The Dare I Wish I Hadn't Taken

By Harmony283

Pairing: Zelos + Genis (friendship-ish in parts, but the line is blurred) mention of Raine + Sheena, onesided Presea + Genis, among others…

Summary: Genis is trying desperately to hide from his sister and his friends, and the only place of solitude he can find is at a familiar redhead's home. The only thing is: a nasty made-up (but soon to be real) bet comes along with it. Will Genis be able to pull through? Or will he risk a confrontation that he's trying so hard to avoid?

Dedicated to: LittleLinor –hugs- (thanks so much for beta-ing it as well!)

Inspired by: The song Hot N Cold by Katy Perry & all the 'maid' fan art of Genis

Authors Note: Do I need a reason to write this pairing? –blinks- It's the one I always go to for writer's block in this section. Why? Because it's fun to write (obviously), and my mind seems to be set on the 'crack only' pairings for this section o.o. Though the good news (or not?) is that this might actually be a chaptered fic! –gasp- Do I really need another one? Probably not, but I'm adding it on anyway.

Note: For those who read To Understand: Redemption of Ones Sins--I'm still searching for the next chapter (which I somehow lost..? over vacation), but it's almost finished (from what I remember) so it SHOULD be uploaded soon. If my writer's block is nice to me .

WARNING(S): sorta-AU, overall Zelos-ness, and a ten year age gap.

"But fire never ceases to be fire"

…or so they say

"Zelos, hurry up!" I hissed out for the third time, rubbing my temple in frustration as I heard the familiar sound of cloth being thrown in soft 'thumps' on the carpeted flooring of his—his gigantic closet.

My hearing normally wasn't that good, but with the servants off the entire day, it was hard not to notice every single sound he made. Especially when I wasn't even supposed to be here in the first place.

I let out another groan.

"I'm coming—I'm coming!" The fiery red-head hummed from behind the slightly ajar door. He wasn't aware of it—or maybe he was? I couldn't be sure—but when I looked up and towards the closet I could actually see him—or rather, his reflection—almost dancing in the mirror hanging on the closet door.

I quickly looked away as he tugged off his familiar black undershirt, focusing instead on the gaudy attire of the surrounding room. I already could tell he normally didn't sleep in here. It was…too nice for that. The bed looked like it had been made once, and never touched, for years. I almost felt bad for sitting on it.

But the maids would probably come back when we left. They'd probably just straighten it out. They always did, as with all the other rooms in the house.

I heard the familiar sound of a buckle being unlatched, and a zipper being pulled down and I tried hard not to look back at the annoying man's reflection. It wasn't hard—I shouldn't be here, I kept reminding myself—but he was taking so long that I almost wanted to barge on in there and—and…

Even if I did help him he'd get the wrong idea.

'He's already gotten the wrong idea, just from me being here!' I tried hard to shake that thought away, groaning again before falling back on the bed, "Zeloooos."

"Mmm? What is it my dear little brat-i-kins?"

"Don't call me that."

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you taking so long?"

"Because you aren't helping me."

"Why the hell would I help you?"

"Why the hell are you here?"

I sat up and glared at his reflection, "I don't know." He turned to face me—probably still thinking I couldn't see him—and I watched his reflection as he glared back at me.

"You tell me, sweetheart? You're the one who followed me home, in case you oh-so-wonderfully forgot."

"I didn't forget." I mumbled, averting my gaze as he began fixing the belt that held his new set of pants—black leather, from the looks of it—around his waist, "I just don't know why I…decided to follow you."

He made a slight clucking sound before turning back around and grabbing something out of my view, "Well I can't answer that any better than you can, so I suggest you find the answer because, really, I don't like wondering—and I don't believe you'll like whatever answer I've come up with."

"Because it's always perverted and off the mark entirely." I droned, falling back on the bed again, this time throwing one arm over my eyes, "I think I get that part of your personality well enough."

"What was that?"

Louder, I stated, "Nothing. Important."

"Really?" His voice sounded oddly closer, but I paid it no heed…until, of course, I heard his footsteps padding against the wooden flooring that made up the rest of the room. Then, a few seconds later, I felt added pressure to the bed, and a slightly calloused touch on my arm. He tugged said appendage once, then twice, then slowly shifted—the bedsprings groaned in loud protest—and immediately I dropped my hand back to my side.

