Disclaimer: I do not own anyone or anything from Phantom of the Opera or Phantom by Susan Kay. I make no profit from this.

Author's Note: Not exactly a serious phic. Do not be fooled, my fellow phans. And, don't worry. I love Raoul, I do, if he's played by a brunette. A lot of you wouldn't understand that inside joke, but perhaps I'd be persuaded to tell you if you email me or IM me. :D Enjoy!

Catfight

"I'm very sorry if I disturb you," she said, not looking at me as she spoke. "I always try to be very quiet when you're working."

"Oh, Christine, it isn't that! It's simply that your very presence in the house is distracting."

Her head flew up and there was a look in her eyes that I could not comprehend.

"Perhaps you'd find me less distracting if I possessed a tail and a diamond collar!" she said shortly.

From Susan Kay's Phantom

Erik watched, dumbfounded as she took the Rue Scribe key from her pocket and pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. He didn't understand how he'd upset her; he was merely trying to tell her how enticing she was, meant to make her blush as any compliment would. Instead he'd invoked her wrath and she was now turning to leave him. He wouldn't let her leave like this.

He took a few strides to catch up with her and grabbed her upper arm. They gasped simultaneously. Erik had refrained from touching her from the time he had brought Christine down to his underground house. Christine stared wide-eyed at his hand, as did Erik, and slowly they met each other's gaze, both of their mouths opened in surprise.

Erik recovered quickly and stepped closer to her, not releasing his grip on her upper arm. He knew why he'd done it and he was going to fulfill his goal!

"You'll not leave me with those words. Explain yourself," he demanded sternly.

Christine glared up at him. "I don't have to explain anything to you!" With that she wrenched her arm away from him and turned to run, but he caught her cloak in his hand and twirled her back around to face him. She fought madly, wiggling and jerking her hands away from him, but he held onto her waist. In a fruitless attempt, she kicked his shin and he tripped over her ankle, and they both fell to the ground in a heap.

Erik, realizing he was on top of her, held her in place and stared down into her fiery blue eyes. This was intriguing to him, this position. She had a lot to explain and he was determined to make them stay like this until she had done so.

"Tell me, my dear," he began, feeling her breathe rapidly, her chest heaving, "Why are you throwing cryptic statements like that out at me?"

Christine glared up at him, jutting her chin out in defiance. "I refuse to tell you anything!"

Erik shrugged. "I'm fine to stay in this position as long as it takes."

"I am a lady! Get off of me!"

Erik didn't move. He looked down at her expectantly for a very long time, memorizing what it felt like to have her underneath him, to feel all of her curves pressing prominently against him. Finally, Christine took a deep breath and broke their intense stare.

"You send me away because I'm a distraction. Well, you don't realize anything when you're wrapped up in your music, Erik. I watch you. I watch that damned cat mess up your cords numerous times, and you encourage her! I wish…" Suddenly realizing she'd poured her heart out and feeling rather foolish about it, she turned her head away and looked to the underground lake beside them. Erik gently took her chin in his thumb and forefinger and forced her to look him in the eyes.

"You wish…"

Christine sighed and rolled her eyes. "I wish I were that damned cat."

Erik's eyes widened and he stared down at her in disbelief. "What?"

"Stop pretending like you're deaf, Erik. I said I wish I were Ayesha." She looked down sadly and Erik saw tears staining her beautiful pale cheeks. "Why do you love her so much? Why do you treat me as if I mean nothing, and suddenly I mean everything? It confuses and hurts me, Erik. I just wish that I were that cat so you would love me every moment and never ignore me."

Erik stood abruptly, leaving Christine to lie there drowning in her tears. She gazed up at him, her eyes wide at this alarming state. She sat up and tucked her knees under her chin. Erik glared down at her and turned away.

"Just go away, Christine," he said hoarsely, pointing behind him to the boat.

She let out a wild sob and stood, and immediately ran to the boat. "If you send me away now I'm never coming back!" she promised as she began to row across the lake. Only after she stopped her tears with anger did she realize he was crying, too.

