Ultra late DPS Secret Santa gift for tumblr user carpepineapples. I'm so sorry about the confusion about your gift, and I thank you once again for being incredibly patient and lovely while we sorted this out!

Prompt: "au: welton graduation - class of 1961: neil isnt dead and they're all really happy" (I may have strayed a little from the prompt. It's not *really* happy but it's not sad either... it's realistic, I think. I hope that's okay!)

"Two more weeks."

Neil looked up and nodded. "Yeah. Two weeks. Crazy."

Knox looked like he wanted to say more, but when he didn't, Neil went back to his textbook.

"I was thinking… we should have one last meeting," Knox burst out.

Neil looked up again, and this time he closed his book and leaned forward. "The Society?" he clarified, even though he knew from looking at Knox's hopeful face. "Knox…"

Guilt sprouted in Neil's gut as he realized that he hadn't thought of the Society for a long time — months, probably. Of course, he remembered carpe diem and sucking marrow out of life (hard not to while Keating still taught them), in abstract more than in those exact words, but the Society had become a distant (yet fond) memory of childhood gallivanting. Their last official meeting had been such a long time ago: May 1960, eight months after the first.

"I miss the Society."

"Yeah. Me, too."

"I've written a lot of poems since then."

"Really? I haven't seen you writing."

"I always write when you're at rehearsals."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's okay… Do you think we'll ever go again?"

"To the cave?"

A nod.

"Want the truth, Todd?"

Another nod.

"I doubt it."

"Yeah. I thought so."

Neil ran his hand through his hair. "What do the others think?"

"I haven't asked."

Neil hummed thoughtfully. Charlie would probably be in, although it was hard to tell with him these days. Todd and Cameron would certainly be up for the expedition. Meeks would probably be interested as long as they didn't stay out too late; same went for Pitts. Going through the list while tapping his pencil against the table lightly, Neil felt gradually invigorated by the idea.

"I think going Friday night will be a good idea," Neil decided, and Knox lit up.

"You're in?"

Neil grinned, feeling a sudden flash of his 1959 freedom. "Of course I am."

"Alright, men, what shall we read today?"

There was a silence.

"Uh, anyone?"

More silence.

"Okay. That's okay. Who has the book, we can pick from there."

Even more silence.

"Did anyone bring the book?"

"I thought you did."

"I thought you did."

"Well, I didn't." An apologetic shrug.

"Oh. Okay."

"Well, we don't need to read poetry, really. I mean, is there a rule that says we do?"

"Um, Dead Poets Society?"

A snort of laughter from Gerard.

"Well, we haven't read a lot of poetry at meetings recently anyways."

"True."

"You said they were coming, right?" Knox rubbed his arm anxiously.

"They're only two minutes late," Neil said just as Todd, Gerard, and Steven slipped into the lobby.

"Sorry," whispered Todd. "Hager was lingering."

"It was almost like he knew we were going to sneak out," Gerard grumbled. "Or maybe he never got over the fit your dad threw."

"Ever wonder what would've happened if Mr. Keating actually got fired because of that?" Todd mused.

Neil shrugged. He tried not to wonder.

"Charlie would've gotten himself expelled pulling some lame stunt in protest," said Gerard, only half-joking.

"I would not have gotten myself expelled," Charlie hissed, appearing out of the shadows. "I'm more refined than that."

"Shut up, guys. I can hear you from the stairs."

And there was Cameron, which brought the Society to full attendance. Neil glanced around at the group of friends, mentally comparing them to their 1959 selves. It was almost like a completely different set of people. Cameron had taken a lot longer to hear Keating's lessons, but once he did, he had actually become an enjoyable person to spend time with. Todd having grown in height and having lost the downtrodden slouch, looking far more imposing than he ever had in '59. Charlie had morphed from the cocky, insecure sixteen year old into a thoughtful, equally insecure eighteen year old. Gerard was looking tired but satisfied, having apparently decided to work himself to the bone after receiving his conditional acceptance into Yale. Steven had grown into more of a leadership position, which he had been awarded for with several scholarships and the title of valedictorian. Neil supposed he had changed too, but besides a haircut, he couldn't quite figure out what.

"I can't go to the meeting tonight."

"What?"

"Why not?"

"I need to do well on Bishop's test tomorrow… this is really important guys."

"Bishop? Really?"

"It's just a test."

"It's not for me."

"What about for just an hour?"

"Yeah. Just a quick meeting."

"Come on, man."

"Do you want me to fail out of Welton? Because that's what might happen. Can you just let me study instead of reading poetry in a dumb cave?"

Subdued silence, then a sigh.

"Sorry."

"Nah, we're sorry. We can cancel the meeting."

"You guys can still go."

Glances were exchanged before: "Doesn't feel right when all of us aren't there."

"Did we really run this far every week?" Charlie asked.

"We're almost there," Neil yelled over his shoulder, but he agreed. The journey felt longer than Neil had remembered, If they hadn't made the journey so many times before, Neil might've thought they were lost.

"We're about ten minutes away. We can walk for a bit," Cameron suggested.

"Nah, I'm good," Charlie said.

"I'm not," Knox panted. "Not all of us are rowers and I haven't played soccer for a year."

Neil looked back and nodded, and the group slowed to a walk.

"Speaking of, you going to join Harvard crew next year?" Charlie asked Cameron.

Cameron nodded thoughtfully. "I want to. Don't know whether I'm good enough, though."

