A Dance Thing (1/1)
Title: A Dance Thing (1/1)
Author: jlrpuck
Rating: K
Characters: Peter Carlisle, Lucy Carlisle
Disclaimer: Characters from Blackpool are the property of BBC, are are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary: Peter Carlisle makes a sacrifice for Lucy.
Notes: Written for
ramblinsuze, who won my services through a generous donation to the September Support Stacie auction. Her prompt was,“ Peter and Lucy attend a father/daughter dance (she's around 8-10 years old). Can be uber fluffy, could be a big ol' (funny!) disaster, whatever strikes your fancy. :D”
Many thanks to
earlgreytea68 and
chicklet73 for their beta and feedback on this. Any errors in the story, though, are mine and mine alone.
A Dance Thing
Peter shifted nervously, suddenly all-too-aware of just how tight his collar was. The temptation to loosen his tie was almost overwhelming, and he wondered how long it would be before he could shed his suit coat and roll up his sleeves.
He hated formal events. Abhorred them, even when he was there with someone he loved. He had no idea what bit of insanity had compelled him to agree to attend this particular event; he hated dancing in public, and this was a very public dance indeed.
He felt a soft tug on his hand and glanced down to find Lucy looking up at him, her eyes bright. “Y’all right, Da?”
“Aye, cagaran.” He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He knew, of course, why he’d agreed to come-there really hadn’t been any question of it. Lucy had come home at winter break full of excitement for the annual spring father/daughter dance at her school. It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d not want to go, nor indeed that he’d not be able to travel north to attend it with her, and he’d found himself telling her with mostly-feigned enthusiasm that he’d not miss the dance for the world. And, while he might not particularly enjoy public dances, the fact was that his attendance made Lucy happy-and so, for her, he’d find a way to enjoy the evening.
“Shall we go in?” he finally asked, when it became apparent that Lucy had no intention of going inside the brightly-lit building where the dance was being held.
He was surprised when his normally fearless daughter took a moment to reply. He watched as she swallowed, then slowly nodded, squaring her shoulders as though for battle. “Aye,” she finally answered, punctuating the surprisingly timorous reply with a decisive nod.
“Right.” Following his daughter’s example he squared his shoulders, giving Lucy’s hand a gentle squeeze before starting to walk towards the entrance. Other attendees were trickling in, fathers and daughters in varying degrees of excitement, all of the men dressed in suits, all of the young girls wearing party frocks. He’d been surprised when Lucy-normally so tomboyish-had been adamant about having a frilly dress; Rose had simply shaken her head knowingly. She’d been excited to return home with a dress of satin and velvet, the skirt rustling when she moved; and she’d been excited to wear the dress as Rose helped her to get ready that evening, making sure the fabric was smoothed out to perfection before he and Lucy had left the hotel.
There were signs in the hallway, pointing the way to the room where the dance was being held, and he fought back a smile as Lucy suddenly grew excited once more, now leading him as she eagerly guided them to the dance. The mellow bass of the music could be felt before they reached the hall, the rhythm indicative of something a bit more conducive to proper dancing as opposed to the pounding beat of the music one would find in a club.
The doors to the hall were open, and Lucy led him into a darkened room decorated with balloons and streamers. They were greeted with a smile by one of the teachers from the school; Lucy recognized the woman, and practically bounced on the balls of her feet as she introduced him to the woman. The introduction appeared to be completely unnecessary as the woman gaped, recognizing him from who knew what periodical-although he supposed it was equally possible she recognized him from the family pictures he knew Lucy kept in her room at the school.
“Lovely to meet you,” he said, extending his hand, not wanting to say he’d not caught the woman’s name.
She gave him a weak handshake, then shakily reached for a corsage. “This is for Lucy,” she said, blushing as she handed it to him.
“Lovely,” he said, grinning, taking it before turning to Lucy. Crouching, trying not to wince as his knees popped, he gently pinned the corsage onto Lucy’s dress. “Don’t eat the flowers, eh?” he teased, tweaking Lucy’s nose when she wrinkled it.
