Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: ErikRaoul slash. Raoul has a great imagination.
Warning(s): slash (that's homosexual content for those of you who don't know)
A/N: Uh. I wanted to do this one for the 5nevers challenge on livejournal. I already wrote it, but I actually haven't posted it there.
Story note: This is absolute crack. No, really it is. I think crack is good. ;)
Never Say Never
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt
It was chilly on the rooftop of the Opera Populaire, but Raoul waited there patiently. He wondered if the opera ghost had received his missive, but he had heard that Madame Giry was the best and only person to go to send letters to the ghost. He had tried to make the letter sound urgent, but who knew if the ghost would actually come?
Checking his watch again, Raoul realized he was going to miss the new opera if the ghost did not show up soon. Christine had a silent part, which was truly a shame, and Raoul wondered if that was indeed the most prudent course of action since the ghost had ordered them to put Christine as the lead.
Well, before the opera started and the ghost found out about what the managers had decided (though he was certain the ghost knew anyway), Raoul wanted to speak to the man. He'd caught glimpses of the ghost and he'd heard his voice, and what a voice it was. He'd heard every story possible about him and now he was eagerly waiting to meet the man.
Raoul spun around. He couldn't seem to find where the voice had come from. For all appearances, he was alone on the roof.
"Opera ghost?" Raoul responded.
Finally, Raoul caught sight of the ghost. He stood beside one of the taller statues.
"What did you want to speak to me about?" The man looked rather unfazed by the cold.
"Well, you see…" Raoul was losing his nerve.
"I'm about to miss the opera, Monsieur."
Raoul could easily hear the impatience in his voice.
Still, no words seemed to want to come out.
The ghost turned to leave, and Raoul finally blurted out.
"I like you."
The ghost stopped.
Raoul stared at him for just a moment before running for the door. When the ghost finally turned around, the opera was half finished and Raoul had long since gone home.
Raoul cleared his throat and stared at the food in front of him. It looked good, but honestly, he wasn't that hungry. Not when there were candles in front of him and a rather uncomfortable violinist was standing beside their table playing what he supposed was romantic music. The violinist only grew more nervous whenever he missed a note. Raoul's companion would glare at him and the poor man would only start to shake worse.
Said man responsible for the trembling violinist had not touched his food. In fact, Erik didn't look to be faring much better than Raoul. When he wasn't glaring at the violinist, he was glaring at Raoul. Actually, Raoul realized that Erik wasn't glaring at him, rather he was glaring at something over his shoulder.
Looking behind him, Raoul saw Christine gesturing and mouthing what looked to be the word 'Go'. Meg was beside her giggling softly.
Raoul wasn't sure if he should be insulted or not, but he had gotten dinner with the opera ghost thanks to Christine. He wasn't sure how she had managed, but Erik was there across the table. He was frowning, but he didn't look too angry to be there. It was the least Raoul could ask for even if he was pretending.
Raoul turned back around when he felt a cold hand on top of his. Erik wasn't looking at him. He was pointedly not looking at him actually. His jaw was set, but when Raoul used his thumb to gently caress Erik's hand, he thought that maybe he could see the ghost blushing.
Erik knew that the rich were often eccentric. He'd heard it time and time again. It was all that money. It made them bored. However, he had not expected Raoul to be like this.
"What are you doing?"
Raoul leaned his head back into the pillows.
"I'm waiting for you."
Erik reiterated, "No. I said, what are you doing?"
"Why are you wearing that?" Erik could not seem to take his eyes off the blonde however disdainfully he asked the question. "Where did you even get that outfit?"
"I borrowed it," Raoul looked down at his clothes.
"Well, I figured."
"I'm supposed to be a butler." He stated matter-of-factly as though that was the point of their whole conversation.
"Yes, I can see that." It wasn't.
"And the problem?"
Erik decided it would be best to play along if Raoul was going to be this difficult. "If you're the butler, what are you doing in my bed?"
"Well, my employer," Raoul winked at him. It would have been amusing since Raoul could never really wink that well. It always turned out to be, well a blink. Erik hardly noticed this fact at the present moment. He could barely pay attention to his words, "is rather demanding."
