A/N: This fic is first and foremost a surprise birthday present for Vee. Darling, you have now idea how hard it was to keep this a secret from you; I've been planning this for months, ever since a conversation we had a loooooong time ago, and I was so close to telling you about five or six times. The only person I told was Meg, so that she could read over it and make sure you would like it; she said you would, so I'm really, really hoping you do. Happy Birthday, twinnie; you're the best. :)
Disclaimer: Not mine, except for a few small details developed by LCV Productions.
"On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet."
~George Gordon, Lord Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage
The Monday after spring break was always a lazy one, for everyone was still languorous and sunburnt from mornings spent sleeping and afternoons spent on the beach and evenings spent dancing to the Beach Boys. Velma leaned her head against Ice's shoulder as they walked to school, unwilling to return to the too-long days filled with textbooks and dozing off on desks and teachers who refused to believe that there was a life outside of their subject.
The Jets and their girls would be all gathered at their usual spot by the corner of the red-brick building, the Jets passing around cigarettes and sniggering and leaving rude (and usually misspelled) messages on the wall. The girls would be standing slightly off to the side, gossiping about who was wearing what and so-and-so was actually dating him and good Lord, who did Priscilla Greer think she was kidding, she had obviously stuffed toilet paper down her bra.
Today, however, Velma saw that Riff and Graziella seemed to be having an argument. The Jets were mostly ignoring them (although occasionally wincing at the shrill tone Graziella's voice had taken), but the girls were of course riveted. Ice moved to ask Big Deal what the hell had Graziella's panties in a knot as Riff began to walk away, looking extremely annoyed.
"RIFF LORTON, DO NOT WALK AWAY FROM ME, I AM TALKIN' TA YOU!" Graziella screeched.
Riff rolled his eyes and continued walking away. Graziella stormed after him and grabbed his shoulder, effectively yanking him around. The two began to bicker again as the Jets rolled their eyes and continued to talk amongst themselves.
Velma blinked as she came to stand beside Clarice, who was watching the argument placidly. "What're they fightin' about?" she asked uncertainly.
"Same thing as last year; he won't take her ta prom," Clarice sighed, examining a nail.
"Why not?" Velma asked, genuinely confused.
Clarice glanced up from the nail inspection she had found more interesting than the argument taking place before them. "Sometimes I forget ya haven't been here forever. The Jets won't go ta prom. They show up at the community dances an' sometimes the school dances, but never prom. It just ain't their thing. Plus Tony said prom was the biggest cornball dance of 'em all, an' you know how Riff is; if Tony says it, it's practically Jet-law."
"Oh," Velma said. "Yeah, I guess I can't really see any of 'em in tuxes."
Clarice giggled. "Although I bet Fra—Big Deal could pull one off. He'd probably take me, too, if I keep hintin' how Gee-Tar wants ta take me an' all."
"THIS IS THE MOST SPECIAL NIGHT OF A GIRL'S LIFE AN' YOU ARE RUININ' IT FA ME!" Graziella bawled.
"Ya'd better get some tissues," Clarice sighed.
Velma couldn't help thinking Clarice was absolutely right.
Personally, Ice agreed with Riff; prom, in his opinion, was stupid. While he'd never exactly been to a prom, he knew exactly what the night entailed: blowing a bunch of money on a stupid penguin-suit he was really only going to wear once; buying some huge, flowery corsage for a girl who had spent the past two days exfoliating and moisturizing and all that other stuff to get ready; letting her pin a flower onto the penguin-suit and stand still while her parents took sixty-eleven pictures; going out to eat at some fancy-ass restaurant with a French name that charged him fifty bucks for some chicken that wasn't even half as good as the stuff his old lady made; wasting cash on a fancy ride over there; dancing stiffly in his tux and not even able to cop a feel once in awhile because of his girl's frilly and voluminous dress; and overall feeling like a complete and total square like Glad Hand.
No sir, he was not about to go to a prom anytime soon, and he certainly could not blame Riff for refusing to take Graziella.
He set his tray down beside Velma's at lunch, only to find the girls talking about—predictably—prom.
"I just don't see what's so difficult about goin' ta prom," Graziella was huffing. "It ain't like it's a big deal fa the guys or anything! All they hafta do is put on a suit an' dance. An' they do that fer any other dance! How is that hard? Oh, right, it ain't."
"Give him some slack, Graz; Jets never go ta prom," Clarice said consolingly. She sighed, twirling her spaghetti. "Even if we wish they would."
"Yeah," Velma agreed, sighing.
