******

"Valentine's Day is next week." Maria paused, waiting for some kind of reaction from her outwordly boyfriend. When he continued working on a salad with no response to her statement of any kind, she slapped the edge of the kitchen window with her order pad. He jerked and glared at her. "I want romance, dammit."

He returned his attention back to the salad.

"Buy a Harlequin novel."

"Excuse me?"

"Maria, in case you haven't noticed, I'm WORKING here. Can't it wait?"

"No. The only time I see you lately is when we have shifts together."

"And what does it tell you?"

"That you're ignoring me?"

Michael threw the knife on the table, and leaned closer to the window, exasperation evident in his posture.

"I am not ignoring you. Unlike some people, I have rent. I have insurance payments for my bike. I have bills to pay, which are quite large due to some unexpected expenses during Christmas. I had to work double shifts just to balance things out. If that's not enough, if I want to get even a distant chance at getting that art scholarship, I have to get my grades up so I've been spending every free minute studying. And that's only problems arising from the human part of my DNA. I'm sorry if Valentine's Day is not high on my list of priorities."

Maria gaped at him, taken aback a little by his sudden outburst. Michael was a rather angry person, but at least to her, he was never mean. All their banter was usually sarcastic yet playful. He picked up two burgers and slapped them on the grill, rolling his shoulders. She inspected him closer for a moment. She knew him well enough to see that he was pissed. And annoyed. That was nothing new. But beneath that... he looked tired. She felt a light pang of guilt. Things have been rough on him lately. Well, even more than usual. May be she was a little self-centered about the whole thing.

"Is it because of my earrings?" Michael glanced at her, unsure of what to make out of sudden change in her demeanor. She was looking at him uncertainly with a little guilt mixed up. He sighed and replied softer.

"No. That came from my private stash."

Maria frowned. Michael's 'private stash' was barely enough to cover a case of coke. And yet she couldn't just let it go. This wasn't about the money. For all she cared, he didn't have to spend a dime. But she refused to be the only girl on the planet who doesn't celebrate the day of romance. Hit-over-the-head approach wasn't working. Time for the secret weapon.

Maria took a deep breath and whined.

"But, Miiiiiiiiichael, it's Vaaaaaaaaalentine's. It's like the most romantic day of the entire year."

He rolled his eyes.

"Maria, it's nothing but another holiday cooked up by Hallmark so that people buy presents for each other and rise their profit."

Damn. He was being even more stubborn than usual. She contemplated her choices. She could try combination of whining with bubbling or...

"Hey, guys."

Maria smiled carnally and turned her attention to Max, who just sat next to the counter.

"Girlfriend, you buying Liz something for Valentines?"

Max didn't notice the look Michael was giving him.

"Yeah, even though we're just friends, I thought flowers would still be a good choice. And we decided to go to somewhere for dinner. Why?"

Maria ignored his question and turned her attention to Michael.

"See? I'm not even asking that much."

Michael slapped two plates on the window and growled before turning around and going deeper into the kitchen.

"Table nine order is ready."

Maria picked up the plates and walked away, replaying the conversation in her mind. She hoped it wouldn't have to come to this. But if he wanted war, war he will get. Time for threats. They worked for Christmas, they'll work now.

***

"Hold it."

Michael stopped inches away from the exit, groaning quietly. He turned around and leaned on the door.

"What?"

"Oh, no, no, no, no, pally. Do NOT take on that attitude with me, got it?"

"Maria, I'm tired, I'm sleepy and I desperately need a shower. So do us both a favor, just tell me what you want and get it over with."

"Fine. I want a date. A normal romantic date. I don't want a present. I don't want flowers. I'll pay for my half. But I'm sick and tired of always waiting for something bad to happen. I want something resembling romance. I think I deserve at least that much for putting up with you shit for all this time."

"Putting up with my shit?"

Maria walked up closer and poked him in the chest.

"Yes. And if I won't get what I want, which is, and I repeat for that *advanced* brain of yours, a normal date, I will make your birth certificate a worthless document. Got it, spaceboy?"

He winced and grabbed her finger to stop her from stabbing him to death with her nails.

"I don't have a birth certificate."

His irritated if slightly amused reply didn't faze her.

"You know perfectly well what I mean. And watching a 'Nightmare on Elm Street' marathon, while pigging out on chips and cherry cokes, does NOT define a romantic date."

"So what does?"

