Since I prewrote this, and hence, did not know what would be the exact circumstances would be at this point in the story, some things may be off. Feel free to comment on this if there's anything I missed.

I, personally, love this chapter. It's my favorite so far. Very funny, if I do say so myself.

Also – I'm sure some of you may be wondering why Marianne changed her style of speaking so abruptly and why she never spoke like she was from the middle ages in the first place. I can tell you that she's been around for over six hundred years. She's kinda picked up modern English. Among several other languages.


Marianne blinked her eyes open to slits, taking in a very fascinating ceiling. She moaned and sat up, placing a hand on her stomach. "Ow..."

Adam, who had been hunched over at his desk doing homework, slowly straightened up, eyes wide. Turning around hesitantly, they widened further and, before he could control himself, he practically flew to the side of his bed and embraced her tightly.

She squeezed one eye shut, grunting in a most unladylike manner. "Mm. Adam... ow. I really need oxygen... hey, what's on my wrist?"

He released his grip for a split second, pushing her away from his body to examine her, then pulling her back, though not as tight the second time. "You're okay," he whispered, mostly to himself, but as his mouth was next to her ear, it was impossible for her not to hear.

"Of course I am," she replied, reciprocating the hug. "Why wouldn't I be? And why do I have this thing on my wrist?" she repeated.

He pushed her away again, this time staring intently into her eyes. "You hoped nothing would go wrong?"

Marianne was speechless. Part of it could have been contributed to the fact that, as serious as his glare was, he was only a couple of centimeters from her face. As so, she could feel his hot breath on her lips – lips which were almost touching hers. The reason Marie didn't answer was simple – she was afraid that if she even tried to speak, she would kiss him. Not that that was a bad thing, but it didn't quite fit the implied mood being forced upon her. So she sat there, breathing slowly, looking petrified, and staring at Adam's mouth.

He began to notice where her eyes were heading when she didn't answer. He cursed his brain for just now noticing the position that he had put them in, which consisted of his Marie being almost pushed into his face with his hands on her back, keeping her in place. Adam's subconscious decided that controlling his hormones was impossible, so he did the next most rational thing the working part of his brain could conjure up at the moment – he leaned forward the slightest bit, capturing Marie's lips with his. They were surprisingly soft. Somehow, he didn't notice her reaction, though she obviously did; a feeling of something as clichéd as electricity coursed through her body. Adam was still hung over the thought that his brain put a 'his' in front of 'Marie'.

The whole scene could have easily lasted ten minutes for either of them, but in actual time, it only took about forty-five seconds. She slid back against the headboard while he fell ungracefully to the floor on his back in the minute following.

Marianne was the first to speak. "I... I think you just kissed me." She looked down at him in confusion and a hint of alarm.

"Sure..." he said with a hint of a nod. "Can I do it again?"

She looked at him in shock and disbelief. "Excuse me?"

He paused, then was unable to contain his laughter. "The look on your face was priceless just then," he gasped, toning it down and trying to hold in a snicker.

She slid to the floor, sitting next to him, and slapped him across the cheek. "Don't joke around like that! I thought you were serious!"

"Clearly," he muttered, feeling his cheek. "And clearly, you're feeling better."

"What, just because I injure you, that automatically means I've healed?"

"Well... yeah, pretty much – OW!"

Marie snickered. "Want me to kiss it and make it feel better?" she asked in a tone generally saved for two-year-olds of the least intelligent caliber.

"I wouldn't mind too much if you did," he said, raising his eyebrow challengingly.

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

He winced slightly, before smirking. "Ooh, I'm hurt. This coming from you, Marie? I would've thought that you'd have known better than to hurt others' feelings," he reprimanded in a mock-disappointed tone.

"Don't screw with me next time and maybe I can restrain myself," she said, irritated, as she crossed her arms and looked away.

"Now, now. That's no way to treat me." Adam pretended to think for a second, then snapped. "I've got it." He pushed her to the ground and somewhat straddled her hips, grinning cheekily. "Till you apologize for hitting me, you're not getting up." He examined her face carefully. "I'm having fun, how about you?"

"Get off of me, this doesn't help things any," she muttered, blushing profusely.

"That's all you have to say? Thought I could get something more colorful out of you, Marie."

She smiled sweetly. "Okay. Colorful, hm? Let's see... get off of me, you giant, heaping mass of dead weight, or else your ego won't be the only thing that hurts." She paused. "How was that?"

He shrugged. "Don't know. Wasn't listening." Truthfully, he just wanted an excuse to stare at her eyes. Her enchanting, lake-blue orbs that just drew him in whenever he looked at them directly... they were dangerous, is what they were. "God, I love your eyes," he whispered before he could stop himself. He shortly realized what he had just said. "Uh... that is to say..."

She smiled softly, a deeper, more pleasant blush than before becoming apparent on her cheeks. "Thanks. I don't really have much power over them though, you know."

"Yeah, but you're just so pretty. I mean, really. And your hair. That too." He mentally slapped himself. What the hell... words were just coming out of his mouth, no warning given. Great position, and now this? Genius plan, Einstein. Really brilliant. He cleared his throat, getting up. "Right. Sorry about that, not quite sure what came over me, there..."

