A/N: Wow. Okay. I don't know if this is any good or not. I wrote this at about eleven at night and it just sort of...happened. It turned out a bit rambling, but it might be okay. Anywhom, review and tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: Hairspray not mine. And neither is Romeo & Juliet, for the record.

They staggered merrily through the door of the middle class motel on the corner of Fourth and Fremont Street, the girl giggling all the while. They stumbled through the lobby to the desk, where the receptionist looked to exhausted to say anything to the giddy couple in front of her.

"A room, please," the man asked, drumming the fingers of his right hand on the desk counter, his left arm still wrapped tightly around the girls waist. She continued to giggle as she kissed his cheek repetitively, trailing kisses all the way down his jawbone to his neck, never removing her arms from their place laced around his neck. The receptionist nodded, pulling the key to Room Twelve, which happened to be one of the few open rooms left, off the hook and dropping it on the counter.

"And how long will you need the room?" she asked dully.

"Only a little while."

"Corny!" the girl practically shrieked, playfully shoving his shoulder. "I do have a curfew!" She laughed and pulled herself closer to him. The receptionist fought back the urge to sigh.

"Right. So you won't need any bags brought up?"

The couple paused and looked at each other for a brief moment, eyebrows arched before collapsing into fresh fits of laughter.

"No," the girl gasped. "We'll be fine, thanks."

And with that they snatched up the key and staggered up the small stairwell to Room Twelve, kissing and laughing all the way up as they tried to maneuver the painfully cramped stairs and still keep their hands on each other at all times.

"Here, right here," he choked out between kisses, pressing the key into the lock and swinging the door open. They stumbled through the door and into the plain room. There was nothing special about Room Twelve, yet nothing un-appealing. He felt around on the wall for the light switch, still trying to keep one arm wrapped around the girl.

"No, Corny," she whispered. "Leave it."

"Wait, Bren. I want to see you." His hand finally grasped the light switch and flicked it on, revealing drab yellow wallpaper, white whicker dressers and a cheap drawing of a grinning ballerina hanging on the far wall.

"Okay," the girl, Bren, said taking a step away from the man, Corny she'd called him. Her red lipsticked lips turned up into a grin as she slid off her pale blue sweater. Bren's hair had already been mussed up, and her make-up was already smudged, she could tell by the lipstick traces on Corny's face. He returned her smile as he pulled off his tie and discarded it on the ground by his feet, followed by his suit jacket. Before either of them could say another word they were in each other's arms again, pressed firmly against the wall. Bren's breathless laughter subsided into soft giggles as the moved hastily from the right wall to the left, knocking over the desk chair, a lamp and the empty trashcan and brushing up against the painting of the ballerina, causing her to hang crocked.

Part of the fun in this, at least for Bren, was to make their point, their mark, to prove that they'd been there. She'd learned in art class that part of the reason cave people put their handprints on the walls of their caves was to prove their existence. Sure, this wasn't exactly the same thing. But it was as close as Bren got, and she was going to take it. Not to mention who she was here with. It wouldn't be the same if she were here with Fender, or Jesse, or any of the other council boys. There mere fact that she was here with the Corny Collins made it that much better. That Bren had the capability to catch his eye in the first place was a feat that she was proud of, and then to act on it…something about it all made her feel more mature then the time her mother took her high heel shopping when she was thirteen. And then how they had to keep their flings secret. It was sneaky, it was secret and it was forbidden and that's what made it so attractive. That made him more perfect and unattainable then he had been before, and Bren had done the impossible in the eyes of her peers. She had attained Corny Collins; he was hers. Forbidden had never been so right, nor tasted so sweet to Bren.

She remembered reading Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet in English last year. She hadn't really paid much attention, but apparently Romeo and Juliet's families were rivals, and thus they couldn't be together. Bren thought she now knew what Juliet was thinking. Perhaps it wasn't Romeo himself that was so attractive, but the fact that she couldn't have him, that they weren't allowed to be together, that drew Juliet in. Juliet could have any pick of anyone she wanted to marry, and she even had Paris right there for her, and yet she chose the one man she couldn't have to be hers. It was rebellious, it was wrong, it was forbidden and they still carried on, because they wanted to. Freedom just tasted so sweet. Juliet was a smart girl, in Bren's opinion, even if she did end up dead.

Bren pulled away from Corny as the couple collapsed on the bed. Somewhere along the way she'd lost a shoe, and he looked like he was missing the top button on his dress shirt.

"You're gorgeous," he whispered fiercely.

"Why, thank you. As are you."

He nodded and leaned in again for another kiss. Bren shook her head.

"I really should be going," she said, rolling off the bed and collecting her things from the floor. "Like I said, I have a curfew to make. I know I'll already be late, but I'd rather face the parent's wrath sooner rather then later."

Corny sighed and nodded again.

"Well. I'll pay for the room; it shouldn't be that much since we didn't spend the night. And…I guess I'll see you Monday at the show."

"You most definitely will, Mr. Collins," Bren drawled, dropping and over dramatic curtsy and blowing him a kiss before slipping out of the room.

Yes, Romeo was certainly an attractive enough man, but it was the star crossed lovers aspect that truly reeled Juliet in. Because nearly no girl could resist what was forbidden.