Ice looked up and stared at Velma, who had now dropped her chin into her hand as Graziella went into a tirade about the stupidity of men. That sigh sounded longing, as if…as if she wanted to go to prom. Though prom was highly unappealing to Ice, he understood that it was practically a rite of passage for girls; attending senior prom was like their transition from girl to woman. Well, at least, that's what Graziella was saying right then, and judging by the way Velma was nodding, she must have agreed with the redhead.
"Well…I guess I could always get Tiger ta take me, seein' as how he's already offered," Graziella said sullenly. "Except I'd rather Riff do it."
"Gee-Tar asked me, which Frankie ain't too happy about," Clarice said, smirking wickedly. "Mouthpiece'll probably ask you next, Vel."
Ice scowled. "Not if I have anything ta say about it."
"Oh, honey, yer so cute when yer mad," Velma laughed, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
For the next two and a half weeks, Ice turned over the question of whether or not to attend prom in his head. None of the other guys, as far as he knew, were going, although Tiger had offered to take Graziella (who was sorely tempted to take him up on the offer), and Clarice kept bragging in a very loud voice whenever Big Deal was around about how many times Gee-Tar had asked her; the only reason Mouthpiece had not gotten a chance to ask Velma was because Ice had threatened him severely if he so much as thought about it.
Velma sure seemed to want to go, if her conversations with Graziella and Clarice at lunch were any indication. Graziella had bought a dress last year, just on the off-chance Riff would ask her at the very last minute (he didn't), and Velma had mentioned several dresses she'd seen at various boutiques that were "to die for." Ice was torn—while prom seemed stupid to him, he'd be more than willing to take Velma if she really wanted to go…but Jets didn't go to prom.
Two weeks before prom, Ice was heading to his fourth period class when he passed by the line of junior and senior boys waiting to buy prom tickets. And standing in that line…
"Big Deal?!" Ice exclaimed, coming to a halt. A freshman girl smacked into his back and darted around him, rubbing her forehead in pain.
Big Deal whipped around, his face paling. "Oh, shit."
"Buddy, what're ya doin' here?" Ice asked, moving towards his best pal.
Big Deal swallowed. "Well, I, see…look, don't tell anyone else, okay?"
Ice stared at him. "Big Deal. Are you seriously buyin' a prom ticket."
Big Deal sighed, running a hand through his messy blond hair. "I know Riff says Jets don't go ta prom 'cause it's cheesy an' stupid an' a waste-a money, but…well, it's a really big deal fa chicks. An' it'd really mean a lot ta Clarice. So…I'm gonna take her."
Ice smirked. "An' this has nothin' ta do with the fact that Gee-Tar keeps askin' her?"
Big Deal turned pink. "A-course not," he said quickly. He cleared his throat. "Look, we ain't tellin' anybody, so I think it goes without sayin' I'd really appreciate it if ya wouldn't spread this around or nuthin'."
Ice shook his head. "No, no, a-course not." He hesitated before making a decision. "Look, Big Deal, if yer gonna take Clarice…I think I'm gonna take Vee."
Big Deal looked stunned. "Really?"
Ice nodded. "Really. Fer the same reason you mentioned; it, it wouldn't be fair ta Vee just 'cause-a some stupid Jet tradition. Only…I wanna surprise her."
Big Deal grinned. "If I know anything about chicks, she'll think that's pretty romantic."
"Don't tell anyone," Ice said at once.
"I won't if you won't," Big Deal parried. "An' look, if you need help with anything, I an' Clarice'll help. Yer probably gonna need it, especially when it comes ta the dress."
Ice groaned. "I forgot about that."
"No worries; what're friends for?" Big Deal asked, clapping Ice on the shoulder as he moved forward to buy his tickets. "Yeah, I'd like four tickets, please." He glanced back at Ice. "You can pay me back later."
Ice had a feeling he'd be paying Big Deal back for a long time.
Big Deal proved to be immensely helpful over the next week and a half; he managed to get Ice a reservation at one of Clarice's many uncle's restaurants in Little Italy, and in a very private corner where they wouldn't be recognized. He also secured a ride from the chauffeuring service his older brother worked for (it wasn't a stretch limo, but it was still a car with a driver that was only charging Ice half of the usual rate) and lent him the same older brother's old tux, which fit Ice almost perfectly.
"What about the corsage?" Ice asked as Big Deal returned the tuxedo to its hanger.
"Well, ya hafta figure out what color her dress is first," Big Deal explained.
Ice paled. "Damn, I forgot about that!"
"Don't worry about it; Clarice's takin' care-a that right as we speak," Big assured his friend, grinning.
