"No, you just have to wait
She said love don't come easy
It's a game of give and take
You can't hurry love"

"You Can't Hurry Love" by The Supremes

Syl and Kathy unfurled the largest spool of velvet they'd ever seen.

The emerald fabric caught the light and shimmered as Syl cut her end.

"Make sure to cut it smooth," Kathy commented anxiously as she watched the scissors move across the material.

Syl did as she was told and they hung the fabric over the metal frame that would soon form the backdrop of their stage.

As Syl held it in place, Kathy backed away to observe, tapping her chin and leaning into different angles.

"It'll need to be gathered on the sides," she said, "and the hem simply must be taken up."

She continued to mutter all sorts of sewing jargon that Syl didn't understand.

A few minutes passed by and Syl's arms felt like they were on fire.

"Kath," she said, "my arms aren't made of steel."

"Alright, alright, just a moment."

Finally, Syl was released from her duties.

She came to stand next to Kathy and together they beheld the small stage Bash had built.

It was only a couple of feet off the ground, but its circular shape gave it a more eloquent purpose than if it had been a simple square.

It was a point of both beauty and trepidation for the Crumbs. As they came closer to fulfilling their dreams of performing, they also came closer to the possibility of failing.

One week, Syl thought, casting a subconscious glance at Smiley, who was on the piano, writing down new pieces to accommodate for his lack of a hand.

Nobody tried to discourage him or dared to suggest he not play. So they let him tinker on the keys day and night, silently praying that he'd come through in the end.

At least after the concert they could stop wondering about the outcome.

"Syl?" Bash called from somewhere below deck.

"Coming," Syl called back, then asked Kathy, "Do you need help taking it to the sewing room?"

Kathy didn't hear her. She was already gathering the material in her arms like a greedy miser collecting gold. She'd be busy for a long time to come, it seemed.

Syl found Bash in the boiler room on the lowest deck, tools scattered about the floor as he worked on the pipes that zigzagged around the walls.

Sweat glistened on his tanned skin, where his dark curls were plastered to his forehead.

He drug his arm across his face and Syl averted her eyes, where she noticed Bash's shirt tied around his hand.

She frowned. "Did you burn yourself?"

"Not too bad." He shrugged, then nodded toward a space in-between two pipes.

"I'm trying to flip a switch in that box behind there to get the plumbing working again," he explained, "but me and Smiles are too big to fit our arms between it."

Syl rolled up her sleeves. "Got it."

"But be careful," Bash said quickly, his tone clipped. "Those pipes are hot." He looked down at his hand. "Obviously."

Syl snickered and reached through the pipes easily. "Which one?"

Bash described the red switch and Syl flipped it.

It was going perfectly fine until Syl was pulling her arm back out. She was steering clear of the pipe closest to her, that she didn't see the one behind it.

She bumped against the hot metal and scalding pain shot through her upper arm.

"Sukin syn!" she spat, yanking her arm out.

Bash swore under his breath and stepped closer to examine the wound.

Syl was almost too afraid to look. "How bad is it?"

Bash shook his head. "It's not terrible, but it's not pretty. Let's go put some ointment on it to stop the burning."

Bash put his hand on the small of Syl's back and led her up the stairs as if she were his patient.

Syl almost remarked to him that she knew where the bathroom was located, but refrained. It was against her nature to be taken care of, but for some reason, it was different with Bash.

They went up to the bathroom in the wheelhouse, where Bash began rummaging through the medicine cabinet.

"Half of this is expired," he murmured, mostly to himself.

"I can do it," Syl offered. "All I need is a bandage."

Bash gave her an almost annoyed look. "Those pipes are bloody disgusting, Sylvette. If we don't sanitize the burn, then you could lose your whole arm."

"That sounds a little dramaticheskiy."

"Yes, losing an arm would be dramatic. Now have a seat."

Syl reluctantly hopped onto the countertop as Bash gathered his supplies. She remembered him doing the same thing for Smiley and Kathy whenever they'd get hurt.

It made her wonder, "What did you want to be when you grew up, Sebastian?"

Bash glanced at her and grinned, his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. "Besides being a rockstar?"

"Besides that."

"I wanted to be a doctor. Or a veterinarian."

"Why?"

Bash unfurled a roll of gauze and shook his head. "It's stupid."

Syl nudged him with her foot. "Tell me."

"Because I like helping people," he admitted.

"Why is that stupid?"

"Because that's what everyone's supposed to say, but I mean it. I like being part of something greater than myself. Music's the same thing. All I do is press down on a few frets and pick a few strings–it's the music itself that moves people. Changes them."

Syl smiled to herself and watched as Bash poured some brown liquid onto a cotton pad.

"This might sting," he warned.

He scrubbed the pad across Syl's burn and she hissed with pain.

"Sorry, sorry." Bash blew on the wound to calm the stinging. "There we are."

