Before either of them knew it, prom was right around the corner.
Fiona had purchased their tickets, arranged for a limo and made dinner reservations at a sushi restaurant. She felt accomplished that she had gotten so much done within only a couple of days, only to nearly have a heart attack as the more important elements of prom came to mind. The fashionista had completely spaced out and neglected getting a dress. The worst part? Since herself nor Imogen were the type to go in a suit or tux, but yet the type to want to stay a bit traditional, they had to find dresses that matched but that also weren't the exact same one or looked to similar. That wasn't all. They also had to order their corsages, which they couldn't do without their dress. Plus, they had to have an idea of how they wanted their hair to be done but that component revolved around the dress as well.
During the afternoon four days before prom, Imogen was over at the loft with Fiona. Fiona continuous nagged about how they still had so much to do, only to grow frustrated as Imogen spent most of her time there silent, laptop on her belly as she laid on the couch, surfing stores online figuring she'd find her dress on there and just pick it up at the store. What Fiona didn't realize is that her level-headed girlfriend made a couple calls during her verbal rampage, booking their hair appointments and putting in a general order for corsages with the best local floral shop, just in case.
"Fiona, you're the one that decided to wait so long before asking me."
Fiona shot a look at her girlfriend, dumbfounded. "Imogen. You knew I was going to ask you."
"Did I?" The younger girl retorted, her eyebrow lifting.
Fiona rolled her eyes a bit. "Okay maybe not entirely, but you knew one way or the other we'd be going."
Imogen couldn't help but laugh softly, sitting up and placing her laptop on the coffee table as Fiona paced around, nearly imprinting her tracks into the floor.
"Im, it's not funny," the older girl pouted.
"Fi, it's just prom."
Fiona's eyebrows rose nearly up to her hairline, a bit of irritation in her face. "This is the second best day of our lives."
Imogen made a face. "The second best? Of our whole lives?" She emphasized.
Fiona nodded, looking almost offended that Imogen didn't realize the importance of the matter.
"What about graduation?"
"Okay, third best," Fiona said, demoting the event.
"We have high school and university to graduate, Fiona."
"Fine, fourth."
"And the day we get married." Imogen froze for a second, her face in shock as she looked immediately at Fiona. She knew how it sounded, and she didn't exactly mean when the two of them got married, but she knew regardless of what she said to save herself she'd ultimately end up in the doghouse.
Fiona and Imogen had that weird understanding where neither of them had to do or say anything for the other to just know what was going on with the other. Fiona sensed Imogen's discomfort due to her condition of foot-in-mouth, and considering the two of them had been sharing 'I love yous' nonstop, Fiona just smiled and winked at her girlfriend reassuringly.
"Okay, so it's the fifth best day."
"Engagement and having children," Imogen debated.
"I give up." Fiona said defeated, throwing her hands up.
Imogen laughed, sshaking her head. "Should've asked sooner."
Fiona gave Imogen quite the dirty look, but Imogen was immune to it.
"Just saying."
"You could've asked me," Fiona huffed. "Just saying."
Imogen smiled, shrugging her shoulders. "It's okay Fiona, I've been looking for dresses online-"
"Online?!" Fiona exclaimed. "Immy it's not that easy. You have to actually try on the dress and see if it fits. Not to mention you have to be sure that the dress is actually in stock – the websites aren't always accurate."
"You're stressing over nothinggg," Imogen sang.
"Imogennnn," Fiona groaned. She was so done. She disappeared into her bedroom for a moment, leaving Imogen confused. She returned in a minute, heels on and purse hanging on her arm. She stormed over to Imogen, grabbing her girlfriend's wrist. Instinctively (well, her relationship with Fiona instinct more specifically), Imogen grabbed her bag, slinging it over her head and on her shoulder, nearly tripping as her older girlfriend dragged her through the loft, out the door and to the sidewalk. With ease, Fiona grabbed a cab, getting in with her girlfriend and began their search for the perfect prom dresses.
They soon arrived at the mall, Fiona's grip returning to her girlfriend's wrist. Imogen couldn't help but snicker, grabbing Fiona's hand off of her wrist and put it into her hand. They laced fingers, Fiona pulling Imogen through the mall.
They went store to store, trying on all different sorts of dresses to no avail. Some dresses fit weird or had less than flattering colors. Some dresses were too long, others to short. Some covered up too much, others not enough. Some dresses weren't age appropriate, were ridiculously expensive, looked cheap or were bound to be a hassle throughout the night. Some dresses too tight, some too loose, some too poofy, some not fitting the vibe of the event. Lucky for them it wasn't a total bust; it helped them narrow down their options.