"You meant it though, right?"

"Huh?"

"You meant that. That my eyes are pretty."

"Way more than pretty. Um, I mean, yeah. I did."

"Then thanks. That was sweet of you."

He nodded distractedly. "N-no problem." He looked over his shoulder at his desk. "History... help?" he managed to sputter hopefully.

She shrugged. "Probably not."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks."

"Hey, don't be making sarcastic comments to me and my gorgeous eyes," Marie teased. "What subject?"

"American Revolution."

"No can do, mon ami.

He closed the textbook mock-indignantly. "What?"

"I wasn't really in America for that. Sorry." A sly smile spread across her face. He was unable to stop a matching one.

"You little –" he said, rolling his eyes and laughing, attacking her ribs with tickles and bending down until she was in a half laying position, while he knelt over her.

Her musical laughter rang out, masking the sound of heavy footsteps until Adam's door was thrown open. "Mind telling me who she is?" his father demanded in a threatening tone as Adam paled and Marianne instinctively clutched his shirt.

He whispered something in her ear and she nodded shakily, not understanding what he had just said, but suspecting it was something along the lines of "just play along," or "Jim pales alone"... she kind of figured it was the former of the two. He stood, helping her up, and giving his father a steady, cold, challenging glare that made her flinch. "Adam..."

His hand slipped around her waist. "She's my girlfriend," he 'lied' simply.

A comprehending look came over his face. "Why didn't you just say so in the first place? And what's with the weird clothes?"

His hand tightened. "She's in a play and wanted to see if I liked her costume."

"Fine, then. Carry on." He left, walking slowly, then slammed the door behind him.

"So... this is rather awkward," Marianne decided, regarding Adam's hand on her waist. The tightness of his grip wasn't helping matters, either. When her sentence went seemingly unheard, she cleared her throat. "Your dad is gone. You can take your hand off of my waist now."

Instead of the desired result, however, came a different response. "Maybe I don't want to," he replied, turning her to face him directly so that his hands rested comfortably on her hips. A smirk tugged at his lips. Suddenly, to her surprise, he buried his hand in her hair and pulled her tightly to his chest. "I was scared."

"Just now? Same here."

"You know what I mean."

She was silent for a minute or two in which Marie tentatively hugged him back for the second time that night, allowing Adam to breathe her in and kiss the top of her head once or twice. "I'm glad you're here," he finally spoke.

"Mmm."

"Marie?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Please stop avoiding the question."

"Then... yes."

He pulled her tighter. "Good. I don't like not being with you. It's a little disconcerting when you're not there but not really there... or when you're just not there." He wasn't sure when he had closed his eyes, but when he opened them, he looked at the clock in his room. "Hey. It's late."

"Mm-hm."

"I don't have school tomorrow. I need to crash. How about you?"

"Strangely enough, sleeping for however long I've slept has left me even more tired than before."

Another irrational smile crept onto his face. "'Kay." Unwillingly, he released her from his grasp, becoming somewhat cold despite the warm, sweet, early-summer-night air streaming in from his window.

Marianne gravitated towards it, leaning her torso out of it and looking up at the stars as he retrieved an old, blue, button-down shirt and pair of sweatpants from his drawers for her to wear to sleep. He was aware that her nightdress was perfectly fine for such an occasion, but somehow felt that it did him an injustice.

"Hey, Marie."

She came back inside, so to speak, and turned to him. "Yeah?"

"Here," Adam replied, tossing her the 'outfit.'

She caught it, then looked at him skeptically. "You know that what I'm wearing is fine, right?"

He shrugged. "I don't like it. Doesn't suit you. You'd look much better in this. It'll bring out your eyes," he added devilishly, winking.

She sighed in defeat. "Alright... where should I change?"

"Right here's fine by me."

Marianne rolled her eyes. "Okay, let me be more specific. What room can I change in that doesn't have a perverted teenage boy staring at me?"

Adam smiled softly in amusement. "I won't look. Trust me."

"I give up," she sighed in exasperation.

He crossed the short distance that she was standing away from him, put his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her – the height difference was quite significant, now that he thought about it. "Hey, gorgeous. Don't you trust me? I won't look... I swear." He paused at her expression. "Pinkie swear?"

She laughed. It was hard not to, with that tone. "I believe you."

He smiled broadly. "Great." Bending down, he kissed her softly on the cheek. He smirked, knowing that the gesture was uncalled for.

A pink tinge spread across her face for about the hundredth time that night. "O-okay." Regaining her composure, she coughed and stepped back. "Please turn around." He nodded obligingly.

Several times, he resisted the temptation to turn around. A few times, his gaze shifted dangerously close to looking back behind him. A large portion of his self-control was used up solely on this simple task of not looking, so when she was done, he breathed a silent sigh of relief. At some point, he had crossed his arms, so naturally, he uncrossed them. When he did turn, his eyes widened, not expecting her to look so damn good in that old shirt.

She stood in front of him, her own arms crossed, glaring up at him. "You suck, you know that?" she deadpanned.

