Note: I don't own Four Brothers or Dancing Queen by ABBA

This Magic Moment

You can dance, you can jive

Having the time of your life

Angel admired his reflection.

He looked good. And if he wasn't such a modest guy, he'd even say he looked fine. It wouldn't be a lie.

His hair was perfect - and it should be after the small fortune he'd dropped at the salon earlier that day. Normally, he'd settle for the barbershop down the street, but he wasn't about to put the most important night of his life in the hands of some guy who was a little too careless with the clippers and not up on the latest styles.

Whistling softly to himself, he walked over to his bed and picked up his suit jacket. His friends weren't arriving with the limo for another hour or so, but he couldn't resist trying on the jacket one more time. Tugging the sleeves down, he moved his wrists from side to side, admiring the fake diamond studs that were in the button holes. Most guys went for the huge, flashy stuff, but he was more subtle than that.

He smoothed the lapel down and gave the long tails in the back a little flip. The navy blue really looked great on him, very classy and smooth.

Leaning closer to the mirror and flashing a huge smile; he thought to himself that there was no way he wasn't going to get lucky tonight.

"Angel, honey," his mom called up the stairs.

"What, Ma? I'm getting ready," he answered as he reached over and grabbed the cane he'd bought to go along with the suit. Jerry tried to talk him into a top hat, but he thought that would be too much. The cane was just the right touch.

"Come down for a minute. I want to show you a couple of dance moves. Trust me on this, sweetie. It's the prom. Your date is going to want you to know a couple of steps besides that bumping and grinding stuff."

Angel winced at the phrase 'bumping and grinding' coming out of his mother's mouth. Somethings just should never be spoken out loud by a white woman in her fifties and that was one of them.

"Ma, the only moves I'll be making won't be on the dance floor," Angel called down from his room.

XxXxXxXxX

"Angel Mercer, that's not funny," Evelyn answered as she stood at the bottom of the stairs.

"But it's true," Jack mumbled from his seat in on the floor, inches away from the television screen. His headphones were dangling around his neck, blasting the Pearl Jam tape he always listened to while playing video games. He was at a tricky part of his favorite game right now, a level he always wound up getting wasted on.

"I know it's true, Jackie; but he doesn't need to know that I know it's true," his mom said with a conspiratorial wink.

Jack grinned as he looked back at the screen, his fingers not stopping once because he'd practically memorized the moves from playing the game so many times. It was just the last part of this level that was tricky, but he could tell he was in the groove now. He was actually going to beat the boss this time and get to the next level. He felt excitement bubbling up inside of him, but he had to keep it under control and not lose his concentration. One little mistake and --

"Shit," Jack groaned and dropped the controller on the floor, watching as "GAME OVER" filled the screen. Evelyn glanced his way, raising an eyebrow at the curse word, but she didn't say anything. She'd long since given up on trying to control what came out of her sons' mouths, and it wasn't like she had room to talk. Jack had heard her curse lots of times and even picked up a phrase or two that he hadn't thought of.

Sighing, he turned off the Nintendo, flopped on the couch and pulled his headphones on over his ears, turning the volume all the way up on his battered Walkman.

He watched as Evelyn went over to her stack of records and started flipping through them, stopping every once in a while to pull one out and take a look at the list of songs on the back. Jack could tell what most of the records were just by glancing at the album art. He'd never even heard of most of it when he moved in with them, but that quickly changed once Evelyn realized how much he loved music.

She'd sit on the floor with him and pull out record after record and play her favorite songs for him. She really liked the peace and love stuff from the Sixties. It wasn't bad, but he would always beg her to put on The Doors, Zeppelin, or Pink Floyd. She even had a Sex Pistols album, but that had been upstairs in his room, propped up on his bookshelf, ever since she realized he liked that one a lot more than she did.

"Aha," Evelyn exclaimed as she triumphantly pulled out what she was looking for. Jack pulled his headphones off and narrowed his eyes as he read the title.

"He's not gonna like that one," he said.

"Too bad," she said with a grin. "He's giving me a hard time, so I'm going to give him one right back."

