DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pretty in Pink or its characters. Although I do own the idea of this plot.

READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!! :)

Author's Note

Ok, this is my first PIP fanfic. I decided to write one because A) the movie is fantastic and B) there's only one other fic on this listing. Sad Day. Hope you enjoy!!

ps. Andie goes slightly OOC at the end. Sorry, that's just how it ended up. I like it, you might not...I apologize :)

He knew he loved her as far back as the fifth grade. She had given him part of her oatmeal-raisin cookie and half a juice box and that had been that. From that moment on, Philip "Duckie" Dale had committed himself mind, body, soul, and bicycle to ensuring Andie Walsh's complete happiness. She was his best friend. It could be argued that she was his only friend, but Duckie was sure that even if he had had more, Andie would still have been top of the list. She was everything a guy like Duckie could wish for in a girl; funny, pretty, she had a great butt, and he was crazy about her. Too bad she was completely clueless.

"Hey, doll face," Duckie smirked, sliding in front of Andie's locker and peering at her from above his sunglasses.

"Duckie, get out of the way, I'm gonna be late for class," Andie moaned, shoving him aside.

Duckie rolled out of the way and ran into a couple of girls coming out of a classroom.

"Hey watch it, jerk!" one of them snapped.

"Sorry, truly, honestly," Duckie apologized, bowing repeatedly. The girls started to back away; looking thoroughly convinced he was insane. Duckie called after them, "I'll have my insurance company pay for any damages! That's a lovely sweater, by the way! They'll be fine," he added, turning back to Andie.

She rolled her eyes and started taking books out of her locker.

"I been thinking," Duckie continued, now leaning against the wall, "what if I just…dropped out?"

"Are you nuts?" Andie laughed, slamming her locker shut and turning to look at him.

"That's still being debated," Duckie smiled. Andie snorted and started down the hallway. Duckie followed her. "I'm serious, Andie, I could drop out."

"Duckie," Andie said, stopping dead in the middle of the hallway and staring at him, "we have four months left until we graduate."

"Sounds like the perfect time to me," Duckie shrugged, "right in the homestretch, right when they think they've got you sucked into their little collegiate plan, WHAM! You quit. Am I a genius, do I know how to fight the power?" Andie opened her mouth but Duckie held up his hand. "Don't answer that, it'll ruin the magic."

"Go to class, Duckie," Andie laughed, turning her back on him and hoping she could still make it to Biology on time.

"All right then," Duckie yelled through the crowds of kids hurrying off to class, "I'll save you a step at lunch! And don't bring Italian this time, it makes me gassy!"

He saw Andie try and make herself even smaller than she already was and smiled to himself. He was going to marry her.

When the lunch bell rang, Duckie rushed outside to get a good spot on the steps. He spread himself out and then looked anxiously around for Andie, who showed up a few minutes later and plopped down next to him.

"Sooooo," Duckie started the minute she sat down, "I was kinda thinking that you and I might work on those stupid History papers tonight. I have this nagging feeling that I have no idea what the Russian Revolution was really about."

"Why do you say that?" Andie asked, pulling out her sandwich and ripping off the crusts.

"Because I've slept through every class since November" Duckie said, stealing a crust and popping it into his mouth.

"Well, I wish I could help but I'm busy tonight," Andie said. She took a bite of her sandwich and didn't look at him.

Duckie frowned, then laughed it off.

"What'dya mean? What are you doing? Does Iona need you to work for her or somethin'? Cause we can work at the record store, I don't mind."

"No, Duckie, I'm not working late," Andie said, still not looking at him. Her cheeks were pinker than normal.

Despite the fact that his stomach was clenching unpleasantly, Duckie kept a smile firmly plastered on his face.

"Well, what then?" He asked, shoving a couple of chips in his mouth.

"I…um…well, I have an engagement," she muttered.

"A date, you mean," he said bitterly through a mouthful of Ruffles.

Andie looked up, jaw set in firm determination.

"Yes, a date. I have a date, Duckie. Is that a problem?"

Um, Yeah! He thought quickly. His face must have shown what he was thinking because Andie looked at him strange. Duckie squirmed and gave an uncomfortable little chuckle, shoving her playfully.

"Naw, you know, I just wanna know who the lucky guy is so I can give him the run down. You know, tell him all about the shotgun I like to polish while watching do-it-yourself taxidermy tapes, that kind of stuff." He flashed another winning smile but Andie didn't look completely convinced. Starting to feel himself sweat, Duckie gathered up his lunch and shoved it into the pockets of his blazer. He needed to get out of here. "Yeah, um, I'll catch you later, honey. I got classes to skip, teachers to piss off," he slapped a quick kiss on her cheek, "call you later."

