A/N: Well would you look at this! My second story published in a week! It must be a new record for me! ;) Ah. So, Phantom of the Opera, and my not-so-secret undying love for it. I've loved it since I was in about...6th grade I'd say, but I've never gotten up the nerve to write fanfiction for it. It was too great to do that to, in my opinion. But, alas, here I am. This is a rediculious one-shot by the way, and completely out of character for both Christine and Erik. But I got much enjoyment from writing it, chuckling to myself as I thought of different ways to insult Erik and Christine equally... (don't ask, just read the story) It was great. ANYWAYS. Don't take it too seriously, please, and if you could review I would be much obliged. :)
PS: The words in the beginning are from some Opera I don't really know...but here's the rough translation:
"See? He came! I did not go down to meet me-not. I sit there on the brow of the hill and wait, and wait a long time and I do not mind the likely long-"
...doesn't really make sense, but I needed something in another language that was an Opera. I know, Erik is somewhere out there cursing me for my blatant ignorance of the great and noble art that is the Opera-but I'm tired, so he'll have to punjab me some other time.

"Vedi? È venuto! Io non gli scendo incontro-io no. Mi metto là sul ciglio del colle e aspetto, e aspetto gran tempo e non mi pesa, la lunga atte-" I felt my mind start to wander as I sang farther into the song. Things had been...strange, lately, between Erik and myself. I had hardly anytime to ponder it, between all of the rehearsals he and the opera put me through, and was finding that the lack of sleep I had been recieving was interfering with my singing in the most horrific of ways.

Well, to the insane man who I called my teacher and friend, at any rate.

"No! Christine, where is your mind wandering to? You have completely lost focus of the purpose of this song!" Erik started to rant in rapid French, making me cringe and take a step away from him. He was never easy to be around when he got into one of his fits.

"Erik, I'm sorry, I do-" I tried to apologize, feeling tired as a ran a hand through my messy curls that I hadn't had time to even look at before Erik had whisked me away again into his underground home for an urgent midnight lesson.

"You do not do anything, my dear-you only butcher music!" He spat at me, grabbing the music as he stood up, glowering down at me from his tall, 6' 6" frame. He also like using imtimidation to win arguments, but it was unfortunate for him that I was simply too tired to even care.

I gaped at him, and sputtered indigently as he turned away from me, "How dare you! You deformed mutant-"

Upon me speaking the last three words, he spun back around and went merely inches from my face, his ugly face contorted as he hissed back, "You forget, my angel, how easily I can take your life-"

I laughed in his face, something he did not seem to be accustomed to, judging his reaction of snapping back and blinking rapidly at me, "Oh honestly, you're such a diva sometimes Erik. You don't scare me!"

I smirked at him as he glared back at me steadily, fury radiating off of his deformed skin for a while before he inhaled deeply and growled, "You are the most infuriating, pigheaded, obtuse woman I have ever had the misfortune to meet, Christine Daae."

I snorted at this, and rolled my eyes, "Good thing you've only met about...three woman in your life then, hm?" I folded my arms over my chest and stared at him with both of my eyebrows raised inquisitively.

If he had nostrils, I swear they would have flared broadly at that. I giggled at the thought, not even minding how insane I must have sounded. I was tired, gosh darn it.

"How are you possibly laughing at this?" He yelled, gesturing to his face in quite a mad manner, looking even more like a demented corpse than he ever had before, "I look like a walking corpse, for Allah's sake!"

I stared at him for a moment at that, blinking as I asked, "Allah?" I paused, pondering this new adjustment to the man I thought I knew quite well, "I did not know you were muslim, Erik."

He muttered something illegiable, though I did catch, 'Damn Daroga', whatever that meant, before he rounded on me again with renewed vigor, "You're an insane little girl!"

"Takes one to know one!" I spat back, turning my back on him a tilting my chin up higher.

"Your singing is far beneath sub-par-" He growled, actually throwing the music to the ground in a fit of rage, much like a child would when their favorite toy got taken away from them.

"Right back at-cha buddy!" I snarked back at him, making a face that was far from pleasant and reminisent of the faces I would make to Raoul as a child when he did something I didn't like.

His eyes seemed to burst from their sockets at my childish display, "YOU INFURIATING WENCH-"

"DON'T YOU RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME-" I started with a shout, turning around and putting my hands on my hips.

"INSOLENT LITTLE BRAT-"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING-"

"YOU SELFISH WHORE-"

I didn't know what came over me at this point. I really didn't. I mean, the man had just called me a whore for (to quote Erik) Allah's sake, which was hardly attractive. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was the face that he just looked too attractive in a suit for his own good.

You know, minus his face and all. Love isn't that blind.

And so, here I was, doing the unthinkable. Kissing the dark, disturbed, and deformed Phantom senseless.

I literally threw myself at him, pressing my lips to his cold, mutilated ones with such passion and desperation that he fell back onto the ground beneth us with a strangled cry against my lips upon the sudden impact.

"Oh, I am so sorry-" I whispered, staring at him with wide eyes as my hands fluttered around his head-which had hit the floor fairly hard. I did not, after all, want the sudden object of my affections to be knocked unconcious or suffer a concussion while I was just beginning to kiss him with a new-found vigor.

"Christine, be quiet." He ordered me with a huskier sound to his voice than was normal, and kissed me roughly, crushing his body against mine as our passion fused and merged.

While I was not exactly 'quiet' like my teacher had instructed, I did learn something that night that I was fairly sure that no other person in the world knew-not even Erik himself.

Erik-Phantom of the Opera, Opera Ghost, and Devil's child-was one downright fantastic kisser, despite have horribly deformed lips.

Who knew.