"Yes, really." I managed to grate out, trying my best not to stiffen at his closeness. The only one who I allowed to get this close to me—in such a vulnerable position—was Raine, my sister. Definitely not some red-head that I barely got along with.

'How did I end up here?' I wondered for the umpteenth time as the older man continued to stare down at me.

Then, rather abruptly, he backed away until he was standing again, "Whatever you say. I'd like to hear the reason though, before the end of the night."

"I think we should worry about being late first." I muttered out, waiting until I heard him pad across the room before sitting up. This time I finally got a good look at what else he was wearing—well, he wasn't wearing a shirt yet, but it was enough to throw some criticism at. After all, I wasn't sure what place would allow in someone who looked, almost glaringly, like a male slut. I just had to ask, "Where are we going again? You said Yuan was meeting us there?"

"In an inconspicuous place," the ex-Chose barked with a short laugh, "it's supposed to be all incognito-like."

"Which means you have to dress like that." I stuck my tongue out in mild distaste, "I'll pass, thank you."

He glanced over his shoulder at me, but instead of looking offended, he looked practically thrilled, "Oh no, you're fine dressed as you are. I on the other hand—must exclude an air of mystery and oh-so-sexy refinement."

"Basically meaning you must look like a slut." I felt a twinge of pride as he flinched at the comment, "No, really, where are we going?"

"As I said—"

"Raine will so kill you—very, very slowly, in fact—if you take me anywhere too suspicious." He opened his mouth to retort but I quickly added on, "And I'm sure Sheena will be more than willing to help her."

Now he almost pouted, "Oh, that's not fair—bringing the Violent Demonic Banshee into this!" He walked over to one of the many mirrors that he had set up around the room, vainly touching his face, "Who knows what she could do to a beautiful face such as mine?!"

"A lot." I smirked, "An' I'll have fun watchin' 'em."

I expected him to grimace, but when he didn't—and in fact, smirked—I knew I should at least be a little worried, "Oh? And you don't for a second think Raine would ask you why you were with me?"

I blinked, "wha? She'll believe me if I say you just dragged me along."

He thought that over for a moment before shaking his head, "True, she probably would, but—and correct me if I'm so very wrong—didn't you come here because you wanted to get away from her?"

My eyes widened fractionally at those words and I quickly turned away, mumbling out a quiet "shut up", even though I knew the answer was yes.

'I forgot how…intuitive…he could be at times.' I grimaced inwardly at the thought, 'Is that part of the reason I came here?' I glanced back at him and he was staring at me through the mirror. He didn't look like he'd ask anymore though, and I was silently grateful, 'Maybe that's another reason too?' But I shook the thought away, instead slinging one arm back over my eyes and asking, "Even if that's true, she'd probably still believe me."

"True that," he hummed and I heard the drawer of his dresser opening. I raised my arm enough to glance back at him and noticed that he had just pulled out a pair of sunglasses, "But I highly doubt she associates herself with the people we might run into." He slipped the glasses on before swiftly taking them off and shaking his head.

"You have me worried now." I mumbled, turning on my side—away from him—and letting out a sigh, "Really. I might not wanna go now."

"Oh but you do! It'll be fun!"

I snorted in response.

"No really!" I heard him pad once more back to the bedside, but instead of sitting down like he had last time, he leaned over me, his hair spilling over his shoulder and brushing against my side. I let out a soft grunt—really his hair did tickle—and turned over until I lay flat on my back.

"Space, please." I hissed out, and, when he didn't move, I added on, "You need to get ready. Yuan probably won't even so much as look at you if you're late."

"Oh he'll have to."

"If he's even there."

"If he's even there." He echoed, and then seemed to realize what he had just said, "Wait—brat, quit messin' with my brain."

I shrugged my shoulders the best I could in my position, "Well you're asking for it. Or do I have to say it again—get ready."

"And how many times do I have to ask you that this would go so much faster if you actually get your lazy ass up and help?"

I flinched at the words and sat up, not thinking twice as I swatted his hair to the side, "And what exactly," I paused as my fingers suddenly tangled in a few strands of his hair—about midway down its full length. I tried to untangle my fingers from the fiery mess, but before I could successfully free my hand, he grabbed it, and I knew I had to finish my sentence. I shot him another glare before finishing, "do you want me to do?"

"Well for one, it goes by much faster if someone helps brushing out my hair. As you can see," he squeezed my hand lightly—almost playfully—a glint in his eyes, "it's quite tangled right now."

