Category: M/M
Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters, just manipulate them for my own selfish satisfaction
Summary: Michael and Maria get a better “understanding” of each other, with a little help from Isabel.

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Sitting at the counter at the Crashdown, Isabel looked up from her book, annoyed. She thought that if she heard them yelling at each other for one more minute she was going to scream.

“If you can’t concentrate long enough to not let the food burn, then get out of the kitchen! I’m losing tips because of you!”

“Maybe it’s not the food, but the service they’re complaining about! If you’d wait on them instead of spending an hour putting on your lip gloss...”

She heard a gasp, and saw Maria storm out of the kitchen, her face red with fury.

“Trouble in Paradise?” Isabel asked mildly.

“Isabel, I swear I do not know how you and Max didn’t manage to kill him in all the years you’ve known him,” Maria said through clenched teeth.

Isabel smiled, “I won’t say it never crossed our minds. What did he do this time?”

“Nothing aside from being his usual boorish self,” she seethed. “I mean, he knows we’re both working a double shift today, so why can’t he just try to get along?”

“Oh, right,” Isabel said, “I forgot Max was having Sunday lunch with Liz and the Parker clan. Left you sort of in the lurch, huh?” She smoothed her hair, sympathetic, but Isabel also knew there was no way she was doing a replay of the last time she had played waitress to help Maria out. Friendship was one thing, that horrible uniform was another.

Maria sighed, “Yeah, but at least it’s quieted down, now.” She wiped a hand through her own hair, glancing at the only other waitress in the Crashdown, “In fact, Kitty can take care of the last of these customers. Her shift ends in 20 minutes and then SHE can go home. Unlike me.”

“Where are you going?” Isabel asked.

“To the backroom to take a nap. Michael and I said we’d close after the lunch crowd until 6, anyway.”

Isabel was reflective, “You should. You two could use a break.”

Maria cast a look back at the kitchen, “I’d like to give him a break.. in his head!” she said, and trampled off to the backroom to get some much-needed sleep. Isabel shook her head, looking back down at her book.

“Is she gone?”

Isabel didn’t even look up.

“She went to take a nap,” she told Michael. “Take a nap,” Michael grumbled, “She ought to take a pill for that personality of hers.”

Isabel continued to keep her face on the pages, “I think she’d say the same for you, so.. see, you agree on something finally.”

Michael scoffed and turned back to the kitchen.

Isabel sighed. Her day was not going well. Alex was visiting Cal-Tech with his parents this weekend, and though she was proud and excited for him, she missed him. She missed the calm that surrounded her whenever he was near, the feeling of peace. So unlike the two head cases that were driving each other crazy, and driving her crazy as well. She let out another long breath. At least the day couldn’t get worse.

“Hey, I didn’t know flowers grew in the desert,” she heard the drunk voice next to her.

She was wrong. It was now officially worse.

She turned to see two obviously inebriated fraternity boys sitting next to her, leering.

Hitting them with as much ice as she could muster, she said coldly, “I’d like to be left alone, if you don’t mind.” The larger one laughed, “Oh, that’s how they keep it so cool in this place!” His companion pulled out a small bottle of vodka from inside his shirt pocket, unscrewing the cap and holding it up to her like it was candy, “Don’t worry, we’ve got just the thing to warm you up again.”

Isabel glared at them, and decided to simply ignore the morons. She shook her head and went back to her reading.

The larger one snatched her book, “A beauty and a brain, huh?”

“Give that back!” she said impatiently, and reached up, not noticing that the other one had quietly dropped half the vial into her cola.

“Come on honey, we were just trying to be friendly..” he continued.

“How’d you like to be friendly from the hospital?” another male voice said angrily, and they spun around to see Michael looming over them.

“Who’s this clown?” the smaller one said, his drunkenness making him feel invincible.

“Michael,” Isabel said, touching his arm, “I can handle this.”

Michael ignored her, “I’m the clown that’s gonna re-arrange your face if you both don’t clear out of here, now.”

“Oh, yeah? And just how exactly is the one of you going to do that to the two of us?” said the bigger boy, not noticing that his shoelaces were tying themselves to those of this friend.

Michael closed the hand behind his back, which had been glowing a moment ago, into a fist and let it fly into the larger boy’s jaw, sending him, and his companion tied to him, to the floor.

“With style,” Michael smirked. He picked them both up and ushered them to the door, “Management reserves the right to refuse service,” he said, before tossing them out and putting the “Closed until 6pm” sign on the window.

He glanced over at the other waitress, “Kitty, our last customers decided to leave early. You can go home now.”

The woman looked at the two crumpled boys just getting up outside the door, and gave Michael a look of surprise, “Hey, you’re the boss.”

“I could have done that, you know,” Isabel protested as Michael came back over to her.

“You’re welcome,” he retorted blankly, adding, “Listen, you’re welcome to stay, but can you go out the back so I can lock up for the next few hours?” “Sure,” she said, “Are you leaving?”

He sighed, the anger from the scene of moments ago disappating, “No, I’m just beat. I need a break, too, before tonight.”

“Why don’t you take a nap, too?”

“I can’t. Maria’s in there.”

“So? There are two couches. She can’t be using both of them.”

Michael locked the front door, “I don’t know. I don’t want to disturb her.” Isabel smiled. Angry as they always were at each other, they still put each other first, even in little things.

“Oh, come on, Michael, take a break if you’re tired. Look at it this way. If Maria’s asleep, the two of you will actually be able to stay in the same room for more than five minutes without fighting.”

He rolled his eyes, “Fine. I guess you do have a point,” he started to take off his worker’s apron, and paused, “Is?”

“What?”

“I never knew it was going to be this hard... coming back.”

“I know, Michael,” she said gently. “But she’ll come around.”

He sighed, “I just.. I just wish we could go back to the way things were that one time when we connected, you know. When I knew what it was like to BE her, and she did the same with me,” he shook his head, “For that one small moment, we understood each other perfectly.” Michael threw the apron on the counter, “And now, we can’t seem to understand a thing.”

Isabel looked down, wishing she could say something to make him feel better. But of course, she knew, they just needed time and patience, something for which Michael had never been known. She heard him sigh again and head for the backroom door.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked, before opening the door.

“I’m fine,” she said, “I’m just going to finish the chapter and then I’ll leave.”

“Okay. See you, Is.”

“Bye, Michael.”

She watched him go, and frowned slightly. Most of her life, Isabel’s reaction to a frustrating problem was to just ignore it and enjoy her personal conviction that things eventually always worked out the way she wanted them to. But she couldn’t seem to ignore the fact that two people in her family were being so bull-headed they couldn’t even admit that they were still completely in love with one another. And they were making everyone miserable in the process. Isabel sighed.

They would have to work it out themselves, because there was nothing she could do for them.

She took one last sip of her drink, before closing the book, and stood up. She sat down again.

Suddenly, the cafe seemed to be spinning.

Isabel laughed out loud, and the sound of her own laugh made her laugh harder. She had never known she could be so funny, she thought. She looked over to the door leading down to the back room. Maybe there WAS something she could do. She had done it before during a connection, she vaguely recalled, and for some reason, it seemed only natural that she should be able to do it now. She felt more powerful than she ever had in her entire life. That seemed funny, as well, so she laughed some more.

It took her almost three minutes to actually reach the door, because she found she suddenly wanted to take tiny, tiny steps, and study her feet as she walked. They were fascinating.

She shook her head, “No, no, got to get to Markle and Mira,” she slurred. Tip-toeing into the room, with a firm grip on the furniture, she saw them, both, sleeping peacefully on separate couches.

