evolia kindly offered to pick up a McFly shirt for me at their gig, in case they're out by the time I actually get to see the boys live myself at the end of June (SO EXCITED!). I offered to write her a drabble for service fees, because I'm weird like that. She requested Junes genderswap, of the always-a-girl variety rather than the waking-up-a-girl variety. As I seem to be currently unable to make Harry a girl (for some reason, it's just not working in my brain) this led to more drabble-ing in my always-a-girl!Danny 'verse, which makes this technically pre-Junes, but whatever. Hope you like it anyway!
Danny’s maybe a little bit more drunk than she’d originally wanted to be, but she feels good - a little fuzzy, but light and tingly and happy and like she might start giggling at any moment and just not stop. She doesn’t remember what this club is called - isn’t entirely sure she remembers what city they’re in tonight - but the music is good, and she’s only been inappropriately groped once since she came out on the dance floor.
“Danny, it’s time to go,” Harry’s voice is low in her ear, and she turns, sees him behind her, and grins.
“Hey,” she says, grins a little wider, “where’ve you been all night?”
Harry raises an eyebrow at her. “And you’re drunk,” he says, which really isn’t all that fair, because it’s not like she’s even slurring her words. Not badly, anyway.
“Just having a good time,” she tells him.
He rolls his eyes. “Well, it’s time to go. Tom and Dougie took off a bit ago, I said I’d stick around and find you.”
“Stay a bit longer, then,” she says, because she really is having a good time, and their schedule’s pretty tight for the next too-many days, which means no time for going out at night. She doesn’t want to give this up, just yet.
“It’s late, Dan,” he says, catches her arm and tugs a little.
She pulls loose, then wraps both arms around his neck. “Dance with me,” she says, sways a little against him, in time with the crowd that presses around them.
“Danny,” he sounds a little exasperated, but his hands have automatically settled on her hips, steadying her, balancing her out. “We need to go.”
“Just this song,” she lets the other dancers push them a little closer, grins up into his face when he rolls his eyes again.
“You’re incorrigible,” he tells her, and she’s got no idea what that means, but he’s moving with her now instead of standing determinedly still, so she’ll take it as a win.