Dedication: Samia. Who else were you expecting?
Notes: It probably isn't a very good sign when I'm starting to reference my own fic.
Notes 2: A loose sequel to The Semantics of Romanticism.
Notes 3: Please leave a review!

„What is he meaning of this?"

Drew flashed her a winning smile. "You're going to meet my parents. Isn't that awesome?"

"I can barely contain my excitement." May yawned and rubbed her temples. "Does this have to take place at five in the morning?"

"You know it takes eternities if you don't avoid the rush hour."

She sighed. Drew grinned. "C'mon," he said. "I'll invite you to pasta."

"All you can eat?"

"Sure."

"So," she said with her mouth full, once they had arrived at the next diner that served all you can eat pasta before sunrise. "Remind me why we're doing this again."

Drew noted with faint horror that the sight was kind of hot. You know, in a deranged sort of way.

"Because of your undying love for family lunches?"

"Sometimes I wonder why I even bother," she muttered in between large chunks of spaghetti and parmesan cheese.

Drew cooed and patted her on the head.

So, as it turned out, what Drew had meant by family lunch was family lunch in a three-star bistro with luxurious teak furniture and its own fountain in the middle of the hall.

May was quietly fighting the urge to hyperventilate.

"You're making a scene," Drew observed and steered her to a table at the back of the room. A friendly, middle-aged couple and quite a bored-looking girl in her late teens were waiting for them.

"Mom, Dad, runt," he announced cheerfully. "This is May. I'm going to marry her."

The entire party stared at him in silence.

"I think I'm having acoustic hallucinations," May said to no one in particular, looking slightly peeved.

Drew's confidence began to crumble. "I thought this was your condition for—well."

"For what?"

"For getting into your pants," Drew's sister helpfully pointed out.

Drew's father choked. His wife pounded on his back and avoided looking at anybody for more than two seconds.

May considered making her dramatic exit when she suddenly had an epiphany. He was a male and therefore reigned by his impulses. She, as the rational part of the relationship, needed to take action.

Oh, it all made so much sense now.

"Drew," she began sagely. "Why didn't you say so earlier?"

"I figured you'd tattoo my eyeballs."

"Drew," his mother hissed.

"Of course not," May smiled pleasantly. "In fact, you have my understanding."

Drew eyed her, wary. "Indeed," he said.

"Naturally."

"So you're okay with, ah, advancing to the next level?"

His sister started to giggle uncontrollably. Her mother pinched her in the shoulder and tried to appear unaffected.

"Well." She took a deep breath. "We need a concept first. A well-thought out plan."

"I think this is our cue to leave," Drew's father proclaimed hurriedly.

"But now comes the best part," his daughter argued.

Her protest was cut short due to her father grabbing her by the collar and dragging her to safety along with his wife.

"A plan?" Drew echoed. "What is there to plan?"

May shook her head in exasperation. "That is such a guy thing to say!"

"Oh yeah? Well, what else am I supposed to say? What? Tell me, May, because I'm tired of guessing."

May stared at the ground.

Drew made a bitter, contemptuous noise.

"Yeah," he said and turned away from her. "I didn't think so."

And then he made his way through the waiters and incoming guests toward the exit. Within the blink of an eye he was completely hidden from view.

"Drew is a jerk and I don't know what I should do."

May sniffed into the receiver.

Max seemed flatly unimpressed. "May, I am a frustrated, hormone-driven teenage boy who listens to alternative rock music and likes to study the anatomy of bug pokémon. Also, my glasses are twice the size of your breasts."

May moaned. "Please don't talk about those when I'm having an existential crisis." She paused to shudder. "Please don't talk about them at all, actually."

"My point is," Max went on and rolled his eyes. "I'm not exactly the ideal recipient for this sort of thing. You can talk to me about a butterfree's spinal cord, though."

"That's nice."

"Or beedrill. Their feet are pretty interesting."

"I think I'm going to call someone else. Preferably someone who isn't a total creep. Tell Mom I said hi."

May went on to Plan B. It involved her blaziken and lots of rubber hosing, but since Nurse Joy refused to stock her with the necessary equipment, she was forced to move on to Plan C.

"May? Oh, err, hi!" Ash's voice was shaky when he greeted her. From the background May could make out something that sounded suspiciously akin to an explosion.

She snorted. "Do I even want to know?"

"It's not that bad, really." He gave a sheepish laugh. "Just Team Rocket. You know, the usual."

Another detonation. "So, what's up?"

"I need relationship advice."

There was a crash and a rather ugly cracking noise.

"Um, I'm not really, uh. I-I mean I can't. Because I have … scabies?"

"People don't get scabies."

Ash squeaked in panic. "I meant rabies!"

