Author's Note: I'm finally spreading my wings in the DPS fandom! Now, just a heads up, there will be no slash in this story. It's just not how I'm going to write it, sorry to you who enjoy poetslash...secondly, I'm not sure how I'll continue this story, but hopefully inspiration with come!! Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Any Dead Poet is not mine :[

Chapter One: Thank You, Mr. Dalton

I knew it. I just did. I could feel it in my gut the next morning. Somehow I knew. And then, when mother nature skipped me that month, it was certain. Charlie Dalton had impregnated me.

I needed to tell him. It was a must. Not to mention I had no clue as to what to do. But a girl can't just waltz into Welton Academy and demand an audience with a boy; specifically not Charlie, what with his colorful reputation. And so, for the first time in my life I found myself thanking God for Richard Cameron, my overbearing twit of a cousin.

I raised my hand in hello when he opened the dormitory door. "Hey, Dick," I greeted.

In return I won a scowl and him grumbling, "You know I hate that nickname."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Yeah, well, you'll live," I assured him.

Before he was able to formulate any kind of answer though, Cameron was shoved out of view by a smirking Charlie, one eyebrow raised. "Hello, Ms. Duchamp," he drawled, grabbing up my hand and kissing it dramatically. For once I didn't blush at his antics, in fact, I think my face paled. Plus, my legs were beginning to turn to jelly.

Cameron reentered the picture. "She's here for me Charlie, so just go back to whatever homework you were copying."

If possible, Charlie's eyebrow rose even higher. "Here for you? Why on earth would such a beautiful young woman such as Ariel Duchamp want with you when I'm here?" he scoffed.

Cameron was taken aback; he blinked a few times. I knew he wasn't shocked by the insult; he was used to those; trust me, I had to listen to him complain about Charlie Dalton, hooligan extraordinaire, every time the family got together. Oh no, what surprised Cameron was that Charlie had said my name. "How do you know my cousin, Dalton?" He added 'Dalton' with a certain poisonous finesse that only dear cousin Richard was capable of.

It was now Charlie's turn to gawk. He, of course, said a near-brainless thing. "Cousin? But your last names are different? You can't be related." He pointed oddly at me, then Cameron, then repeated the process rapidly a few more times.

"How are you even attending this school?" Cameron sneered, then explained. "Our mother's are related, you dolt."

"Oh," Charlie breathed, finally understanding.

Cameron rolled his eyes in annoyance. "So what'd you need Ariel?" he inquired, leaning against the door frame.

I gulped. "Well, actually, I did come for Charlie," I explained sheepishly as Cameron's jaw hit the floor.

Charlie looked up abruptly from the floor, a triumphant grin on his face as he said, "Literally." This comment resulted in my cheeks burning a lovely crimson color.

"W-what?" Cameron sputtered.

"Ignore him; he's just kidding," I attempted to soothe my furious cousin. "Nothing happened between us," I lied, forcing a laugh. Why on earth did I have to fall for my cousin's arch-nemesis, not to mention, the one boy my family would not approve of?

Charlie laughed. "If you'll excuse us," he said smoothly, exiting the entrance of their dorm to join me in the hall. Charlie casually slung his arm across my shoulders, guiding me down the hallway. "So, Ms. Ariel, couldn't get enough of me, huh?" He smirked as my heart skipped a beat and the blood drained from my face. Oh, I certainly had more of him than I wanted.

I exhaled shakily. "About that," I began, choosing my words carefully. "Look Charlie." I stopped walking and stood directly in front of him to get his full attention. He had that cocky half-smile plastered on his face, as if he thought I was going to suggest we repeat our one-time affair in an empty classroom. "We made a mistake," I whispered, glancing around the deserted corridor.

He chuckled. "I've certainly never heard a girl say that to me."

I sighed, staring down at the floor. Be serious, for once, I begged silently of Charlie. "No, we made a mistake," I tried explaining again, widening my eyes and hoping he'd get the message.

Which, judging by the horrified expression on his face, he did. "Wait...what?" he asked hoarsely.

My eyes wandered everywhere but his own. "Please don't make me say it," I pleaded, certain I'd melt down if I said the 'P' word.

"Wait, wait, wait," Charlie mumbled, holding up his hands and eying me suspiciously. "Are you sure it's mine?"

I gasped; a full-blown, drama-filled gasp. "What do you think I am?" I yelled. The nerve. "I'm not a female version of you."

Charlie didn't seem fazed by my truthful insult. He ran his hand shakily through his hair, looking about the room, as I shot daggers at him with my eyes. "Okay, say it is my kid--"

"It is!" I insisted; couldn't he get it through his thick skull?

"Yeah, yeah, sure...what, er, what do we do?" he asked, his voice faltering.

I gazed up at his face, biting my lip. "I don't know," I replied, barely audible. I had hoped Charlie might have some answers. Clearly, I'd been wrong.

He leaned heavily against the wall, slowly sliding down until he reached a sitting position and splayed his legs out in front of him. Burying his face in his hands he muttered, "Oh God, oh God, oh God." He stared up at me with the eyes of a child. "I am in so much trouble."

Now I raised an eyebrow. "As am I," I pointed out. I was the one carrying the kid after all.

"No. Me. I'm the one with the reputation. You're the angel child," he grumbled.

This boy was seriously beginning to anger me. "First off Charlie, it is your fault you have the reputation you have. Secondly, being...pregnant...changes the whole 'angel' image," I informed him. "How many people do you know picture a bulbous woman with wings barely strong enough to lift them off the ground when the word angel is brought up?"

He stared dejectedly at a piece of lint perched on his knee; no doubt wishing it would burst into flame, engulfing him, and therefore sparing him from his soon-to-be responsibility. "I can't do this Ariel," he admitted, unable to meet my eyes.

I stood, frozen in place. He did not just say that. "Excuse me?" I hissed, livid. "You, Charlie Dalton, have to go through with this. I can't exactly return...it." I was quite proud of myself; I had nearly aced the marvelously nasty way in which Cameron typically addressed Charlie.

"I wish you could return it," he grumbled, his head drooping onto his now folded legs.

"Do you think I don't feel the same?" I asked. "I don't want this. I didn't ask for this. But it happened, and now we have to deal with it."

He sat there, limp and unmoving, like a dead flower. Like the way I felt. Apparantly he wasn't going to say any more, so, annoyed at his behavior, I turned to leave, just in time to catch a boy peering around the corner, eyes wide in surprise.

Author's Note: Oh dear, what have Charlie and Ariel got themselves into? And who is the boy that overheard their litte conversation? Review and find out ;D