Then he ran off to hide behind the auto shop until school let out.

So she had a date, so what? She'd had plenty of dates before now and they had never come of anything substantial, why should this loser be any different? Maybe she didn't even like him, maybe it was a dare or she felt sorry for the poor twerp, or maybe her dad had set it up and she couldn't back out of it. Yeah, that was it. Jack had set her up with one of the deadbeats he met down at the unemployment office. Andie was too nice, she'd never say no to something her dad wanted.

Finally calming himself down, Duckie leaned against the brick wall of the auto shop and slid down to a sitting position. He'd call her later and everything would be alright. She wasn't walking out on him; it was all just one big misunderstanding. I mean, Andie wouldn't just dump him for some…some…guy.

Would she?

Duckie called Andie's house the first time around nine. Jack told him she still wasn't in yet, but he would be sure to give her the message. He tried again at nine-fifteen and nine-thirty, but still no luck. At nine forty-five he rode his bike passed her house, and then circled the block for an hour until Jack showed up on the front porch and told him to go home, promising he'd have Andie call when she got in.

By eleven-fifteen, however, Duckie was starting to get nervous. His fingers were itching to dial Andie's number again but he was afraid of upsetting Jack, so he sat on his hands to avoid temptation. At eleven-thirty Duckie started pacing his room, and by midnight he was literally hyperventilating.

Finally, just as a path was starting to wear in his carpet, the phone rang. Duckie shot across the room and over his bed, successfully knocking the receiver across the floor. He dove for it and jammed it against his ear.

"Do you have any idea what time it is, young lady?" Duckie said severely, putting a hand on his hip even though no one could see. "Your mother and I were worried sick!"

There was a silence on the other end of the phone. Duckie paused, listening. Was she there? Was it even Andie?

"Andie?" He asked, his tone considerably gentler.

There was a small sound on the other end of the phone, almost like someone crying.

"Andie? Andie, what's wrong?"

"C-can you come over?" She choked.

"I'll be right there."

Duckie parked his bike on the patch of grass next to the Walsh's garage and then scrambled up the lattice leading to Andie's bedroom window. Normally he would have just gone through the front door, but something told him that Jack might not be too happy to see him this late at night. So, instead, he hoisted himself up on the roof under her window and looked inside. Andie was sprawled out, face down, on her bed in her pajamas. Her body was shaking, and Duckie could tell she hadn't stopped crying since getting off the phone with him. Very lightly, he tapped on the glass.

Andie's head shot up at once. Her mascara was running down her face and her eyes were bloodshot. Duckie felt his insides twist. What had that goon done to her tonight?

"I'm s-sorry I asked you to come over so late," Andie sputtered as she pushed the window open and allowed him to climb inside. "But my d-dad's already in bed and I didn't know who else to talk to."

"It's alright," Duckie said, closing the window behind him and guiding her back to the bed. They sat down. "What's going on? What happened?"

"Duckie, my date was horrible!" Andie wailed, throwing herself forward on the bed. "He—he," but another wave of sobs racked her before she could finish.

Alarmed, Duckie grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up again.

"Andie, he didn't try nothing, did he? I mean, this guy, he didn't…you know…try to—to," Duckie stumbled around awkwardly, trying to put what he meant in delicate terms, but Andie was already nodding.

"Y-yes!" Andie sobbed, wiping her streaming eyes.

Rage, white-hot, cataclysmic, volcanic rage coursed through Duckie. His whole body felt like someone had tried to jump-start it, and he found himself shaking so intensely it resounded in his ears.

"Who is he?" Duckie demanded. "Who is the bastard? I'll kill him, Andie, I swear to God I'll kill the son-of-a-bitch! Who did it?"

Andie shook her head again.

"No," she said firmly despite the water that was still cascading down her cheeks. "No, Duckie, you can't! Please, please promise me, you can't do anything! It'll only make more trouble."

"Andie, this guy tried to—I can't just sit back and let him—Andie, get real here!"

"Please!" She said, grabbing his hand and looking him deep in the eyes.

Duckie started to argue again but melted the minute her eyes met his. He thought it was stupid, but if Andie wanted it to be so…then, it was so.

"Fine," he said softly.