"Well that's for you to figure out, ok? Ok." She crossed her hands on her chest, assuming what she believed was her 'tough' pose. Michael just thought she looked endearing. Well, that and unbelievably sexy.

But he groaned irritably anyway and mumbled quietly.

"Just my luck. I get a Christmas Nazi for a sister and a Valentines Nazi for a girlfriend." He continued louder so she could hear him. "You know what? This isn't fair."

"What's not fair?"

"If you're such a romantic buff, why the hell am I supposed to come up with romantic stuff?"

Maria stared at him as if he just asked where the babies come from.

"Because you're a guy. And in a relationship, guys come up with romance to keep their girls happy."

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why? Why do guys have to come up with romantic stuff?"

"Because they're guys."

"So what you're saying is because I'm a guy, I don't deserve to be happy."

"What? Did the screw-up fairy visit you again?"

"You said that the guy has to come up with romantic stuff to keep the girl happy, right?" he waited for her unsure nod. "Why don't girls come up with romantic stuff for guys?"

"Because guys don't care about romance."

"Now, Maria, you know, some men of the twenty first century might find that statement offensive."

Maria gasped and glared at him with shock, try to not let his satisfied smile get to her.

"So, what? You want me to give you flowers for Valentines?"

"Of course I'm only an amateur but if I remember correctly, romance is not about flowers or cards. It's about doing something nice for a person you care about." He came up closer to her with a devilish smirk on his face. "I will give you a romantic date if it kills me. But YOU better come up with something romantic for me. My arrogance doesn't extend to TELLING you what to do since you're soooo much better at this than me, so use your imagination. Just remember, honey, it's gotta fit MY definition of romantic."

He placed a light kiss on her cheek and headed for exit. Maria finally came out of the stupor and yelled at his retreating form.

"You don't HAVE a definition of romantic."

And then she whimpered.

***

"Grrrrrr." Max glanced up from his book to see Maria plop on the bench next to him.

"Good afternoon to you too."

Another growl. Max gulped and asked the blond pixie cautiously.

"Okaaaay. Problems?"

"Michael wants romance."

Max choked on his coke. Maria slapped him on his back a few times absentmindedly.

"What would be Michael's definition of romantic?"

Max gaped at her.

"Huh?"

She rose her eyebrow and repeated slowly, as if talking to a child.

"What. Would. Be. Michael's. Definition. Of romantic."

"Michael as in... our Michael? Michael Guerin?"

"Max, pick up your jaw from the ground and work with me here. Michael. Your best friend. What does he like, besides hokey and his bike?" she rolled her eyes under his shocked stare. "I'm supposed to get him a present and make it romantic. I know earthy definition of romantic. It doesn't work for spaceboys. They just don't make Tabasco filled chocolates like they do on your planet. And I know nothing about bikes or sports so that's out of the question either."

"Why?" was the only response Max could choke out at this moment.

She waved him off.

"Because neither bikes nor sports ever interested me. Except for boxing. For some reason I like watching..."

"Maria!"

She snapped out of her self-induced sports conversation and glared at him.

"What?"

"Why does Michael want romance?"

"Not important. Just help me out here."

Max finally got his breathing under control.

"Maria, I don't know if I'll be much of help. Isabel knows his likes and dislikes much better."

Maria twisted around on her sit, eyes dangerously flashing.

"And that would be why?"

Max backed off a little, raising his arms in peaceful gesture.

"Maria, Michael has always opened up to Isabel more than to me, probably because she is more nosy than me and she always mothered him. They have the whole brother - sister thing going since forever. Nothing else."

Maria sighed.

"You're right. I know that. It's just... I'm a little stressed out." She turned to look at him. "I never realized how difficult it is to find a perfect present."

"I thought you already knew what you wanted to give him."

She nodded.

"I did. But we had this little fight..." Max sniggered. When it came to Michael and Maria 'little fight' was never a part of equation. Their fights were considered 'little' if there were less than ten dishes broken. It's a good thing Michael had his powers under control and fixed everything before Mr. Parker saw. Otherwise most of his paycheck would've went to pay for whatever was broken at the time. Which even included the stove one time. Of course it didn't get broken during a fight. No one figured out how it got broken. Both Michael and Maria only blushed and mumbled something about chocolate syrup getting into the electric circuit but refused to say how it got there. Max glanced at Maria, who continued bubbling, luckily for him oblivious to his lack of attention. "...and he said that if I want a perfect present, it'll only be fair if he got one from me as well."