Clarice had been tickled to death when Big Deal had informed her on Wednesday that Ice was going to surprise Velma by taking her to prom, and she was eager to help in whatever way she could. Her femininity proved to be enormously useful; when visiting her French aunt's friend's dress shop on Saturday to buy a dress, she brought Velma along with her on the pretense that she wanted to "try on dresses, just fer kicks."
"Clarice, I don't really see what the point is; it's not like we're gonna wear 'em or anything," Velma reminded her friend as Clarice immediately began scouring the racks.
Clarice yanked several dresses off the rack. "I like tryin' dresses on; what girl don't?"
"Yer goin' at those things like a woman on a mission," Velma said, laughing.
Clarice forced a laugh as well. "Guess I'm just used to it. We'll do a fashion show, okay?"
"Sure," Velma agreed. She knew that Clarice did indeed love dresses; she rarely wore the same one twice, and Velma had a feeling that if Big Deal really did end up marrying Clarice, he would have to put a stop to it before she drained all their money. And really, what was the harm of trying on dresses? They did make her feel pretty.
All the dresses looked good on Clarice—they rarely didn't. Velma thought she was acting a bit oddly, though; she kept asking Velma's sincere opinion of each and every one and, after narrowing them down (why she wanted to do this was beyond Velma), asked her to pick which one looked the absolute best on Clarice. Bemused, Velma finally decided that a white, strapless tulle dress was the perfect fit. Clarice's eyes lit up, though Velma was at a loss to understand why.
"Now it's your turn!" Clarice exclaimed after reluctantly returning the dress to its hanger and back to the rack.
Velma halfheartedly picked through the dresses, knowing that Clarice was just going to go on about how pretty she looked anyway. Still, Clarice seemed to be having a ball, and who was Velma to spoil her fun? So she picked a few blue, white, and yellow dresses, barely able to see over the tulle dresses she carried. Clarice reacted just as Velma had predicted she would; she oohed and aahed over most of them, even gasping or squealing and clapping her hands in delight over some. Velma liked some more than others, but nothing particularly stood out to her. She and Clarice were preparing to leave (Clarice seemed disappointed—probably, Velma thought, because she couldn't buy all the dresses) when Clarice glanced at another rack and gasped, diving at it.
"Clarice?" Velma asked in slight concern.
"Ooh, Vel, you should really try on this one!" she declared, thrusting a pale blue one out at Velma.
"But why?" Velma laughed. "It ain't like I'm gonna wear it or anything!"
"Maybe, but tryin' on really pretty dresses is so much fun; it always makes me feel so glamorous," Clarice insisted, shaking the dress.
"Yer glamorous enough without fancy dresses!" Velma said, stunned.
Clarice rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Vel; ya can't tell me it ain't tempting!"
"Oh, fine," Velma conceded, taking the dress and moving into the dressing room.
"Need any help?" Clarice asked.
"I'm fine," Velma said. A few moments later, she emerged, looking absolutely stunning.
"Oh, Vel," Clarice sighed.
As she examined her reflection in the mirror, Velma had to admit, the dress was very pretty; a pale blue chiffon over a white under-layer, it had the effect of looking as if it had been wrapped and secured around her torso. Delicate little sleeves hung from the ends of her shoulders, and the full skirt was prevented from looking poofy or like a clichéd fairy-tale princess by the bodice that dipped down to her hips. If she turned in the light, she noticed, it seemed to give off a turquoise glitter.
"You should get that one! If, y'know, we were goin' ta prom, that is," Clarice hastily amended.
Velma stared at her friend, "You really wanna go ta prom, don'tcha?"
Clarice shrugged. "Don't every girl?"
Velma shrugged as well. "I guess." She turned in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection for a tad longer than she had with the other ones; it was a shame, really, that she couldn't buy it, if only to wear it around her room whenever she needed a confidence-booster. "Well, I guess I'll go change."
"Right."
Once Velma had disappeared into the dressing room, Clarice grabbed the strapless white tulle and dashed to the counter where her aunt's friend was working. "Doriane, this is the dress I'm gonna wear ta prom; can ya save it in back for a week?"
"Of course," Doriane said, smiling as she handed the dress to a younger saleslady, giving her instructions in French. "Has your friend picked anything out?"
Clarice nodded. "The light blue chiffon from Suzy Perette looks gorgeous on her. I'm gonna set it at the end-a the rack; can ya pick it up once we leave?"
"Of course, Clarice," Doriane said again, nodding. "Do you need help with anything else?"
Clarice shook her head. "I have gloves and shoes an' the proper jewelry, an' I know Velma has the right stuff fer her dress."
"Clarice?" Velma called.
"Thanks!" Clarice said hurriedly, hurrying back to the dressing rooms. She smiled widely at Velma. "Ready ta go?"
