George Michael Bluth and Ann had just returned from their pre-engagement planning when Michael had to explain to his son that it wasn't quite...well...normal to be making those vows at sixteen. Of course, George Michael had felt rushed into it all, just to be able to get intimate with Egg. I mean Ann. It was a pretty big promise to keep, especially with his immutable and ever-growing crush on his cousin, Maeby. He knew it wasn't ever going to materialize, but he couldn't help thinking about her all of the time.

Honestly, he was kind of worried. She hadn't been in school lately (even though she skipped a few days a week usually anyway) and Tobias and Lindsay's marriage was (once again) about to be flushed down the toilet. With Tobias' recent stint with The Blue Man Group he got himself kicked out by Lindsay, but was trying to weasel his way into the model home with his alias, Mrs. Featherbottom. The family just let him clean, because who else would?

Maeby was busy conning her way into a job as a film executive and skipping school, and her parents couldn't have been farther from her mind. In her eyes, they were so lost and hopeless, it wasn't worth the fight-kind of like fish out of water. Blubbering and pathetic. But George Michael on the other hand? That was a completely different story.

Mort barged into her peaceful and perfect corner office and threw a stack of scripts down on the table. Ugh, not again, Maeby thought to herself. Her face probably said the same thing.

"I need you to read and edit these by the end of the week. And make a decision this time. Please," Mort said with a tired look on his face, his arms extended helplessly. He was definitely catching onto her. Probably not that she was fifteen, because Mort wasn't that smart, but he was starting to tell she wasn't qualified.

Maeby's work ethic was abysmal, and after her parents decided to take her out of that bullsh** hippy school, her grades dropped from G's (for good-they only had G's at Maeby's alternative school) to F's...for failure in public school, so her success as a film executive was purely coincidental.

"Marry me!" she shouted with an enormous smile, suddenly realizing that was probably the last time that trick would work. Mort rolled his eyes, sighed, and turned out of the room, slamming Maeby's door on the way out.

She had to do something right, or she'd have to go back to her life as a high schooler. Maeby looked down at the dreadful pile in front of her and noticed all of the scripts were for foreign films. How the hell am I going to figure this one out? She thought, I can barely read English.

She flipped through—Spanish, Portuguese, Italian…French? Maeby had briefly learned some French in elementary school because while experimenting with Teamocil, Tobias thought it would be a perfect cultural immersion experience for Dr. Fünke's 100% Natural Good-Time Family Band to perform all of their songs in French. But that was only like, two songs, and the end of their music career.

The title of the script read, "Les Cousins Dangereux" which meant "Dangerous Cousins," but Maeby couldn't figure it out—except for the word cousins. That was it! Cousins! George Michael knew how to speak French! He was such a nerd, he actually paid attention to the years of language classes offered. Maeby could pay him to tutor her again (meaning he would tell her what it meant) and then she'd be able to keep her job too.

George Michael dropped his text books on the desk with a grin, eyeing the beautiful, unopened school supplies sitting beside them. It was time to get to work.

After his dad pointed out how big of a decision he was making with Ann, George Michael really started to put everything in perspective. Because Ann was such a distraction, he wasn't able to focus on his school work as much or make much money at the banana stand.

He missed having a girlfriend, but what he really wanted was Maeby. She was the only girl he had kissed, and even though that was just as a prank on their parents, it was the best kiss George Michael ever had. But he had to stop thinking about his cousin. If he wanted a girlfriend, it would have to be someone like Ann.

Hey, Geometry is fun too, right? he thought, scribbling proofs in his notebook wildly. If I get really good at this, maybe I'll make the Mathletes.

Suddenly, the door burst open to reveal his cousin Maeby, sweaty and panting. "I just ran here from work and Jesus Christ is it hot and my dad is still in the living room wearing that dress and the fake boobs. But nevermind. I need your help. Can you help me? Please George Michael?" she said, gasping for air, script in hand.

"Uhhh sure, just let me finish this problem..." George Michael said hesitantly, bent over his books ardently. He couldn't look at his cousin like this—she looked so pretty and that was so stupid of him to think. He finished the problem and put down his pencil, avoiding eye contact "What do you need Maeby?"

"Mort just gave me this script and I can't read it because it's in French but I thought you could help. I'll give you 100 bucks," she said, pushing the script toward him, "I need it done by Friday. Can you help translate it? We're remaking it here in America."

Just reading the title, George Michael started to blush uncontrollably. "Les Cousins Dangereux?" She really doesn't know what that means?! He thought, panicking. He flipped through the script, buying himself some time, but that made it even worse. There were dozens of kissing scenes and he could read all of it.

He looked up at his cousin, who was smiling at him innocently with a big wad of cash in her palm. What was he supposed to do?

"Of course I'll help, Maeby, but—"

"Thanks! Here you go," Maeby said excitedly, sprinkling the cash all over her cousin and the floor, "See you on Friday."

