I was trying to write Lassiet. This came out. I don't know what to think of it. I start my sophomore year of high school in six hours. I'm so tired that I'm not even nervous. I'm thinking about skipping first and second block, actually. I won't. But I'm thinking.
Disclaimer and whatnot:
Have you seen the stuff I write? I obviously don't own Psych.
"Dance with me?" he asked, holding his hand out to me. I shook my head, pulling my shawl closer to me.
"I don't dance, Henry," I said. He frowned.
"Really, cause I remember your dancing being pretty, what's the word? Well, since there are people around I'll say nice," he said, raising an eyebrow. I took a sip of my wine to try and cool the red hot blush creeping into my cheeks.
"That's was in 1996, and I remember both of us being a little more than half drunk," I said, setting my glass on the table. Henry took my hand and pulled me to my feet.
"Just one dance, Karen. You can't sit here and be miserable all night. At least come be miserable with me," he said. I sighed in consent, and he pulled me to the dance floor. Carlton and Marlowe were twirling around, even though a fast song was playing. Henry was actually a decent dancer.
We danced several songs before stoping for a drink. Two vodkas on the rocks, one with a twist. When we got back on the floor, a slow song started. I turned to Henry, but Juliet had his attention, with a tear streaked face. He glanced back at me, but took her onto the floor. Well.
Don't be stupid, Karen. It's not like he was only going to dance with you.
Yeah, Vick, but I thought…
Well, you thought wrong. It's not 1996, honey. Go sit down.
I obeyed the 'Vick' part of my brain. I was about to sit when Guster appeared next to me, asking to dance. I shrugged and took his hand. We stood apart, swaying in slow circles. The song started to fade out, and Henry appeared with a now smiling (and obviously drunk) Juliet. She hugged him, and went to Carlton.
"Mind if I steal her from you, Gus?" he asked, taking my hand as another slow song started.
"Go ahead, Mr. Spencer. I've got a phone call to make," Gus smiled at me before pulling out his phone and walking up the stair case. Henry tugged me toward him, but I stopped.
"What's wrong with Juliet?" I asked. He shook his head.
"She won't say, but I've got all my money on my block-head son," he said, and I started toward her. He pulled me back. "You can't take care of everyone, Karen."
"I promise you, Henry, we will dance. But I've got children to take care of first. See if you can steal Marlowe," I said. He held me tight.
"Dance with me now," he said, and I gave in.
Etta James echoed over the silent floor, couples turning. Juliet was dancing with one of Marlowe's cousins. Carlton was whispering something to Marlowe, which made his own ears turn red.
Henry turned me slowly, and I came back and slid my arms over his shoulders. His arms went around my waist, pulling me closely to him.
"Well, isn't this familiar?" he said, spinning us. I smiled.
"Yes, except I think it was an Eric Clapton song before," I said, playing with his collar. He shrugged.
"I can fix that," he said, nodding at the deejay. He nodded back, and Etta James slowly faded into Eric Clapton.
"Oh, Henry," I said, laying my head on his chest. He twirled us slowly, keeping to the rhythm. My fingers went to the nape of his neck, where I began drawing shapes and letters.
"Square, hexagon, H, K," he whispered, nailing each one.
"Amazing," I whispered back.
"You are," he said. I blushed, and kissed his cheek. We kept swaying.
"You look beautiful, Karen," he said, hands inching down my back.
"You're not so bad yourself, handsome," I said. And couldn't take it anymore. He twirled us away from prying eyes and I pulled him down to kiss me. His lips were the same as they had been seventeen years before. He walked us outside, me clinging to him desperately.
The walk to the elevator was torturous. The ride in the elevator was just as bad. Then there was the sprint down the hall and fumbling for the room key.
But now we were on his bed. I straddled him and tugged off his suit jacket, along with the damned tie. I unbuttoned his shirt, raking my fingers through his chest hair. He kicked off his shoes and toed his socks off. I yanked his shirt off, meeting his hot mouth with mine. His tongue slid past my parted lips and danced with mine. I worked his belt open, leaving him to take care of his pants. I clambered off of his lap, taking him in. I pulled my dress over my head.
"Damn, Karen," he breathed. "No panties, no bra?" I shrugged.
"This was kinda the plan for the night," I said, straddling him again. "Now, why don't you take care of your underwear, and I'll take care of your other problem?"
"This was your plan?" he moaned, sucking on my neck. I nodded. "If you'd have told me, we would have skipped the damn reception. Maybe even the wedding."
"And if I had told you last night?" I asked, helping him tug his shorts off. I gripped his shoulders, and positioned him to me.
"I would have taken you home," he said, kissing me. I smiled.
"Take me home now," I said. And he did.
A/N: I'm not sure what happened here. I guess what's done is done. I refuse to be sorry for anything. Except for things that I need to be sorry for. Wanna make my week? Reviews are lovely. Hint hint.