Erik smirked at the emphasis Raoul had put on the last word. He could imagine worse quirks that Raoul could possibly have.
"And I'm guessing," Erik discarded his jacket and shoes at the edge of the bed, "Your employer is also the reason you aren't wearing any trousers."
Raoul grinned and nodded.
Raoul walked down the streets of Paris for the first time. It was a large city compared to the seaside. The noise and the crowds were getting to him. It was simply too much. The city was so dark and none of the people on the streets courteous.
"Stop scowling, Raoul." Philippe ordered.
Raoul looked up at him innocently, "What are you talking about, dear brother?"
"You haven't been here very long. You cannot dislike it already."
Raoul rolled his eyes. He could very well dislike it already.
"You'll be living here for a while, so you had better learn to like it."
Raoul nodded. He knew he had no choice in the matter, and Philippe seemed to like it here. He could give it a try.
"I want to introduce you to a dear friend of mine. He was one of the first people I met in Paris," Philippe explained.
That was why they were currently out in the middle of a muggy day heading towards a café that Philippe swore was the best. Raoul just wanted to stay at home. He tried to amuse himself by looking at the stores en route, but still, he wished he was back home. Not Paris home, but seaside cottage home.
"Philippe." A deep voice called out his brother's name.
Raoul turned to look, but Philippe was standing in front of the man.
When his brother finally moved aside, Raoul could not help but stare. There stood the most handsome man Raoul had ever seen. It was almost unnatural. Men had caught Raoul's eyes before, but this one was different. He was the same height as his brother, which unfortunately meant several inches taller than he was, but he had dark black hair and amazing green eyes. He had a strong jaw and his skin looked flawless.
"And this," Philippe introduced, "is my brother, Raoul."
The man held his hand out, and Raoul had to stare at the proffered hand just to stop staring at his face. The man had smirked at him and Raoul knew he had been caught staring. He had suddenly felt self-conscious with a mere look from the man. Raoul mumbled a hello and shook the man's hand without ever once looking back up.
"Raoul," Philippe chastised. "What kind of greeting is that?"
Raoul looked to Philippe with disdain. He took a step back and bowed low at the waist. "Pardon me, Monsieur for my lack of manners, but I think I must be going now."
Raoul fled before Philippe could say anything.
Philippe sighed as he watched Raoul run off back home, "He's a little homesick. Please excuse him."
Erik smiled. "No worries. I think we will get along very well actually."
When Erik received no response, he tried again.
The blonde was staring off into space. Erik shook him.
"Were you even paying attention?" Erik accused when Raoul finally looked at him.
Raoul shrugged, "Of course."
"This is my opera you know," Erik pressed.
Raoul nodded. "And we've been to it about twenty times already. We know you're brilliant. Yes. It is a brilliant opera."
Erik sighed; he should be angry with Raoul for saying that, but it was true. He had dragged Raoul back to the opera several times already. It wasn't that surprising that he couldn't pay attention any longer.
"What were you thinking about?" Erik asked.
"You," Raoul immediately answered.
"Yeah," Raoul explained, "You without a deformity."
"Love at first sight," Raoul grinned cheekily. Erik rolled his eyes but listened attentively, "Of course you weren't in the cellar of the opera house. You were an elite."
"Oh really," Erik wondered what that would have been like, "And what makes you think I would have liked you at all?"
"I don't know," Raoul thought back, "The way you looked at me, as though you were picturing me writhing in bed. You seemed like an arrogant twit though."
Erik had perked up at the description of how he had looked at Raoul. He looked at Raoul like that more than often enough now; so much so that Raoul had to know what that looked like.
"Heh," Erik smirked.
"You even smirked like that."
Erik pondered this. He wondered if Raoul wished he wasn't deformed especially since his daydreams consisted of him not being so.
"Let's go," Raoul grabbed Erik's hand and dragged him away, "I'll show you the other thing I was thinking about."
(A/N: and it wasn't dinner.)
End 5 nevers
Word count: 1,560
A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!