She ran out of the room before George Michael could finish his thought. I guess I'm doing this alone? he wondered, Might as well. It's better that Maeby doesn't know now what this is about anyway. She'll figure it out later.

He settled in his bed to read the script and swallowed a lump in his throat. His attraction to Maeby was uncontrollable, and this script could bring some of his repressed thoughts to fruition. Everybody knew it wasn't kosher to date your cousin, but here was a movie script written all about Fthat very instance.

He started to read and thought aloud, "The French…I like the way they think."

With the dialogue translated and ready to give back to his cousin, George Michael slipped the script into a manila envelope so Maeby wouldn't see the title and subtext until after they parted ways. The cover page read: "Almost Cousins—A relative piece of complex eroticism." And it was. Not only did George Michael read the script cover to cover multiple times, he asked his uncle Gob to take him to see the film in its original French form. Secretly, it was his new favorite movie.

But he still couldn't find the courage to tell his cousin how he felt. He didn't want to ruin their relationship as cousins, considering Maeby was the only one in his family he felt like he actually connected with.

The two agreed to meet at the model house Friday afternoon after school. Or, on lunch break for Maeby. Earlier that day, Mort really got on her case about the foreign film scripts. "Fünke, you're almost out of here!" he screamed. In disbelief, she once again made the mistake of shouting, "Marry me!" and Mort stormed out. She couldn't wait to get her hands on that translated and edited script from her cousin.

"Hey, George Michael. Thanks a lot for helping me out!" she said, ripping the envelope out of his hands frantically, "I'll see you later! I gotta get this back to the office!"

Well, that was easier than I expected, George Michael thought, Gone just like that. He looked down at his feet and hoped she didn't put two and two together.

She ran back into the building and pressed the button for the elevator over and over. When it came and she finally arrived at the floor of her office, she immediately handed the script over to Mort.

"Here you go!" she exclaimed with a knowing grin, "Let me know if you need anything else. Can't wait to help with production."

"Thanks Maeby, we were really counting on you, ya know? I'll send the rest of your paycheck overnight tonight," Mort said.

"Oh. Actually, could I get that in cash?" Maeby said sheepishly, knowing she didn't have a bank account.

"No, I'm sorry, what is the name on your account for direct deposit?" Mort asked.

Maeby panicked. Her parents thought she was at school, even though she had been truant for over two weeks, she couldn't use their bank account or the company account. Who else?

"Maeby?"

"George Michael Bluth. I'll use his account, he's my cousin," she said reluctantly.

"All right. I'll see you later kid. I need to get this script over to the director ASAP," Mort said, pushing his way through the glass entryway doors, leaving Maeby alone.

I'm sure George Michael will be fine with it, she thought, packing up her things for the weekend. I'll talk to him about it later. I'm so happy it's finally Friday.

She walked out of the glass doors and headed toward the elevator. Maeby had scored a date with Steve Holt, her beefy and dumb crush, who (unbeknownst to her) had just recently discovered he was her uncle Gob's son.

Gob returned to the model home in a bitter mood that evening. He had gone to the park under the pretense that he and his father would have a father and son outing, but instead was met by his son and the product of a one-night stand, Steve Holt. He wasn't ready to be a dad quite yet, and more or less needed the reassurance of his own father before taking on that role.

He walked into the kitchen to see George Michael and immediately started venting: "Guess what George Michael? You're gonna be a cousin! Just kidding. You're already a cousin. To Steve Holt."

"Wait, what? What are you talking about Uncle Gob? I only have one cousin, Maeby," said George Michael.

"Nope. Noooope. I, with shrieking amounts of pain, just found out I'm Steve Holt's daddy. And you're cousins," spouted Gob.

"You're serious!? What am I going to do!?" said George Michael. This was the worst news he could have received. Steve Holt was dumb and popular—the complete opposite of everything George Michael had always been. But it wasn't all bad.

"I dunno, maybe become friends with him? I sure as hell won't." Gob wandered out of the house on his Segway, shouting nonsense about his yacht and running away forever, leaving George Michael with his thoughts.

Wait, maybe this could help me…if I become friends with Steve, now that we're cousins, maybe…just maybe Maeby will notice me in that way. We'll all be cousins, and she likes Steve he thought mischievously.

Just then, Maeby floated into the room, wearing a sequined, form-fitting dress that was clearly picked out from Lindsay's never ending walk in closet. George Michael's eyes were immediately drawn to her, and Maeby very obviously noticed this, "Um, what are you staring at?" she asked, nose in the air. "Oh, by the way, I used your bank account to get paid. And I emptied it."

"Nothing—I mean, everything—I mean. You. You look great, Maeby," George Michael stammered, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going on a date with STEVE HOLT! tonight. We're going to dinner and then to watch the directors film the first scenes of Les Cousins Dangereux… in English though," she said, taking down three bottles of different liquor from the cabinet, "I hope he thinks it's cool."

