A/N: I've been wanting to write something RhondaxCurly for a really long time. There's so much potential here, I swear. There's so many reasons this pairing just works. It's insane (pun intended, teehee xD). This was supposed to just be a drabble, but, well... that didn't work out. XD So I decided to go ahead and post it as a single. It's my first time ever writing them out seriously, and it's just a concept, but I hope you like it all the same. :)
Disclaimer: Lol, I really need to just put a disclaimer on my profile and be done with this. I DON'T OWN IT, KAYZ? Coolsville.
Dedication: shigureslove, for all the wonderful pictures she's drawn of this pairing. You're the reason I finally got around to writing for this awesome pairing. I hope it's all right. ^^"
"Is now a bad time to bring up that I love you?"
Rhonda's face pinched, a small wrinkle appearing just between her flawlessly drawn eyebrows. She should have expected it, really she should have, but it left the bitter taste of unpleasant surprise in her mouth all the same. She was careful not to look at him. "Don't push it. Not now."
An amused sniff. A mad grin. "What if I like pushing it?"
Rhonda's full red lips became a thin line of crimson. She kept her eyes trained to the stage, her expertly painted and manicured nails in a neat row along the folded fingers in her lap. She kept her voice discreet, calm, "I've only agreed to one date, and we're not even through the first act before you make a declaration of love. That's hardly gentlemanly." She chose that moment to snap her eyes to his, her thick eyelashes nearly meeting with the bottom of her eyeliner. They looked almost perfectly black save for the whites of her eyes, and her red lips practically hissed, "So shut up, you freak, do you really want me to regret accepting this early?"
For once, much to her shock, he obeyed.
A WEEK LATER
When she'd agreed to a second date, she'd pretty much confirmed she must be either really bored, or really desperate, ruling out the idea that she may be a bit of a masochist. She wasn't sure which, but she much preferred the former to the latter. Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd was not of the desperate sort, after all. She could have anyone she wanted. Anything she wished, she could own.
So why she was wandering through a zoo in heels that cost more than the measly, rundown little hovel made in a year in profit was beyond—far beyond—her comprehension.
But he was trying so hard to restrain himself. And so long as he didn't do anything too weird, she was willing to humor him for a little while. At the very least, after all this, he may finally concede defeat. Maybe then she might find peace.
She couldn't read his expression through his glasses, but she could feel the childlike, restless aura that surrounded him as they looked at the animals. His fingers kept twitching. He didn't say much. She was beginning to become irritated.
"Are you all right?" she finally questioned incredulously, voice high and important.
His fingers twitched again. He was staring at the zebras. His skin lightly tanned, dark hair combed back, black turtle neck hugging every inch of his defined torso. He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. Maybe that was why she'd decided to humor him after all these years. But why she would risk it—"I'm fine, babe. Perfectly normal." He smiled at her, the picture of serenity.
She knew better. His fingers were still tap-tap-tapping against his pants. He didn't play piano.
Annoyed, she grabbed his hand and interlaced their fingers tight. Her eyes were on fire when she spoke, quiet, lady-like, refined—ruthless, "You like to think you're such a good actor but you can't fool me, doll." She squeezed his hand, watching as his jaw fell slack. She smiled then, self-satisfied. "You're going to have to learn to behave. If you want this to go anywhere other than an insane asylum, remember that."
He swallowed. A sweat broke out across his face. "I'm trying."
Her smile softened. She squeezed his hand once more without thinking. "I know." Ruthless once more, her dark brown eyes became pits, and she pulled his face down to eye-level with her by his turtle neck. Her breath was heavy as she ended the conversation with, "And you had better succeed."
She could actually hear his heart beating. A flush had broken across his face. She smiled.
Bored. Definitely bored.
TWO MONTHS LATER
Busy waiters made only the most miniscule of noises amidst their dining. The candle light flickered throughout the room in a unique, intricate dance. The room smelled of fresh cut flowers with the heady scent of perfume mingling with perfectly cooked steak and the smallest hint of candle wax. Her idea, naturally. Her money. When she'd started investing in him, she'd never know.
But despite the feng shui, he was squirming in his seat, shooting his eyes between hers and the perfectly seasoned snow crab on her plate. She merely rolled her eyes, a small flick up and down, barely noticeable, but he caught it. He pursed his lips, his expression unreadable for the thick red glasses masking his eyes.
She wasn't entirely sure why—perhaps she was bored, perhaps she'd finally grown tired of the sound of clinking silverware and flickering candle light—but she decided to pretend to care. A dramatic sigh and some tense eye contact later, she asked, "What?"
His mouth twitched, but his voice came hollow, "Nothing."
He was still making an effort like she'd told him to, and it was about damn time he did after all these years, but the smallest twitch from him still set her on her guard. She wasn't afraid of him, knew he'd never hurt her, and she was happy he'd finally started repressing his psycho tendencies, but seeing him lying through his teeth like that was almost as irritating as hearing whatever idiotic reason he had for staring at her like that. More even. A lot more. When did his normalcy start irritating her?