Isabel smiled tenderly. She couldn’t wait to tell Michael her idea. “Michael,” she managed, nudging him slightly.

He stirred only a bit, obviously deep in slumber, “Is? What is it?”

She shushed him. His voice sounded incredibly loud, somehow. She whispered, very, very lightly, “I know how to do it.. how to make you be her again,” she said.

Michael turned over, yawning, “Okay, Is. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, alright?”

“Alright,” she said dreamily, and watched him go back to sleep. Smiling, she waved her hand over him, and stifled a giggle as his body shifted into the form of Maria, complete with uniform.

She stood back, but then realized there were now two Marias.

Isabel frowned.

“Thas’ not right,” she said, and waved her hand over the form of the original Maria, whose body shifted until she looked exactly as Michael had a moment ago. Isabel looked at them and nodded. She reached for the wall again and began her difficult route to the door. Taking one last look at them, she shook her head approvingly.

“You two are SOOOOOO gonna thank me!” she smiled, and caught her hair in the door when she tried to close it, which made her erupt into laughter. Finally, she made it out the back door of the cafe.

The alarm, set for 5:30, woke them both.

A few moments later, people who happened to be walking outside the cafe heard two voices let out a horrified scream, but no one was alarmed.

It seemed like weird things were always happening at the Crashdown.

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Maria would have given her soul for a hose pumping gallons of grief relief straight into her mouth, which was now Michael’s mouth. She glanced again at the image of herself, standing in front of her, and quickly shut her eyes.

“This is a dream! That’s it, I’m still dreaming, wake up Maria, wake up!”

suddenly she felt her arm, Michael’s arm, being pinched hard.

“Hey!” she cried out, looking back at the image of herself.

“Well, that rules out dreaming,” her own voice said, and she watched her arms being put on her hips in a way that was distinctly Michael-like.

“Michael?” she asked, in his deep voice. Oh, God, she was going crazy!

“No, it’s the Easter Bunny in here, of course, it’s me!”

Maria closed her/his eyes again, “If I’m not dreaming, then I’ve lost my mind. You finally drove me over the edge.”

Michael ran a hand over the top of his head, and then pulled it away, looking at it, as if it could explain why he’d just felt soft blonde tresses instead of crisp spikes.

“Maria, shut up, you’re not helping,” he said, though it was her voice that came out.

He watched as his own eyes darted around the room, priming for a classic Maria freak-out, “Well, how could this have happened?” she demanded.

“How the hell would I know?”

“Well, I don’t know what you learned how to do out in the desert!”

Michael looked up at her, incredulous, “You think I did this? Are you nuts?”

“Well, I didn’t do it! And if it wasn’t you, then who?”

He turned away, his neck getting stiff from looking up, and yelled, “How should I... oh, God.”

“Oh God? What oh God?”

He turned back to face his own image, “Isabel.”

“What?!”

“It had to be Isabel. She... she came in here when we were sleeping..”

Maria grabbed hold of a silver lapel on Michael’s dress, “And you LET her do this?”

He flung his/her arms in the air, “I was sleeping! I thought it was a dream, I...”

“Why? Why would she do this?”

Maria watched her own body pacing the floor, “I don’t know, she was acting strange. She said she was going to... I don’t know, make us understand each other.”

“Understand each other? How about you understand this- fix it, and I mean now,” she demanded.

“How am I supposed to fix it?”

Now it was Maria who flung Michael’s long arms in the air, “Well, shift us back! You know, morph us, whatever you call it.”

“Maria, I don’t call it anything because I can’t do it. I didn’t even know Isabel could do it.”

She stopped him, “But.. you did it once before, didn’t you.”

“That was my fingerprints! Alright? And it took me almost twenty minutes just to do that!”

“You can try, at least!”

Michael was about to protest but knew she was right. With Maria’s delicate hand up to his own face, he concentrated, trying to let the power come out of him. Suddenly the two glittery antennae balls on top of Maria’s discarded headpiece exploded.

They both looked at the chair, where the smoking remains lay.

Michael sighed, “I never liked you wearing those, anyway.”

“Try again,” she said.

“Are you kidding? It could be one of us that explodes next. No way!” he said determinedly.

Maria looked down, seeing Michael’s shoes, his legs, his body, “Well, we can’t stay like this! Michael, we can NOT stay like this.”

“Look, just calm down, alright. Don’t go getting all female and psycho on me,” he said with Maria’s full mouth.

She glared back at him, “Bad choice of words.”

He continued, “We’ll just call Isabel, and get her back here, and she’ll fix it. Everything will be fine.”

Maria rolled Michael’s dark eyes, and pouted, “I’ll believe that when I’m back in my own body.. God, don’t you get dizzy being way up here all the time?”

“Me? I don’t know how the hell you can see anything! I feel like a dwarf!”

“Just call her,” she threatened.

-----------------

Watching his own foot tap impatiently across the room, Michael picked up the phone with Maria’s slim hand and prayed Isabel was home.

“Hello Mrs. Evans, this is Mi...Maria. Yeah, I’m trying to find Isabel, is she home?...” he looked over to see Maria start pacing a hole through his size 11’s. He snapped his fingers at her, giving her a look that said, “My shoes don’t grow on trees.” Then his face changed. “Oh... she is?.... she WAS?... okay... no, I understand. Thank you.” Slowly, he replaced the receiver.

“Well? Is she home?”

“She’s home alright. She’s passed out drunk in her bed. Her mom was having a field day.”

Michael watched his own eyes widen as Maria gasped, “Isabel was DRUNK?”

“That’s what her mom said. And there’s no way she’s going to let us see Is tonight. We’ll have to wait until we see her tomorrow at school.”

“What do you mean, wait? What are we supposed to do until then?”

Michael had never seen himself get hysterical over anything before, and now that Maria was doing it for him, he was sure he didn’t want to see it now.

“Michael, how am I supposed to go home to my mother like this?!” his voice panicked.

“Jeez, will you turn the volume down? Look, you can just.. stay at my apartment tonight and we’ll get this whole thing straightened out tomorrow.”

Maria moaned, “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“Oh, like I’m having a picnic about this.”

Maria gave up, sighing, “Fine. I’ll finish cleaning up here and meet you back there. In the meantime, you’ll have to get me... I mean, you, my books and stuff for tomorrow.”

Now it was her eyes that widened, as he said, “What, like, from your house?”

“Well, duh, I can’t spend the night away from home without supplies.”

Michael sighed, “Whatever,” he stopped suddenly, “If you think I’m letting you put some girl’s nightie on my body, you are dreaming.”

She glared back at him with dark eyes, “I won’t as long as you promise that uniform doesn’t come off MY body until I’m back in it.”

“What? I wasn’t even thinking that!”

“Oh, yeah, because you’re so known for your choir-boy thoughts. You’ll be stripping in the bathroom the minute I turn my head,” she declared, crossing Michael’s long arms over his chest, as if she could shield the body she was no longer in.

“But you can’t seriously expect me to stay in a dress until tomorrow!” he protested.

Maria was determined, “Oh, what’s that on the bulletin board at school? Why, it’s a photo of Michael wearing the latest from Victoria’s Secret!”

He gave in, “Fine! What do you need from your house?”

“Just a couple of things. And please remember to be nice to my mother when you lie to her about where I’ll be tonight.”

He closed Maria’s green eyes in defeat, “Oh, god, I forgot about your mom. What do I tell her?”

“Maria, honey, I thought you were working a double shift tonight,” Amy DeLuca found her daughter rooting through her bedroom closet at home.