"On the contrary, it's quite a flattering look for you," Adam corrected seriously, still slightly impressed. The shirt was obviously too large for her, creating a low V-neckline, and exposing her delicate collarbone as well as some... lower skin, making for a very alluring overall presence.

"At what point did I become something that you would gape at?" Marianne asked, still a bit ticked off about the whole ordeal.

"My dear, I'm complimenting you right now. Don't ruin the moment," he joked with a hint of a British accent.

"What moment?" she asked humorlessly.

He sighed. "You disappoint me. Can't I tell you that you look hot and not have you argue with me about it?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, you didn't exactly say that, now did you."

"I... well... I didn't mean it that way. Sorry."

"If that's what you did mean, though, I suppose it won't do much to argue, now will it?"

"Er... no, I guess not."

She paused, looking across the room at the window again as a heavy silence descended upon them.

"I can't wear these sweatpants."

"Huh? Why not?"

"It's too hot out."

"Oh. Well, take them off, then."
"Huh?!"

"The shirt's long enough."

"You, my friend, are a lecher."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Take 'em or leave 'em. I'm not going to get you new clothes just because you have to wear a shirt that's almost as long as your old dress, anyway."

"In what universe is this shirt 'almost as long as my old dress'?!"

"It doesn't matter!" He took a deep breath. "Either you wear just the shirt, or the shirt and the sweatpants. Personally... I think that just the shirt would look better on you."

"Of course you do."

"Come on, Marie."

She exhaled in annoyance. "Fine," she relented. Uncomfortably, she looked around.

"What is it now?" he asked, slightly amused.

"Nothing, I guess." She paused. "Think you could look away again? I feel... awkward."

He smiled knowingly and turned around again, this time watching her every move out of the corner of his eye. She really did look good in the shirt, her somewhat disheveled black curls cascading down her back, obscuring part of the faded blue on the shirt. It went to about mid-thigh on her, so it was sort of like a particulary short dress.

"You look perfectly fine," Adam chuckled, not turning around.

Marianne, however, did. "Hey! You were looking!"

He smirked "You didn't tell me not to this time."

"Yes, I did!" She made an angry noise. "You're infuriating."

He turned, ignoring her previous statement. "It's about ten-thirty right now, so I suggest you hop into bed like a good little girl."

She shook her head wearily. "Why do I even bother..."

He shrugged. "Not sure." He started to take his thin t-shirt off, then paused. "Do you mind?" he mocked, noticing that she was watching out of the corner of her eye.

She rolled her eyes, irritated with his childish behavior. "Sorry," she mumbled, rolling over.

Adam shook his head, smiling to himself as he took his shirt off. He had put sweatpants on earlier, so he didn't mind just falling onto the matress for the sole purpose of annoying Marie. Also to annoy her, he grabbed the thin comforter off of her, smirking when she yelped.

Setting her jaw, she glared daggars at him. "Ad-am! That's not funny. Give it back."

Smirking anew, he found himself agreeing. "On one condition... I can stare into those magnificent eyes of yours until you or I fall asleep."

She rolled said eyes. "Sure, whatever." Taking the blanket an making absolutely sure it was over her and that she was laying on it, she turned over and tried to sleep.

"Aw, come on, Marie! We had a deal."

"I'm tired."

"Don't make me turn you over myself."

"Do it and suffer serious consequences."

"I'll take my chances," he whispered huskily into her ear.

"Quit making me blush so much! It's annoying and embarrassing," she reprimanded him, yet another trace of that reddish-pink color that he was so drawn to creeping over her cheeks. "Please take this off," she muttered, referring to the wrap around her wrist, noticing his unfazable smirk-ish look. "And please, for the love of God, stop trying to seduce me."

"You're no fun. Give me your wrist." She complied with the request. He unwrapped it slowly. "It doesn't hurt at all?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. She shook her head. "Good. If it did, I'd have to kill my bastard of a father before he physically abused you even more." When it was all of the way off, he bent her wrist to either side, then forward and back. "If this hurts even a little, you have to tell me," he said sternly, a hard glint in his eyes.

She nodded. "Adam... your whole demeanor just flipped upside down – and I'd be lying if I said it was for the better."

His expression softened a bit, along with hers. "Sorry. I just don't like it when bad stuff happens to you. Don't like it when bad stuff happens to anyone because of my dad."

"So I'm not the first?"

"I don't know about first, but you're the most important."

"Adam..."

"I mean, yeah, he hurt my mom and Seth when he disappeared, but they're my mom and brother. Alyssa and I broke up, so..." He trailed off, shrugging. "I love ya, Marie. You're my best friend."

"That's good," she murmured simply, dropping off to sleep.

He smiled, pulling her close as soon as the oppurtunity arose. She most likely wouldn't have let him do this if she was awake, but he rather liked having her so close to him when he woke up. Plus, he had gotten used to it. Waking up and finding his Marie in his arms was pleasing, almost like waking up to getting a present every day. Only much, much better. There it was again. That little, mystifying 'his'. Ah, well, he liked it there anyway.

I just want to know how many of you went back to look for the "his" in front in that last part. While I was rereading this, I did. Haha. Anyway, hope you liked this, it was really entertaining to come up with. Just hope it was as fun to read as it was to write.