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☆ The Bowser Mobile ☆
"So... Do you like it?"
Bowser stood beside a purple convertible outfitted with a gold grille. A row of chrome spikes lined both sides of the hood.
Peach bit her lip. "It's nice."
"Yeah?" Bowser pinged one of the spikes with his claws. It made a bright metallic sound.
"It's... nice, Bowser, it's really nice."
"Because it doesn't look 'nice' to me."
Peach shook her head. "I'm sorry. What did you want me to say?"
"This isn't 'nice.' Nice is when one of your little Toads brings you a cup of coffee, and you say, 'Oh, that's nice.'"
"I don't drink coffee."
"Don't change the subject."
"Okay. Fine. You want my opinion?"
"That's why I asked."
"I think it's horrid."
Bowser crossed his arms and flashed a smile full of teeth. "That's what I was going for!"
"No, you know what, I don't think it was. I think what you were going for was 'Look at me, I'm a big badass, tremble before me,' and what you got was an early midlife crisis. You have no class, no taste, and no sense of shame."
Bowser scowled. "Damn, Peach, don't hold back."
"Why are you always spending money on such ridiculous nonsense?"
"You're asking me why I spend money on ridiculous nonsense?"
"Quite frankly, it's embarrassing."
"You know what's embarrassing, Princess – those stained glass windows you just had installed in your throne room. Who puts up a room full of portraits of herself?"
"Says the guy who puts up neon signs of his name on his own castle."
"I thought you liked them."
"Bowser," Peach said, tracing a gloved finger down the polished hood of the car. "Why do you even ask for my opinion?"
"Because I care?" Bowser rubbed the back of his neck.
Peach sighed. "Okay, but why don't you ask me before you spend money on something like this?"
"Because your taste is as bad as mine. Don't try to deny it."
"That's debatable," Peach said, grinning as she smoothed down the ruffles of her dress. "When are you going to take me for a ride?"
☆ Leaning In ☆
"Bowser, do you want to get out here and tell me what the hell I'm looking at?"
Bowser walked through the doorway of Peach's bedroom, still toweling his hair dry, to find a parade of dinosaurs scrawled across the hallway wallpaper.
"Is that a rhetorical question?"
Peach massaged her temple with her index finger. "Explain to me again why I decided to allow Junior in this castle."
"Hey, I tried leaving him with Wendy, but I'd come back and he'd be covered in make-up."
Peach rolled her eyes. "Why does it make you so uncomfortable that your son wears make-up?"
"No, I mean, he'd be literally covered in it. It drove Wendy crazy. Apparently she pays good money for that stuff."
Peach touched the outline of one of the dinosaurs on the wall, and the tips of her fingers came away red.
"Is this my lipstick?"
"I, uh..." Bowser shrugged. "I think it's a phase?"
"This is not," Peach hissed as she flicked her stained fingers at Bowser, "a phase. Not unless your shitty parenting is a phase."
"Are you really gonna talk to me about parenting?" Bowser wrung out his wet towel onto the carpet as Peach glared at him. "Because you're obviously the expert."
"You are such a child. I don't understand how you're capable of raising a potted plant, much less a son."
"Too bad you married your career. How's that treating you?"
A crash rang out from a distant hallway, followed by screeching and the raised voices of half a dozen Toads.
"I hope that wasn't anything expensive," Bowser muttered.
"I'm sure it wasn't. Things tend to get broken around here." Peach exhaled. "Say... How long do you think it will take them to catch him?"
Bowser raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"
"I might need a bit more time before I have to go out there and be a princess."
"You're on." Bowser flashed his teeth in a grin, looped his towel around Peach's waist, and pulled her back into the bedroom.
☆ Polish ☆
Bowser lay on his stomach on top of the rumpled quilt as he watched Peach wave her hands in the air.
"I'm bored," he grumbled.
"It's only been five minutes."
"Peach, we're literally watching paint dry."
"It's nail polish. The oil makes it take longer to dry."
"Why does your fancy finger paint have oil?"