"Maria, we're talking Michael here. Any present is a good present. That cologne you wanted to get him..."

"He'll like it, Max. I know he would. And even though it won't be exactly what he wants, he'd never admit it. But it's just..." she bit her lip.

"What?"

"He's right. I walk around yelling that he never does anything romantic for me, but what have I ever done? It's time I put my money where my mouth is. He's gonna get something he really wants." She dropped her head on her hands and whined. "Now if I only could find out what it is."

"You already gave him what he wanted."

She looked up at him with confusion.

"Home."

Maria scoffed.

"Oh, please. His home is somewhere among the stars."

Max shook his head.

"That's not true. What Michael really needed was..."

Maria jumped up and tackled him to the ground, screaming.

"Oh, my Gooooood! Max, you're genius. It's perfect."

***

"I'm sure she could use an electric toothbrush."

"When are you gonna let it go? Seriously. I need help. Desperately."

Isabel didn't even look away from the mirror as she continued to put on her eyeliner.

"No kiddin'."

"Iiiiiiiiz."

Isabel almost pocked her eye out at the sound of Michael whining. Michael was a screamer, a yeller, a sarcasm-abuser, but NOT a whiner.

"Fine. I'll help you. Just don't do that..." she waved her hands around."... that weird whining thing."

Michael sighed with relief.

"Thank you. Now, what's a perfect romantic date?"

"You can start off with making reservations at..."

Michael interrupted.

"Make it a perfect romantic date I can AFFFORD. Unlike those earrings for which I'm still paying."

Isabel froze with her mouth open.

"Isabel."

"I'm thinking."

Half an hour later.

"Iz."

"I'm still thinking."

Michael stopped pacing like a mad man and fell on her bed.

"I'm screwed."

***

And the Valentine's day came...

"Are we there yet?"

"Maria, if you ask me that one more time I will pull over and you can walk the rest of the way."

"First of all, this is my car. You can't throw me out of my car."

Michael glanced at her, rising his eyebrows.

"Secondly, how can I walk the rest of the way if I don't know where we're going? Thirdly..."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, woman. Do you ever shut up?"

"You did NOT just call me 'woman'. First of all, it's..."

"AAAGH!" Michael hit the side of his head on the window of the car. He was about to do it again when her quiet giggles stopped him. He glared at her, trying to hide a smile. "Funny, blondie."

She stopped giggling and tugged his arm.

"Miiiiiicheal. Teeeeeell me."

"I told you. We're going to the Bottomless Lakes."

"Why?"

"Maria."

His growl didn't faze her.

"Why?"

"You aren't going to let it go, are you?"

"No chance in hell."

He glanced at the watch and sighed, finally giving up. They had about twenty minutes until they reached the place he chose and his sanity wouldn't handle more than thirty seconds of her constant fretting.

"We're going on a picnic."

She gaped at him silently. Silent Maria scared him.

"What?"

She shook her head.

"Maria, what?"

"Nothing. It's just... well a picnic under the moonlight. It's actually semi-romantic."

He felt a mountain... or at least one of the mountains, falling off his shoulders. She liked the idea.

"It's a little cold though."

Damn. May be she didn't like it.

"That's why we gonna have a fire."

Her mouth parted in an adorable 'oh' before breaking into a shiny smile.

Foof. She liked the idea. He glanced at her. She stopped smiling and fidgeted.

"Maria?"

She shook her head and stayed still. For five seconds. Then she started fidgeting again.

Michael felt his stomach tighten in fear.

She hated the idea.

"Maria, what is it?"

"Um..."

He gulped and contemplated pulling over because his hands started shaking.

"Just say it."

"Did you get any marshmallows?"

"Marshmallows?" he looked at her incredulously.

"Yeah, you know, white fluffy things that taste..."

"I know what Marshmallows are. And yes, I got some."

She emitted a squeal that could've given him a heart attack... if it didn't sound so happy. Michael scoffed and tried to keep his eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel, which was a not an easy task due to the little fact that the squeal came with a fierce hug.

"Alien trying to drive here..."

"Ooops." She released him and sat back on her seat. "Michael?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we there yet?"

"AAAAAAAARRRRGGHHH!!!"

***

Michael kept glancing at the pixie next to him. She was silent for the last... he looked at his watch... last 3 minutes and 45 seconds. It was coming. She was 46 seconds overdue.

"Michael."

He took a deep breath and tried to control the volume of his voice. He didn't succeed.

