AUTHOR'S NOTE

'Tis the season to write one-shots, eh? c: This is dedicated to Mr. CyborgPineappleIsland II for his birthday. He's one of my best friends, and I can't express how thankful I am for him. We've been through thick and thin, and he's honestly one of the nicest, funniest, and most supportive people I've ever met. Daniel, this is for you. Enjoy. :-)

Tom and Jen were ready to leave for the convention. They had donned their outfits for the big night- navy blue threads borrowed from the 50's- and were occupying Jen's bedroom in her apartment while they waited for their limousine to pick them up.

Jen strode back and forth in a cocktail dress, her makeup done pin-up style and her hair in victory curls. She turned to Tom on her bed, who was pulling on his satin sleeve. "Tom, you said the limo would be here at six, right?"

"Hm?" He looked up. "Oh, right. Should be here in like, an hour."

"Good, I can write our blog post in that time." Jen sat on the fluffy-cushioned chair at her desk and typed away at her laptop. Tom fiddled with a curl on his forehead, and Jen turned around as though he had activated an alarm. "Don't touch your hair. Getting it just right took almost an hour."

"But it tickles," he whined. "Couldn't you have put it to the side like yours?"

Jen sighed. "You're the one who said you wanted to look like Elvis, not me."

Tom lifted the curl like a limp noodle. "He didn't always have this curl, though."

"Well, sometimes, it was part of his signature style," she said, turning back to her laptop. "Let me finish this first, then I'll fix your hair, 'kay?"

"Fine," Tom sighed, dropping the curl. He fished out his cellphone from his pocket and halfheartedly searched the web, scrolling through numerous people's blogs. His expression screwed up as he came to a certain one, then he let out a wheeze of horror. "Jen! This is really, really bad!"

Jen turned around alarmedly. "What, Tom? What is it?"

He thrust his phone forward, showing a couple dressed in the same era as Jen and Tom, except they looked like they had stepped straight out of a movie. The girl had glossy dark hair in Marilyn Monroe's hairstyle, staring seductively at the camera with her arm wrapped around the guy's. "Look at this! I can't believe it! We look like pilgrims compared to them!"

Jen's jaw dropped. "Darryl and Lila?" She strode to Tom and shoved her face near the phone, snatching it out of his hands. "No freaking way. This is cheating. How dare they take our theme and make it better!"

"And we're going to be seen next to them," Tom said in a small voice. "People are going to look between us and them and think they're the better bloggers."

Jen read the post under the picture with tight lips. "'Going out tonight to the National Fashion Bloggers' Convention in style. Thanks to Tom and Jen for inspiring us! XO.'"

Tom slapped his forehead. "I knew we shouldn't have posted our outfits early!"

Jen dropped his phone onto her bed and slumped down, putting her face in her hands. "What are we going to do now?"

Tom tugged on his sleeve and narrowed his eyes. He stood up with his hands fisted at his sides. "Get new outfits."

His partner's eyebrows twitched downward. "What? That's not possible."

"Sure it is. Our limo's coming in an hour-"

"That's exactly why it's impossible!"

"-and we need to grab new outfits as soon as possible," Tom said, frowning. "I'm not gonna have us sit here arguing about it when we can be out right now."

Jen threw her arms outward. "We can't, Tom! Don't you get it? It's gonna take forever for me to redo our hair, makeup, everything!"

Tom put his hand on Jen's shoulder. "Trust me on this, Jen. Don't you trust me? I can make this work. All we have to do is find two new outfits that'll knock the socks off those posers and match our theme."

Jen pushed his hand off. "It's not as easy as you're making it sound. We have a limo coming for us soon, and if we miss it, we're going to look even worse at the place."

He pursed his lips. "Fine, then. I'll go by myself." He swiveled toward the door, marched over to it, and turned around. "And when I come back with the greatest matching outfits you've ever seen, you'll regret you ever doubted me." Tom left before Jen could reply, slamming the door with gusto.