She carefully picked up the record that was currently on the player - Marvin Gaye, one of Angel's favorites - and put it back in its sleeve. She replaced it with the new one, clicking the arm into place as the record remained suspended over the turntable, waiting for her to click the switch and start it spinning.

Evelyn returned to her station at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the knewl post. "Angel," she called for the second time and Jack shook his head in amusement, imagining the scene he was about to witness. His brother liked to claim he was smooth and had all the right moves, but if Angel danced anything like he wrestled, then his date's toes were going to be black and blue by the end of the first dance. And he'd be pinned to the floor in seconds flat.

Angel finally appeared at the top of the stairs. "Coming," he announced as he hitched his jacket over one shoulder and twirled a cane with his free hand.

Evelyn let out a low whistle as he made his way down the stairs. "You clean up nice, sweetheart." She kissed him on the cheek when he got to the bottom and he grinned.

She tugged gently on his bowtie, straightening it out. She'd already tied it three times for him because his fidgeting caused it to unravel. Smoothing his shirt over his broad shoulders, she shook her head. "Who would have believed this day would come?"

"What day, Ma?" Angel asked.

"This. You - a senior in high school, dating a nice girl, going to the prom, about to graduate, maybe head to college."

Angel laughed. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Evelyn made a tsking sound. "You will graduate; mark my words on that one."

"Well, about college …" he started and Evelyn continued to smooth his shirt over his shoulders with a little more force than necessary.

"I told you how I feel about your plans." Her voice had grown tight and Angel looked her in the eye, his gaze steady and sure.

"The Marines would be a great –"

"I know, a great opportunity," she finished for him with considerably less enthusiasm than he had. Jack knew how much it bugged her that Angel wanted to join the military when he graduated. Stuff like that worried her. Hell, stuff like that worried him and he'd only known Angel for a little over a year.

"And what's this 'nice girl' stuff?" Angel said with a forced laugh, changing the topic before it turned into a debate. "I thought you didn't like Sofi?"

"I just don't like how often she comes over to help you with your laundry," Evelyn said with a raised eyebrow and Angel had the good sense to blush and look down as his shoes.

"She's good for you, honey." She took his jacket from him and hung it up on the coat rack, making sure not to get any wrinkles in it. "You need a strong woman in your life, someone that can keep you on your toes and maybe boss you around a little bit."

"She doesn't boss me around," Angel argued and Jack snorted in disbelief.

"She does not boss me around," he repeated steadily, his jaw clenching.

Evelyn patted him on the arm as she walked past him, headed for the kitchen. "Whatever you say, sweetheart, whatever you say."

Angel walked over to the couch and motioned for Jack to sit up so he could have room to sit down. He balanced on the edge of the cushion, obviously trying not to mess up his perfectly pressed pants. Jack made a face as he looked at Angel's outfit. He'd never seen fabric so shiny before on a guy, the tie was a little silly, and the cummerbund looked like it was some sort of torture device that served no purpose he could come up with. He had a vague idea of what a prom was and figured that if something took more than five minutes to get ready to go to it, then it really wasn't worth it.

Angel sat his cane on the coffee table and Jack reached over and grabbed it. "What in the world are you gonna do with this thing?" He held it out and swung it back and forth like a sword, wincing as it connected with the candy dish and knocked it over, scattering peppermints all over the table.

Glancing toward the direction of the kitchen, Angel took the cane from Jack and winked. "This is what you do with this thing, Jackiepoo." He was slowly unscrewing the silver handle and when he was through, he pulled on it, separating it from the wooden part. He was holding a shiny cylinder with a cap on one end. Angel took that off and handed the container to Jack who took a quick sniff of it, not exactly surprised to smell alcohol.

"I picked up the corsage on the way home from work," Evelyn announced from the kitchen. "Is her dress really this shade of orange?"

"Shit," Angel said as he grabbed the flask from Jack, spilling some in his haste to get the lid screwed back on and the cane reassembled. He was propping it up against the table just as Evelyn came back into the room, a clear plastic box in her hand. She handed it to him and he glanced at the flowers and mumbled a thank you before he sat the box on the table.