"NO. We're not there YET."

Maria jumped on her seat.

"Don't YELL. I know we're not there yet. I'm not blind." Michael felt his jaw dropping. His lips moved but he couldn't say anything. Maria on the other hand, continued disregardful to his astonishment. "I was going to ask if you have any CDs with you. Nothing good on the radio."

Michael silently reached the back seat, grabbed a bag and threw it in Maria's lap.

"Thanks, honey." She smiled sweetly at him and dug into the bag. "Hmmm... Metallica... Metallica... Staind... Godsmack... and oh, no, what a shock, Metallica again." She rolled her eyes before grabbing a next CD. It didn't have any label on it. "Michael, what is this one? Opera?" Michael mumbled something. "What?"

"I said it's Diana Krall."

Silence filled the small car. Maria's sparkling green eyes opened as wide as possible.

"Michael, do you even know who Diana Krall is?"

"Yes, I know who Diana Krall is. She's a jazz singer, ok? I realize that she doesn't hold a candle to such *talented* singers like Brittany what's-her-name but I figured you wouldn't want to listen to anything decent and I'd rather listen to her than whatever bubble-gum pop-star you have on the agenda."

Maria slugged his shoulder.

"I have you know, pally, that Brittany Spears is a pretty good singer."

"Suuuure. I mean 'What a Girl Wants' is bound to become a classic."

"That's not Brittany. That's Christina Aguilera."

"You mean there is a difference?"

"Of course there is a difference. Brittany sang..."

"No! Don't tell me. Let me guess." Michael frowned, mocking concentration. "I know. 'Ooops, I poopied again.'"

Maria's eyes flashed with anger as she grabbed the first CD on her lap and read the title.

"Oh, and I suppose 'It Ain't my Bitch' is a goddamned masterpiece?"

"Metallica has been releasing albums, each hitting platinum, for over ten years. Do you know where Brittany is gonna be in ten years? Asking if you want fries with that."

Maria threw the album cover at him and rattled, ignoring his yelp when it hit him in the ear.

"First of all, there is nothing wrong with waitressing, got it buddy? Secondly..."

Michael rolled his eyes and mumbled.

"Not again."

Maria continued her filled with righteous anger rant.

"... there is no way of knowing who's gonna make it and who won't. Music business is..."

He closed her mouth with one hand while gripping the wheel with another.

"Maria. Read it."

She moved away her face.

"Read what?"

He picked up the cover that seconds ago was used as a projectile and pushed it into her hands.

"The lyrics. Open any song and read the lyrics."

She glared at him but complied.

"Where do I take this pain of mine/I run, but it stays right my side/So tear me open, pour me out/There's things inside that scream and shout/And the pain still hates me..." she paused for a second, letting it sink in and then continued, her voice more pensive and subdued. "...So hold me, until it sleeps/Just like the curse, just like the stray/You feed it once, and now it stays/So tear me open, but beware/There's things inside without a care/And the dirt still stains me
So wash me, until I'm clean." She frowned lightly. "Oh. They're... good. Very dark but really good."

Michael smirked.

"They're brilliant."

Maria rolled her eyes and smiled airily.

"I wouldn't go that far. But why does he have to yell? These lyrics would still be great if the music was... well, musical."

"Maria, those songs are about pain. Real-life pain. You don't sing that while prancing around in a bikini, smiling. You bellow them from the bottom of your soul. Otherwise no one will believe that you're hurting. Anyway, I think the music is great as well. The rhythm is in perfect sync with the words. Those dudes know how to handle a guitar."

She inspected him for a few moments, thoughtfully.

"Michael."

"Mmmmm?"

"Why do you listen to such depressing music? I mean, don't you have enough...darkness in your life? Why do you add more to it?"

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"I don't know. I like it. It... it makes me feel... I mean take Sandman for example. It's a song about nightmares and how real they are. When I listen to it, I realize that I wasn't the only kid whose nightmares interlaced with reality." He looked at her for a moment, his expression tight. "Knowing that I'm not the only one who's got shit in his life... that there are people who are much worse off... it makes me feel a little better, you know? And it keeps me focused. Because I want to... I don't know... may be find a way to help them."

Maria nodded thoughtfully.

"I guess. But wouldn't it make you feel better to add a little sunshine instead of darkness every now and then? Listen to something light and fun."

"I have plenty of sunshine. I have you, don't I?"