“Oh, hi... Mom,” Michael said uneasily, turning back into the closet, and trying to remember what Maria had said to get.

“Did you close early?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” he replied, wondering how in the hell Maria could ever find anything in this mess of a room.

“What’s with the bag?” Amy asked, motioning to the duffel on the floor.

“I’m, uh, spending the night at Liz’s. Is that okay?”

She nodded, leaning up against the wall of the closet, “Sure, baby. I think it’s nice that you still want to spend so much time with Liz.”

Michael went over to Maria’s dressing table. She had said to get one of the bottles, some goopy face cream or something, but he stopped, afraid of just whose face she planned on using it for. Either way he lost, so he passed over the jars, and pulled open her dresser. Tentatively he reached into the drawer, as if it were full of snakes and not Maria’s underthings. He pulled out a pair, looking at the blue satin with appreciation. So that’s what her underwear looked like.

He suddenly realized he could easily find out what her underwear looked like ON her, if he hadn’t made that stupid promise. But maybe one little peek...

“At least it’ll keep you away from that Michael,” he heard Amy say.

He turned, startled, forgetting she was still there. Then realizing what she had said, he pushed Maria’s brows together, “That Michael?”

Amy sighed, “Alright, I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I used to like him... once. I just... I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Michael looked at the floor, not knowing what to say, and held his breath as Amy came over and kissed her daughter’s forehead, “You’re still my baby, you know?”

Michael gazed at her in awe as she gave him a tender smile. He could feel all the love she had for Maria, the immeasureable, unconditional love of a parent, swirling around him. For one small moment, he wrapped it around himself like a blanket, trying it on, if only for once in his life to see what it felt like to be loved by a mother.

He felt himself smiling at her, unable to be angry at what she really thought of him.

“I know,” he sighed, and picked up Maria’s bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

Michael had almost reached the door when he stopped and turned, “M- Mom?”

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“I.. I want you to know something.” he said softly, “Michael Guerin will never hurt your daughter again.”

Amy titled her head, “Maria.. are you alright?”

He looked at her for one last minute, “Yeah, I’m fine..,” he said, embarrassed at the fullness he was feeling in his eyes, “... I’ll see you later.”

Amy shook her head and watched her daughter hurriedly walk out the door.

---------------

“I swear to God, I hate my life,” Maria mumbled to herself as she plodded down the hallway of Michael’s apartment building. She couldn’t even appreciate the fact that Michael’s long legs were taking her everywhere in seemingly half the time it normally took her.

Suddenly, she was startled to see one of the doors open, as an attractive 40ish woman in work-out clothes emerged.

“Home so soon?” the woman asked.

Maria looked around, making sure the woman was talking to her, “Uh, yeah,” she said. Did Michael know this lady?

“You normally don’t crawl back to your apartment till after midnight,” the woman noticed.

So he did know her.

“Is that right?” Maria said evasively.

The woman stepped out into the hallway, closer to Maria, “Not that you ever wake me up,” she smiled and reached out to touch Michael’s muscled forearm, “I only spend time in bed when there’s.. someone to spend it with me.”

Maria yanked herself way, shocked, “Uh-huh. Well, I’m sure that particular someone would be very happy to hear that,” she sputtered, backing towards Michael’s apartment, “and I’m.. gonna go inside, now. Goodnight!” she said, slamming the door with a sigh of relief.

“Who was that?”

Maria turned and saw herself sitting on the couch, still in her uniform (thank God!), with her feet propped up on the coffeetable, watching the hockey game. She made a face of irritation, “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Because I don’t know which is why I’m asking you?”

She stood defensively, “That was your Mrs. Robinson-come-up-and-see-me-sometime neighbor trying to pull me.. you.. into her apartment.”

Michael was nonplussed, still watching the game, “Oh, her. She’s harmless. She makes great macaroni and cheese, too.”

“You let her feed you?” Maria asked, incredulous.

She saw her own eyes look up, defensive, “She said she had extra.”

“Oh, I’m sure she had enough libido for the whole apartment building. And besides, it’s not like you couldn’t make your own macaroni and cheese. It’s out of a box, Michael, I mean, how lazy are you?”

Michael stared back at the television, “Lazy enough to keep watching my hockey game and tune your voice out, which, incidentally, is every bit as annoying even though it’s mine.”

Maria sucked in an angry breath, and marched over to him, grabbing the remote. “Technically, this is MY apartment, now,” she said, shoving him to the floor

with unfamiliar strength, “You get the floor.. and I get to watch what I want.”

She saw her mouth fall open as he glanced at the TV, “Wha- Figure Skating?! Oh, come on, Maria, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

Maria glared at him, her now-dark eyes narrowing, “Do I LOOK like I’m kidding?”

Four hours later, Maria’s spiky-haired head was still in the exact same position, laying on the couch. Michael’s blonde hair touched her arm, as he, too, was still sitting on the floor with his head near hers. Neither would admit that they had both closed their eyes an hour ago.

Because deathly tired or not, neither one would budge.

Maria still gripped the small black device in her hand.

“I want the remote, Maria,” Michael said, trance-like, “It’s my turn.”

Maria’s eyes, too, remained shut, “Over my dead body.”

Michael paused, then whispered drowsily, “I’m only not taking you up on that because it would ultimately be suicide.”

It was another moment before his blonde head finally back onto the couch, against his own bare arm, and they were both sound asleep, the TV still droning.

----------------------------

The first thing Michael noticed when he woke up was that it hadn’t been just a bad dream. Looking down at trim white legs, still stemming out from the ridiculous Crashdown waitress uniform, he moaned. He was still in Maria’s body.

The second thing he noticed was that his neck was completely stiff and letting him have it for sleeping sitting up on the floor all night. Rubbing his neck, he heard her stir on the couch behind him.

“It’s the nightmare that never ends,” she said, looking at him, and thus herself.

Michael sighed, standing up and stretching Maria’s body, “We’ll find Isabel this morning at school.”

Maria stood up as well, “What if she can’t fix us? What if it was just a fluke?”

“Please, don’t even think that,” he stopped her, and noticed she was making a peculiar expression, “She put us this way, she can... Maria, why do you keep biting your lip? That’s MY lip you’re putting a hole in.”

“Because,” she said meekly, “... I’ve gotta pee.”

He looked at her as though she were crazy, twitching from side to side in his big body, “So pee already,” he told her.

“I CAN’T!” she said, shocked, “Not like this. I don’t even know how.”

Michael rolled his eyes, “It’s not rocket science, Maria.” Impatiently, he took her large hand in his small one and led her to the bathroom, pushing her in.

“No!” she insisted, “I am not doing that. Your bladder will just have to explode first.”

“Look, the only one you’re hurting is yourself,” he explained, standing next to her at the toilet, “Just.... take hold of it and aim.”

Maria closed her eyes, sighed, and then unzipped his jeans. She opened and closed her fists a couple of times, then tried to reach in, but each time she stopped, unable to actually go through with it. “Michael, I can’t,” she almost cried with desperation, “I just can’t!”

Michael looked up to the ceiling, exasperated, then back at her. “Fine,” he said, trying hard to be sympathetic, “Do you want me to stand behind you and do it for you?”

“No! God, that’s almost worse!”

His patience vanished, “Well, take your pick, Maria, the options are few! Your hands with my mind, or my hands with yours, but if you don’t want to be a puddle in thirty seconds, I suggest you choose.”

Now it was Maria who took the deep breath, “Fine, you do it,” she said, throwing her head back and spreading her muscled arms out like a martyr about to be slaughtered.