"I'd ask why, but I don't think I want to know."

He looked offended by that but, surprisingly, just shrugged it off, "Don't be a brat. I'll just take that much longer to get ready."

"It's your pain."

"Oh, is it?"

I really didn't like the way he just said that. Really. I cocked my head to the side, "How the heck would I benefit from meeting Mr. Scary Ex-Renegade Leader?"

"You mean Mr. Scary I-might-be-Bisexual-but-no-one-knows-it," he corrected, a smirk tugging at his lips. I must have made a strange face because he let out a laugh a second later that didn't sound too much on the innocent side, "And it's not obvious as heck?"

I shook my head, "He's married—or, was going to marry—Martel! How can he be…? Wait," I held up a hand to stop him from speaking, "I don't want to know."

"He's in the closet."

"And you can honestly say you aren't?" I don't know where that comment came from, but I said it.

And I tried hard not to let the sudden silence bother me.

Not that I had to wait long—the red-headed idiot laughed, like this was some sort of—of joke, or something. Which it wasn't. I don't think. "You serious?" He questioned after his laughter had died down some, "You…you really just said that?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "What about it?" He didn't need to know how much it—his reaction—bothered me.

"I would be proud if that comment wasn't aimed at me." He remarked with a sudden dryness in his voice, "I'm not gonna ask why you said that—or where the hell it even came from in that oh-so-innocent mind of yours—but I assure you I am not in the closet about anything." Then he grinned, "People just choose not to ask me, therefore no one knows but me."

"So if someone asked you—theoretically—you'd be out of the closet without—wait," I rubbed my forehead, "That doesn't make any sense."

"It's nice you're thinkin' about it, though."

"This has nothing to do with going to see Yuan, though." I quickly tried to change the subject, "Which, might I remind you, I still don't want to go."

"But you're going to have to."

"You can't make me."

"I can tell your sis that you're here."

I opened my mouth to deny that he could do that, but really, he was the ex-Chosen, he'd have any and all connections he'd need for something like this. So instead I asked, "What exactly would you say to her, though? And what makes you so sure I wouldn't just run away?"

He blinked at me for a moment, his expression clearly stating that he was actually using that brain of his, before answering, "Is it really that bad?"

'Well crap, wasn't expecting that.' I mentally slapped myself, 'But I thought he wouldn't ask—'

"I won't ask details." He seemed to realize along the lines of what I was thinking, "An' if it's really that bad that you don't want your sis involved then—well, I'll tell 'er that you're here. It's not up to me what ya do after that." I bit my lip even harder at this, and he noticed, exhaling loudly before adding on, "Though if you're so scared of her comin' to find you then why the hell wouldn't you wanna come?"

"Were you listening a few minutes ago? What if we run into Raine on the way there?"

"Then at least I can vouch for you."

I grimaced, "And what the hell would you say?"

"That's a good question," he hummed, cocking his head slightly to the side—making me notice that he still didn't have a shirt on, with the way his red hair splayed out against his skin, which was almost as pale as my own—

'Why the hell am I worrying about his skin tone?' I was too afraid to answer my own question. Thankfully, I didn't get a chance to ask myself why, because the redhead had already formulated a response.

With a loud 'Ah-ha', and an unsettling grin, he began, "I suppose I could just say that, oh, you lost a bet to me?"

I blinked once.

Then twice.

On the third blink I asked, "What kind of bet?"

The smirk turned into a full out gleeful grin, "Oh—you know, one of those that, if you don't win at something then the loser has to do whatever the winner says. Fair enough?"

The first thing I could think to say in response was, "She's not going to believe it."

He didn't seem to particularly disturbed by that, "Maybe not, but I think it's particularly noticeable that I can't stand you. And the feeling is quite mutual, don't you agree?"

He was stating it like it was a good thing, "Well, yeah, you're still as much as an ass-hole as before."

I watched in mild amusement as his face contorted in annoyance before shifting back to the careless grin, "So you'd always jump the gun whenever a bet comes around."

"She knows I'm smarter than that."

"An' you think you're perfect?" The question shocked me, and I noticed now that his eyes were vainly searching my own—and I hadn't been making eye contact—now I almost felt bad. When I didn't respond he continued on, "Everyone'll jump the gun every once in a while—even little half-elf boys who think they're smarter than everyone else." I flinched at the degrading sound of his voice, but it didn't stay there for long before it turned back to purely speculatory, "So we could have just bet, say, that had something to do with being athletic. You aren't too good with that, are you?"

