Tim is in the zone. His feet move at the speed of light as the music pulses through his veins. This is when he feels most free. This is when he feels alive. When he dances, he is more god than man.
At his side, Mike is dancing his heart out. What he lacks in finesse, he more than makes up for in enthusiasm and raw, potent, sexual energy. When he throws his body in the air, it feels a bit wild and just a bit dangerous. Who knows where (or on whom) he'll land?
When Tim spins around, he sees Daisy jumping up and down and cheering for them.
"Go, League of Extraordinarily Well-hung Gentlemen!" she cries as they pile up 'perfect' after 'perfect'. Sometimes she flubs the line - although Justice League of Extra-hung Gentleman wouldn't be a terrible name, really - but, for someone who'd been chugging lager all night (thanks to some weed-induced dry mouth), Tim thought she was doing rather well. Maybe she was right. Maybe the LEWG needed some PR.
It isn't the high score, but it puts them on the leader board yet again. LEWG is all up in Dance, Dance Revolution's shit and it feels so good.
Their adoring fans cheer as they leave the stage/DDR machine. Tim and Mike take in the adulation, enjoying every moment. They know it can't last, but they want to enjoy the ride while they're still young and beautiful.
"Look at that pair of tits," mutters some punk in a hoody. Tim refuses to let some asshole kid ruin his magical moment. LEWG are victorious.
"I'll have you know that those are two very good friends of mine!" Daisy screeches, "They are kind and thoughtful and, yes, caring men. Good men. The kind of men you should aspire to be... like... in the future... but also now, I suppose. You don't really need to wait..."
Tim's heart is warmed by Daisy's loyal defense, even if it is completely rubbish. When Daisy writes, her wit and intelligence calls through the page like a witty siren. When she actually sits down and focuses, she is a temptress with words. In person, she is a bit of a nutter who loses her faculty of language at the first drop of alcohol.
"What?" the kid asks, looking sincerely confused.
"I heard what you said about my friends," Daisy continues. She's all fired up and looking for a fight. Her cheeks are pink and her hair keeps getting caught in her mouth and on her lip gloss as she shakes her head. Tim knows that if he could turn up the volume of Daisy's brain, he'd hear her internal monologue saying, "Pink cheeked and full of passion, Daisy tosses her hair in exasperation..."
"These 'tits', as you called them, are my mates. Yes, they are here in a pub, night after night, playing a ridiculous game in a desperate attempt to feel like they've accomplished something with their manchild lives. Yes, they can only dance when they are told exactly when to move and how, and they're about as elegant and graceful as a couple of hippos on roller skates, but at least they're having fun! They don't care if they' look stupid', or that they'll never have a chance with a woman who has seen them dance, but that's what makes them cool. They're cool because they are so unapologetically uncool," Daisy explains, flailing her arms about like Eva Peron as she speaks. "They were dorks in school and people like you would push them around for being different. Well, guess what? Now they're all grown up and having a blast while you're still skulking about, trying to figure out which kind of fun is still considered acceptable in the realm trendiness. You could learn something from this couple of tits."
Mike wipes a tear from his eye, "We love you, too, Daisy."
No more beer for Mike.
"He weren't talking about them blokes," whines hoody's friend, "Them were all right. He were just talking 'bout you."
It takes them all a bit to work it through. Tim is proud that he figures it out first.
"Hey!" he yells. "Have a little respect. Daisy isn't some piece of meat for you to ogle. Does she look like she wants you staring at her tits? Is there anything
about that outfit that makes you think, 'Oi, she's up for it!' No. She's dressed like a primary school teacher getting ready for softball practice so little shits like you won't be eyeing her up or paying her any mind at all..."
"Thanks, Tim," Daisy barks, interrupting his train of thought, "That's enough."
"It isn't!" Mike yells, his eyes and voice full of passion. Mike enjoys the Dance, Dance, but it's the Revolution part that gets him worked up. He is high on endorphins and the sweet, sweet taste of victory. "Apologize to Daisy for looking at her...you know whats."
The punks mumble variations of, "Sorry for looking at your tits," while Daisy rolls her eyes.
"That really isn't necessary," she mumbles, crossing her arms across her chest, "I mean, it's not a big deal. It's just my body, I'm not ashamed to be feminine. I don't blame you for noticing my... endowments. I am wearing a rather flattering top..."
"And you was jumpin' up and down a lot," hoody adds.
"No!" Mike yells, "I don't care if she's naked on a trampoline, she deserves your respect, you man. She is a lady."
Tim forms, a mental image that he needs to exorcize immediately. Fortunately, the image of Mike, topless on a trampoline, is not hard to conjure as it is not an unfamiliar sight. Just the last weekend, they'd gotten pissed and scaled a fence to jump on a trampoline naked. Daisy had been there as well, but she and Colin were standing guard on the other side of the fence.
It's a funny thing about being friends with a girl, Tim has to be very careful to convince himself that there is nothing attractive or sexual about Daisy lest their relationship become uncomfortable. On the other hand, he can fondle Mike's perky tits and call him lover boy without it ever feeling "weird".
Even when they're naked on a trampoline.
xxx
They stagger home, holding one another up. They each take turns being in the middle, rotating depending on who is currently having the most trouble walking. At the moment, Mike is being held up by Tim and Daisy as they work out the details of their next outing.
"I could get a tee-shirt made that says, 'Look at these tits!' with an arrow pointing sideways. Then I can stand next to you while you dance," Daisy suggests before dissolving into giggles and pig-like snorts, "Maybe we could get one for Twist as well..."
"I dunno," Tim replied, "Twist doesn't seem like the kind of girl who wants to draw attention to herself..."
Daisy tries to reach across Mike with her free arm to give Tim a punch, but ends up toppling them all to their knees in front of their building.
"I suggest we crawl," Mikes says as he raises himself from his belly to his hands and kness. "It's just safer."
Tim and Daisy exchange looks and laugh.
Then they slowly crawl through the grass.
"You know this is every guy's fantasy?" Tim points out as he and Daisy pull themselves towards the front door. Brian's light is on. Hopefully, he'll let them in because Tim can't imagine any of them working a key at this point.
"What is?" Daisy asks, as she subtlely tries to crawl just a little faster than everyone else. Daisy is surprisingly competitive for a perpetual slacker.
Tim gestures as their triumvirate of drunken disasters, "Three tits."
Daisy snorts before pulling Mike's left leg out from under him and taking the lead. At one point, she 'accidentally' kicks Tim in the face, but he's glad when she gets to the door first, because she's the sucker who has to stand up and ring the bell.