Work Text:
1.
They were rehearsing for their new play ‘Just Like The Fairy Tales’: a romance about a fairy queen who falls in love with a human (definitely not plagiarised from a Midsummer Nights Dream). It was Sandra’s first leading role in a Cornley production, and her scene partner Max, although excitable and childish, was pretty decent. ‘At least it isn’t Dennis’ she thought to herself, watching as the man in question blindly ran around the studio; trapped in a tree costume with no face-hole.
The scene they were rehearsing was the finale, where the protagonists got married and lived happily ever after.
“And now you kiss” Chris stated from where he was sat on his directors chair a few metres away. Max immediately turned a shade of pink and started to nervously inch forward. Sandra (ever the professional) rolled her eyes at the man’s awkwardness and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.
She pulled away, smirking at the shade of red Max had turned and ignoring the strange fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach…
2.
They were waiting at the bus stop after rehearsal. Max’s car had broken down, and given that he was her lift, they’d decided it’d be easier to simply catch the bus home. It was a cold evening, and Sandra wanted nothing more than to be at home snuggled up on the couch, instead of sat here listening to Max’s rambling. Not that there was anything wrong with him-he was a perfect gentleman- but he always seemed to have this bundle of energy that Sandra couldn’t always cope with. ‘I feel sorry for whoever ends up with him’ she thought as she narrowly avoided getting splashed by the puddle he jumped into. ‘Controlling him would be about as hard as controlling a child!’
Finally having enough when a drop of muddy water landed on the back of her dress, she turned around to give him a telling off, when she spotted a dark shadow lurking behind them. It wasn’t as if Sandra wasn’t used to having people follow her out of theatres, admirers often tried to catch up with her as she walked home, but something felt off about this one. Max was still completely oblivious to the shape moving closer towards them; still rambling on about something or the other. He wouldn’t be able to protect himself if something went wrong, let alone both of them.
The shadow drew closer to the bus stop: the lights above illuminating the outline of a pointed face with a cold smirk. Desperately, she did the only thing she could think of: she grabbed Max by his coat and crashed her lips onto his. The first thing she noticed was that he tasted of cinnamon, like the treats that she had always loved as a little girl. His lips were soft, not cracked and cut like Jonathan’s from all of the facial injuries he went through. A cold breeze swept past her shoulder as the shadowy figure walked past them: not wanting to mess with two ‘lovers’ embracing.
Letting out a sigh of relief, Sandra broke the kiss.
“W-what was that for??” Max asked, sounding dazed and blushing beet red. Not wanting him to know how scared she’d been, she simply smiled mischievously before turning around and saying, “ah look, the bus is here.”
She never mentioned the unmistakable butterflies that flit about her stomach…
3.
Jonathan was ill. He’d texted her an hour before rehearsals started asking her to tell Chris fro him. She was worried about him, of course, but she was mainly irritated. They were weeks away from their TV broadcast of ‘Peter Pan’ and in true Cornley fashion, they were definitely not ready. She wasn’t sure if Max, who understudied Jonathan, even knew the staging well enough to run through it in rehearsal. But she told Chris anyway, who after having a minor meltdown in his office, simply sent her and Max into one of the smaller rehearsal rooms to practice some scenes.
Including the kiss.
Running the scene up to that point went smoothly, but as soon as the dialogue leading up to the kiss started, Max started fluffing lines and missing cues, then apologizing and offering to start from the top. The first few times Sandra forgave him: after all, a last-minute put in was nobody’s dream. However, as it continued, she became more and more frustrated until, when he fluffed the same line for the third time in a row, she continued like nothing had happened, walked over to him, and kissed him.
She felt him start in surprise, and quickly pulled away and walked over to the door. “Next time you want to play Peter Pan,” she said, her tone low and almost menacing, “be prepared to do the whole scene. If you really didn’t want to kiss me, you should have just said.”
And with that, she walked out of the door, unsure of why she felt genuinely hurt but what had just happened.
+1.
Sandra stood centre stage, clutching her bouquet of flowers that Dennis had picked from a nearby field and insisted she used today. It seemed like yesterday that they’d been rehearsing a fairytale wedding scene on this very stage, going over what’s seemed to be the most important monologue of her life, and having to pretend to be in love with some idiot who’d recently joined the drama society.
Now, almost 5 years later, she found herself going over the most important speech of her life in her head, gazing into the eyes of that same idiot. But this time, there was no pretence.
She missed most of what he was saying, focusing instead on the way his eyes shone as bright as the sun, and the fact that he still had that little scar on his lip from when he got smacked by a sandbag a few weeks previously. Then, she noticed that it’d all gone quiet, and all eyes were on her. She took a deep breath, and began to speak…
“Max. I don’t think words can describe how grateful I am to have you standing opposite me here today. The way I feel about you is so immense that I don’t think I can put it into words. The only way to describe it is that you have always given me butterflies. You give me butterflies when you smile at me. You give me butterflies when you wink at me before you throw a gallon of water over Robert’s head just because he said something nasty about me. You give me butterflies every time you hold my hand, or look at me like I’m the only person in the world that matters. From the beginning, being around you has left me a much happier, carefree person, and I can’t wait to feel that way for the rest of my life. I love you, Max. To Neverland and back.”
“To Neverland and back.” He whispered back quietly, eyes shining bright with tears.
“With the power invested in me,” Chris stated (because who else would they want to officiate the wedding than the man who had brought them both together), “I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the-”
Sandra didn’t hear the rest of his sentence, as Max swept her up in his arms and kissed her: pouring all of his love for her into it. She tasted that same cinnamon-y scent that she’d grown to adore so much, felt his smile as he kissed her whilst their family and friends cheered and whooped (it later turned out that Trevor had broken into their alcohol supply previously and was very drunk). As they broke apart for breath, Sandra gazed into her husband’s eyes and thought:
‘I want to stay in this moment forever’