I hesitantly shook my head.

"Okay then—let's say I was making fun of you for it—that we had run into each other, say, on the outside of Meltokio while I was out doing whatever," he waved his arm for emphasis, "we argued as usual—then I'd poke fun at you being all tired out just from walking, and then I made a bet with you to see who has more stamina. And I, being the wonderful swordsman that I am, won said bet quite easily."

I gulped, "That…that seems real enough," and as much as I hated to admit it, that was the cold hard truth, whether or not I wanted to agree with it or leave as an unsaid truth. But there was still one part missing, "What am I supposed to be doing now, though, since you won? I mean…" I trailed off and he seemed to understand.

"Oh that's the funnest part!" He laughed out, and suddenly I was worried again—'What could he have possibly come up with?' I didn't even want the answer to my own question.

"Well if it's so fun then tell me."

"It's plain and simple and easy to follow too!" He smirked out, probably just to irk me, "All you have to do, my dear boy, is be my little 'maid' for an entire year!"

My eyes widened and for a moment I was completely and utterly speechless. This, to him, was oddly funny, and he let out a sort of cackled laugh that I had only heard once before. It seemed to be enough, though, to get me to at least ask one thing, "A…year?"

"Yup! Yup!" He nodded his head, "And we'll be in that side of town, oh, say, picking up a cute little maid outfit for you!" I didn't know whether to blush or to hit him upside the head with my Kendama. Though when my cheeks suddenly began to heat up I knew I'd have to do the latter—just to save my image.

Which, I horrifyingly found out a second later, when I tried to reach for said Kendama, I left back at school.

"I…really hope you aren't—you aren't going to actually uphold this bet…right?" I moaned out, falling back on the bed again in self-defeat, "Because if you are—oh Goddess, Raine will kill me."

This made Zelos laugh even harder, "Oh? Why you? I'd expect her to be shocked or something, but—"

"She'll probably go after you as well, but she'd be—so embarrassed that I lost a bet like that. Dammit, now I'm going to have to come up with an excuse for why I even bet with you in the first place."

"Then I'll leave you to think that over in case we do run into her. But as I said," I heard him shuffling in one of the dresser drawers, but I didn't care to sit back up and watch, "I highly doubt we'll run into her."

"So you won't have to make me buy a maid outfit?"

"Oh no, I'll make you try one on. Just for kicks." The fact that he sounded so serious when he said that made me want to gag. Or hide under the bed—but instead I opted to grab the nearest thing—in this case a too-large pillow—and hurl it at the back of his head.

Unfortunately he saw it coming through the mirror and turned around just in time to rebuff it with his arm. For a moment he pouted—which looked really strange on his face—and looked like he wanted to ask why I did that. But then a smirk crossed his lips, "I wonder, what size do you think you'd be? I'm sure they'll have one that fits you just right."

"And if they don't?" I didn't even want to know why the heck I was asking.

"Then I'll just custom order one! And you'll get to wear it whenever you're inside the mansion!"

"But I'm not going to stay in your mansion—not for any longer than I have to." I reminded him.

"Oh? And why not?" He questioned, looking slightly confused, "You have heard of the saying: In order to hide as best you can, live in another home, right?"

"No. No I haven't heard of that saying." He made a clicking sound with his tongue but I ignored it, "Unless you just made it up, in which case you just told me now."

"No I didn't just make it up, it's something—" he stopped mid sentence, his face contorting just slightly in an emotion I wasn't familiar with, before he began speaking again, "—ah, you won't believe me anyway. But really, think about it, wouldn't Raine—whom you're trying oh so hard to avoid for whatever reason—know to check every place you usually stay? Wouldn't that include Sybak?" Well he did have a point there, "So you obviously can't go back to your dorm room there. And she'd probably check any other place she knows you'd most likely stay at."

"And she won't check with you." I shook my head, "I can see what you're getting at but here isn't safer than any of those places."

"True," he slowly nodded his head before turning back around and staring at me through the mirror mounted on the dresser, "but she wouldn't suspect you of staying here. I'd assume the same with everyone else."

My heart constricted but I pushed the feeling away, "They'll come anyway—they'll ask you where I am, especially if you aren't helping look for me."