With that he grabbed her hand, squeezing it delicately. And for the first time since the dawn of times... or at least last five minutes, Maria DeLuca was speechless. And it wasn't from anger.

"And Maria?" She could only sniff in response. He leaned closer and let his lips brush her cheek as he whispered. "We're here."

***

"You know, spaceboy, I just might keep ya."

Michael tore his attention away from the cup of coffee he was holding and glanced at the radiant girl next to him. She always managed to look beautiful, but right now, in the light of the candles he lit up around the blanket, she looked absolutely gorgeous. She turned her face a little and... it took all of his will, and fear of being slugged with the thermos, not to start laughing. He leaned closer to her and gently wiped some mashed potatoes off her cheek with a napkin.

"Maria, those potatoes have been cooked. They aren't running away."

She barely glanced at him before taking another bite of chicken.

"Your foinf?"

"Foinf?"

He frowned in confusion. She swallowed the food and repeated absentmindedly, sinking her fork into potatoes.

"Your point?"

"Slow DOWN. You're eating like... me."

Fork froze halfway to her mouth. She glared through dangerously squinted eyes. Michael gulped and moved away a notch.

"And I mean that in a nicest possible way."

"Michael." her voice was quiet and her lips curved in a smile as harmless as a rattlesnake .03 seconds before attacking. He carefully placed the cup on the ground and tensed up, ready to jump up and ran in an instant if the need arouse. He put as much sugar in his voice as he could master.

"Yes, honey?"

"You're sitting between me and the pickles. MOVE!"

In a blink of an eye, Michael was on the other side of the plate, sighing with relief. Maria's face was a perfect picture of bliss as her teeth sank with a vengeance into the largest pickle he's ever seen.

"Mmmmmm."

Michael gulped, feeling a little too warm all of a sudden. He figured the fire must be too big. He unbuttoned the top button on his shirt and fanned himself with his hand. Yep, the fire. Too big. Definitely. Nothing to do with the way Maria's luscious lips wrapped around the pickle...and the way she sucked on it, so that not a drop of juice would go to waste... or the ecstatic moan that escaped her throat. He forced his eyes to close and tried to stabilize his breathing.

When he opened his eyes, Maria finished the pickle... and was sucking the left over juice from her fingers... one by one. He watched mesmerized as the long finger slid inside her mouth... and out... slowly... and then the next one took its place.

Maria noticed his reaction and would've laughed at Michael's expression if the way his eyes darkened with lust weren't such an incredible turn on. She moved closer to him and brushed his lips with her thumb.

"Want a taste?"

Michael was on sensory overload. Her smell, her voice, her touch... a sudden warning went off in his head. Damn, she was good. He grabbed her hand and smirked.

"Not so fast, blondie."

Maria cursed quietly but so exquisitely that Michael found himself blushing. She noticed his shocked expression.

"What?"

The words that just left his girlfriend's mouth turned into pictures. Very... interesting pictures, arousing... very interesting reactions in his body. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"As much as I want to push you down on the blanket and bring those... suggestions to real life, I know what you're doing. You're not getting off this easily. Where the hell is my present?"

Maria sniggered.

"Smooth, Guerin. You're getting a present. First though..." her eyes flashed with satisfaction and she sensually licked her voluptuous lips, temporarily causing Michael to forget breathing. "How did you know that mashed potatoes with chicken kiev is like my favorite food in the entire world?"

He coughed, breathing restored in the process.

"You mean besides the fact that you've mentioned that about, oh, I'd say at least a hundred times since the day I've met you?"

Maria feigned shock.

"Woah. Are you telling me that you actually... listen to what I say?"

"Bite me." The expression that appeared on her face reminded him of a hungry cat looking at the helpless mouse. Her lips parted and her tong flickered over her teeth. Michael gulped and quickly rose his arms. "I retract that statement. Please don't."

She snapped her teeth and moved a little closer to him, purring.

"Chicken."

He grabbed her plate of the ground and offered it to her hastily.

"No, this is chicken. Bite IT. I'm an alien. And not even a pure alien. Me no taste good."

Maria ignored the food, nearing him until there was barely an inch separating their lips.

"Oh, me thinks you taste very good."

Michael's head was spinning from their proximity. He breathed in the air she breathed out. Involuntarily his head leaned closer to hers and when he was just about to kiss her... she did the most impossible, incredibly annoying thing in the world. Make that the galaxy. She moved away.

Michael groaned irritably but couldn't hide a smile as the sound of her laughter danced in the air.