"Yeah," Velma said, watching in bemusement as Clarice took the dress and hung it very carefully at the end of the rack.
Clarice turned to her, smiling widely again, "Let's go, yeah?" And she linked her arm with Velma's, steering her out of the boutique.
Ice had Big Deal in a full-nelson and was ordering him to take back a comment about Ice's masculinity (or, as Big Deal had put it, lack thereof) when the phone rang.
"I give, I give! Uncle!" Big Deal laughed, flailing. "Lemme get the phone!"
Ice chuckled before releasing his friend, flopping back on the bed as Big Deal answered.
"Hello?" Big Deal grinned at Ice. "It's Clarice. Yeah…uh-huh…well, that's great. What color is it? White? I bet it looks great on ya." Remembering Ice was in the room, Big Deal cleared his throat. "So, uh, since I got Ice here, what color's Velma's?"
Ice heard Clarice gab for what felt like five minutes; she sounded excited.
Big Deal rolled his eyes. "Schatze, we ain't gonna find a corsage that's 'pale blue layered over white with a tint-a turquoise an' possibly a hint-a pink,'" he reminded the other line.
Ice heard Clarice say something hotly.
"Okay, okay, light blue," Big Deal said quickly, and Ice had a feeling he had interrupted his girlfriend.
Clarice said something else, sounding rather snappish, even though Ice couldn't make any of the words out.
"There is no tone!" Big Deal protested. "I…look, I gotta go. I'm not pushin' ya off the line! I just…Ice's here! We have, like, guy-stuff ta talk about. Uh-huh. I love you too. Bye." He hung up, rolling his eyes. "Well, it's light blue, but apparently has hints-a turquoise an' pink. Maybe we'll find a corsage that farts rainbows."
"I don't understand chicks," Ice sighed.
"I don't either, but ya get along better with 'em if ya pretend ya do," Big Deal said, sighing as well. "Well, I guess we'd better head ta the florist."
Ice shook his head as he followed Big Deal out the door; only for Velma.
After a week of agonized waiting, the Saturday of prom had finally arrived. Velma remained in the dark, the corsages were waiting at the florist's, the tux was hanging in Ice's closet, the dress was at Clarice's place, the reservations were set for seven, and the car was coming by for Ice at six; he only hoped it would give Velma enough time to get ready. He knew from Big Deal that Clarice was spending the entire day getting ready, and that they had to go get the dress from her at a time when she was not covered in some kind of exfoliating cream and was properly dressed. Ice was starting to doubt they would ever get their hands on the dress.
When they swung by Clarice's place at four, Bernice was in the process of curling her hair, and she was clad only in a slip.
"Ya coulda warned me you was comin' by!" she snapped, grabbing a robe as Big Deal clapped a hand over Ice's eyes, only letting go once Clarice had securely fastened the sash. "Honestly."
Bernice smirked at Ice, putting her hands on her hips. "Y'know, Ice, if Velma don't feel like goin', I'll be yer date."
"In yer dreams," Clarice scoffed before Ice could form a response, reaching into her closet and carefully extricating the professionally-wrapped dress. "Now be careful; I'm only borrowing this dress from a very good family friend, an' she'll hafta sell it someday, so don't let anything happen to it."
"I'll guard it with my life," Ice promised.
Clarice hesitated before saying shyly, "This is very romantic, Ice. Velma sure is a lucky girl."
Big Deal looked indignant. "Oh, an' I suppose just any guy woulda broken Jet tradition an' taken you ta prom? Maybe I oughta let Ice take ya, since he's so romantic an' all that."
"Yer the man-a my dreams," Clarice assured him glibly, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a very affectionate kiss. "Now go get those corsages before they get thrown out."
Ice felt very awkward as he returned home carrying a dress, a corsage, and a boutonniere (they had had to pick one out for him, too, since Velma had no foreknowledge and therefore would not be able to provide him with one). He certainly received a few stares, but some people who had to be parents winked and said, "Prom, eh?" He had to resist the urge to shove his boutonniere in their faces.
When the car pulled up at six, Ice had showered, shaved, and dressed, taking great pains to look as neat as possible. His mother stared as he walked out of his room, feeling extremely awkward. "Just where are ye goin', then?"
"Prom," Ice said gruffly.
Mrs. Kelly said nothing, only shook her head and continued sewing a button back onto her dress.
"Here goes nuthin'," Ice sighed to himself, sincerely hoping he would not regret this. He shut the car door and it took off into the night.