"So that it's shiny and less likely to crack."
Bowser yawned and scratched his nose. "Why does it matter?" he asked. "You wear gloves. No one will know."
"I'll know."
"I don't get it."
"You wouldn't."
"What's that supposed to mean."
"It means you have no capacity to appreciate anything that isn't broadcast at maximum volume."
"You're saying I have no subtlety."
"I'm saying you have no taste."
"And I'm saying you're wasting your time." Bowser pointed a claw at the dresser. "Like that skin cream you wear. You don't need that shit. Your face is fine."
Peach poked at the rough skin on his cheek with her knuckles. "You really don't get it, do you? Some people need to be presentable instead of just yelling at the world all the time. And by the way, you could really stand to trim your eyebrows."
"Leave my eyebrows out of this. All I'm saying is that you're pretty enough without..." Bowser suspended his claws in the air and wiggled his fingers.
"Don't hate it until you've tried it." Peach grabbed one of Bowser's hands.
"What? No." Bowser tried to pull away, but Peach's grip was firm.
"I think red would look good on you."
"If we're gonna do this, I'd prefer gold."
Peach's face twisted into a smirk. "Really?"
"Don't tell me you don't have gold nail polish."
"How would you feel about pink?"
Bowser turned his wrist and placed his palm against Peach's. She straightened her fingers, and he held her hand up to admire her nails.
"You know," he said, "sometimes I can't tell whether you actually like pink or whether you just wear it all the time to fuck with everyone."
"A little of both, maybe."
"Is everything you own pink?"
Peach grinned as she unbuttoned the collar of her dress. "I don't know. Do you want to find out?"
☆ Villainy ☆
Peach nudged her toe against a piece of the rubble scatted across the grass.
"Not again," she sighed. "The landscapers were just here. Now I'm going to have to get them to come back and clean up this mess."
"I keep telling you, that man is a menace," Bowser muttered as he kicked a chunk of stone into the air. "Why do you keep inviting him to your castle?"
"Can you imagine? Holding an event and not inviting Mario? That would be a disaster."
"It's a disaster when you do invite him."
"It's bad enough that I have to invite you."
"What have I ever done to your castle?"
"Are you serious?"
"Fine, don't answer that."
Peach walked to the garden fountain, whose centerpiece had been knocked out of alignment. She removed her gloves, reached into the water, and pulled out a live piranha plant. She grimaced as it began snapping at her.
"Give it here," Bowser said as he held out his hands.
Peach tossed it to him, and he smacked it until it fell limp to the ground.
"I'm just saying," he began, wiping off his claws, "that there's a double standard. Mario breaks everything he sees, and he's a hero. I run off with you a few times, and suddenly I'm the bad guy. Everybody's inside toasting those damn plumbers, but if someone came out here and saw us they'd think I was kidnapping you. How is that fair?"
"Maybe you could try not kidnapping me, then."
"Peach, I don't... Nevermind, we're not getting into that again. But what's that guy got that I don't?"
"A winning personality?" Peach suggested.
"There is nothing wrong with my personality," Bowser growled.
"A handsome face?"
Bowser scowled. "I'm handsome."
"An irrepressible sense of fun and adventure?"
"OH COME ON."
Peach smirked as she pulled her hands back into her gloves. "Do you want to know a secret?"
"No. Probably not."
"Shut up and listen anyway. Here's the thing – no one really cares about Mario. What they care about is imagining that they could be him if they tried. As long as he's around to be their surrogate hero, they don't have any reason to get off their asses and do things themselves. I pay Mario's repair bills because I don't want anyone else getting too ambitious."
Bowser grinned. "That's... kind of evil."
"Speaking of evil," Peach murmured as she lay a hand on Bowser's chest, "no one wants to be you. That's why you can do anything you want, and nobody's expectations can get in your way."
"When you put it like that..."
"What do you think I like about you, anyway?" Peach asked. "Because let me tell you, it's not your handsome face."
"Yeah, well, I'm not a big fan of your winning personality either," Bowser replied.
