The Love Song of Quil Ateara

The Beginning

A/N: Claire's graduation gown can be seen at (search for "Christian Siriano's Magenta Flow Gown"). Though this part of the story doesn't look that way, the fic will be mainly from Quil's PoV.

Claire could not get her dress to zip up.

It was yet another bad choice in clothing. It had been on sale just enough to be more than what she could afford, and it had been a size too small.

Maybe if it hadn't been on the mannequin, whose figure she'd been jealous of even as plus size... but it had, and it looked like such a princessy dress - the kind of dress it was hard for a girl to say no to. It was wine-coloured and floated like a cloud around her, the kind of dress that would look really good to dance in (she was hopeful) and all-around perfect. None of the other girls would have it, that was for sure, since in her small school she was the only one in her year wearing plus-size. Nor did they tend to shop in Canada (who would, really?).

She had vowed to scrimp & save, and diet & exercise, and then it would all of course work out: the familiar process of calculating how many days were left until the event and how much weight she could lose in that time if she really worked at it. Which never happened, of course.

It felt strange coming back like this, despite the fact she returned from U. Vic. just about every weekend or two. Of course, most weekends she didn't see her former classmates displayed in front of her in a long, judging line. Since she'd gone off to university, she hadn't done much to keep in touch, although most of them still lived here.

Someone knocked on her door. "Claire?" came a deep voice from the other side.

She closed her eyes in embarrassment. Please don't let Quil see her like this, she appealed to the powers above. It was bad enough feeling like a splitting sausage right now without having her best friend come in and see her in all her fleshy disarray.

"Are you all right, Claire?" Quil persisted. "We have to go soon."

"I'm okay," she squeaked, attempting a tug at the zipper that only had it unravelling further, and out of her reach, too. She sighed. Oh well, now that she would never reach it, she might as well swallow her pride. "Can you-can you come in?"

Her back was to him as he entered and she listened to him approach, really not wanting to see the disgusted expression that was surely on his face right now. If she couldn't feel the heat and scent of him behind her, it would've been like he wasn't there for a few moments, since Quil was the type of guy who liked to make his presence felt right off the bat.

"What's going on?" he said in a voice she had to strain to hear.

"Ohhhhh," she wailed, loud enough for the both of them. "This stupid dress just won't do up!"

"Okay. Okay." He exhaled sharply, probably bracing himself for the impossible task ahead. "Let's see what we can do."

He didn't have to tell her to hold her breath. She sucked it right in when he laid his palms flat against the sides of the dress, his thumbs brushing her back. Having him touching her, his breath on her neck, definitely wasn't something that happened. Quil always horsed around with his buddies, but he and Claire were always aware of each other's personal space. They had maybe hugged when she'd gone away to university.

This was that awareness now, the kind you got from sitting too close on the bus, except in this case she actually liked it. Closing her eyes, she let his heat soak into her, her skin basking in every trace of him, until she realised in disappointment that he was just tugging the edges of fabric closer together to make it easier to zip up.

She tried to stifle the knowledge that it was Quil. As her only male friend, her best friend at that, his place in her life was too valuable right now to be taken over by a little thing like the ridiculous yearning that someone could see her in a different way.

Oh God, she thought towards the ceiling in another appeal. She was so very sadly, pathetically lonely. Since she had matured faster than her peers, adults always had plenty of praise for her. She was smart, reliable, mature, respectful - every parent's dream. Turned out that didn't get you very far with people your own age.

Of all the things she was, what she was not was beautiful.

Not that it was really what she aimed for. Pretty would be nice. On a good day she liked to see herself as a little close to cute.

What she really wanted was to be desirable. Be able to get someone to look at her, like her, in that way. There had been a few ill-advised crushes in high school, even more ill-advised revealing them to her few friends. It had always gotten out. The boys had always avoided her as best they could after that. It had been enough to provide a few laughs for her class, then she was forgettable once more.

So she'd never had a boyfriend, and she'd only managed to get kissed this year, thanks to the contagion of Orientation Week craziness. They had been keen on just one thing, but she'd wanted more. Sometimes she wondered, and wished, about how she probably could've gone further-

She had to stop thinking about this. No longer was she the downtrodden and ignored Claire Young of her high school days. Now she was... the impersonally-ignored first year who went to parties sometimes with the rest of her residence.

Well, it was a step up.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Quil as he jerked the zipper up an inch.

Claire winced. If it had been Madison or Bailey, whose turns it would be next year, she might actually have told them. But they were girls.

"Oh, just... life," she said vaguely.

"Useful for your speech." He slid the zipper up another few notches before they heard an ugly crack that jolted the fabric surrounding her.

They froze.

"I'm so sorry, Claire. The dress... oh damn, I don't think it's going to do up now. I broke it."

"It's okay." Really, it was. Claire wasn't sure how she could feel so calm about this. Probably the fact that she'd expected something to go wrong today, and better early than on stage. "Maybe I have something else..."

"No."

Claire turned in surprise at that. "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean we'll figure something out; I know how you feel about this dress. They had dresses before zippers... I'm sure there's something we can do."

"Yeah, if you like arts and crafts, which I know you-" she poked him in the chest -"totally don't."

"Hey, I can get crafty," he said in his defense. "You have any safety pins?"

Somehow - not through any fashion know-how, that was for sure - he made a lace-up corset back for her out of ribbon and safety pins. He slipped his hand under her dress each time to keep her from being pricked, all the while keeping up a steady stream of "Ow." She didn't know if it was a joke or not, a bit distracted by his hand and how he drew the silky ribbon against her back as he laced her up. One hand briefly tangled in her hair before brushing it over her shoulder.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that the hands on her - even if they were just Quil's - were the hands of someone who wanted her, the quick breath on the nape of her neck from someone who was about to come closer, just a little closer would be all it would take, and press his lips to her tingling skin... her insides leaped and shivered.

"Crisis averted," he said cheerfully, pulling his hand off her back as if it was there every day, and she opened her eyes.

"It looks like it might work," she was forced to admit after checking his handiwork. Good thing she was using one of those backless sticky bras.

"Told ya I'd get it done." He winked at her. "Come on, gorgeous. Your carriage awaits."

She snorted. Please.

The trace of his touch was still all over her.