Michael shook his head, and stood behind his own body, wrapping Maria’s slender arms around his waist and helping her answer nature’s call. He gave out a soft laugh.

“What, exactly, are you finding so funny?” she huffed.

“No, I just realized..” he mused, “it’s got to be the first time in years this body’s woken up without a ha.... headache.”

Maria shook her head with distaste, “I don’t see you HOW you do this every day... and in front of other guys! ugh!”

Michael zipped her up, and stood back at the sink, “Look, I’m going to have to do it a different way, too.”

She shot him a look, “Uh, I hope you intend to wash my hands... thoroughly.”

“What? Oh,” he said, turning on the water and washing her hands, continuing, “All I’m saying is, you don’t see me freaking out and complaining.”

Maria leaned over him, looking at him menacingly, “Oh, we’d see who’d be freaking out if this had happened while I was having MY alien visitor... what with the-”

Michael’s hands shot up in defeat, “Fine, you win! I don’t wanna know about it!”

Maria nodded, straightening her black t-shirt and headed out the bathroom. Michael closed the door impatiently.

“And keep your hands off me, Guerin!” she called from outside the bathroom. He glared at her through the door then stood back at the toilet. He looked at the bowl, tilting his blonde head.

“Screw it,” he said at last, climbing into the shower and, still standing, hoisting up Maria’s dress and moving her panties aside so he could relieve himself. Can’t change a lifetime of habit in one day, he thought.

When he finally came out of the bathroom, Maria was standing there, waiting for him.

“What’s that look for?” he said suspiciously.

“It’s bad enough neither one of us can take a bath, which, admittedly is familiar territory to you,” she said, ignoring the roll of eyes he made, “.. but you can’t go to school in the uniform.”

Michael only stood there, so she asked him, “Where are the clothes you got from my house?

He pointed to her bag on the floor, and Maria leaned over, reaching in and taking out a plaid skirt and a flowered top. Holding them up, she said sarcastically, “Way to coordinate, Michael.”

Michael’s hands raised again, “What? You said clothes. There they are.”

Maria sighed, “Close your eyes, and I’ll dress you.”

Michael made a face of resignation, and shut his eyes.

He felt his own hands unbuttoning the uniform, and sliding it down. He shivered slightly when the air hit his bare flesh, unaccustomed to the sensitive nerves of Maria’s female neck and breasts. It was without a doubt the strangest sensation he had ever experienced, feeling what Maria must have felt when he touched her with his rough hands on her petal-soft skin.

Maria slowly pulled the top over her own body, also amazed at the sensation of touching Michael again when it was not Michael’s body at all. Suddenly, her own body seemed a delicate thing as she looked down at it, and she wondered if that was what Michael saw when he looked at her. When she was helping him step into the skirt, he had lost his balance and had put a hand on her now-broad shoulder to keep from falling, then had pulled back his hand, almost apologetically.

Their touches now were strange. Familiar and yet not familiar.

Maria finished the last button, “Do you want me to close my eyes so you can do the same?” she asked him.

His eyes seemed a bit unfocused, “No, that’s okay, people at school are used to seeing me in yesterday’s clothes” he said, then paused, “Maria, hold on, one more minute.”

Michael went back into the bathroom and quickly slipped off Maria’s panties, stuffing them under some towels. She wouldn’t miss them, and it wasn’t like he was actually breaking his promise to look at her naked. Just a little something of hers to help him through the long cold winter ahead, he assured himself. Glancing around, he found a pair of his own boxers on the floor, and put them on.

“Alright, let’s just get to school,” he said, coming out the door.

“Yeah, the sooner this day is over, the better,” she agreed.

He stopped her, “Hold it.” “Hold what?”

Michael shook his head, “The clothes are one thing. The way you walk is another.”

“What do you mean? I’m walking like I always do.”

“Yes, I know. That’s the problem. You’re making me look like an idiot with that walk.”

She shot back, “Well, what about you? Lumbering around in my good sandals?”

Michael looked down, incredulous, “Is that what you call these torture devices on my feet?”

“They’re MY feet, and you could try to walk like a little better in them. You walk like a boy.”

“Gee, maybe that’s because I AM one?”

Maria leaned into him, starting to enjoy being taller than Michael, “Well, today, neither of us is feeling ourselves and we have to try to make the best of things until we can find Isabel!”

“Well, then stop taking such little steps!”

“You stop swinging your arms so much!”

They stared at each other defiantly, and then both started at the same time, trying to squeeze their two bodies through the door. Bumping and pushing, they glared at each other before finally making it into the hallway, and set off for school.

-------------------------------------------

“Hold still”, she ordered, standing with him outside the school entrance.

“Wha ih I ewer oo oo you?” Michael pleaded, holding his mouth still while Maria put lip gloss on him.

“Do you want that list alphabetically?” She replied, smearing it on, then standing back approvingly. “Much better. No make-up’s bad enough, but I can’t be seen without this stuff.”

Michael mumbled, “You look pretty enough without make-up.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Hey, Guerin, nice purse!” someone called out from the crowd that was herding into the building.

It was Maria’s face that scowled.

“Give me that!” Michael snapped, grabbing Maria’s purse off of HIS shoulder, and looking around to see if anyone else had seen.

“Sorry, I forgot I had it on,” she said.

“Let’s just find Isabel,” he implored, “I haven’t seen her yet, but you take second period History with her, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, then the minute I find her, I’ll come and get you.”

“Absolutely.”

He sighed, and looked at the doors, “Alright, here goes nothing.”

“Michael?” she stopped him, whispering the name so as not to alarm anyone. Michael turned and saw her quickly lean down to him, grazing his soft cheek with a kiss.

“Just for luck,” he heard her say, and he nodded, as she disappeared into the crowd.

Michael rubbed the spot where she’d kissed him, Maria’s tender skin tingling from his mouth which had been prickly from lack of shaving. He thought of all the times he’d kissed Maria, plenty of them while unshaven, and wondered if her skin had always felt so bruised from his rough caresses. If she had, she’d never said anything. He marveled at how someone could be made of such delicate stuff and still be so strong all the way through.

Without thinking, he touched his lips, Maria’s lips, slippery from the gloss she had applied on him.

Suddenly he became aware of the familiar fruity smell, and he rubbed his lips together. He smiled at the heavenly taste of Maria’s strawberry mouth, and was now glad she’d put the stuff on him. He took the purse off of his shoulder and dug through. Taking out the lip gloss, he smeared more on, sloppily getting it on her chin as well.

He licked his lips again, and smiled at the memories flooding him. It was like being able to kiss her anytime he wanted.

Looking at the little vial of gloss in his hand as if it were his new best friend, he carried it, trophy-like, into the school to attend Maria’s first class.

-------------------------------------------

Maria looked at the drawing in front of her and sighed.

“Don’t worry, Michael,” Mr. Cowan told her, “Even the best artists have their off days.”

She looked back at the art teacher with resignation, feeling badly that she was making a mess out of the one class Michael was good in.

She thought of a time when he had actually allowed her to watch him working on a sketch, something he almost always insisted on doing alone. It had been not long after he got his first apartment, and she had asked him if he would help her with the design on the new menus at the Crashdown. He had smirked and told her that drawing aliens wasn’t exactly his favorite subject, but he’d done it anyway, to please her.

Maria remembered watching his hands, strong and well-shaped, with their little forests of fine, masculine hairs creeping down his arms as he drew.

She looked at Michael’s hands, now, but somehow they didn’t inspire the same awe when it wasn’t Michael himself operating them.