Evelyn remained standing next to that the couch, looking down at her son, an expectant look on her face. Angel kept smoothing his shirt, readjusting the cuffs, and running his fingers down the crease in his pants. He was doing everything but acknowledging his mother, who he had to know was standing right there, staring at him.

Jack shifted slightly in his seat, feeling a bit uncomfortable even though he wasn't the one under scrutiny. The tape he was listening to suddenly clicked to a stop and he jumped slightly; he hadn't realized the song was near the end. Carefully, as though any sudden movements would upset the delicate balance that had been struck between his brother and mother, he eased the cover and open and turned the tape over, holding his breath as he pressed the play button, certain everyone in the room could hear the click.

As if on cue, Evelyn clapped her hands together, a big grin on her face. "Okay, lesson number one," she started and Angel groaned.

"Ma, I got dance moves. No need to worry."

"It never hurts to be prepared. And no offence, sweetheart, but I've seen you dance …" her voice trailed off as she walked over to the record player. Curious, Jack lowered the volume of his Walkman. It wouldn't hurt to listen in.

"Things have changed a bit since the forties," Angel said with a laugh and Evelyn shook her head, mumbling something under her breath about him being a 'smartass'.

The record started, filling the room with a disco beat and Angel's eyes narrowed. "What the hell is this?"

"ABBA," Jack answered, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be pretending that he couldn't hear over his own music.

"Huh?" Angel looked really confused.

"They're Swedish," Jack said without thinking.

"Thanks for the geography lesson, Jackiepoo. They suck, whoever they are."

Jack shrugged.

"It doesn't hurt to broaden your horizons, listen to new things every once in a while," Evelyn said as she stepped up to him.

"Broadening my horizons doesn't mean listenin' to some Polish –"

"Swedish," Jack corrected him.

"Chick sing about some dude named Ferdinand."

"Fernando," Jack offered dryly.

"When the fuck did you turn into the Top Forty Countdown?" Angel growled as he slowly stood up, his movements sluggish, as though an invisible force was anchoring him to the couch.

Evelyn swatted him on the arm. "Stop picking on your brother."

Without any preamble, she picked up his arm and placed it on her shoulder and Angel rolled his eyes. She grabbed his other hand and placed it on her waist.

"Now you take a step forward …" Which he did before she finished her instructions, stepping squarely on her foot.

She jumped away from him, hopping slightly on one foot. "Sonofa …," she exclaimed in a rush and Jack suddenly laughed. That laughter was his downfall as her eyes locked squarely with his.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, not really liking the gleam that had entered his mother's eyes.

XxXxXxXxX

Jack stared at the ceiling, trying to will himself to wake up from the nightmare he was clearly trapped in, but it wasn't working.

He was standing in the family room with his eighteen year old brother, helping him learn how to dance before he had to leave for the prom. They looked utterly ridiculous – there was no way they didn't. And the Swedish disco music wasn't helping.

He was starting to wonder if he'd made the wrong decision in abandoning his plans to run away.

"Now Angel, remember, you're leading," Evelyn explained and Jack sighed but everyone ignored him. "Take a step forward."

Pain lanced through Jack's foot. "Ow, man. How many times …"

"Sorry, kid," Angel offered with a shrug.

"Whatever," Jack mumbled. "Let's just get this over with before it gets any worse."

Just then three things happened that made Jack think that God had a pretty fucked up sense of humor. First, the front door swung open. Then Angel stepped forward and Jack stepped back, actually following his lead for once. And finally, the song they had been listening to came to an end and the opening notes of "Dancing Queen" came on, filling the room.

"Hey, Ma, I'm home," Bobby announced as he stepped through the door and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Crap," Jack groaned, wishing he could just disappear.

"Shit." Angel's stricken expression mirrored his own.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Bobby's mouth was hanging open and Jack swore he could hear the gears in his mind turning, trying to think of all the ways he could exploit the scene in front of him.

Evelyn laughed. "Welcome home, Bobby."