"Ash." May smiled despite herself. "I lied."

"I hate you," he sulked promptly. "You're not supposed to know these kinds of things. Misty is the smart one. You're the girly one who really likes to eat."

"I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that." Ash harrumpff'd. "Anyway, you need to tell me why men are so ridiculously obsessed with sex and what I can do about it."

He made a noise that went beyond anything she could verbally describe.

"I'm sorry, May, but the connection is just so bad—click, beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep."

He had hung up on her.

May was outraged. She decided to punish him by uninviting him to any possible Maple Barbecue in the foreseeable future.

Around five in the afternoon Nurse Joy informed May that there was a call for her.

It was Misty.

"How'd you know I was here?"

"I figured. Well, more like guessed. How are you?"

May grimaced. "The food could be better. More noodles."

"What I meant was," Misty said, inching closer to the screen. "How's the break going for you?"

May went rigid. "What break?"

"The break your and Drew's relationship is on," she replied matter-of-factly.

May paled. "He's breaking up with me?" she shrieked. It took her remaining brain cells a moment to process the rest. "Wait, how do you even know about all this?"

"Details, details." Misty scoffed. "Anyway, it shouldn't come as a surprise to you."

May looked at her in horror, before she curled up into a ball and began to rock back and forth.

"Now, you're just being theatrical," Misty commented.

"I DON'T CARE," May wailed. "I pushed Drew away because of my complexes about my sexuality and now I'm going to develop a post-traumatic disorder, which is going to destroy any new attempt at a relationship I'm going to make, while Drew will be scarred mentally, forever unable to form a permanent bond of any kind with a woman, leaving him no other choice but to work at a gay bar, where he is eventually swept away by the mysterious and yet charismatic business manager, with whom he is going to elope to Unova and adopt about half a dozen orphans, but society will never accept their way of living, and it'll be all my fault."

Now even Misty looked slightly uncomfortable. It lasted for about a nanosecond.

"That's why I'm telling you to stop being such a giant baby and just bang him already!"

May mulled it over. "So, what you're suggesting is make up deflowerment?"

Misty's face broke into a dangerous grin. "Nice working title, though I would have picked something a little more subtle. Anyway, I'm sending you a little something to help you out. It should be at the pokémon center tomorrow."

May had A Very Bad Feeling.

In the package that arrived the next morning was a frilly maid dress and black leather high heels.

May couldn't help but wonder where Misty might have gotten her hands on stuff like this.

"May, what are you wearing?"

May tried to flutter her eyelashes in an irresistible but inconspicuous fashion and failed horribly. "Do you like it?" she purred.

Drew flushed. "It's, uh, it's very—short." He peered closer. "Is that latex?"

"Do you want to find out?" she asked, pressing her thigh against his hip.

Drew swallowed. "Though I do appreciate the thought, I don't think this is a very good idea."

May stiffened. "I thought this was what you wanted."

"Well, it wasn't precisely this what I had in mind, not that I'm complaining. I'm especially fond of the low-cut neckline. Very nice view."

May huffed in annoyance. "Could you please stop gawking for a moment and explain why you suddenly refuse to be intimate with me?"

Drew bit his lip. "I just don't think we should do it, um, right now."

May eyed him like she didn't know whether she was supposed to laugh hysterically or rip all of her hair out.

"Now you're chickening out?" She let out a strangled noise. "Ugh, men are such babies!"

"May, you don't understand." He looked strangely embarrassed with himself. "I'm—I'm kind of hung over. And really, really dizzy. Basically, I could start throwing up on your feet any minute now."

"Oh. That's. Oh."

"Yeah," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Do you want to come in or—"

"No, I'm good," she cut in hastily. "Get well soon. Bye!"

With that she was out the door and teetered away on her high heels with surprising speed.

The next day May was faced with the fact that she needed a new approach if she really wanted to initiate the enhancement of the physical aspect of their relationship. Something that did not entail skimpy maid uniforms or shoes that made it almost impossible to walk in.

So she wrote him a note.

It was a plot of great potential and cunning.

It also didn't work.

"I demand an explanation," she exclaimed, indignant, standing yet again on his doorstep.

"I could say the same," Drew noted, looking perturbed. "What the hell is this about?" He held out the note as though it was something he had found sticking to the bottom of his shoe.

"I thought a more dignified view on the matter would improve things," she huffed defensively.

"Dignified?" he mimicked. "May, this sounds like the correspondence between a hooker and her client."

May pursed her lips and frowned. "High-class or ordinary?"

Drew heaved an exasperated sigh and kissed her.

Wait, what.

For a moment all May could do was breathe and stare.

Then, "this is so 2010."

"Typical," he whispered, and kissed her again.