He saw her relax.

"Why'd you call me then, if you didn't want me to run out and go G.I. Joe on this guy?" Duckie asked after a silent moment.

"I…I just needed somebody…you." Andie said quietly.

"Well, here I am."

"Yeah," she managed a small smile.

There was another awkward pause.

"You should—er—get to bed," Duckie muttered. "I'll just let myself out."

He was halfway to the window when Andie called out to him.

"Duckie?"

He turned. She was already under the covers and pushed all the way to the right of her small twin bed. She looked like she was having a very hard time coming to a decision about something. Finally, she spoke.

"Could you…do you think you could…please stay? I don't want to be alone right now."

Duckie blinked at her, unsure he had really heard what he thought he had just heard. Unless he was imagining things, which he might be, she had just asked him to spend the night. In her bed. While she was in it. In pajamas. Without a bra. He suddenly got the intense urge to pinch himself. Then he remembered what had just almost happened to her. Shame crept up on him, how could he stand there thinking about Andie braless after what she had just told him. She needed him to be a friend, a shoulder to cry on, and his brain was going all horndog on him. Come on, Duckster, get it together.

"Please?" Andie repeated again, pulling Duckie out of his momentary coma.

"Um, yeah," He said somewhat awkwardly.

He kicked off his shoes and dropped his blazer on the floor next to her bed. Then, nervously, he climbed under the covers next to her. Timidly, Andie scooted over and rested her head on his chest, her arm draping across his stomach.

"You don't mind, do you? The bed's so small," Andie said.

"No," Duckie said, his voice slightly higher than normal. "No, nope. No, you're fine."

Slowly, he let his arm fall over her shoulders. Her skin was warm and soft. Duckie bit his lip and prayed he would be able to make it through this ordeal without her feeling the embarrassing erection that was already creeping up on him.

Andie nuzzled her head against his chest and gave him a gentle squeeze. Duckie stifled a pained moan.

"You're my best friend, you know that?" Andie said, her voice slightly muffled by his shirt. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Oh," Duckie said, patting her hair, "I'm sure you'd manage somehow."

"No, I mean it." Andie pushed herself up so they were face to face with each other. "You're the best friend I've ever had. I've never met anybody else I can talk to like I can talk to you. And tonight…who else would have understood tonight?"

"I—I dunno," Duckie muttered, his eyes unable to decide whether they wanted to look at her eyes or her mouth.

"I don't think I'd survive high school without you," Andie said softly.

"Oh, I think you'd manage," He said, his voice shaking slightly. She was so damned close.

"No," Andie whispered. Something passed over her face, and she blinked at him as though she had never seen him before. "No, I don't think I would."

Andie's mouth was suddenly pressed tight against his. Surprised, Duckie pulled back a little, but Andie kept kissing. She ran her fingers through his hair and leaned closer. Duckie looked around for something that would help him, something that would make her get off. He wanted Andie, God knows he wanted Andie, but he didn't want her like this, not while she was all vulnerable and easily manipulated. This wasn't right, not like this, not now. Duckie grabbed ahold of the headboard and used it to pull himself away. Their lips parted with a loud, wet smack.

"I gotta go, Andie," Duckie said quickly, throwing himself off the bed and clumsily slipping on his shoes. "I'm really sorry. I just—I got stuff—My grandmother's in town—cake in the oven—I'll call you tomorrow!"

He grabbed his blazer, shoved open the window, and just about jumped to the grass below.

Duckie walked his bike home that night, he was shaking too hard to steer properly. After years of waiting, years of kissing his pillow and pretending it was Andie, years of making himself look like an idiot, he had finally got his moment. Unfortunately, he couldn't enjoy it, he felt too low. He wondered vaguely what Andie would be more angry about, him kissing her back or him jumping out of the window to avoid kissing her further. Whatever one she chose, Duckie knew he'd never been able to win the arguement anyway. God, why'd she have to pick now? Why'd she have to pick tonight? Why couldn't it have been at the prom, or the record store, or a desert island two months from now? Duckie kicked a rock across the street in frustration.

Still, it had been a good kiss, tainted a little by her impaired judgement and the fact that she was almost deflowered, but good all the same. He wondered if maybe, tomorrow, a week from now, sometime over the summer, she'd let him kiss her again. The right way, the way she was meant to be kissed. Something inside him doubted it. Oh well, maybe he'd try, maybe he wouldn't. It didn't really matter right now.

At any rate, he'd call her in the morning.