Disclaimer: I do not own any characters of School of Rock
"Dude, what is this?" Dewey asked Ned, scrunching up his nose.
"It's called Clove. It's this new cologne--"
"It smells like... like... Ned Schneebly," Dewey sniffed his shirt.
"Well, you told me you wanted to smell good. That's all I have," Ned snatched the cologne bottle out of Dewey's hand just as he was about to toss it into the garbage bin in the bathroom.
"Look, me and Ros have been together for about three months now, and we still haven't..." Dewey hitched up his eyebrows and Ned nodded in understanding. "I think tonight's the night. I want her to rip off my clothes after breathing in the intoxicating smell of Dewey Finn."
"Yeah, you're intoxicating all right. Listen, Rosalie Mullins is a reserved and smart woman. I doubt there'll be any ripping off clothes until you guys are serious," Ned said, now holding up two different colors of ties. "Which one?"
"Neither," Dewey shook his head. "Look, Ned, I'm not wearing a stupid tie. I'm not wearing a suit, and I'm not shaving. I'm especially not going over there looking like I just left the teachers' lounge at Horace Green."
"Well, fine, just kindly explain to her that you didn't want to get dressed up even though you're going to the fanciest restaurant in town."
Dewey ignored Ned and ran a hand through his hair. To him, Rosalie Mullins was a cool chick when she wanted to be. Sure, when they had began to date, it was like middle school all over. She didn't want to be frisked in public, she barely let him kiss her on the lips, and heaven forbid he mention sex.
He never gave up on her because she was different from any other woman he had met before. She was sophisticated, intelligent, and had legs that men could only dream about. Dewey liked that they were so different form each other, but sometimes, he just really wanted her to let loose.
He almost wanted to get her drunk like he had a few months before when he first met her. It was a complicated story...something about him posing as a substitute teacher, but these days, he didn't like to get into that. The only thing he was willing to talk about was the new, awesome after school program and band that he had started.
Rosalie had encouraged him to start the program, and she came to all of his shows, but something still wasn't right there. It was almost like they weren't dating at all.
Sure, they had lunch dates, and took strolls in the park, and went shopping for antique tea cups that she collected, but it wasn't Dewey's idea of having a girlfriend. It was more like hanging out with your sister. He'd try to kiss her, but she'd only let him kiss her when they were either at her place or his. If Ned was around, they'd lunge into a conversation of the importance of teachers and discipline that usually left Dewey out. He'd sit there, falling asleep at the table, until she'd wake him up to tell him that she was leaving. It seemed like she'd rather date Ned than him.
He had only stayed the night over her place once, in which she made a nice comfortable bed for him on her couch. She refused to stay over at his apartment, even when Ned wasn't there for the night. Dewey really liked this woman, despite the much confusion and many annoyances.
"You should probably pick up some flowers or something," said Ned from the kitchen. "She'd like that. Tulips are her favorite."
Dewey poked his head out of the bathroom door, staring at Ned. "I know that, Ned. She's my girlfriend, remember?"
"Just offering some advice," Ned shrugged. "When you come in tonight, try to keep it down. I teach at Appleton High School tomorrow. I can feel the spit balls hitting my face now."
"Well, better spit balls than knives. I'm out," said Dewey, grabbing his jacket and heading out the door.
Dewey blasted Led Zeppelin down the street on the way to Ros's house. He stopped at a flower shop that was just closing and picked up a vase of tulips. He examined the tulips, and all he could think about was her studying the plants, trying to find something wrong with them. She probably smile politely and say 'Oh, these are nice. Thank you' and sit them down on some table to ignore them for the rest of the night.
This didn't sit well with him so he stopped at a local supermarket and spent 10 minutes deciding on a box of candy. Again, he could see her faking a smile, staring at the cheap chocolates and saying 'Oh, how sweet. Chocolate. Thanks' and having them rot away in the back of her fridge.
He searched his pockets and wallet, while swerving away from a semi truck that had just switched into his lane. He had exactly 43 cents left, and a mushed piece of gum with lint smashed into it. He gave up and turned up his radio, drowning out his thoughts, but it didn't work for long.
Maybe if she wore more than greys and blues and blacks, she wouldn't seem so... bland. Dewey smacked himself in the head for even thinking about changing her. That's what he liked about her, isn't it? Or was it the first time he had saw her drunk. Was it the way she flushed pink and began to lose all train of thought when she heard the music that she loved? Was it the way that she sang and danced with him in the booth, letting herself go for once?
Or was it the way her face turned hard and stern whenever she wanted to slap the hell out of some little kid, or when she unknowingly showed a little bit of leg whenever she bent over to pick up something off the ground in the hallway?