The expression on his face, Syl realized, was the same one he wore when he played. A soft smile, crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his motions fluid and quick as if his limbs were meant to do exactly this.

After Bash squeezed a tube of ointment onto a bandage, he looked up and met Syl's gaze.

He held it, just for a moment, the silence between them baited, before he laughed nervously.

"What about your hand?" Syl asked as Bash as he pressed the bandage against her arm.

"It's alright, really."

"Let me see."

Instead of waiting for an answer, Syl took his hand and turned it over.

There was a mark for sure, but it didn't look like it would blister or even scar.

She gave a sigh of relief. "Can you still play?"

"I'll make it work."

"Can you play well?"

"I always play well."

It was then that Syl noticed that they were both speaking quietly, about nothing in particular, neither one admitting that there was no point in them staying in the bathroom any longer.

Their faces were only a few inches apart and Bash's eyes fell to Syl's lips and stayed there.

He drew in a breath as Syl held hers.

But then his features shifted from longing to contemplation. He said, his voice thick, "That night at the pub. Do you remember what you said?"

It looked like it pained him to tear his gaze from her mouth to look her in the eye.

Syl blinked. "When we were sitting on that bench?"

"No, before that. When we were...when we were dancing."

Syl racked her brain, trying to remember. Nothing about that day had been her proudest moment, so she'd done her best to forget.

She recalled the heat in the room, the swirl of people, and Bash leading her outside where the cool air brought her back to her senses.

She shook her head, feeling deep down that whatever it was she was supposed to remember had affected Bash. And it was affecting this moment now.

He leaned away and gave a halfhearted chuckle. "We'll change that bandage tomorrow. Don't let me forget."

"I won't." Syl couldn't help but feel like she'd failed some sort of test. What did Bash expect her to say about a conversation she didn't remember?

Bash put away the supplies and Syl got off the counter.

"I should go make sure the plumbing's all sorted now," Bash said with a strained smile.

"Alright."

He brushed past Syl, leaving her to wonder what had just happened.

Syl was rarely confused, so the sensation was shocking at best.

Thankfully, she was spared the whirlwind of emotions because Kathy popped her head in.

"Syl, I–what's wrong?"

Syl did a good job of schooling her features, but it was too late.

"Jimminy Christmas, did you and Bash just–"

"Stop. No." Syl pulled her hair to the side and exhaled. "Did you need something?"

Kathy stepped fully into view, clasping her hands in front of her. She twirled a red curl around her finger and said, "Well, if you were upset before, you're certainly not going to like what I have to say next. I've been working up the courage to ask you all day because I think it's a dead ringer, but you might not–"

"Go on, Kath. I'm not going to bite."

Kathy looked like she doubted it, weighing whether or not she should say whatever it was she came to say.

Finally, after much trepidation, she began, "You know how we weren't sure how we were going to operate the sound system with us all playing at the same time?"

"Yes," Syl said slowly.

"Well, Jim's a wizard when it comes to technology and we were talking the other day and–"

"You want a Mad Teddy to be in charge of our sound system?" Syl couldn't even believe what she was hearing.

"A Mad Teddy to what?" Smiley had mysteriously appeared behind Kathy and resembled a half-drowned cat with his eyes bulging and mouth hanging open.

"Hear me out, will you?"

Bash was the fourth and final member to stop by the bathroom, which had never been a favorite spot for the Crumbs until now.

"What's going on?" Bash asked.

Kathy held out her hands. "Alright, everyone shut up and let me talk!"

The Crumbs obeyed.

"Jim asked if he could help us with the concert. He swore he wouldn't tell any of the other Teddy's about it."

"Why would he want to help us?" Syl asked.

"The only reason we're having this concert is so we can crush those sorry gits," Smiley added.

"Because Jim doesn't like the Teddy's any more than we do!" Kathy cried. "He's only loyal to them because Greg's his cousin and his parents sent him to live on that confounded yacht. And I don't know how else I can convince you knuckle-headed ninnies that he's not like them and that he genuinely, honestly wants to help. And we all know we can't do this on our own."

Everyone was silent after this outburst until Bash said, "Have him for dinner."

Kathy, Syl, and Smiley all swiveled their heads to look at him.

"What?!" they yelled in unison.

Bash shrugged a shoulder, looking rather smug with himself. "That's the only way to solve this. It's true that we need a sound man, but it's also true that Jim's a Mad Teddy. If we want to trust him, we have to get to know him."

He glanced around at the shocked faces before him and nodded as if that settled it.

"Seven o'clock tomorrow night."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey guys! I was super excited to post this chapter for...obvious reasons ;)

~What'd you think of Bash and Syl's bathroom conversation? <.<

~Do you think having Jim over for dinner is a good idea?

~General thoughts on the chapter?

Thanks so much for reading! Don't forget to comment, vote, and share!