Secret Santa for abarero, 3 / ?

[inversecalico]

Title: The Snuggly Duckling Finishing School of Romance
Written For: abarero
Fandom: Disney: Tangled
Request Written: Rapunzel/Eugene. Post-movie. Eugene wants to get an extra special gift for Rapunzel, but isn't sure what. Cue hijinks and the Snuggly Duckling Thugs helping out. (gift can be for their land's form of Christmas or her Birthday)
Rating: PG for language and mild sexual references

Every successful endeavor needs a plan. Sure, you need to be flexible and able to think on your feet, sometimes literally (okay, a lot literally in my former line of work), just in case everything should unravel and go to hell in a hand basket, but there's really no point in getting started unless you're able to envision how you finish. And that means a successful conquest. Thinking of failure gets you nowhere.

I envision Rapunzel in white, flushed and beaming, adorable ragamuffin hair (I do have to admire my handiwork) covered by a veil that I will toss away when the dancing begins. Maybe a few tears in her eyes, just a couple, to give them that extra bit of sparkle. They can be kissed away later.

I'll be there too of course, in silk or satin or velvet, some luxurious fabric tailored perfectly to show off my fine athletic physique. I'm not quite sure yet if I'll go for somber, regal colors or something as bright and festive as a peacock. I think I'm leaning towards the peacock though. If Rapunzel wants me to be decorative beside her-as I'm sure she must-well, who am I to say nay to giving the kingdom some eye candy?

I also imagine the deafening peal of wedding bells that you feel as much in the ground and your bones as you do in your ears, and the roar of the crowd as I, well, as I prepare to score. Insert rakish grin here. I may be a better man now than I ever was before, but it's not like I'm noble and chaste enough to push down the thought of the wedding night... and various other things that try to come up at the thought of the wedding night.

Alright, enough envisioning! I'm getting flustered, and getting caught like this would be pretty embarrassing. I can just imagine that too-

"Eugene!"

Uh oh.

She's right there. How did she get right there?

To turn around or not to turn around, that is the dilemma. If I don't turn around, her feelings will be hurt. If I do turn around, she and whoever else may be with her will have some inkling of the kinds of things I've been thinking, and I really don't need other people inside my head.

"Eugene?"

Aw, damn, there goes the wobble in the voice. Think, think, think! What are my resources here? There's a distinct lack of rocks to crawl under. A most unobliging ground (floor, really, not that it matters) seems to have no intention of swallowing me whole anytime soon. Invisibility cloak nowhere to be found. Alrighty then, I have no resources. Great. In another life, in another world, in another part of the freaking castle, there'd be nice, waist- or chest-high pieces of furniture right next to me. But noooo! All I see everywhere right now are sunbursts, sunbursts and potted figs.

I lunge and then pirouette with the most delighted of smiles on my face, graceful as a ballerina, precise as a soldier on parade, with my terracotta savior firmly pressed to my hips, and no one must ever know how it pains me.

"Rapunzel, hey! Morning, Your Majesty. Hey, tell me, is this not just the finest piece of horticulture that you've ever seen?"

Okay, that may have been a little too perky.

Rapunzel and the queen slide their eyes slowly from my face down to the fig tree in my arms. Rapunzel looks puzzled, the queen distinctly speculative. I stare adoringly down too, just to complete the image. It is a pretty nice plant, short and densely leaved, and the container's great too, reasonably concealing and not too bulky or heavy. I owe a debt of gratitude to this plant for existing, and I'm becoming the kind of man who doesn't forget that. There's also no way I can put it down yet.

"I think I'd like to keep this one! There's no problem with that is there?"

"You really like figs too? I love figs! Just a few days ago, I saw this dessert in the cook's recipe drawer that I really want to try. They're like these little rectangular cookies, but it's not cookie dough; it's cake. Eugene, they're fruit and cake! I bet they're delicious, and we could make some with fruit from your tree!"

And Rapunzel is now attached to my arm. Rapunzel is dangling from my right arm, and she is bouncing, and she is saying something, and I love the way her face gets so animated and she throws her whole itty bitty body into everything she does, but Rapunzel really needs to step away right now.

"That sounds like a great idea! But your mom hasn't said I can keep it yet."

"Oh, I can't really see it being a problem if you walked off with it right now. We have plenty of fig trees to share with those who need them." Yep, the queen is definitely laughing herself silly internally at my expense. "Were you looking for Rapunzel though? You are right outside her rooms, you know."

And there's that bit of sharpened steel, sheathed in velvet tones. Uh huh, I really should be going now. I can tell the king and I will be having a bit of a manly "chat" together later over this.

Lady, can't you look into my eyes and tell that I'm skulking around because I want to marry your daughter? I'm trying to do right here!

"Did you want me, Eugene?"

And you! You would have to phrase your question that way, wouldn't you? Of course I want you.

"Not really," I lie. "I mean, it would have been great if you were free; we could've hung out. I'd forgotten that it's your special mom/daughter time with the queen. Broken sundial and all that. Just my luck, huh?"

I would never forget that, ever. You deserve every bit of normal, loving parent/child interaction you can get, and I will not be the person who stands in the way of it.

"Oh, well, I could-"

"No! No, don't give up your plans for me. I'm sure I'll think of some productive way to occupy my time."