Picking up the pencil again and tearing off another sheet of paper, she wondered how he was doing in History class, and if he was now using her own slim hands to drag Isabel aside and ask her just what kind of crack had she been smoking to pull this stunt.

“What do you mean, she’s not here?” Michael asked, his eyes wide with panic.

“I told you, Maria, she’s home sick,” Max said quietly.

“But we’ve got to see her!” Michael insisted, a tiny knot forming in his stomach. Isabel might be at home facing the hang-over of the century, but he’d much prefer that to facing Maria and telling her they had to wait even longer to get put back in their own bodies.

“We?” Max inquired.

“Oh,” Michael recovered, “Um... Michael and me.”

“Maria, what’s going on?” Liz asked.

“Has Michael done something again?” Max said, concerned.

Michael bristled at his two friends. Was that what they thought? That all he did was sit around thinking of ways to annoy Maria? He scoffed. Why would he need to when just being around that maddening blonde made it come all too naturally!

“Michael deserves not only a medal for putting up with me,” he glared at them, “but a plaque, a trophy, and possibly the key to the city!” he shot back, and turned back to his books, ignoring them.

Max leaned back, his eyes wide, “What’s with her?” he asked Liz.

She could only shrug in reply.

“Maria,” Liz caught Michael’s arm in the hallway when the bell rang, “Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?” Michael said, uncomfortable with Liz’s arm linked through his.

Liz sighed, “Maria, I know you and Michael haven’t been exactly getting along...”

“Why is this the chief topic of conversation for everyone?” Michael demanded.

“Look, I’m just saying that I’m here for you, okay? I just want you to know that I think you’re doing the right thing by taking it slow.”

“Oh, you do, huh?” he said, a bit perturbed.

“Of course. I mean, you know I care about Michael, but he doesn’t have the best track record of reliability when it comes to you.”

Michael looked back at her, more surprised than before. Reliability?

“What is he? A car?” he said, suddenly a little angry. How could she, any of them, dare to presume they knew what he felt about Maria, what he wanted for her?

Liz laughed, “Oh come on, Maria, you’re the one who said the Jetta gave you less problems than Michael.”

“I said that?” he mused, knowing it was exactly the snide kind of remark Maria would make about him, and probably one of the tamer ones, at that.

God, who was he kidding, hoping she’d ever come back to him? His heart dropped a little. How would he ever be able to make Maria see him as anything but trouble, especially when he couldn’t even seem to be around her without fighting. True, because of circumstances, they were actually not tempted to kill each other today, but.. what about tomorrow?

“I know you’re the one who always said you don’t care about tomorrow,” Liz continued, “But Maria, you have to be careful, even if you haven’t told him you still have feelings for him.”

Michael stopped.

“I what?” he barely whispered it.

“Look, we’re both late for class,” she hurried, “Just think about what I said, okay?”

She left him standing in the hall, completely stunned.

He came in late, sitting next to Maria in Math class, occupying the same seat she usually did, directly across from him on the back row.

“Nice of you to join us, Miss DeLuca,” Mr. Krewlick pursed his lips.

As soon as Michael sat down, Maria looked over at him, mouthing, “Isabel?”

He shook his head, trying to explain with his eyes, but was interrupted by their teacher once again.

“Miss DeLuca, since, as evidenced by your tardiness and current lack of attention, you obviously have no need for my instruction, please come up and work this problem on the board.”

Michael glanced over at Maria, whose eyes were wide. He knew she hated this class. She’d always had trouble in Math, and Mr. Krewlick never seemed to make things easier for her. Sighing, he rose from his seat and walked over to the board.

Picking up the chalk, he planned to do his usual routine of writing any group of numbers on the board, not even bothering to glance at the equation. As he poised his fingers to write, he heard Mr. Krewlick again.

“With the progress you’ve made in this class so far, Miss DeLuca, it’s a good thing your life is going to be spent selling alien artifacts in your mother’s hippie boutique..”

Michael turned to look at the man, aghast, and saw Maria in the back of the room. She was sinking into her seat, and as he looked at his own face, he could see her hurt and shame creeping into it.

Fury exploded in him with such force that his vision clouded.

That bastard! he thought, enraged that anyone would dare tell Maria, his Maria, that she was worthless! Suddenly his mind flooded with every time Hank had made him feel like nothing, a failure, a useless body with no one to love him. His fists trembled with wrath at the idea of Maria feeling that way.

Gripping the chalk angrily, he turned back to the board and in seconds completed the equation. Then, without even pausing, he expanded it, adding to it an applied calculus theorem that the class would not study until next year.

Michael strode purposefully back to his seat, carelessly tossing the chalk back to Mr. Krewlick, whose jaw had dropped to the floor as soon as he’d seen the equation.

With a smirk of satisfaction, Michael eased back into his seat.

As soon as their teacher had recovered enough to begin lecturing again, Maria whispered to him, “You sneak! You’ve been failing this class, too, and you knew this stuff all along.”

“It’s not that hard,” he shrugged.

“But why not let him know that you know it?”

“I didn’t have a reason to before.”

Maria stared at him, then looked away, silent.

They walked out of class together, and Maria spoke first.

“Um, listen, what you did back there...” she began, but was cut off.

“Michael!” they heard Max call out.

“Yeah?” they both said simultaneously, then looking at each other, embarrassed.

“Hey, you got a minute?” Max said, coming up to them.

Michael nodded and backed away. He had felt Maria about to thank him for what had happened in class, and for some mystifying reason her being nice to him always unnerved him completely. He was just as happy to have an excuse to duck out of it.

“Yeah, I was just leaving anyway,” he said, “See ya, Maxwell-” he stopped, catching himself at Max’s astonished face, “I mean...” he stammered, then shook his head resignedly, “I gotta get outta here,” he moaned, casting a look to Maria, and telling her with his eyes that they would talk more later.

Maria watched him go and sighed, glancing warily at Max, “So, uh, what’s up?”

He paused, studying her, “I could ask you the same.”

“I don’t know what you’re taking about,” she said evasively.

“I mean, I thought you were going to take things slow with Maria,” he said carefully, “and here you are stuck to her like glue after class.”

Maria looked down at him, “Well, maybe she needed help with a math problem,” she smiled to herself, still warm from the wonderful, unexpected thing Michael had done for her.

Max rolled his eyes, “Michael, don’t take this the wrong way, but if Maria has any one big problem, it’s you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said, wondering why he sounded just like Liz, telling her that if he was making her that crazy she should just let him go for good. And none of them could even guess what was going on in her heart, how some part of her insistantly craved him even when she wanted to beam him upside the head for making her constantly question how she felt about him.. and how, ultimately, he felt about her.

“I mean, you two have done nothing but fight lately. She’s still trying to get over everything that happened, and you have to give her time,” Max advised.

Maria mused on that last word, “Time, huh?”

“Yes. I know you told me when we came back that you were still in love with her, but..”

“What did you say?” Maria said, her breath catching in her throat.

“But, Michael,” Max said gently, “You can’t let her know yet. She’s still pretty fragile.”

Maria looked at him, dazed. Her mouth didn’t want to seem to work, but when she finally opened it, she was able to look right at Max.

“I don’t know,” she told him, “She might not be as fragile as you think,” she said, hurrying off to her next class before Max could hear her heart pounding in Michael’s chest.

It was Alex who saw them first at lunch. Michael and Maria seemed to be practically joined at the hip, as if afraid to leave the other’s side. He saw them from across the yard, and motioned to them to come join him, Liz, and Max at their normal table.

To his surprise, he watched as they looked at their friends, then at each other, and then did an about-face, selecting an isolated table of their own.

“Did you see that?” he said to his companions.