"Then you can just hide upstairs. I've got enough rooms that it'd be hell to find you even if they searched the whole damn place." He seemed to find whatever it was that he was looking for, and I heard him pad across the floor into his large walk-in closet. I sat up again and watched him through the reflection as he disappeared a few times, and reappeared with a different shirt on each time. He had pulled his hair up in a messy ponytail as well, and it kept swishing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…

"You okay?" I blinked and jerked my gaze away from his hair long enough to see the slightly amused look on his face. He was leaning against the doorframe of his closet, and he was staring straight at me, "Or are you enjoying the little fashion show?" I couldn't miss the suggestiveness in his voice and, for the second—or was it third?—time in a span of less than an hour I felt my cheeks heat up again.

"I'm fine. I was just…" I tried hard to come up with a non-lame sounding answer for why I was staring at him—his hair, I quickly corrected—and thankfully I managed out with a simple, "you've never put your hair up before."

"Really?" My comment did nothing to appease the grin on his lips, but he sounded more surprised—in a good way—than amused, "Well I don't like putting it up much—I don't see the point." He reached up and touched the hair tie holding his hair up and began to tug at it.

And for some ungodly reason I stopped him, "Don't. Keep it up. It," I searched for a logical answer to my request and somehow I managed it, "might help with…y'know, your 'disguise.'"

"That's all?" He almost sounded disappointed, and his hand didn't move, "I was thinking about braiding it—you know, that works just as well." He tilted his head slightly to the side before adding on, almost wistfully, "Unless, of course, you like it."

If that didn't outright tell me—that yes he guessed that I had been about to say I liked it—then I didn't know what would, "I—well, it's…" I paused, trying to think of the word, "different. Not in a bad way—just—"

"Then you like it?" This time when he asked I could hear more…not amusement, but something close to it, in his voice.

'Has no one ever complimented him on his hair before?' I could answer that question myself, or at least until now I thought I could.

So I asked it out loud, "You mean you've never been complimented on your hair before? Doesn't it go along with 'looks'?"

He let out a laugh at that, "Well yes, I have been. But I've never really worn it up like this—at least not recently, anyway." He turned to look at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the door, and he just blinked at it for a moment before speaking again, "I suppose I could wear it up. Along with a pair of sunglasses, and…oh!" He grinned at me through the mirror, "I think I know the perfect shirt to wear now!"

He disappeared into the closet and a few seconds later came out with a black, tight fitting, turtleneck that left about an inch of stomach visible. He had also grabbed a beret-like hat, and was wearing his sunglasses, which were tinted enough that you could hardly see how blue his eyes were.

"Tah-dah!" He announced loudly, grabbing his beret and making a large sweeping bow, "and I am officially ready!"

"Finally," I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, "And now you can't bug me about not helping you, since I did."

He made that strange pouting face again before gracefully shrugging it off, "Well we're late enough as it is—don't want to keep dear old Renegade leader waiting. Me thinks he has a bit of a temper problem when someone runs late." The laugh he let out after that sounded more nervous than jolly.

'Then again he probably knows better how he'll react—he did sort of work for him after all.' A little voice in the back of my head reminded me as I slid off the comfy bed, 'And he also worked for Kratos and for Yggdrasill.'

I flinched inwardly at the thought—it still hurt, even now, to talk about what had happened then. It almost wasn't fair that it still haunted me, 'But it's in the past. It's over with. And—' I watched as Zelos messed with his hat, trying to get it to tilt a certain way, 'how little they actually talked to each other.'

That wasn't supposed to be funny, but I found myself smirking at it anyway. This, of course, was at the exact same time as Zelos turned back to look at me—and, of course, he had to make a comment about it, "Should I wonder what you're smirkin' about? Or am I better off not knowing?"

I felt my face heat up at the hidden innuendo in his voice—whether I was just hearing things, or if it was, in fact, there—but I just shrugged it off, "Whatever you're thinking it's not it."

"Then what is it?"

"You just said you wouldn't ask."

His grin faltered in confusion, but then he seemed to get it, "Nooo, I was asking if I should ask about it. You didn't answer."

"Well then I'll say you shouldn't." I answered, as I tried to calm the blush still running rampant on my cheeks.

"And that just makes me all the more curious," he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, "was it really something--? My!" he didn't even try to finish his original sentence, "You really do have such a dirty little mind! I'm so proud!"

That made me grimace, "It wasn't perverted."

"Then why--?"

"You're fault." I quickly answered, "But my mind is fairly clean, thank you very much."

