Disclaimer: I wish I had the ability to write two musicals. As I don't, I write fanfiction. :)

Note: So as Jean Simmons (one of my favorite actresses) died not too long ago, I watched the 1955 film version of Guys and Dolls on Friday. When the title song came on, this idea was born—namely, that love makes guys (in this case, the Jets) do some pretty crazy things they never would have done before. Originally, this was supposed to be a oneshot drabblefic, but Riff just kept talking, and, well, this multi-chapter collection of oneshots is the result. Even though I know I still have an unfinished fic, sigh. Unlike merry christmas with love, however, I'm not making any promises on update speed. This could be done in two weeks or six months. We'll just have to see. :)

Thanks: HedgehogQuill, Megfly, and xXc0okieSsNcrEamXx. :)

—viennacantabile

a john for a jane

one : something of a rover

.

What's happening all over?
I'll tell you what's happening all over.
Guy sitting home by a television set
That used to be something of a rover.

That's what's happening all over.

—Frank Loesser, "Guys and Dolls"

.

He's just looking around to try and find Graziella's stoplight-red hair in the middle of all the people at the dance when a bare arm snakes out from behind a corner, lassos him, and pulls him into semi-darkness.

Riff yelps. "Wha—"

"Shh," comes a sultry voice that he would know anywhere. "You'll give us away."

Riff rolls his eyes. "Pauline, what're ya doin'?"

"You, I hope," grins Pauline, running her hands up and down his chest. "Whaddaya say?"

Riff sighs. Normally, this would be a no-brainer, but he and Graziella have been getting serious lately, and Riff knows this isn't a good idea. "Pauline—"

"C'mon, Riff," Pauline pouts, "we always have fun together, don't we?"

"Had," Riff corrects virtuously, edging away. "I gotta dame now, or don'tcha remember? One-a your friends, if I ain't missin' my guess."

Pauline smirks. "That didn't stop neither of us way back when ya first started seein' her."

Riff shrugs, his ears red. It's true, he knows, and he's not exactly ashamed or proud of it—it is what it is—but Riff really wishes she wouldn't play that card. "Aww, lay off, Pauline. I got places to go."

Her lips curve up and she gets very, very close. "People to see?"

Riff fidgets, looking down at her. Her neckline, he notices, is very low, and is that her bare skin he sees just above her skirt? "'S matter-a fact, yeah."

"Things to do?" she breathes into his ear, pressing her hips against his and tracing a path up his arm with her fingertips.

She's way too close for comfort. Riff sternly puts his hands on her shoulders and forces her back. "No."

Pauline puts her hands on her hips. "That's the trouble with guys who get girls," she huffs. "They never wanna have fun anymore."

Riff shrugs and straightens his tie, a little rattled. "That's the trouble with girls as don't got guys," he says evenly. "They're always tryin' to poach their friends'."

Pauline's mouth drops open—which is honestly not that strange of a sight—and Riff takes the opportunity to make a beeline out of there.

He runs straight into Graziella.

Oh, shit, he thinks, taking in the pursed line of her lips and the way she is tapping her foot. This ain't good.

"What were ya doin' in there?" Graziella asks suspiciously, hands on her hips.

Riff tries a winning smile. After all, he's got nothing to hide. Not lately, at least. "Oh, y'know, takin' a leaf from Anybodys' book an' droppin in an' outta the shadows."

"Uh-huh," she says, unamused. "Whaddaya think I am, dumb or somethin'? You was in there with someone else, weren't ya?"

Riff is not exactly sure how to answer this—technically he was, but definitely not in the way she means. But he has to say something. Riff slaps his hand on his chest and puts on his most innocent 'who, me?' face. "Cross my heart an' hope to die, I ain't never felt more alone in my whole life, Graz!"

Graziella eyes him skeptically, but seems about to accept his answer when her eyes flick to the side and Riff hears a voice he knows all too well: "Hiya, Graz."

Riff winces. Oh, God. Pauline.

"Riff!" Graziella gasps shrilly, outrage written all over her face. "You was in there—with her?"

"Look, Graz, doll, I can explain—" Riff scrambles. "She—"

"Oh, cut the crap," Pauline interrupts rudely, and as Riff turns to glare at her, she rolls her eyes. "Ya got nothin' to worry about, Graz. The kid wouldn' touch me with a ten-foot pole. Not for lack-a my tryin'," she adds, looking him up and down with visible regret.

Graziella is almost as red as her hair. "Riff—is this true?" she demands.

Riff sighs. He still isn't sure how he's gotten into this mess. "Well, for once I gotta say yeah an' agree with a broad. It's true."

Graziella eyes him for a moment, and Riff wonders uneasily whether she's going to shout a lot or just cry, like every other girl he's been with.

She does neither. "Oh, Riffy-poo!" Graziella beams, flying into his stunned arms. "Ya turned her down? For me?"

"Well—yeah," Riff manages to choke out around her death-grip. "'S matter-a fact, I did."

"An' a cryin' shame it was, too," sighs Pauline.

"Oh, go away, you tramp!" Graziella grumbles, waving a hand at her as she clings to Riff.

Pauline shrugs and strolls away. "Wonder where Tony is?" Riff hears her mutter. He isn't sorry to see her go. He only wishes he could warn his best friend that the manhunter is on the loose. All thoughts of Tony are blown clear from his head, though, when Graziella cups his face in her hands and kisses him eagerly.

"Baby!" he says, astounded, as she finally lets him go five minutes later. "Where the hell'd ya learn to kiss like that?"

Graziella smirks. "If ya walk me home like a gentleman, ya might find out."

Riff grins back. "Sure, doll."

And as they exit the gym to the catcalls of the other Jets and their girls, Graziella slides her arms around him and sighs. "You're the best, Riffy-poo."

Notwithstanding the nickname, Riff can't help but smile. "Well, you ain't so bad yourself, baby."

"I mean it," she persists. "Ya didn't touch that tramp. There ain't a lotta fellas who woulda done that." Graziella shrugs and leans into him. "'Least, not for me."

Riff reddens a little bit, and he's glad Graziella can't see his face, because he knows what she means and because it's not as if he wasn't exactly guilty of it not too long ago. There are a lot of things about Graziella that make being with just one girl pretty damn hard: the clinginess, the whining, the loud voice. It's probably why he never used to turn Pauline—or Bernice, come to think of it—down. And he still can't quite believe he's doing it now.

But even with all of that, Riff thinks ruefully, there's something about Graziella. It's not just the sex, though that's great, too. She sort of drives him crazy, yeah, but crazy isn't always bad. Graziella can be a lot of fun, and he knows she just about adores him. She makes him feel like he's the big man around here. Which he is, yeah, but since his last three chicks kept mooning around after Tony, it's nice to be reminded that Riff's someone, too.

"Well," he says, serious for once in his life, "ya ain't just some broad, y'know." Riff chuckles and pats her hip. "You're my broad."

Graziella squeals and snuggles into him. "Oh, Riff!"

Riff smiles and puts his arm around her as they make their way back through the streets to her apartment. He doesn't quite love her. Nah, Riff's still a free man, not tied down by that mushy romantic stuff. But Graziella, he's discovered, is some chick. She's fun. Cute. And she likes him, Riff, not Tony. For this alone, he thinks, he might want to see this through. So yeah, Riff supposes with a grin, at least for tonight, he's doing the impossible and turning Pauline down.

.

.end.

Hope you enjoyed. :)

—viennacantabile