X

Raoul had placed his opera hat and gloves upon the dressing table.

"Well," he began uncertainly, "since it seems that for once we are not governed by the crazy whims of your mad professor, perhaps you would do me the honor of coming to supper tonight."

From Susan Kay's Phantom

Christine glared at the mirror, as if waiting for Erik to speak. No thoughts, my love? Nothing you would like to say to Raoul for trying to steal me away? She almost smiled. Apparently he had nothing to say. No objections whatsoever? Fine. She looked back to Raoul, who was calmly awaiting her decision. Good God, Christine, it's as if you want Erik to appear and interfere. Do you?

"Perhaps, boy, she has already made plans," an icy cold voice spoke, filling the entire room.

Christine shivered. Too late.

"Show your face, you pathetic excuse for a human being!" Raoul's eyes sent daggers to every direction in the room.

"I'm sure you'd regret," started Erik again, the mirror swinging open and allowing him in, "ever asking to see my face."

He stood a tall, imposing figure, his arms folded within his black cloak. Christine was almost enjoying this. What girl doesn't dream of two men fighting over her? She almost grinned, but bit her lip. Raoul had never been witty, so she was sure that in a game of wits Erik would win easily. However, if they decided to fight… Well, she wouldn't let them. This was her dressing room and there would be no riots in here. Erik had the strength of Hercules, anyway.

"Monsieur, it'd be good of you to remember," Raoul began, glaring at Erik as if that would make him turn and leave, "that Christine does not belong to you."

Erik held up a hand. "Ah, that's where you're wrong. Mademoiselle Daae does belong to me." He grinned smugly and waved his hand. "Go away."

Christine raised an eyebrow as she beheld this. What will you do now, Raoul? She did not question Erik's words. Technically, she did belong to him. He held her captive with his very presence.

Raoul nearly sputtered. "You, sir, are a beast!"

"I know," Erik assured him ruefully.

"I will not leave my future bride in your hands!" Raoul moved closer to Christine who was lounging on her divan as if nothing was amiss.

Christine had studied Erik carefully in the time she'd been with him; thus, when he stiffened, she knew.

"Bride?" he questioned uncertainly, and Christine cursed, as she knew Raoul would notice that weak spot.

Raoul, you fool, you're wooing death!

Erik switched his stare to Christine, and she grinned. It made him grin back, for he realized that this was all a game to her.

"Why are you smiling? She belongs to me, not you!" Raoul stood with his chest puffed out. The next thing he knew he was against the wall, battling against some unseen force, and suddenly his hands were tied in a noose. He watched as the phantom moved toward Christine, looking positively menacing.

Erik came to the edge of the divan, devouring the young girl with his ravenous eyes. She only gazed innocently up at him, as a young child would look after getting caught with its hand stuck in the cookie jar. Raoul thought his eyes were deceiving him as Christine grinned mischievously up at Erik and he returned the action.

"Now… you didn't really mean what you said, did you, my dear?" he asked, offering his hand to her to lift her off the divan.

Christine stared at his hand and then up at him. "You're the king and Ayesha's the queen… I want to be the queen, and until that's resolved, I meant every word."

Erik pushed his cloak back and placed a knee upon her divan. "You're the queen, Christine." He touched her shoulder lightly, and before Raoul could comprehend what had happened, Erik was on top of her on the divan, and they were kissing madly.

"What in the name of all that is holy is going on here?" he shouted, struggling against the lasso that held his hands high above his head.

The couple continued to kiss ardently, Christine's hands running up and down Erik's back before coming to his hair and massaging his scalp. His hands were all over her, roaming this untouched territory. He deepened the kiss many times, striving to taste every corner of her mouth.

Raoul began to cry like a young babe, and suddenly he was on his bum out in the hallway, and he heard the lock on Christine's door bolt. He glared at it and rubbed his eyes. Well, now he knew what he needed: A cat!