Fandom: Monkey Island
Word Count: 632
Characters: Guybrush, Elaine
Prompt/request: tyraarane's prompt "Monkey Island, with an appearance by Largo." Mwahahaha. ;)
Guybrush did not sit bolt upright upon waking from a nightmare. This was because he didn't realize at first that he was awake, and thus had no clear idea what was going on or where he was. But then his brain collected itself enough, and Guybrush knew that although his heart was pounding like cannon-fire, he was most certainly awake, and it had just been a bad dream.
"Elaine," he croaked, then cleared his throat. She was sleeping next to him, turned away, and he remembered that they were in the governor's mansion on Booty Island.
He said Elaine's name again, more clearly, and this time she stirred. "What is it, Guybrush?"
"I had a nightmare."
"Yes," Guybrush said, hurrying before his wife could fall asleep again, "Largo LaGrande was in it. And – " He hesitated, suddenly realizing that maybe she wouldn't be all that interested.
"He was wearing that pearly-white bra and a matching panty/slip set." Guybrush shuddered.
Elaine rolled over enough to crack open her eyes and look at him directly. "Guybrush, sweet," she said, "The first time we met here on Booty Island, you were wearing a lavender dress."
"That's different," Guybrush said, pushing himself to a sitting position.
"I'm not sure how," Elaine yawned. "And it was only a dream. Maybe a bad dream, but only a dream."
Guybrush waited until she'd dozed off again, then slipped as quietly from the bed as he could. Maybe it was just a dream, but now he was wide awake. He might as well move around without disturbing Elaine.
Padding to the window in his nightshirt, he opened the shutters and breathed in the night air, sweetened with jasmine. The grounds of the governor's mansion here on Booty were covered in plants, half swamp, half garden. It was slightly cooler here by the window, but he and Elaine didn’t want to breathe the scent of jasmine all night long, so often the shutters were closed. The moon was a setting crescent.
Okay, so maybe to most people, the thought of Largo in women's undergarments (and only in women's undergarments) was more comedic than horrifying. Guybrush admitted that, here, sitting on the windowsill and looking out over the darkness of the island at nighttime. It was scary in the dream, though. Especially since, yes, Guybrush in that same dream was in the lavender dress, though without the beard he'd worn the first time (first and only! he reminded himself) he'd cross-dressed. And the weirdness and horror had escalated from there, until he awoke.
So maybe he was being a bit silly. Obviously he'd had too much grog at dinner, or he should've skipped the fish – God alone knew how old it must've been – or something. It was just a dream, after all. It wasn't like it meant anything. Guybrush sure hoped it didn't mean anything, certainly. If "the appearance of one of my archenemies, who was also LeChuck's right-hand man, in women's undergarments" meant something, Guybrush was afraid to know.
He decided he wouldn't tell Elaine about the rest of the dream. With any luck she'd forget about it by morning, and he could always claim the same thing. He sighed and closed the shutter. He should get back to bed.
There was the one small comfort, Guybrush reflected, as he returned to his place next to Elaine. Even in the dream, he'd looked much better in the lavender dress than Largo did in his bra-and-panty set. Without the beard, he'd looked downright fetching, and everyone knew it. Which was probably why dream-Largo had declared eternal war on him.
Yep. Guybrush yawned. Better to just forget about it. Just a crazy dream. He snuggled next to the sleeping Elaine, and dropped back into slumber faster than he would've thought.
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