"You're better than me," Charlie offered.

Cameron smiled but shook his head. "You should've seen the guys at orientation, though. Looked like they could row the Harvard-Yale Regatta by themselves."

There was a sympathetic murmur.

"What about you? Doing music?" Cameron asked, clearly attempting to change the subject.

Charlie allowed him. "It's probably going to be just a hobby."

"What about XXII?" Todd asked, referring to the Welton's unofficial musical trio composed of Charlie, Marty, and Russell.

Charlie made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Well, Marty's not going to be in the country anymore, right? And Russell is going into law, both of us probably won't leave any time for a teenager's music group." Charlie paused and looked back. "Jesus, Todd, you look like I killed someone. It's fine. I'm looking forward to next year. Out of Hellton and in the real world, you know? Just like you were saying a couple months ago."

Todd cracked a small smile. "Wow, that was mature. No jokes about the girls you'll meet?"

"I thought that was implied," replied Charlie.

"Why do you think the Keating's chapter of the Society broke up?"

"I dunno."

"I always assumed it was because they graduated."

"You think we'll be doing this for the rest of high school?"

"I… guess I've never thought about it."

"We probably won't… oh, really? You think we'll keep doing this?"

"I guess not. I… I just hope we do."

"Why?"

"'Why'?"

"Yeah."

A shrug. "I can't think of a good way the Society could break up. And because… that'll mean we stay friends."

"You're such a sap."

"Shut up."

"How's the valedictorian speech going, Meeks?" Neil asked as they approached the cave.

"Not bad. A little nervous."

Todd caught Neil's gaze and they grinned. A little nervous was quite the understatement. Meeks had been noticeably anxious the past two weeks.

"He's been practicing every night," Gerard confirmed dryly.

Meeks frowned. "How do you know? You're not my roommate anymore."

"We've been friends for years. I know you."

Meeks had no reply, so instead he just made a weak tackling motion that Gerard easily avoided.

Stumbling over roots, the young men filed into the cave. Everybody's voices overlapped for a while as they looked around the familiar cave.

"This place is cramped."

"Should I start a fire?"

"Hey, look, it's the God of the Cave!"

"Was it always this wet?"

"Do you not remember our last attempt at that?"

"Did anyone bring food? Or the book?"

"Ow. Goddamn that hurts."

"I told you last time, the smoke goes out the hole up there."

"Oh, good. A dead mouse."

"And that's why I learned to duck."

"How was it?"

"Really weird. It was like they were detectives and I was a suspect."

"How do you mean?"

"For one, they brought my parents in."

"No shit, really?"

"Yeah."

"So what they ask you?"

"Nothing about the Society. Just things about class, trying to make me say that Keating is a bad influence."

"How is he a bad influence?"

"Apparently he's corrupting our minds."

"Jesus. Mr. Perry really doesn't mess around."

A nod of agreement.

"What did you say to them?"

"Essentially? I told them to fuck off."

Neil would probably rate their last meeting as one of his very favourites. Unlike the last few, there was no feeling of urgency, no anxiety about getting back to school quickly. Everyone volunteered several times to read, and Five Centuries was passed around numerous times. Readings were interspersed with reminiscent stories about the Society, Keating's class, and school in general, as well as discussions about the upcoming year and plans for university.

It was almost four when Neil finally said: "We should head back."

Everyone nodded reluctantly but made no move to leave.

"I can't believe we're never coming back," Todd said.

Steven exhaled slowly in agreement to the bittersweet conclusion of the Dead Poets Society.

"I'm going to miss you guys," burst out Knox, saying what everyone else was thinking.

Without a pause, Charlie quipped: "You're such a sap."

"Shut up, Dalton." Knox grinned.

"Really?"

"Yeah. As long as I keep my grades up and go to med school when I'm out of Welton, I can do all the acting I want!"

"Your dad agreed to that?"

"Eventually. There was a lot of arguing. I've never yelled at my dad before."

"Well, what happens when we graduate?"

"I dunno. I'll go to med school, do acting on the side? I'm not sure. I'll figure it out when I get there. What matters is that I'm not in military school."

"O Captain, my Captain?"

Neil knocked on Mr. Keating's office.

"Mr. Neil Perry," Mr. Keating said in greeting. "Come in."

Neil stepped into the office that hadn't really changed since the last time he had seen it. The same lighting, same furniture… Neil even moved a similar stack of books off of the chair before he sat down. "Um, I found something that probably belongs to another student laying around. I thought you might give it back to whoever it belongs to."

He handed Mr. Keating a small book, open to the inside cover so that the writing was clearly visible. A light of recognition twinkled in Mr. Keating's face as he slowly reached out and took the book, reading the inside cover quickly. He then lifted his eyes from the book and gave Neil a small nod. "When I find the right student, I will certainly pass this on to them."

"Thank you, Captain."

"What should we say?"

"The date, our names. I think that's enough."

"Yeah, Keating's is like that, too."

"Here, Todd can write it."

Six boys looked over Todd's shoulder as he carefully wrote a block of text under the excerpt of Henry David Thoreau's poem, and to the left of 'J. Keating / Dead Poets… / '42'.

"What do you think?"

"Perfect."

Dead Poets of '59-'61

T. Anderson

R. Cameron

C. Dalton

S. Meeks

K. Overstreet

G. Pitts

N. Perry

Thanks for reading! Favourites & comments (if you think I deserve them) are very much appreciated!