down her skirt, which was currently being lifted by a particularly cold breeze.

At that moment she lost her footing. It was like a siren went off in Bender's head. He didn't remember stepping over, but somehow he was beneath her and she was coming at him like a falling star. The force knocked him over, but she was secured safely in his arms.

"Whoa," Claire breathed.

"I think you cracked one my ribs," he wheezed. "Like I said, cut back on the sushi."

"Well it's your fault! If you hadn't been trying to look up my skirt…"

"I wasn't trying to look up your skirt!"

"Then what were you doing?"

Why did she always have to wring these confessions of kindness out of him? He groaned. "I was trying to make sure you wouldn't fall, all right? I was worried."

"You're lying to me again!" She pushed off of him gruffly, tugging her dress straight and shivering in the cold. "Where's Andy?"

"Claire, wait, I really wasn't –"

"I just want to go home," she exclaimed tearfully. "I'm tired and cold and my dress is ruined, and you're being an ass…"

"Shut-up! Don't you hear what I'm saying? I caught you right?"

"I guess…"

He ran a hand through his soggy hair. "Let's get you in the truck. Come on."

True to Bender's word, Andy's truck was parked in front of the north entrance, the engine roaring. Even the steam emitted from the exhaust pipe spoke of warmth and comfort.

"This better be good," he growled when Claire and John approached the open passenger window. "Allison is waiting inside."

"Alone?" Claire asked worriedly.

"No; with Brian."

At least she'd have another weirdo to keep her company.

"I need you to take her home," Bender explained, opening the door and shoving Claire inside.

"Who do you think you are, Bender, telling me what to do? What makes you think I will?"

"Because she lives five minutes from here." And because you always do what you're told.

"John, what's going on?" Claire asked petulantly, crawling into the front seat. "Aren't you coming with us?"

"I'm not leaving my bike here. I'll see you around."

"Bender, if you think I'm gonna give your girlfriend a ride when you're already driving –"

"John, this doesn't make any sense. You'll catch cold!"

He ignored their protests and strutted off. It had been difficult, resisting the temptation of that blast of warm air through the truck's open door; but there was no way in hell he was leaving the motorcycle at this school. Being a criminal made you aware of humanity's worst.

He was shivering so hard, it was difficult to turn the key in the ignition. As soon the engine revved to life, he was suddenly struck by two beaming lights and an even louder roar. He whirled around.

A cream colored Malibu was parked directly behind him, preventing him from pulling out. In the driver's seat of that Malibu was none other than Vice Principal Vernon.

"Not so funny now, is it, Bender?" he cried manically.

Shit. Bender slammed on the gas and went flying over the patch of grass and onto the main road. The Malibu was right behind him. Vernon must have been pushing sixty on a thirty mile per hour road. Bender gritted his teeth and started doing seventy. If he got pulled over, drunk, with an expired license…This was not good.

He was closing in on a stoplight. The light was red and three cars were already stalled in front of him. Vernon was still on his tail. Without even checking, he swerved into the other lane, earning several irritated honks. He stopped at the light and craned his neck, looking for the Malibu. It was still in the other lane. He could see Vernon staring at him murderously, hungrily.

As soon as the light turned green, Bender floored it and went zooming. He had no idea where he was going, but he had to think of a location, and fast. He was afraid if he went home Vernon would find some way to follow him there. He knew Vernon could look up his address in his files, probably had already, but if Vernon saw him, standing in that dilapidated shack of his home, his dad slurring at him in a rage…Bender did not want anyone to know how vulnerable he really was, and Vernon already had a good hunch without knowing the full extent.

He arrived at a four way stop. This looked familiar. He was only a few minutes from Claire's. Ironically, the truck coming up on his left looked a lot like Andy's Bronco. He turned around. The Malibu, wheels screeching, was gunning down the road like it was in a James Bond movie. Bender shot off desperately, passing the Bronco. The Malibu didn't stop and began to follow him. Unfortunately, the Bronco had pulled out at the same time. There was a deafening crunch, and Bender was wading in a swamp of relief. He drove on at a reasonable speed.

Andy groaned. His dad was gonna kill him. He let him borrow his truck for one night and what happens? He slams it into some maniac. He pulled over to the side of the road, the Malibu following suit. Allison was probably wondering where the hell he was. Wasn't this going to be fun to explain…

(Space)

Bender climbed up the trellis and went in through the balcony door out of habit. He tried to creep down the stairs without making any noise, but he was shivering so violently it was difficult. He could hear the muffled sound of TV voices.

The Standish living room was immaculate, and very modern. Long, thin windows going from ceiling to floor overlooked by the backyard; a black sectional sofa encircled the black entertainment center. Strange vases and abstract paintings decorated the area. Family photos weren't excluded. Claire's face was plastered on practically every available wall space.

Claire was curled up on the sofa, wearing mint green pajamas with white polka-dots. She would have continued watching whatever TV program she was absorbed in, had the bottom step not squeaked.

She whirled around, jaw dropped. "Bender, I thought you went home…"

"You thought wrong. Stairs aren't supposed to squeak in shiny new mansions, Claire."

She pretended not to hear this last remark. Instead, she stomped over and dragged him in front of the fireplace. "Wait here," she ordered.

He waited.

She returned with the most monstrous sweater Bender had ever seen. It was covered with Christmas trees, penguins, and splotches of red and grey.

"I'm not wearing that thing."

She sighed. "Bender, if you don't you'll catch cold."

"You've got have something less…evil."

"Beggars can't be choosers."

"Yeah, right." He snatched the sweater from her and pulled it over his head. She was doing this just to punish him, and he was cold enough to fall into the trap.

"How do I look?" he inquired prissily, running his hands over the lumpy material.

She snorted. "You don't wanna know."

He pretended to look offended. "Are you saying this sweater makes me look fat?"

"Just a little."

"You're just jealous because you know you wouldn't be able to pull this look off."

She rolled her eyes and sat down beside him, crossing her legs. A few moments later and she was leaning against his shoulder.

"Sorry I went to homecoming yet?" he asked teasingly, nuzzling her fluffy hair with his chin.

He could feel her smile. "No."

"No?"

"Tonight was the best homecoming I've ever had."

There was a stick of warm butter where his heart was supposed to be, and it was slowly melting into the pit of his stomach. He sat still as she slowly lifted to whisper in his ear, her lips brushing the lobe ever so slightly, like a feather in a summer breeze.

"You're insane, you infuriate me to end, I hate you, I can't be without you, and I'll always have the time of my life as long as you're there with me." She giggled. "I don't think I've ever gone swimming or crawled through a shaft at a dance before…Kind of an adventure, and like you said, a princess needs an adventure every once in a while."

Ah, joy of joy's. She didn't know what she was doing to him. "You shouldn't trust me with that information," he managed to say, barely a kink in his voice despite his riled passions. "I have a license to be a jerk now."

"I know." Her eyes ran over his face caressingly. "That's why I told you."

He hesitated. "Do you still feel the same way?"

"About what?" she asked softly, running a hand through his hair.

"The way you felt when you talked to Alison this morning."

"I didn't talk to Alison this morning."

He froze. "But Alison told me that…" Her expression was increasingly confused. His face grew warm. So the Basket-case had told him a fast one, and he'd been foolish enough to fall for it. He knew why he'd fallen for it, because he'd fallen so hard for Claire. The only thing he didn't know was why Alison had done it.

Of course; she was a compulsive liar. Still didn't explain how she knew about Saturday…It could have just been a lucky guess. Allison was uncannily intuitive.

"Forget it," he mumbled, and snipped the string of words between them by enveloping her lips with his.

THE END