Long after they'd finished their respective dinners, Seymour and Edna had tumbled to the floor in a mangled embrace, which would eventually evolve into a night spent cuddling and kissing on the latter's slightly lumpy linoleum kitchen floor. This was wildly different from what Edna was used to: the usual "get in, fuck her, get out, never call" method that most of her previous dates preferred to follow. This one was sweeter, tenderer, and much less sexual. In fact, their evening was totally devoid of sexy-anything, which was very odd but somehow refreshing. Seymour, on the other hand, had never had anything even remotely close to a girlfriend before. As a young kid, he was an orphan and a retrospectively self-described "no good street punk," so he had no time to chase such flights of fancy. When he enlisted in the army, there were no women about and he had no interest in men, so it never crossed his mind. By the time he'd settled in Springfield, he'd mellowed out and immersed himself in his work as a principal. Between that and his overall lack of experience with women, Skinner never bothered with love or really entertained the thought of it until just now. Their experiences were so different, yet somehow they fit together like hand in glove.

The evening had been perfect. A little off-beat, but perfect none the less. It was a simple candle-lit dinner between two very recently discovered kindred spirits. The new and strangely matched couple eventually fell asleep where they lay, Seymour flat on his back with the woman he guessed was now his girlfriend curled up on his chest. She faded into unconsciousness comforted by the sensation of two arms wrapped across her back, and for once she knew that the person they were attached to would still be there when she woke up.

When the new lovers did wake up that following Tuesday morning, actually, the day was just coming out of its infancy, drifting out of the "wee hours" and into the "somewhat tenable hours." While Edna was supported through the night by the softness of another warm human body, her partner's back spent the last six or eight hours pushed up against a hard, unforgiving floor. He woke up groaning at around five thirty in the morning. He felt a dull ache in his spine and longed to stretch it and assess the damage, but Edna still slept soundly, perched on his torso in a fetal ball. In some trying maneuver, Skinner managed to prop himself up on his elbows, and despite his best intentions, this slight shift caused Edna to stir. She made a few groggy noises stretched involuntarily, a bit like a waking cat, and blinked. Remembering where she was, she half-smiled and turned her chin up slightly. "Mphf, g'morning Seymour."

Despite the dimly throbbing pain he felt, her new beau couldn't help but smile. "Good morning Edna,"

He ruffled her hair under his palm and pulled himself into a full sitting position, causing Edna to slide seamlessly into his lap. Though they'd only been together for all of two days, they felt totally at ease with one another, and despite having been around the block more times than she could count, Edna couldn't remember the last time she'd had an honest to God sweetheart. Probably not since college. She didn't want to get too ahead of herself, but she had a really good feeling about this guy.

"We've got work soon." A softly droning voice shook her from her thoughts. Glancing up at the digital clock mounted on her stove, she realized that he was right. Principal Skinner was generally the first one to arrive at school, with the occasional exception of Groundskeeper Willie. Following soon after was the rest of the staff, and finally the children at nine. It was six-thirty now, giving Seymour a decent amount of time to reach his destination. Seeing as he and Edna were in the same place this morning, it seemed only logical that they should be carpooling.

Krabappel scooted onto the floor and pulled herself to her feet, leaning on the nearest counter for support. "Here, I'll get started on breakfast," she said, reaching for a pan. She wasn't entirely sure why she volunteered to cook, possibly for hospitality's sake. In earnest, she didn't know the first thing about cooking. She generally subsisted on cold cereal, miscellaneous produce, canned soup, and anything that cooked well in a toaster oven. That's why the next thing she heard was ever a relief.

"No, don't trouble yourself. You made dinner; I'll take care of breakfast." Seymour stood up as well and took the cookware from her hand, stroking Edna's fingers with his thumb as he did. "How do you feel about eggs Benedict?"

A genuinely sweet gesture. The last time a man had offered to cook for her- and Smithers absolutely did not count for obvious reasons- she had been a married woman. This boded well, very well indeed.

Edna drew a bit closer and gave a small laugh. "Seymour, you're spoiling me."

"Think nothing of it." he said, planting a kiss on her forehead. "The food will be ready faster than I can slash the art department's budget-" (so his sense of humor was hit-and-miss. That particular flaw was easily overlooked.) "-Why don't you run along and get ready for school? You wouldn't want to be marked down as 'tardy.'" He waggled his eyebrows ever so slightly at his own facetious remark.

Though she wasn't exactly sure what her boyfriend was insinuating, Edna did recognize this as an attempt to flirt, and she took no issue with that, playing along instantly.

"Whatever you say principal." She tugged lightly on his loosely knotted tie as she passed by, and they both shared a bout of giggling as if either of them fully understood what they were really talking about.

Crossing from her impossibly small kitchen, through her impossibly small hallway and into her impossibly small bedroom, Mrs. Krabappel set out to prepare herself for yet another day of herding small children into a cramped classroom and trying to keep them sitting in one place long enough to cram some knowledge in through their ears. She dug around in her closet, pulling out the usual get up: knee-length green skirt, yellow blouse, green quarter-sleeve sweater.

God, it was dull. Had it always been that dull? Edna found herself displeased, and for the first time in years, she was going to do something about it. She felt radiant today, shouldn't she look radiant too?

'Hmmm. Perhaps a little makeup wouldn't hurt. I know I have some lipstick around here somewhere...' She explored one of her lesser-used drawers, pushing some miscellaneous items around until she found what she was after: a tube of bubblegum colored gloss and a thin ascot of the same hue. Yes, that would do nicely indeed. Now all she had to do was apply it.

The finished product was, truth be told, not as horrendous as she predicted it would be. Edna didn't really care to dabble in cosmetics; she had no use for that sort of thing. Rather, she'd given up on that sort of thing. As she examined reflection in the mirror, making slight alterations insuring she looked her best, the generally dysphoric school marm noticed just how many things she'd given up on, just how little fun she had, just how miserable she all too often was. Especially over the last few weeks, she'd passed the time largely by reminding herself endlessly of her depression, and on the rare occasion that a distraction was offered, her first thought was always something akin to "Gee, I can't remember the last time I got to do that," followed by some slew of cynical inner-thoughts and jargon about how it probably wouldn't work out anyway.

'Huh. What a life.'

As a personal rule, Mrs. Krabappel really wasn't interested in putting all of her proverbial eggs in one basket, but maybe this relationship was what she needed to turn things around. After all, it felt good to be loved again.

When she re-entered the kitchen, Seymour was just finishing up with the breakfast he'd promised, and by the look on his face, it was clear to see that he noticed the woman's festive change in wardrobe, subtle as it was. "Edna, you look even more dazzling than usual," he said, stationing a plate of food on either end of the dining table.

She giggled to herself, pleased at his observation. "Oh Seymour, stop it."

Actually, seeing his girlfriend so nicely put together reminded him that he would likely benefit from a change of clothes. He simply was not the sort of man who wore the same article of clothing two days in a row, even though all of his outfits looked pretty much the same. It was more of a personal hygiene thing. As he took his seat at the table, Seymour made a mental note to make a quick stop at home to change, possibly into something a little more casual than usual. 'Better check on Mother too, if time allows...' He wondered briefly just how his mother might react to Edna. She'd never had to deal with girlfriends before, but if he knew Agnes Skinner at all, he knew that she wasn't planning on starting any time soon. He looked up at Edna briefly, watching her cut her eggs into neat little squares. She glanced up, sensing eyes on her and smiled just so. Seymour couldn't help but to smile back.

'Well, maybe Mother doesn't have to know just yet.'