"So a little bit of it isn't? What kind of books have you been reading?" The tone of his voice made me cringe and, despite my best efforts, my cheeks colored even more. This, of course, made him jump to conclusions "Oh-ho! Reading naughty little NC-17 rated things, are we? Who knew?"

"That's right." I hissed out, "Who knew? That's not—"

"And now you're in de-ni-al." He sang out, disappearing out the door of his barely used room and into the hallway, "So sweet, so cute, but it'll come back to haunt you someday."

"So says the man who supposedly authors porn books." I muttered out, trying hard to placate the blush, but failing miserably.

The red head popped his head back in through the door and grinned at me, "What's that?"

And for whatever reason the blush on my cheeks strengthened, "You call me on reading romance novels—but you've done worse."

"True, true," his grin widened even more, "But, dear, the difference is—I'm quite a bit older than you."

"But you probably weren't when you—you did stuff." Why I decided to bring up an even more embarrassing topic, I didn't know. But I could feel my cheeks—flaming even more—and I just wanted to—to—hide? That would be cowardly, and it would inflate his ego to the size of the Coliseum. I didn't need to deal with that, 'Especially since I don't know how long it'll take to get to wherever the hell we're going.' So before he could respond back with an even raunchier comment I cut him off, "Y'know, I don't get the point of continuing this conversation. Shouldn't we be worrying about leaving?"

He looked like he wanted to protest, but he surprised me by letting it drop. With a shrug of his shoulders he said, "Well the place we're going is quite a bit a ways from here, but if we get on a Rhieard it'll be that much faster." He paused for a moment, "Only problem is, I only have one, since I didn't expect a little chick-a-dee," he lowered his sunglasses and glanced back at me, "to tag along."

I wanted to retort with something—anything—but I didn't even know where to start, "Well I'm sorry." Apologizing was always a good place, even though I knew—and he knew—it wasn't sincere, "But you're stuck with me."

"So says the one who protested against going in the first place." He parroted back, "You're such a little hypocrite, and a closet-perv too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are toooo." He disappeared out the door again, and I followed after him, opening my mouth to disagree again, but wound up running into him instead. He looked down at me in an almost degrading—but humorous, at least to him—way and added on, "And there's nothing you can do to prove other wise."

"I'm sure there is."

"I'll bet you on it."

"Fine."

It was a second too late when I realized it. His grin told me that more than anything, and his laugh even further proved that point. Then, once he realized I noticed my humiliating mistake, he drawled out in a slow and sultry way, "I win. You are the little Hypocrite." He waggled is finger playfully in front of my face, and, against my better judgment, I attempted to swat it away. In this moment he grabbed my wrist and whirled me around—pinning me to the nearby wall. Before I could do so much as react, I felt his hand run down the side of my arm, then to my shirt, and then up, under it, feeling the skin—

And for the second—third? Fourth? I couldn't remember—time that day I acted on instinct and yelled out, "Pervert! Let go of me!"

And a second too late I realized what I did and clamped my mouth shut.

But it didn't stop the grin from forming, "My, my," he said in the most amused a provocative tone, "What is going on in that little head of yours?" He actually gave me time to answer, but I had no idea what I could say without making it more apparent that I—that I—

He seemed to know that I couldn't respond—or couldn't think of how to, anyway—and again, he said in that particular way that made me want to yell 'NO' at the top of my lungs, "You really are quite the little pervert, hmm? Thinking up naughty things in your head without much," his hand slid slowly down, until he reached my stomach, which he tapped a few times, and I, on reflex, 'hicced', "encouragement."

For all the Goddess's above, he really did make that one word sound so perverted. And that, in turn, made me realize one other thing.

He was right.

"I win." He stated just to get the point further across, and honest to all the knowledge in my head, I was scared at the words I knew he'd say next. But that didn't stop him from saying them, "So now you have to do whatever I want for an entire year. And you know?" He pulled his hand back out from under my shirt, "I know the perfect thing. We can buy it in a little shop at the place we're going to. Won't this be fun?"

--

And this is where I'll stop the first 'chapter'. The ending sounds a bit rushed, and Zelos sounds a bit more perverted than I would have wanted, but other than that, I'm really proud of the way it turned out. Poor Genis, though, digging his own grave –shakes head-

But anyways—tell me if I should continue! The only way I know is via reviews! So if you have Questions, Comments, CC, or just want to drop by to say hi, send it via review!

-avec amour (with love)

-Harmony283