Jen ran to the door and opened it, seeing him already turn the corner. She called his name, but he ignored her and walked out the entrance. She face-palmed. "Tom, why do you have to be such a drama queen?" In an imitation of Tom, she stood up straight and put her hands on her hips. "'I think you mean, drama king." Jen let out a sigh and retreated to her room.

Tom strode out of an elevator into the night. The wind gusted around him, and he wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. "Great. I forgot my jacket in my dramatic exit. Can't turn back now, though."

He started forward, and his phone chimed in his pocket. He took it out and read a text. U forgot your jacket.

He rolled his eyes. "I didn't notice, Jen." He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and walked briskly down the sidewalk, joining the pedestrians.

Jen dialed a number on her phone while sitting cross-legged on her bed. She tapped her foot and looked around as she listened to it ringing, then heard someone pick up and say "Hello?"

She uncrossed her legs. "Hey! My friend and I booked a limo from you. I'm just checking to confirm our booking."

As she listened to the person on the other line, her eyebrows drew inward. "Wait, what? Our order's cancelled? But... but we paid for it." The person spoke again. "What do you mean, no refunds?" She rushed to her laptop and quickly searched for the limousine company's website, clicking the link. "Yeah, no. I remember seeing right on the website that you give refunds." Clicking on the company's policy, she hovered her mouse over a statement and read it out loud. "'In the event that one of our booked limousines becomes no longer available, we will grant a full refund to our customer.' Shouldn't you know your own policy?"

Click.

Jen blinked. She looked at her phone and saw that the person had hung up. "Oh, no. This isn't over by a mile." She called the number again and received no answer- only a drawn-out beep on the other end. She hung up and looked at her laptop again, spotting many links underneath the first that said various synonyms describing the company. The second link had the word "FRAUD" in the title. Her mouth fell open.

Tom waited at an intersection while standing in a crowd on a sidewalk. Cars passed by for a few more seconds before the pedestrian light went white, and the crowd moved onto the road. His phone started ringing; he looked at the caller I.D. and picked up while walking. "Yes, Jen? Want to rub it in that I'm not at New York Vintage yet?"

"Tom, shut up." Jen gripped her head while sitting at her laptop.

Tom's face went serious. "Wait, what's wrong? I can hear the stress in your voice."

"Our booking got cancelled."

Tom almost tripped onto the sidewalk. "What? Why?"

"The service was a fraud," she sighed. "Tom, did you check the website's credibility before booking from it?"

He swallowed and shook his head. "I'm so sorry, Jen."

"Yeah."

"I swear I'll make it up to you," he said, approaching a boutique with expensive-looking dresses in the first and second-floor windows. "I'm almost at New York Vintage, and if you come over, we can pick out your dream dress, shoes, the works."

"That's not what I want, though. I want you to come back here so we can just go."

Tom rubbed a hand down his face. "You know I can't do that, Jen. Now that we have no limo, it's even more dire for us to shop."

"I don't want to shop!" Jen shouted. "I don't care about having another dress!"

Tom froze at the entrance to the shop. "Jen," he gasped. "I never thought I'd hear you say that."

There was silence on the other line. Jen released a shaky breath. "I never thought I'd hear myself say that, either. You do what you want. Just- just hurry up."

She hung up. Tom stared at his phone for a moment before putting it away with a frown. He strode decisively into the shop with his head held high, the doors swinging shut behind him.

An employee walked up to him, ponytail bouncing. "Welcome to-" Her eyes widened. "Wait. Are you Tom?"

"That's right," Tom said. "I'm in a bit of a hurry, so if you'll excuse me, I'll just be making my way over to the dresses."

He started forward. "Do you need help finding anything?"

He chuckled deviously. "Oh, I'm fine. Trust."

He walked past her and several other well-dressed individuals to an area of dress racks, covered in fabrics all colors of the rainbow. He squealed quietly and clapped. "I'm so gonna find something here for Jen!" Taking out his cellphone, he dialed her number and spoke the moment she picked up. "Hey, Jen, are you sure you don't wanna pick out your own dress? 'Cause I think what I see here is the best selection yet!"