Liz’s eyes widened, “What are they doing over there?”

Max regarded the pair across the yard and shrugged mildly, “This could be a wild guess, but.. having lunch?”

Liz shook her head, “No way, they haven’t even been able to be around one another for more than two seconds without ripping each other’s heads off. And now they’re avoiding US like the Plague?”

Max tried to be optimistic, “Maybe they’re working things out.”

“Max,” she countered, “this is Michael and Maria we’re talking about. Working things out is not in their vocabulary. Driving each other over the brink of insanity is.”

Alex nodded slowly, studying them, “Look at them,” he exclaimed, unbelieving, “They’re just sitting there talking, not throwing food or screaming or anything......it’s unnatural,” he watched another moment then turned back to Max and Liz, “I don’t like it. Something’s fishy.

Max sighed, remembering how odd both Michael and Maria had been acting today, which was saying a lot considering how odd they both were most of the time, “Well, they’ll tell us when they’re ready.”

Liz took a sip of her milk, “I guess, but.... what do you suppose they’re talking about?”

“This going to class all day long sucks.”

“You think it’s bad for you?” Maria challenged, sitting next to him at their lone table, “Half the teachers are asking me if I’m supposed to be in their class and the other half are asking me how was the sabbatical. Is skipping the basis of your religion or some...” she stopped, watching him pull a large bag of potato chips from her backpack, “uh, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to eat my lunch without losing it from your incessant yammering.”

“That is not lunch,” she said, eyeing the bag.

“I do believe it is,” he countered.

“No, that is me having to get on a stairmaster for the next week to work it off.” She reached into her own brown bag and handed him an apple.

“As long as you’re in my body, this is your lunch,” she said, taking the bag from him, “and I’ll just take these off your hands.” With one swift movement, she opened the bag and poured the contents straight into her mouth.

“Hey!” he cried, “How come you get to eat that and I can’t?”

Maria wiped the crumbs off her face, “Because, numbskull, boys have faster metabolisms.”

She looked at the bag with new appreciation, “You know, I bet I could burn this off just sitting here watching the clouds go by,” she looked at him and gave him a very Michael-like smirk, “There are definite perks to this that I hadn’t considered.”

Michael looked at the measly apple, then back at Maria. He sighed and reached for it, taking an angry bite. “This day cannot end soon enough,” he said glumly. Maria merely leaned over, taking the slice of chocolate cake he’d brought, “Won’t be needing this, either, will you?”

Moodily, he watched her eat, then suddenly his green eyes brightened. “You know, Maria...” he said casually, “you really shouldn’t eat so much right before gym class.”

Maria dropped the cake in horror, “What did you say?”

“But if you get hungry,” he informed her gleefully, “I think there’s a snack machine... in the boy’s locker room.”

“Oh, God!” she moaned, dropping her spiky head in her hands.

Michael smiled with satisfaction, then leaned over, taking his cake back and shoving it in his glossy mouth.

-------------------------------------------

Maria stared at the floor, afraid to look up. All around her, she could see bare legs passing by her. She plodded over to where Michael had said his locker was and took a deep breath.

“Heads up!” she heard, and a ball whizzed past her head. She instinctively looked up and saw a very naked Doug Sohn, her eight-grade paramour, laughing as the ball landed in the basket by the wall.

“Oh, God,” she gasped, and ripped open Michael’s locker, shoving her head in it to prevent any more terrible sights.

Michael’s jockstrap dangled off a hook in the otherwise empty locker, waving at her.

“Oh, GOD!” she screamed, even more horrified, slamming the locker shut again and screwing her eyes shut. Was there no mercy at all in the universe?

She didn’t even open them when she heard their Phys Ed. teacher address the group in the locker room, “Hey, guys, I gotta do paperwork today, so no suiting up. Hit the field and play some touch football or something.”

Maria breathed deeply with relief, but still would not move, or in fact open her eyes, until she heard the last sounds of the other smelly, bulging boys make their way out of the locker room and on to the field.

“You, too, Guerin,” she heard the teacher say, “If you’re gonna bother to show up to gym class, you’ve gotta participate.”

Maria opened her eyes and nodded dully. Instinctively crossing her arms over Michael’s broad chest, she went outside the join the rest of the class.

Michael did not like the way Tommy Hilligan, one of Kyle’s cronies, was looking at him. Or Richie Roher for that matter. He glared back at them as he felt their eyes roaming over Maria’s body with appreciation as he stood at her locker. Little pinpricks of jealousy stabbed at him as he realized that he wasn’t the only one who looked at Maria hungry with lust.

But surely she’d never be interested in these morons, he told himself.

“Hey, DeLuca,” Richie called out, waving Tommy away and coming up to Michael with a big stupid grin on his face, “Did you hear the news?”

Michael eyed him suspiciously, “What news?”

Richie looked at him as though he’d been living on another planet, and the irony almost made Michael smile.

“I hit the winning home run at the game on Friday,” Richie said expansively. Michael looked away, wondering if this conversation could get any worse.

“I don’t really follow baseball, so..” he began to walk away, but Richie blocked him with an arm against the lockers.

Richie smiled, “Well, I seem to remember in 5th grade you told me if I ever stopped playing baseball like a girl, you’d pucker up and kiss me.. so how ‘bout it?” his eyes went up and down Maria’s body.

Ask a stupid question... he thought.

Michael looked at him like he was a leper, “Are you delusional or do you just look that way?”

“Come on, Maria,” Richie said, draping an arm around Michael, “You finally got rid of that Guerin creep,” he smiled again and leaned forward, “And a promise is a promise.”

Using every ounce of will not to belt Richie in the face, Michael used Maria’s small hands to peel Richie’s off of his shoulder, “You will kiss this face when Hell freezes over,” he said menacingly, and stalked off, pausing only to turn and shoot back, “And you still throw like a girl, Roher!”

Maria couldn’t help but notice that when she walked into the group out on the field, people stepped out of her way. Surely, she didn’t smell that bad.

Wouldn’t they be used to Michael’s noncommittal bathing habits by now, anyway? she smiled to herself, still unable to help teasing him, when she noticed the faces of those around her.

They weren’t avoiding her because she was wearing yesterday’s clothes. They were dropping their eyes, trying not to see her. With a sickening sinking of her stomach, she suddenly realized why.

They didn’t like Michael.

They were a little afraid and uneasy around him.

She heard Greg Coleman and Adam Bartley begin to call out names for teams.

Maria stood there in astonishment as they passed over her, again and again, even though Michael’s tall, strong body towered over other boys. The truth was, she could see now, he was too much of an outsider. No one knew him or wanted to change that fact.

When she was the only one still standing there, she heard Greg call out reluctantly, “And Guerin, I guess.”

Maria looked to the ground. She had never imagined how much little things could hurt him.

She had never realized how lonely it was to be Michael Guerin of Roswell, New Mexico.

As soon as he rounded the corner, Michael looked at his hand. It still smelled of Richie’s cheap cologne and sweat. Grimacing, he headed for the bathroom, stopping himself just before going into the boy’s room. With a sigh, he plodded into the girl’s bathroom and began to wash the gruesome remnants of Richie off his hand. He swore as his hands passed under the water. Just what did that jackass think he was doing hitting on Maria? All he’d done was stare back and forth from Maria’s legs to her breasts and... well, okay, nothing Michael wasn’t guilty of himself, but still! He continued to brood when suddenly, he heard the door opening.

Momentairly forgetting he was in a female body, Michael panicked and ducked into one of the stalls so as not to be seen. As soon as he’d closed the stall door, he looked down at Maria’s body, and shook his head at his own stupidity, realizing he was in no danger of being reported to the principal for lechery. He began to open the door again when he heard one of the voices.