Her own mouth twitched, but she held nothing back. She fell back in her seat, crossing her athletic arms across her chest as she stared him down. "Do you really intend on continuing this charade with me? You really think I'm that unintelligent that I can't see what you're doing? I'm Rhonda Wellington Lloyd."
He tilted his head at her. When did that become cute? She really should have picked a restaurant without so much candle wax. It was starting to mess with her head. His voice drew her back to reality, "So that means you get to sink your teeth into an innocent creature?"
She stared at him. "What?"
He looked like he wanted to say something more, but instead he simply pointed a finger at her plate, his arm stretched out across the table.
Her eyes shifted down. Her face went flat. "You've got to be kidding."
He blinked behind his glasses. She didn't have to see it to know he did. She bloody felt it. "It's a dead animal."
She put her hands palm down on the table and leaned in over at him, face hard. "It's my dinner," she stated simply, tensely, leaving no room for discussion.
He was otherwise unaffected. "You're eating a dead animal."
Rhonda huffed, throwing herself back in her seat. A moment later, she smirked slightly to herself and leaned across the table, waving her fork at him perceptively. "Aww, darling, you say this now, yet you didn't seem to have any qualms against eating that lobster my chef prepared for us last weekend."
He nursed his bandaged hand involuntarily, remembering his failed attempt at bonding with the creature. He looked down. "That lobster was a bastard. He had it coming."
She raised a sharp eyebrow at that.
He tilted his head up at her. His mouth twitched again. She twitched with it. "We should have a funeral for it."
She scoffed immediately, throwing herself back in her seat to glare incredulously at him. Even trying his hardest not to throw a psychopathic fit, he was impossible to deal with. Did he seriously consider a request like that reasonable? Her perfect white teeth clenched. She'd said no more shenanigans, and damn it, she had meant that. "No, no crazy schemes. We have come too far for that. There is no way I'm burying my dinner!"
"I can't believe I'm burying my dinner."
Her companion cackled, nothing held back in the maniacal sound as he dropped his shovel in favor of draping his arm across her shoulders. "You did the right thing, my pet."
Rhonda pursed her lips, flicking her eyes from his to the makeshift grave. "You know, none of this makes any sense right? You're trying to come off like some kind of animal rights weirdo, but you didn't have any problem with me wearing that mink coat back in the fourth grade." She shrugged his arm off, crossing her arms across her chest as she averted her eyes.
He just smiled that twisted little grin he liked to do and slid over behind her, very much the mad charmer tonight, as he ran his hands up and down her arms. She could smell his breath, minted and cold against her neck. She shivered. "Now come on, Sweet Cheeks, that was different. It was you. The mink would have been proud to have it's fur adorn your delicate shoulders and slender, artfully tanned arms." He ran his hands down her arms, uncrossing them for her as he intertwined their fingers and hugged her back into him. She held her breath. "You're a strong woman, my love. You stick up for what you want. You take charge, you demand perfection. That's one of the many things I love about you. You could pile on as much make up, as many fancy garments as your heart desired, but the thing that makes you sexiest will always be your personality." He kissed the side of her head, right by her hair, and took a greedy whiff of it. "If it were me, I'd be honored to be skinned down and made into a coat too if it would serve as nothing more than a moment's glance for you."
Rhonda tensed, avoiding his searching eyes. She'd stayed out too late with him again. He had gone into one of his moods. He was tired and not thinking straight, saying whatever came to mind. It was true when they said all the freaks came out at night, and she was standing in the arms of the biggest freak of all, no matter how much he tried to mask himself for her sake. She'd known it all along, she'd known he hadn't changed quite as much as he'd been trying so hard to make her believe. Why she kept going along with him anyway, though, that was something she didn't understand. She released a short breath, watching it turn to vapor before her eyes. The hair smelling, the stalking, the constant chase and obsession was one thing… but this… "You're even more of a freak than I thought."
He just grinned and kissed her on the cheek before laying his head in her neck, hugging her gently to ensure she could get away if she wished. She didn't move. "Perhaps, but I'm your freak." He sighed. "As long as you'll have me."
Slowly, Rhonda's rose red lips curved up. "Whatever keeps you sane, Curly."
A/N: Mehhh, first attempts. XP I fear they're very OOC and I felt a bit repetitive. I need to rewatch "Curly's Girl" and see if I can't come up with something better. In the meantime, there's this. xD The entire concept of this actually just started with me thinking about how so many people seem to like to think Curly's an animal rights activist, but he loved Rhonda's mink coat, so that doesn't make sense. But then I thought, "Well, it was Rhonda, and she can do no wrong by Curly so..." Then I thought of him saying he'd skin himself down for her and died of laughing. XD Sounds creepy as hell, right? ROFLMBO... Okay, moving on.
Hope you enjoyed. xD