"Then..." Peach smiled as she stood on her tiptoes to meet his eyes. "We make a good match."
☆ Super Smash Friends ☆
"Hey Bowser, watch this."
"Shut up, Peach. I'm trying to do the..."
HNNnnnnggg... Yoshi!!
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT."
"Yoshi's final smash is really cute, right? I love his little wings!"
Smoke leaked from between Bowser's teeth as he clenched his controller.
"Want to play another match?"
"No. I do not want to play another match, Peach. This is the tenth time in a row you've beat me."
"It's because you always use the same character."
"Sheik is supposed to be top tier."
"Where'd you get that from, reddit?" Peach frowned. "Besides, I don't understand what's supposed to be so good about Sheik anyway."
"Yeah, you never play as her. You never play as Zelda either. What gives? Aren't you two friends?"
"We are, but..." Peach sighed and looked down at her controller. "People always make such unfavorable comparisons between us. She's a warrior princess, I'm a damsel in distress. She's a fierce independent woman, and I'm defined by a shitty love triangle. That sort of thing."
"Peach, hey, come on..." Bowser tried to lay a hand on Peach's shoulder, but she batted him away.
"She gets to fight with a sword and be some sort of ninja on top of that, while I twirl an umbrella and blow kisses. So what? I'm a diplomat, not a fighter, and I don't appreciate my worth being judged by how well I measure up to the standard of 'strong female protagonist.'"
"I hear you," Bowser said as he bent down to put his controller on the floor. "Don't get me started about Ganondorf. People look at the two of us and think I'm comic relief."
"And speaking of looking at Ganondorf, have you seen the way he looks at Zelda? Like they're reincarnated soulmates or something. It's so intense."
"Okay, but..." Bowser used his hand to push back his hair. "He's got a receding hairline. It goes all the way to here, I'm serious."
"But people take him seriously, Bowser. Him and Zelda both. You don't see anyone making inane spin-off games about Zelda."
"I think there was that one? With the rupees? And the big guy in green?"
"Everyone pretends that never happened."
"And besides," Bowser added as he took Peach's controller and set it on the floor next to his, "Zelda and Ganondorf are too busy plotting world domination or whatever to spend weekends together like this."
"Do you really prefer sitting around and playing games to romance and intrigue?"
Bowser shrugged. "There's no reason we can't have both, and I'm never going to beat you at this stupid thing unless I practice."
Peach smirked. "You're just bad at Smash Brothers because of your fat fingers."
"I don't have fat fingers," Bowser grumbled.
"Yes you do." Peach took one of Bowser's hands and stroked his palm, grinning as she raised his claws to her lips. "But that's not always a bad thing."
☆ Super Bowser Kart ☆
Peach drained her glass and let out a contented sigh. The sky was blue, the weather was warm, and all the idiots in her life were busy go karting. As long as she stayed in the shade of her pavilion, she didn't have to worry about a thing.
She heard the grass crunch behind her canvas chair, and she raised her champagne flute to the side.
"Can you be an angel and pour me another mimosa?"
Bowser took the delicate stem of the glass between two claws. "I'm not one of your little Toads, Princess."
"I know. I could smell you coming from yards away." Peach lifted her sunglasses and raised her eyebrows at Bowser, who glared down at her. "If your puny dinosaur arms can't handle it," she said, dropping her shades back over her eyes, "then bring the pitcher over so I can do it myself."
Bowser shot her a dirty look, but she wasn't paying attention. He stepped over to the cooler, removed a half-empty pitcher from the ice, and filled the champagne flute. He sniffed it, grimaced, and then took a sip. His eyes went wide, and a few small licks of flame passed through his lips. Two empty pitchers on a nearby folding table caught his attention.
"Peach! How many of these have you had?"
"Just three, darling. And do try to keep it down, people might be listening."
"Peach, you just drank three pitchers of champagne mixed with I don't even want to know. How are you still standing?"
"I'm sitting, and it's mixed with orange juice and citron vodka. Do you want some? I brought plenty."