"Schatze, you look amazing," Big Deal said as he helped Clarice into the car—Lord knew she needed it, what with that tulle skirt. He was about to go blind from all the pictures Mr. and Mrs. Gambini had snapped; he was pretty sure that if they put all the photos of him attaching the corsage to Clarice's wrist and she pinning the boutonniere to his lapel in a book, if someone were to flip through the pages quickly enough, it would look more like a movie than a photo album.
"You look pretty gorgeous yerself," Clarice told him, giggling. She bounced up and down in her seat. "Oh, Frankie, this is so exciting! I wonder if we'll see Ice an' Velma at the restaurant?"
"Probably not; we both have private tables where we won't be seen," Big Deal reminded her. "An' anyway, I'm sure you an' Velma will make about fifty trips ta the powder room like ya always do."
"We do not!" Clarice chided him, even though she knew it was true. "Oh, I wonder if Ice's gotten there yet? I wish I could see her face!"
When someone knocked on the door at a few minutes after six, Velma bemusedly went to answer it; her family had gone out to eat, but Velma just didn't feel like leaving the house tonight. She was shocked to find Ice standing there, wearing a tuxedo, of all things, and holding what she was afraid was a dress in a bag (funny, the name of the boutique she and Clarice had gone to last week was written on the bag) and holding two boxes of flowers. "Ice! What're you…what're ya doin'?"
Ice smiled. "I'm takin' ya ta prom."
Velma stared for so long that Ice's smile slipped. "Is somethin' wrong?" he asked.
"Ice…Jets don't go ta prom."
Ice sighed. "I know they don't, but, well, I figured that it couldn't hurt, an' it's just one night, really…"
"Do you wanna go ta prom?" Velma asked tentatively.
Ice hesitated. "Well, I mean…"
"I figured," Velma said, letting him in and latching the door behind him. "'Cause the truth is, Ice, I don't wanna go either."
Ice stared at her for so long that she became the uncomfortable one. "Ya…ya don't?"
Velma shrugged. "Not really. I don't feel like gettin' all dolled up ta go dance when we can do that anytime."
"But…but you kept nodding an' agreeing whenever Graziella said something about prom!" Ice said, utterly confused.
"Well, sure; that's what girls do when their friends're upset," Velma explained gently.
Ice looked very annoyed, throwing the dress and corsage and boutonniere on the couch as he muttered darkly about, "Prom…Big Deal…Clarice…stupid…corsage…dress…tuxedo…damn waste-a time…"
Velma furrowed her brow. "What?"
Ice sighed. "I thought ya wanted ta go, 'cause I know how girls are about prom, an' Big Deal's takin' Clarice—secretly—an' so he was helpin' me get a tux an' reservations an' a ride an' a corsage an' he got Clarice ta take you dress-shoppin'…"
Velma grinned. "Aww, Ice, honey, didja really do all that fer me?"
Ice looked surprised. "Well a-course I did; yer one helluva girl, Vee."
Velma beamed, winding her arms around his neck. "An' yer one helluva guy, Ice." She kissed him sweetly before pulling back. "But I don't much like ya in a tux."
Ice grinned. "Maybe I should take it off."
"Maybe ya should," Velma agreed, pulling him to her bedroom, where they proceeded to do just that.
Big Deal glanced around the room full of decked-out teenagers and tacky paper-chains, frowning. "Ice should be here by now, unless he's one helluva slow eater."
"Stop worryin' about it, daddy-o," Clarice said. "You have a stunning woman in front-a ya an' it's like ya don't even notice!"
Big Deal grinned down at her, tightening his arm around her waist. "Oh, believe me, Schatze, I've noticed."
"Good," Clarice declared, resting her head on his chest (carefully avoiding the boutonniere, though). After a moment, her head lifted, and she let out a shrill squeal that made several teenagers nearby clamp their hands over their ears. "Oh my God, Riff an' Graziella are here!"
Big Deal whipped around, his mouth falling open as he saw that Graziella, adorned in the frilliest pink dress he had ever seen, toted behind her an extremely grudging Riff, who was wearing what had to be his nicest suit (it seemed that he had refused to wear a tux). Graziella's dress was so flouncy, in fact, that she reminded Big Deal strongly of his sister's wedding cake. Riff, Big Deal was amused to see, was sporting a boutonniere that was roughly the size of his head and pink—no doubt to match Graziella's dress. Her own corsage was massive, and Big Deal had a feeling that Riff was none too happy with this. Still, Riff allowed Graziella to place one of his arms around her waist, wind one of her arms around his shoulders, and hold his left hand with her right, snuggling her head onto his chest. He rolled his eyes but patiently swayed to the music.
"So much fer Jet tradition," Big Deal said wryly.
Clarice laughed.