Was it the way that she slicked his hair back with her hands before kissing him quickly on the lips and going into her house?
Then there was the fact that whenever he was with her, he wanted to straighten himself out. He wanted to be a better person, not just some hack living with his best friend. He heard himself speak more proper around her, start holding doors for her, and on occasion, shaving.
Tonight, he hadn't shaved nor had he dressed the part of Rosalie Mullins' boyfriend. He was going to be Dewey. Maybe it was a test of her love, but he felt a little guilty wearing his t-shirt and jeans.
"Just pull it together, man, or you're going to be breaking up with her tonight," Dewey said to himself.
He pulled into a quick halt in front of her house. The lights were on inside, and he headed for her door.
He knocked. No answer.
"Ros! Hey Ros!" he yelled for her, but still no answer.
Suddenly, he heard a faint song come on in the background. He turned the knob and the music hit him as soon as he walked in. It was blasting all throughout the house. Stevie Nicks.
His face twisted in confusion as he looked around for her. "Ros, I'm here. I brought you something. Where are you?"
He looked around the house, but she was nowhere to be found. He shrugged and headed up the stairs. She was probably still in the shower, getting ready for their date out to the restaurant. Of course, she was going to pay since he had just payed his bill. He wanted to convince her to stay in, but she loved that restaurant. He was hoping that she'd take one look at him and just decide to go to the bar or something.
"Ros?" he pushed open her bedroom door.
He scanned the room in amusement and tried to pick his jaw up from the floor. There were candles lit and rose pedals were scattered all over her bed. There were two glasses of wine sitting by a tray of strawberries and chocolate moose. The radio was blasting Stevie Nicks, and he went over to turn it down a little bit.
When he turned around, what he saw, he didn't have words for.
Rosalie was standing in the doorway of her bathroom, leaning against it seductively, lip-syncing to the song which was her favorite.
She. Looked. Amazing.
Her light purple lingerie was see-through, nothing like a school principal would wear. Her hair hung down by her shoulders in a care free way, she wasn't wearing glasses in which Dewey could see her make-up job. She was barefoot, and her legs could have gone for miles. And her chest. Dewey couldn't understand why she would hide such wonderful features. He had never seen her like this.
"What happened to the restaurant?" he asked, drooling while studying her curves.
She simply shrugged. "Why go out to eat when I have a full course meal for you here. Happy three month anniversary."
Dewey dropped the candy and flowers out of shock, causing the water to empty onto the carpet. "Did someone say anniversary? Because all I got out of that was a full course meal--"
"Shut up and kiss me," Rosalie threw herself on him and began to caress his lips with hers. Dewey lost all control and began to take off his shirt, all the while still lip locked with her. They fell onto the bed, hungry for each other. Right as Dewey moved his hand up her thigh, she jumped up.
"Maybe I can't do this," she suddenly said.
"Wha?" Dewey opened his eyes, caught up in the moment. "Why?"
"Oh, it's just... I don't know," she threw her hands up. "Do you want to know a secret?"
Dewey simply stared at her. If she was trying to tease him, she was succeeding. He continued to kiss up her arm, and she smacked him on the head.
"I've never had a boyfriend before."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes. I mean, I don't know to do all of this girlfriend-commitment stuff. I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted to him.
"Well, it looked like you knew what you were doing a second ago when you tackled me," Dewey chuckled. "I'd say you were an expert."
Rosalie smirked mischievously. "Just because I've never had a boyfriend doesn't mean I've never done it."
"Well, in that case," Dewey began to smother her with more kisses.
Two hours later, three hickeys each, 18 eaten strawberries and 3 glasses of wine, the couple were all tuckered out. Stevie Nicks still played in the background on low and Rosalie cuddled up to Dewey under the sheets.
"You know what I love about you," she whispered, too lazy and relaxed to move.
"What?" Dewey said groggily.
"I like that you love me for who I am. Your patient, your wild, and you make me feel like Ican do anything."
"Personally, I love your legs."
She smacked him on the chest playfully and snuggled back up to him. "There has to be something that you love about me other than my legs."
Dewey secretly smiled to himself as he stroked her long brown hair that had lost its stiffness. No, this wasn't about choosing what he did and didn't like about her. It seemed clear in that moment when she had fallen asleep on his chest waiting for his respond, drooling and faintly snoring. He loved every single thing about her.
(AN: Well, that was the quickest thing I've ever written. Tell me what you think... aka... review :-D oh and yes, her name is actually Rosalie. I looked it up.)