There's that suspicious twitch to the queen's eyes again. I like her laugh lines usually-family resemblance practically guarantees that Rapunzel will stay a fox for decades-just not so much when those laugh lines are directed at me.

Am I rushing? I'm rushing, aren't I? If I'm not careful I'm going to ruin everything, I just know it. Is my voice too bright? Rapunzel's getting that particular scrunch to her eyebrows that signals that she might be starting to question my motives too.

"Look, I'm just going to take this splendid tree here back to my rooms now. We can wait for it to come into season and the figs just be really perfect, and then we can make those things you wanted to try. And you and your mom can go have your girl time, and we'll all be happy and fine. How's that?"

Puppy dog eyes. Think limpid, think innocent, think worshipful and eager to please.

"You're sure? You promise?"

"Oh, I definitely, surely promise."

"Okay... I'll see you at supper then."

And they're gone, finally. I'm going to collapse right here and just never move again. Whatever happened to the man who only had close calls, who didn't actually get caught? It's her; it's got to be her. She just messes everything up. She messes everything up and makes me think crazy thoughts and do crazy things, and I've just promised to babysit a plant because it would make her happy.

My plans for an awesome birthday surprise proposal are not getting off to the best start here. I'm going to need some back-up in the castle itself, and since I'm right here by my true love's boudoir anyway, I might as well see if any little creepy crawlies are at home.

Of course it's a simple matter to slip into her rooms unobserved now. Let's just add breaking and entering the princess's royal chambers to my long list of sins, and not even the temptation of her inside it. Huh, there's a frying pan right by the door. On second thought, maybe I should be glad Rapunzel's elsewhere. Looks like she's still rough on intruders...

That's my girl! There's nothing like the golden glow of pride for a young woman who incapacitates and takes whatever prisoners she can.

Now then, where's the frog? Rapunzel would have to have a pet that could quite literally blend into the furniture or her person. Crap, what if he'd been on her the whole time outside?

"Pascal!" I hiss, easing my way into the darkened quarters. Her furniture's fairly simple, and I wouldn't really call her messy, but there's all kinds of knickknacks and doodads and experiments in progress scattered across the floor and most of the available surfaces of furniture.

So many places to look, so little time if I'm to make it out to the Snuggly Duckling, do whatever it is I have to do, and then get back in time for supper.

"If you're in here, I really need a minute of your time, pal. It's about a certain princess's birthday."

Ah hah! The baleful glare of those freaky eyes emerging from the brocade of a chair, followed by the appearance of his beady little body, is something that I may never get used to, but at this very moment he has the potential to be my greatest ally. I am not at all above bribery.

"Listen up, froggy, I'm putting together a really important surprise for Rapunzel's birthday, so I'm going to need you to keep her busy."

The chameleon looks distinctly unimpressed. Really? I mean, really? I can't believe I'm kneeling on the floor to talk to a lizard at eye level. I can't believe I'm talking to a lizard, period. (Oh, the things that have changed in the last year.) And he's the one looking unimpressed here?

"Look, you are the best option I have. You think I like asking you for favors?"

Unimpressed changes to suspicious right before my eyes. Who does he think he is! He's not even bothering to hide his expression! Actually, you know what, forget that! How am I even reading his facial expressions?

Breathe, breathe. I like him, I do. He's got the kind of loyalty that even I can appreciate. We even get along most of the time now, and I think both of us could stand to remember that at this particular moment. He's just one fierce little overprotective monster. (Note for Rapunzel: an army of chameleons, that's what our child shall raise! And then rule the world, muahaha!)

"Aw, come on, buddy, I thought we were past this. I don't really have time for you to be difficult. Get this, you love her, I love her, together we can work in harmony and hopefully end up making her really, really happy."

The daylight's ticking away here. He's got that tongue of his flickering away behind his lips too. Ear stabbings from this distance and position are all but inescapable; I won't have the time or coordination to escape. I've got no choice.

"Alright, I'm going to tell you everything. But no laughing!"

And so I do. The words fall faster and faster from my mouth, and I think I must be whining as I proceed through my many proposal failures-"I said no laughing!"-but it actually feels really good to finally get it all off my chest. I quickly spill my guts and outline the whole plan to Pascal.

For the record, he doesn't stop that little squeaking, jerky laughing thing that he does until about ten minutes after I stop talking. Okay, five. But it's an eternity when you are literally counting the seconds.

"So that's the plan. What I need you to do is to keep her busy. At some point, she's going to notice that I'm gone. If she has time to think about it, who knows what she'll imagine. I need you to take those empty hours when she's got nothing else to do and keep her too busy to wonder. Will you help me?"

What the? He's lunging! He is moving way quicker than he has any right to be doing, and it's the whole body, not just the tongue, and he's heading for my face! Waaaaaaah!

And that, my friends, is how I find out that chameleons seal deals with bites to the nose.

Yes, I embarrass myself horribly. No, I will not mention the details.

Pascal's agreement finally obtained-with many conciliatory promises of a meal complete with mealworms and under dire threat of a literal tongue lashing-and potted fig safely lugged down to my rooms, it is time.

To the Snuggly Duckling!

Let's just hope I don't regret any of this.