“God, I hate that Maria DeLuca!”

“I know,” her companion said, “As soon as I saw her talking to Richie in the hallway I had to come get you.”

Michael tried to recognize the voices, but couldn’t.

“Who does she think she is? Richie is MY boyfriend!”

Suddenly, Michael knew who they were. Amanda Lourdes, who had, in Maria’s colorful terms, lost her innocence with Richie Roher in the Eraser Room last year. Her friend must be Amanda’s constant tag-along, Marlene Garcia. Both were about as annoying and bitchy as two of the female species could possibly be, Michael thought, rolling his eyes.

“Does she think she can just throw herself at him and get away with it?” Amanda was still fuming.

Michael’s brows knitted together. He’d practically punched Richie in the face, and these stupid girls interpreted that as flirting?

“And besides,” the wounded girlfriend continued, “She’s supposed to be going with that nobody Guerin.”

The old hurt stabbed him a little, as they went on.

“Didn’t they break up?” Marlene asked.

“Well, I thought so,” Amanda whined, “But a few weeks ago when I actually congratulated her on dumping that walking piece of hazardous waste, she almost took my head off.” She said it as though she thought it was Maria who needed to have her head examined.

“Really?” Marlene sounded amazed.

But not as amazed as the boy hiding in the girl’s body hiding in the stall two feet away from them.

All that time he had spent in the past pushing Maria away, defending himself from what he’d convinced himself were her overly-romantic ideas, he’d never once considered that Maria had had to defend HERSELF to other people for being involved with him.

But she had. And apparently was still defending him, too, even last week, when they’d been fighting like cats and dogs.

He smiled, wondering if he would ever figure out Maria DeLuca.

When he finally made it into his last class of Biology, another he shared with Maria, he noticed that this time it was she who came in late.

“Where’ve you been?” he whispered as she slid in the desk opposite him.

“I had to wait until the boy’s locker room cleared out before I could go back and get your books,” she groaned softly.

Michael couldn’t suppress a smile, “That fun, huh?”

She rolled her eyes, disgusted, “Oh, don’t ever talk to me again.”

His smile dimmed a little as he looked away, and she heard him whisper under his breath, “Then who would I have to talk to?”

Maria wondered if he’d meant for her to hear that at all.

“Does anyone have a theory?” Miss Hardy was saying to the class, “Mr. Guerin? Since you’re hardly ever in class, it seems a shame not to take advantage of your rare and scintillating presence..”

“Huh?” Maria said, startled.

Miss Hardy smiled, “I asked if you had a theory on how chrysallisis works, Michael.”

Maria looked over at Michael, who nodded his head, urging her on.

“Um,” she managed to get out, “Isn’t that where catepillars go in their cocoon thingy?”

Michael’s head dropped. Maria had such a way with words.

“Well, Michael, interestingly put, but yes,” Miss Hardy conceded, “It does involve the cocoon thingy.”

Maria exhaled with relief, looking over at Michael and giving him a thumbs-up. His hand lightly touched his forehead as he sighed.

“But it’s more than that,” Miss Hardy went on, turning to the rest of the class, “It’s where an incredible transformation takes place.. one that scientists still don’t quite understand.”

She walked back to the front of the classroom, “Some biologists have an hypothesis called the Theory of Entrapment,” she turned again and wrote the term on the board.

“Basically, they theorize that it’s because of the insect being trapped in an unfamiliar surrounding that causes the transformation to an entirely different being. That without this environmental entrapment, they could never grow or evolve.”

Michael and Maria glanced at each other, each from the corner of their eyes.

“The good part is,” Miss Hardy finished, “that what comes out afterwards is something more beautiful than what it was before.”

Finally, they did look at each other then, a knowing, awkward smile on both their faces.

Isabel’s eyes had been shut for most of the day. When she heard the knock on the door, she cringed.

“Go away,” she moaned.

The door opened anyway, “Oh, I don’t think so.”

She saw a determined Michael and Maria come pushing through her bedroom to stand at her bed.

“God, don’t move so fast!” she cried, pulling the sheet up over her head.

Michael and Maria looked at one another. They had intended to give Isabel a lecture she would never forget, but somehow their anger had diminished over the course of the day. And poor Isabel looked like she was suffering quite enough without their help. Right now all they wanted to hear was that it had been a bad prank and she would put them back immediately.

“Isabel,” Michael said firmly, “I don’t know what got into you yesterday, but the joke wasn’t funny.”

“What joke?” she mumbled under the covers.

Maria looked at Michael, startled. If Isabel hadn’t done this, who had?

“Is,” he said patiently, “What do you remember from yesterday?”

“I don’t know,” she cried, still beneath the sheets, “All I remember is those drunk guys you threw out of the Crashdown, then finishing my book. Everything else is a blank!”

Michael let out a deep breath and cast a glance at Maria, “I should have known those jerks might put something in her drink.”

“But I thought you three couldn’t handle a single drop,” she began.

“Thank you, Sherlock,” Michael held his hand out at Isabel, as if presenting exhibit A to Maria’s obvious deduction.

Maria’s eyes widened, “She did this to us when she was drunk?”

He shrugged as though it were the only possible answer, just as Isabel shot out of the covers.

“What are you two talking about? What did I do to you?”

They smirked at her.

“Notice anything different about us?” Michael said.

Isabel was not in the mood for guessing games, “No, what happened? You two run off and elope or something?”

They glared at her and suddenly she really looked at them, Maria, smirking with her hands on her hips, and Michael, his arms crossed over his chest as he worriedly bit at his nails.

Isabel shrunk back, “What did I do?” she whispered.

“You shape-shifted us,” Maria informed her, trying to keep her voice down.

“What?!”

Michael nodded, “It’s true,” he said and Isabel watched as Maria’s hand raised in the air, causing a bottle of aspirin to float from the nightstand to her bed.

“So sober up fast and put us back,” he commanded, letting Maria’s hand fall to his side.

“Oh, God,” Isabel breathed, her eyes wide as saucers, “It’s not possible! I only did that type of thing once before and that was in a dreamwalk with Alex,” she held her hands out helplessly, “I didn’t even know I could do it in real life!”

She put her hands to her head, “Oh, my head is killing me!”

“Isabel, I’m sorry for your head, but Maria and I have our whole bodies to think about,” Michael took hold of her hand, “Now change us back!”

She looked up at them pitifully, her head shaking, “You don’t understand,” she whispered, her eyes pleading with them, “I don’t know HOW.”

Michael and Maria could only stare at her in unbelieving panic.

“What do you mean you don’t know how?” Maria was almost hyperventilating, “You have to know how!”

Isabel cringed at the volume, and Michael put an arm out to steady Maria.

“She can’t do it if you’re screaming at her,” he tried to be calm, even though he felt anything but.

“I can’t do it at all, that’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Isabel declared.

“But you did it before..” Maria insisted.

“I was drunk!” the hung-over alien shot back.

The three of them paused before Michael snapped his finger, “Whoa, whoa, that’s it,” he nodded.

“What’s it?” Isabel said, not sure she liked the look in his, or rather Maria’s, eyes.

“Being drunk changes perspection and focus,” he mused, “And that’s what our powers are all about.. focus.”

“Oh, no,” Isabel protested, “You’re not going to make me...”

“Isabel,” he cut her off, “Where do your parents keep the liquor?”

