Alphabet Vignettes - P
Title: P is for Prom
Fandom: Original fiction
Pairing: Neil x James
Rating: PG
Genre: Fluff
Disclaimer: None needed. These boys are mine!
A/N: 6 of 26.
“I’m graduating next week.”
I stuff my hands in my pockets, not because it’s cold or anything, but because the back of my palm keeps brushing against Neil’s as we walk, and the temptation of taking his hand right there in the middle of the sidewalk is too great. (Personally, I have about as much of a problem with PDA as I do with getting free candy, but I don’t think that that little old lady walking her dog or that sweaty man mowing his lawn want to see two guys with their fingers laced.)
“What day? I’ll try to make it.”
“Thursday.” I paused for a moment, the next words stuck on my tongue. “You don’t have to come, though.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Neil raise his eyebrow.
“Why not?”
I shrugged, casually.
“I don’t know. It’s not really more important than anything else.” I couldn’t help but add, “Like prom.”
“Prom?” Neil stopped walking and I turned to look at him. “When did you have prom?”
“Last month. You said you’d go with me, but-” I trailed off, shrugged, tried to act like I really didn’t care, like I didn’t cry over it.
“I did?” Neil’s brow furrowed, looking genuinely confused and even a little frustrated. I felt kind of guilty for bringing it up and quickly tried to amend myself.
“It’s fine, Neil, really. Not a big deal. Dad says proms are nothing like they used to be, anyway, so-”
Neil reached out, took my arms and pulled my hands out of my pockets. I started to protest when he placed one of my hands on his shoulder and brought his to my hip, but he ignored me and squeezed my other hand tight. For a moment, we just looked at each other, feeling awkward, but finally - and I don’t know who moved first, but I was grateful for it - we started to sway. I kept looking around at first, but the old lady had turned the corner and the sweaty man wasn’t threatening to run us over in his lawnmower, so I relaxed. I could hear a faint, mumbling kind of sound coming from Neil’s throat, and I almost laughed when I realized he was singing. I have to admit, I did laugh out loud when I realized what he was singing.
“Save the Last Dance for Me? Neil, they played that at my dad’s prom; no, my grandfather’s prom.”
“What are you talking about? They played that at my prom!”
I could only laugh some more, and I leaned forward, pressing my head into his shoulder and smiling this big, stupid grin into his shirt.
“I hope this makes up for it,” he said after a bit. “I'll come to your graduation, if you want me to.”
“You can, doesn’t matter.” And for once, I felt that it really didn’t. Some things, like this - this gentle moving, grinning, laughing, hand in hand on the public sidewalk - are truly more important.