“I’m nae bunny, Da.”
“Aye-but mebbe you’re a wee kitty.”
Lucy pondered the question as he stood and turned back to the woman behind the table.
“That all, then?” he asked politely when she didn’t seem inclined to speak.
“Oh! No! Er, you get a boutonnière.” She leaned down, pulling a box out from under the table and pulling out a small red rose. He took it from her still-shaking hands, glancing down to secure it through his button-hole before glancing back up.
“Thank you.” He gave the flustered woman a smile, then returned his attention to a now-antsy Lucy. “Shall we dance?”
Lucy beamed up at him, now elated to be attending the dance, her excitement plain to see. He felt his smile widen in answer to hers, and he laughed when she tugged at his hand, practically dragging him through the small crowd at the edges of the room. He saw a few faces he recognized from various family days at the school, knew that Lucy was passing more than a few of her friends; but she seemed single-mindedly focused on reaching the nearly-empty dance floor.
She was very much like Rose, in that way-eager to dance, even if no one else was. And, just as he always seemed to do when Rose beckoned him to dance, he was happy to comply no matter his personal discomfort.
Lucy finally stopped when they reached the middle of the floor, turning to him and waiting for him to…to do what?
“What am I meant to do, cagaran?” he whispered, leaning down.
“You lead, Da. ‘s what boys do.”
“Oh,” he replied, nodding gravely.
Lucy was tall for her age, but she still wasn’t quite tall enough for a proper dance. As the music changed, he leaned down, pausing in their dance. “How about standing on my feet for this one?”
Lucy didn’t miss a beat shifting so her black patent-leather shoes rested on top of his. He fought down a wince-when had she grown so much?-and happily led her on the second of many dances that evening.
And when they returned to the hotel several hours later, Lucy practically asleep in his arms, he was able to truthfully tell Rose, “We had a lovely evening of dancing.”
~ fin ~
Author: jlrpuck
Rating: K
Characters: Peter Carlisle, Lucy Carlisle
Disclaimer: Characters from Blackpool are the property of BBC, are are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary: Peter Carlisle makes a sacrifice for Lucy.
Notes: Written for
ramblinsuze, who won my services through a generous donation to the September Support Stacie auction. Her prompt was,“ Peter and Lucy attend a father/daughter dance (she's around 8-10 years old). Can be uber fluffy, could be a big ol' (funny!) disaster, whatever strikes your fancy. :D”
Many thanks to
earlgreytea68 and
chicklet73 for their beta and feedback on this. Any errors in the story, though, are mine and mine alone.
A Dance Thing
Peter shifted nervously, suddenly all-too-aware of just how tight his collar was. The temptation to loosen his tie was almost overwhelming, and he wondered how long it would be before he could shed his suit coat and roll up his sleeves.
He hated formal events. Abhorred them, even when he was there with someone he loved. He had no idea what bit of insanity had compelled him to agree to attend this particular event; he hated dancing in public, and this was a very public dance indeed.
He felt a soft tug on his hand and glanced down to find Lucy looking up at him, her eyes bright. “Y’all right, Da?”
“Aye, cagaran.” He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He knew, of course, why he’d agreed to come-there really hadn’t been any question of it. Lucy had come home at winter break full of excitement for the annual spring father/daughter dance at her school. It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d not want to go, nor indeed that he’d not be able to travel north to attend it with her, and he’d found himself telling her with mostly-feigned enthusiasm that he’d not miss the dance for the world. And, while he might not particularly enjoy public dances, the fact was that his attendance made Lucy happy-and so, for her, he’d find a way to enjoy the evening.
“Shall we go in?” he finally asked, when it became apparent that Lucy had no intention of going inside the brightly-lit building where the dance was being held.