"No thanks, Tom," Jen said, sounding like she had just woken up from a nap. "Pick something and go. Remember that, 'kay?"

"Alright, boss," Tom sighed, hanging up. He turned back to the nearest rack and started sifting through it rapidly, looking each dress over in a split second. He kept at it for a minute before turning to the next rack and doing the same thing, completely tuning out the people around him. It was at the third rack that he momentarily paused and stared at a hybrid of velvet and tulle. The dress was black velvet with a deep scoop neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves, cinching at the waist into floor-sweeping white tulle. Gold filigree danced down the waist and faded at the bottom.

Tom snatched the dress off the rack and rushed to the counter, cutting everyone in line. "'Scuse me, coming through. Huge emergency, sorry." He laid down the dress in front of the cashier, who scanned the price tag and put the dress inside a large bag.

"950.99," she droned out.

Tom fished out his wallet and pulled out a thousand-dollar bill, placing it in her hand. "Keep the change." The lady stared at it wide-eyed as he swiped the bag and ran out of the store, getting looks in his direction. While speed-walking down the sidewalk, he stopped and pulled the front of his shirt. "Crap, I forgot to look for a tuxedo." He backtracked to the boutique and threw the door open.

Jen paced in her room while looking at the clock on her wall. She glanced at herself in her mirror and exhaled, looking back to the arrow nearing twelve.

The front door opened. Jen turned her head and ran out, approaching Tom, who was holding two bags of equal size and breathing heavily. "I'm here!"

"Oh, thank God," Jen breathed. "Can I see the dress?"

"Mhm." Tom put down the bags and pulled out the dress with a flourish. "Please tell me you like it."

"I... I..." Jen's face broke into a huge grin. "I LOVE IT!" She hugged Tom. "Thank you so much, Tom!"

"I knew you'd love it," Tom laughed, embracing her. "We're gonna make those copycats regret they ever messed with us."

"Awesome! I couldn't find the keys to my car, but I remember lending them to you, so we're golden!"

Tom went pale as milk. "You... lent them to me?"

Jen's grin faded at the edges. "Yes. I did. Do you have them?"

"I... um..." He swallowed. "I left them. At my house."

Her mouth went limp. "Tom. You know that we can't drive without my car, right? Unless we get a taxi."

He seized up. "I kinda spent the rest of our savings on our outfits," he squeaked.

Jen went still. Slowly, she began to shake. She raised her shoulders and clenched her hands into fists, her lips in a snarl. "Great. That's just great, Tom!"

Her words echoed off the concrete walls, and she fell into a couch, sobbing into her hands. Tom looked as though he were in pain, extending his arm toward her. "Jen- Jen, please don't cry." He sat beside her. "I screwed up. Okay? I admit it. I, screwed, up. I should've just listened to you and actually thought about what I was doing." He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "Come on, this isn't something to cry over. It's just a stupid meeting. We've already met the people before, remember? We'd have way more fun watching Project Runway."

Jen sniffed and dropped her hands to her lap. "I guess, but..."

Tom looked down. "I know. This was supposed to be our big night. But we can have our big night some other time."

Jen sat in silence, letting Tom pat her back with tears sliding down her face. Eventually, she wiped her cheeks and stood up. "I'll make the popcorn." She went into the kitchen and opened the cabinets, taking out a popcorn bag and ripping open the plastic. She put the bag inside the microwave, setting it to the time instructed. Tom turned on the TV to Project Runway before she came back. "We're just in time to watch."

Jen smiled and sat beside Tom. He pulled her closer and put his arm around her shoulders. A recap of last episode played on the screen, which they watched in silence. Jen spoke after the recap was over. "I didn't mean what I said about not wanting another dress."

Tom grinned. "I knew you didn't mean it." A beep came from the microwave, and the show began.