"Listen, Peach," Bowser muttered as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, "don't you think you might have a problem?"
"What problem? Running out? Surely not. Now where's my mimosa?"
Bowser rolled his eyes. "You know you drink too much," he grumbled as he held out the glass for her.
"Of course I drink too much. How else am I going to get through the day? These events are hell on my nerves. Who do you think has to plan them?"
Bowser placed his hands on Peach's shoulders and began to knead out the knots in her muscles. "Don't forget I have to do a lot of the planning myself."
"I know you do, and that's why I always catch you eating garbage straight out of the kitchen after everyone else has gone home. After the tennis tournament you ate, what, an entire chocolate cake?"
"YOU CAN'T PROVE THAT." Bowser dug his claws into Peach's skin, and she shivered with delight.
"Bowser, you got icing in your eyebrows."
"Fine. What do you want from me?"
"I want you to know that I baked you a cake myself this time."
"Wow, Peach, I..."
"You can have it on one condition. Mario's incessant cheering is giving me a headache, so do me a favor and knock him off the track for a few laps, okay?"
Bowser patted her shoulders and stepped away from her chair. "I think I can handle that."
"Excellent." Peach crossed her legs and watched as Bowser walked back into the harsh sunlight. It was going to be a long day, but at least it wouldn't be boring.
☆ The Fine Art of Level Design ☆
Peach's phone vibrated on the cushion beside her. Only one person could be calling her at this hour. Against her better judgment, she picked up.
"PEACH, HEY."
"What is it, Bowser? I'm kind of busy."
"YOU'RE BUSY TALKING TO ME NOW."
"What do you want? Tell me or I'll hang up."
"I want to talk to you."
"About what?"
"About, I don't know, do I need a reason to call you?"
"Bowser, are you drunk?"
"NOT YET."
Peach held the phone away from her ear as Bowser burst into laughter on the other end of the line. She dried her eyes with the heel of her palm and waited for him to finish.
"Do you know what time it is?" she asked after he quieted down.
"Hey Peach? Do you have a cold or something? Cause you sound kinda hoarse."
"No, I was just watching a movie."
"Gotcha. I bet it was one of the ones where the camera spins around the guy holding the girl, and he says something like 'you're perfect just the way you are' or some nonsense."
Peach sniffed. "So what if it was?"
"Didn't know you were into that stuff. Seems kind of, uh..."
"Romantic?"
"I was gonna say 'stupid,' but okay."
"It's not like I ever hear anything like that in person," Peach hissed.
The line was silent for a few moments. "Why do you need someone to tell you that?" Bowser finally muttered.
"Is that what you called to say?"
"No, I just, the development isn't going well. I can't keep putting out the same traps, and it's hard to come up with new obstacles when Mario's already seen everything. But I can't make it too hard for him to make progress, cause then they'll send the 'hardcore' assholes after me. The balance keeps shifting, and it's... It's a lot of pressure, you know?"
"It's possible you're overthinking this."
"THERE'S AN ART TO LEVEL DESIGN, OKAY."
"Right, yes, you're an artist, got it," Peach soothed him as she stifled a giggle.
"WHAT I'M SAYING..." Bowser paused to clear his throat. "What I'm saying is that this is taking too long."
Peach grinned. "It sounds like you're saying you want to see me."
"Of course I want to see you! Everything you do is brilliant, Peach. You run the Mushroom Kingdom almost single-handedly, and no matter what happens people are happy there. I've watched you deal with all sorts of weird invaders, and you never lose. You float through the air, you shoot fire from your hands, and you jump up and kick your enemies right in the face, all while never breaking a sweat. You always pull off everything so effortlessly, and with such style, and, uh... shit. I knocked over my beer."
"Bowser."
"Yeah?"
"I have an idea. Why don't I kidnap you next time? I'm actually really good at level design. Just leave everything to me."
"Peach, you know I love you, right?"
"Don't worry, I know." Peach turned off the movie as she stood and stretched. "I've got some work to get started on, so I'm going to get off the phone. But I'll be seeing you very soon."