George Michael was so jealous. First of all, she was going on a date with Steve Holt. He loved that movie, and he wanted to see the remake. And he wanted to see it with Maeby, his beautiful cousin. "It's such a good movie, why wouldn't he?" he blurted out without thinking.

"You've seen it?" she asked with a puzzled look.

"Uh, um, yeah I mean… I read the script and I looked it up and saw it was playing downtown. So Uncle Gob took me to see it because it was rated R and I could understand the French," he said. Les Cousins Dangereux was the last thing he wanted to discuss with Maeby. After all, she didn't even know that Steve Holt was their cousin yet.

"Oh, I thought you'd just wait to see the American version, you weirdo. What was it about?" she asked, pouring herself a concoction of whiskey, rum, and vodka, topped off with orange juice.

"You didn't read the script after I translated it?" George Michael asked, shocked.

"No, I didn't have the time, I figured maybe you could just summarize it for me? You're always helping me out so much and I could pay you again," she offered.

"Okay…I mean no. No, Maeby. I don't want your money. But I'll tell you what it's about."

"Sounds good to me," she shrugged, downing the drink at a strangely unprecedented rate. She poured another one for herself, and one for George Michael, sliding it across the counter to him. He took a sip—sh** that was strong. He nursed it and decided how to start off.

"It's about two cousins…they really like one another. They're good friends. And they like each other more than they like other people who aren't their cousins—"

"Ok, cut to the chase, it sounds totally boring," Maeby interrupted.

"They are cousins in love, which is forbidden, and they are forced to hide this from their parents and the rest of their family. The entire movie follows their love story," he said, swallowing that familiar lump in his throat.

Maeby stared at him, soaking in the silence he just opened up. She briefly thought back to her and George Michael's prank kiss and the butterflies she got in her stomach, but shook it off. Gross. Totally Gross.

"Wow, that's super weird and not to mention illegal," Maeby retorted.

"Yeah, yeah…for sure…" George Michael said quietly, thinking of the hopeful love affair he had imagined day after day since meeting his cousin Maeby.

"Ok, well thanks George Michael. I'm going to get going on my date with Steve. I'll see you later!" Maeby said, turning to leave the model home.

"Maeby, wait!" George Michael chased after his cousin, grabbing her arm. "You can't go on a date with Steve Holt if you think Dangerous Cousins is weird or gross."

"Wait, what? Why?"

"He's your cousin too. Uncle Gob just told me that Steve Holt came to him and told him that Uncle Gob is his father from a one night stand back in high school."

Maeby's eyes grew to twice the size. She was so shocked, she dropped her purse to the floor. Her thoughts were racing. Steve Holt—her cousin? It couldn't be true. He was so cute. You can't think your cousin is cute…or maybe you can.

She looked up at her cousin, George Michael, staring longingly into his eyes. I think my cousin is cute, she thought, I think George Michael is cute, and I've always known he was my cousin.

In a confused fit of passion, she grabbed his face, pushing his lips into hers. She felt his curly hair between her fingers, his body close, and seemed to forget all about Steve Holt.

The kiss grew deeper and hotter as every second added more passion for the star-crossed lovers. This kiss had been forbidden for so long, but all this time, sitting right in front of both George Michael and Maeby, waiting for the pair to act on their desires.

Pulling his lips away from Maeby's, George Michael still held his cousin close. The world seemed much smaller now, his heart beating against hers in the uncommon silence of the model home. He was nervous, and confused, but would rather be here than with Ann.

He whispered, "I've loved you in so many ways, Maeby."

Maeby embraced him, pulling him closer, kissing his neck and softly breathing, and spoke gently to him for the first time, "Would you like to go on this date with me? Instead of Steve Holt, I mean, not with him. He's my cousin anyway. I'll just ditch him."

George Michael smiled sweetly and kissed her head. He took his cousin Maeby's hand, leading her toward the door. This was a moment he always dreamed of: all of his father's expectations, all of society's expectations, and all of Ann's pressures off the table. Just him and Maeby at last.

They kissed again, George Michael pulling Maeby in by her hips, pushing her against a wall, which cracked beneath the force. He felt her waist, her ass, and kissed her harder. Maeby wrapped her leg around her cousin, moaning lightly and breathing heavily.

The two pulled apart, locked hands, and walked toward the entryway.

"I can't wait for you to see this movie," George Michael said, slamming the door to the model home, which in turn collapsed behind them, unsurprisingly.

The two held hands, standing in front of the ruin, in the midst of the Bluth Company's McMansion development, their love rooting itself deeper, more solid, than any home their family had ever built.

"Me neither. And I can't wait to see more of you later," she said with a coy smile, nudging her cousin.