"Your present first, spaceboy."

Maria ran to the car and brought over a giant cardboard envelope wrapped into a glittery red paper. She acted as confident as usual, but he noticed the uncertain glint in her eyes.

"Here." he took it from her hands and stared at it. "Come on, open it." He ripped off the red bow and unwrapped it. He dug his fingers inside and fished out a rather beautiful picture of the night sky filled with stars. One of the stars was circled with red pen. He frowned at her and she nodded for him to go back to the envelope. He took out what seemed to be a certificate and glanced over it. Maria started bubbling nervously. "I know how much you always wanted to be among the stars and now in a twisted weird way you will be. This certificate from International Star Registry states that this star has been renamed from 'VulpeculaRA19h50m32sD1940', which if you ask me a horrible name for something this beautiful, to 'Michael Guerin'. You belong to the stars, but now one of those stars kinda belongs to you cuz, you know, it's bearing your name."

Michael stared at the certificate. His lips moved soundlessly because words just refused to form in his clouded mind. This was the most sappy romantic unpractical gift he's ever gotten and yet he wasn't ashamed to admit that it touched him to the core. He looked up at the girl who knew him so well that she found the only way to give him something he's been afraid to even dream about. A star from the sky.

Maria stopped bubbling and was watching her hands with a strange intensity. He frowned and was about to ask what's wrong when it hit him. She was anxious. She was actually worried that he wouldn't like the present. Dummy. He gently traced her face with his fingers reaching her chin and then softly pushed her face up, until her eyes met with his. He leaned closer to her and tenderly brushed her lips with his.

"Thank you."

Her eyes opened wider and her voice filled with uncertain wonder.

"Do you...do you like it?"

His lopsided smirk showed her more than the harsh words, which she knew he didn't mean.

"Well I WAS hoping for some cologne..."

She slapped his arm and growled.

"How did you... never mind. Mental note: kill Max."

Michael chuckled.

"It's not the guys fault. Ever since he's been promoted to 'girlfriend' status, he just can't stop yakking like a..."

Suddenly Michael found himself flat on the ground, the most beautiful and fiery girl in the world saddling his waste, his hands pinned by her much smaller and delicate ones. Her eyes were now dancing with mirth and... hunger.

"You SO don't want to finish that sentence, spaceboy."

She leaned closer to him. Her hair grazed his face but he barely noticed, too busy enjoying the warmth that spread through him when her mouth found his. He was about to drop the last shed of control he had, when another warning flashed in his mind. He whispered huskily.

"Careful, blondie, or you'll break your present."

She promptly released his hands and moved, giving him a chance to sit up, with her still in his lap.

"My present? But you weren't supposed to get me a present. Not that I'm complaining." She grabbed his arm and shook it impatiently. "Well, where is it? Come on, come on, give it here."

He took out a box from side pocket of his jacket and offered it to her with an explanation.

"I wasn't going to, justifiably thinking that slaving half-the-day in the kitchen to cook your favorite meal should be enough. But while I was doing shopping, I saw this doll in the window and I remembered how much you love the movie so I just kinda had to, you know? I carved the thing myself, shrunk the doll with my powers and put it in." Maria glanced at him with confusion and reached into the box. She took out what looked like a flower carved out of wood, colored in whirl of rainbow of colors, and placed on a small wooden stand. Michael reached over and pressed a hidden button. A soft music started playing as flower softly revolved and with each turn opened just a little more, revealing a beautiful familiar looking doll. It took Maria a moment to recognize the song.

She gasped.

"This is... the song is from 'Princess Bride'. And the doll... it's Princess Bride Barbie."

Michael nodded.

"Yeah. I got the idea from those music box things. I just figured, you know, that since you're obsessed with the movie, you'd like it."

He flinched from the loudness of Maria's squeal.

"Like it? I love it. It's absolutely..." her voice dropped to an awe-filled whisper. "Perfect."

She put the flower on the blanket carefully and turned her attention back to him. She cupped his face in her arms and kissed him softly.

"I guess you're not a lost cause after all. See, spaceboy, you can be romantic too."

He wrapped his arms around her small waist.

"Anything for you, blondie. Anything to have our own storybook ending."

***

The End. The song is by Willy DeVille and is from the movie 'Princess Bride'. The star that is mentioned in this story really exists, except its new name isn't Michael Guerin. It actually bears my name and was 'given' to me by my husband as an anniversary present. Who says men can't be romantic? lol

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