Fluff Meme Fill
“Minnie! Minnie?” Mickey swung his other leg over the railing and dropped lightly onto Minnie’s balcony. It was risky to keep sneaking into the castle to see her - especially now that Sheriff Pete had increased the bounty on Mickey and his little band of outlaws - but after all, weren’t some risks worth taking? It was sort of a moot point lately. Mickey’s whole life revolved around taking risks nowadays, so what was one more? Besides, this wasn’t like anything else, it was… well, seeing Minnie would’ve made a risk-taking man out of him, no matter what he’d been like before.
Of course, all that was fine, so long as he could actually find her when he got here. Mickey drew back the hood of his dark green cloak, stepping cautiously into the room. Walking right into the waiting arms of the guards would be bad enough, but worse still was the prospect of bumping into Minnie’s well-intentioned but extremely loud lady’s maid, Clarabelle. Mickey’d sooner strut right across the drawbridge than have to try and shush Clarabelle, who didn’t entirely approve of young men sneaking into young lady’s rooms, no matter how dashing they were.
All Mickey’s fretting was needless. A few more steps into the room and he relaxed, because there was Maid Minnie herself, looking beautiful (like always) in a silvery-blue gown. Mickey grinned. “Minnie! There ya are, why didn’t ya say sumpthin’? Minnie?”
He had no idea she was crying at all until she turned and startled him with her flushed, tear-stained face. “M-M-Mickey….”
“Minnie! Wha - whatsa matter? Are ya hurt?” He all but sprinted the last few steps to her, reaching out to take her by the arms so he could anxiously examine her face. Minnie shook her head, trying to talk even though all the words came out sort of moist and blubbery.
“N-n-no, I’m not hu-hu-hurt, but - oh, Mmmm-Mickey, it’s terrible!”
“What’s terrible? C’mon, Minnie, hey….”
She shook her head as he scrubbed at her wet cheek with his thumb. “Mickey, you sh-shouldn’t - shouldn’t have come, P-Prince Mortimer says - oh, Mickey, it’s too dangerous! A-after what happened in the forest yesterday - a-all that gold right out from under the Sheriff’s nose - oh, Mickey, he’s furious, and he says that if he ever c-catches you, he - he - a-a-and that’s why - that’s why - that’s why I can’t ever see you ever agaaaaiin!” Minnie dissolved into tears.
Mickey didn’t mean to be callous and unfeeling, but he couldn’t help slumping his shoulders a little in relief, and laughed in spite of himself. “Gosh, is that all?”
“W-w-what do you mean, is th-that all? I-isn’t that en-enough?!”
Mickey shook his head and took Minnie’s tragic, runny-nosed face in his two hands. “Aw, Minnie - I don’t care what Prince Mortimer says. Nothin’ could keep me away from you, an’ least of all a big gangly throne-stealin’ creep like him. Anyway, that’s just his trouble, see, that he’s gotta catch me. Nuts, Min, I thought you liked me - don’tcha think I ken outsmart a palooka like Mortimer an’ his Sheriff?”
Minnie hiccupped reproachfully. “Th-that’s what they all say right before they get caught!”
Mickey wrinkled his nose, even if he couldn’t help admiring her spunk. That was his Minnie, all right, you couldn’t keep her down for long. “Well, I’m smarter’n all of ‘em. An’….” He hesitated, lowering his gaze. “…An’ even if I weren’t, I… I guess none of ‘em ever knew a girl like you. I’ll - I’ll take whatever Mortimer’s got comin’, if that’s what it takes. I don’t care - don’t make any differ’nce.” He looked up at her again, an oddly firm look in his eyes. “I’d take his whole dumb castle apart - I’ll walk up an’ flick that crown right off his ol’ ugly head if I haveta, stick out my foot an’ trip him in church if I gotta, but I - I’m gonna keep seein’ you, Minnie. An’ there ain’t a prince or a sheriff or - or nothin’ at all’s gonna keep me away from you.”
Minnie’s face had been red before from crying, but the colour deepened now into something entirely different. She looked away quickly, clasping her hands to her chest as though that could muffle the sound of her heart hammering in a very un-ladylike way against her ribs. “Oh, Mickey, you can’t - you don’t mean that.”
“Don’t I?”
It was the wrong time, the wrong place - wrong everything, and Mickey ignored it all to pull Minnie toward him and press his warm lips against her cool, trembling ones. She had time for one squeak of startled protest, and then it was too late to protest anymore. That was all right; Minnie didn’t feel like it anymore. A second or two passed, and Mickey drew back to meet those big, shocked brown eyes. He had never done anything like that before. Minnie suddenly wasn’t sure if she was more surprised because he’d done it, or because he hadn’t done it already, long ago. “M-Mickey….”
“Yeah,” he answered, and kissed her again, squishing her hands between the two of them until she unfolded them against his Lincoln green tunic. Minnie closed her eyes. She couldn’t breathe - forgot to breathe until he had already released her mouth again, then she swallowed hard as he pressed a while little row of kisses across her face, starting at her lips and marching across her cheek, her neck, all the way toward her shoulder. “Oh, Mickey, we sh-shouldn’t - goodness - ” Her hands slipped around his neck and laced together there, locking him in place, even while Minnie shook her head. “S-somebody will seeeeee….”
“Let ‘em,” he returned, and nibbled on her neck a little to show he didn’t care.
“Oh my!”
A-after all, Minnie reasoned a minute or two later, when she was sitting on his lap with her head on his shoulder and he was nuzzling her just below the left ear, it was no good arguing with a wanted outlaw.