Maria’s face brightened as she saw the light at the end of the tunnel, “I am so way ahead of you!” she almost sang, and raced down the stairs to the kitchen.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Isabel whined, holding the teaspoon of vodka to her lips.

“Believe it,” Michael said unmercifully.

“I feel like my head’s going to explode as it is!” she said.

“And if we had hearts, they’d be bleeding right now,” he said firmly, “Take your medicine.”

“I hate you both,” her eyes narrowed as she stuck the spoon in her mouth and swallowed.

Her gaze never left them but almost immediately, her face changed.

“I love you both sooooooo much,” she gave them a motherly smile that filled her whole drunken face.

“Great,” Maria said, “So you can change us now?”

Isabel looked at them and made a face as though she were a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar, “Oops,” she said, and burst out laughing, pointing at them.

“Oops? That’s all you have to say for yourself?” Maria demanded, the spikes on her head quivering.

“You’re you,” Isabel said, pointing to Maria, “... and you’re you,” she shifted her finger to Michael, and laughed even harder.

“Yeah, we got it. Change us back,” he said.

Isabel’s eyes widened as if she’d just made a startling discovery, “You’re the same! See?” she shook her head, “Same same same the whole same time,” she giggled.

“You love you.. and you love you, too,” she wouldn’t stop grinning at them. Michael glanced over at Maria, embarrassment and a bit of denial flushing them both. Finally Michael turned back to the drunken alien in bed.

“Isabel, we need to be put back, alright.”

“Back? Oh, sure..” she said, as though they’d asked her to do the easiest thing in the world, “Back... jack!” she burst out laughing again, but this time did it while waving her hand, first over Maria, then over Michael, instantly changing them to their proper form.

They each looked down at their bodies, as if not sure everything had been restored, then glanced at each other, sighing with immeasureable relief.

“Oh, thank God,” Maria said, running her hands down her own arms as if they were manna from heaven.

“You can say that again,” Michael agreed.

“Thank God!” Isabel shouted, “Thank God thank God thank God...”

Michael looked at the spectacle of Isabel with wide eyes, “Oh, man. Her mom is going to ban us both from the house forever.”

“Ban... Stan!” Isabel shot out.

“I say we cut and run,” Maria advised, glancing at him.

Michael nodded wholeheartedly, “I’m right behind you,” he said, grabbing Maria’s hand, “Love to stay and chat, Is, but...”

Maria smiled, unable to help herself at the sight of cool, sleek Isabel practically dribbling on her designer sheets, “You seem to be having fun by yourself, anyway...” she said.

“Oh, and listen,” he told Isabel, “Next time you want to help us out.. don’t call us, we’ll call you.”

“You...Boo!” Isabel cried in delight, as Michael pulled Maria with him, bolting out the door.

“Byebooooooooo....” Isabel called after them, long after they had gone.

Epilogue:

That night, Michael made himself pause just a moment, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

Maria met his gaze, “I told my mom I was studying at the Parker’s. She’s gonna think I’m in love with Liz.”

He gave her one of his half-smiles, “I’m glad you could come.”

Maria leaned closer to him, looking carefully at his face. With her once-again delicate hand, she reached out and stroked his face, wiping a spot of shaving cream off his cheek.

“Did you shave just before I got here?” she asked him, surprised.

He seemed a bit embarassed, “Yeah.”

“So,” she said, coming into his apartment, “what do you have planned?”

Michael shrugged, but somehow he managed to make it seem friendly, caring, even, “Just some time... together.”

Maria smiled. She knew him better than that, “Hockey game?”

He looked back at her, and conceded, “Alright, we can watch figure skating, too.... during the commercials.”

Maria rolled her eyes, “I’m swept off my feet.” She put her purse on the floor and sniffed the air, “Are you cooking?”

Michael pulled a tray out of the oven, “I was keeping it warm... and yes,” he said as she peered into the tray of macaroni and cheese, “I made it myself.”

Maria could only smile at him.

An hour or so later, Maria shifted on the couch. They were both sitting in the middle, their weight pulling them towards each other on the sinking cushions, but they weren’t quite touching. Even so, they could feel the warmth of each other’s body, and amazingly, it wasn’t lustful or passionate. For the moment, it was just... comfortable, as they sat there together as though they’d been doing it for years, utterly at ease and wrapped securely in the presence of one another.

Their eyes focused on the game, munching on popcorn, Maria saw Michael hold out his hand to her. Reading his mind, she silently reached over to the endtable and picked up the Tabasco sauce to hand to him. She checked the bottle.

“Oh, wait,” she told him, “This one’s empty.”

“There’s more in the drawer next to you,” he said, still munching.

Maria smiled. Michael was the only person she’d ever known to be so lazy to keep his groceries in the endtable, so that he wouldn’t have to get up while watching television. She opened the drawer, but to her surprise, noticed several vials of her brand of lip-gloss mixed in with the bottles of Tabasco. “Saving up for Christmas?” she asked, holding up one of the little strawberry tubes.

He flushed, “Yeah, uh, something like that.”

She shook her head and handed the Tabasco to him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, shaking it on the popcorn.

“No problem,” Maria said good-naturedly, turning her attention back to the television as well.

They watched as an ad for Victoria’s Secret flashed on the screen.

Michael made a face, “You know, I don’t know why you girls bother with that. That was the most uncomfortable thing I’d ever had on in my life.”

Maria’s brows came together as she faced him, “Speaking of which, were are they?”

Michael flushed visibly, “I, uh, threw them out.”

Maria smiled, seeing right through him, “Yeah, well, imagine my surprise when I got home and found out I was wearing your boxers.”

Michael smiled broadly at her, and it suddenly didn’t look out of place at all on his cocky face, “Well, you finally got into my pants, Maria,” he said with satisfaction.

She shook her head mildly, “Yeah, in your dreams, space-boy.”

He seemed to study her, “I liked you better when you were me.”

Maria felt his eyes on her, and she was unable to look anywhere but right back at him, “That was pretty... unforgettable, wasn’t it?” she said.

He nodded, “That’s one way to describe it.”

She grinned, “I mean, wasn’t it like being in the Twilight Zone? Or worse, that dream where you walk in in the middle of a test and you only have like five minutes to finish and you have no idea what the test is about?”

“Are you naked in that dream?” he asked, his face deadpan.

“No.”

“Then I don’t know the one you’re talking about.”

She looked away, flustered. “Well, I guess I mean...there was a lot that was.. unexpected.”

Michael still had not torn his gaze from her, and she felt as though he were devouring her with his dark, soulful eyes as he whispered, “Yeah.”

Maria took a deep breath, unable to keep herself from telling him, “You know, Michael, you say you liked me better when I was you, but...” she stopped.

“But what?” he urged her, his voice tender.

She brought her eyes back up to his, “I think part of me.... part of me has BECOME better from being you.”

Michael looked away then. He had to.

What she had said so touched him that he couldn’t speak, certainly couldn’t look at her. He knew that if he did he would lose all resolve, cup her beautiful head in his hands and press his mouth to hers until she could barely breathe from his kisses. He wanted to, more than anything, but some small voice in him held him back.

He vowed not to take Maria in his arms until he had earned his place in her heart. It was the one thing he was not going to screw up in his life, he promised himself.

He could feel her still gazing at him, wanting him to say something.

“Here,” he said, handing her the remote, “We can watch whatever you want.”

Maria watched as he placed the remote in her hand, but also left his own hand on hers, those beloved hands of his pressing against her own flesh, sending such warmth through her it felt as though he were stroking her fingers, even though he was perfectly still. Just like Michael, she thought.

She cast her eyes downwards, smiling, knowing that he had told her much more without saying a word.

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