He was surprised when his normally fearless daughter took a moment to reply. He watched as she swallowed, then slowly nodded, squaring her shoulders as though for battle. “Aye,” she finally answered, punctuating the surprisingly timorous reply with a decisive nod.
“Right.” Following his daughter’s example he squared his shoulders, giving Lucy’s hand a gentle squeeze before starting to walk towards the entrance. Other attendees were trickling in, fathers and daughters in varying degrees of excitement, all of the men dressed in suits, all of the young girls wearing party frocks. He’d been surprised when Lucy-normally so tomboyish-had been adamant about having a frilly dress; Rose had simply shaken her head knowingly. She’d been excited to return home with a dress of satin and velvet, the skirt rustling when she moved; and she’d been excited to wear the dress as Rose helped her to get ready that evening, making sure the fabric was smoothed out to perfection before he and Lucy had left the hotel.
There were signs in the hallway, pointing the way to the room where the dance was being held, and he fought back a smile as Lucy suddenly grew excited once more, now leading him as she eagerly guided them to the dance. The mellow bass of the music could be felt before they reached the hall, the rhythm indicative of something a bit more conducive to proper dancing as opposed to the pounding beat of the music one would find in a club.
The doors to the hall were open, and Lucy led him into a darkened room decorated with balloons and streamers. They were greeted with a smile by one of the teachers from the school; Lucy recognized the woman, and practically bounced on the balls of her feet as she introduced him to the woman. The introduction appeared to be completely unnecessary as the woman gaped, recognizing him from who knew what periodical-although he supposed it was equally possible she recognized him from the family pictures he knew Lucy kept in her room at the school.
“Lovely to meet you,” he said, extending his hand, not wanting to say he’d not caught the woman’s name.
She gave him a weak handshake, then shakily reached for a corsage. “This is for Lucy,” she said, blushing as she handed it to him.
“Lovely,” he said, grinning, taking it before turning to Lucy. Crouching, trying not to wince as his knees popped, he gently pinned the corsage onto Lucy’s dress. “Don’t eat the flowers, eh?” he teased, tweaking Lucy’s nose when she wrinkled it.
“I’m nae bunny, Da.”
“Aye-but mebbe you’re a wee kitty.”
Lucy pondered the question as he stood and turned back to the woman behind the table.
“That all, then?” he asked politely when she didn’t seem inclined to speak.
“Oh! No! Er, you get a boutonnière.” She leaned down, pulling a box out from under the table and pulling out a small red rose. He took it from her still-shaking hands, glancing down to secure it through his button-hole before glancing back up.
“Thank you.” He gave the flustered woman a smile, then returned his attention to a now-antsy Lucy. “Shall we dance?”
Lucy beamed up at him, now elated to be attending the dance, her excitement plain to see. He felt his smile widen in answer to hers, and he laughed when she tugged at his hand, practically dragging him through the small crowd at the edges of the room. He saw a few faces he recognized from various family days at the school, knew that Lucy was passing more than a few of her friends; but she seemed single-mindedly focused on reaching the nearly-empty dance floor.
She was very much like Rose, in that way-eager to dance, even if no one else was. And, just as he always seemed to do when Rose beckoned him to dance, he was happy to comply no matter his personal discomfort.
Lucy finally stopped when they reached the middle of the floor, turning to him and waiting for him to…to do what?
“What am I meant to do, cagaran?” he whispered, leaning down.
“You lead, Da. ‘s what boys do.”
“Oh,” he replied, nodding gravely.
Lucy was tall for her age, but she still wasn’t quite tall enough for a proper dance. As the music changed, he leaned down, pausing in their dance. “How about standing on my feet for this one?”
Lucy didn’t miss a beat shifting so her black patent-leather shoes rested on top of his. He fought down a wince-when had she grown so much?-and happily led her on the second of many dances that evening.
And when they returned to the hotel several hours later, Lucy practically asleep in his arms, he was able to truthfully tell Rose, “We had a lovely evening of dancing.”
~ fin ~