They both agreed on short dresses, the top of the dress leaning towards fitting on the tighter side. They didn't want the whole dress hugging their body though, instead having a skirt that poofed out a bit and would look amazing if they were to twirl.
A couple stores and ugly dresses later, Fiona sat with her hands in her face in her dressing room, defeated. Imogen leaned against the doorframe, frowning at the sight of her beloved. She escaped for a second, returning with a dress for Fiona.
"Give this one a shot Fions."
Fiona, near emotionless, complied, and came out of the dressing room a whole new person. The color returned to her face, especially in her rosy pink cheeks. Her smile was brilliant and she squealed as she twirled around in her dress. "Imogen this is it. This is my dress!" It had a black, light skirt, in that happy medium between too tight and too poofy. It was a bit layered, giving it a less dull look. The top portion was red and black, giving off a Vegas vibe. It kind of made Imogen see Fiona as the Queen of Hearts – a sexier one for sure: it was definitely fitting.
Fiona didn't relish in the moment much longer though, frowning – neigh, near crying as her gaze returned to Imogen.
"Fifi, what's wrong?" Imogen questioned, disheartened.
"Your dress has to match mine. I won't feel right if it doesn't, then the night will be ruined." She sighed. "And what are the chances you'll find a classy dress, red and black especially." Fiona sat back down on the bench, her hands cupping her face, elbows resting in her lap.
Imogen made a face – a face as if she did something she definitely shouldn't have. She walked away again, gone a little longer than the last time. She returned, a new dress hugging her body. Red and black. Not identical to Fiona's. Similar, not too similar, but matching, most definitely.
Fiona stared at her girlfriend's dress for a moment before her eyes grew to the size of saucers. Her focus shifted into her girlfriend's eyes, a glare forming as she realized what happened. Oopsie.
"Fi I'm sorry, you were so uptight. You just needed to have a little fun, and even you can't deny that trying on ugly dresses wasn't entirely boring. I heard your incessant giggling."
"You're so lucky I love you." Fiona said simply, rising onto her feet. She shut the door, kicking Imogen out and changed back into her maxi dress, meeting Imogen outside of the fitting room.
As they paid and took the cab back to the loft, Fiona gave Imogen the silent treatment. She wasn't genuinely mad – well, that mad at least, but she definitely wanted to make her girlfriend squirm and torture her some.
The silence was good for thinking, though. Fiona decided she'd go with her hair down, Imogen with her hair up. The details would be left to the imagination of the stylists, and Fiona was excited for the outcome already. Fiona also decided how she wanted the corsages – white roses, her own with rhinestones, Imogen's with tints of red and black coloring to complement her artistic personality, and black, silky thread for the bow.
As the cab pulled up to the loft, Imogen got out, holding the door open for Fiona and holding out her hand to assist her girlfriend. Fiona smiled smugly to herself internally, Imogen truly believing she'd be sleeping on the couch that night. Imogen grabbed both of their dresses and was extra careful bringing them up, hanging them immediately as they entered the loft in a closet that held Fiona's most formal and expensive belongings.
Fiona followed her girlfriend into her bedroom, setting her belongings in front of her vanity mirror. Imogen pulled out the chair made specifically for that desk, plopping down on it.
"Babe you can't really be upset with me," she claimed.
Fiona shrugged, knowing she was getting to Imogen. She wouldn't make her suffer much longer, but she still wanted to push her buttons.
Fiona kicked off her heels, slowly sliding her dress off of herself, revealing her lacy light blue thong and bare torso. Her back was to Imogen, but as she grabbed her silky purple v-neck sleeping shirt, her younger girlfriend caught a side view, tensing up a bit as she immediately craved her girlfriend. She did her best to shake it off as Fiona slid her shirt on that cut off just above her bum, pouting out her lip a little bit.
Sensing her girlfriend had enough, Fiona walked to Imogen with a straight face, only to soften up as their faces came in close proximity and Fiona softly, but passionately, kissed her girlfriend.
Imogen slid her hand onto Fiona's delicate cheek, holding their position as they lingered on their kiss for a few more minutes. Finally having to come up for air their lips parted, both separating with a smile and Fiona gently pressed her nose against Imogen's.
"Despite your little antic today," the curly haired girl began, "you're actually the best girlfriend ever."
"You're definitely the best girlfriend I've had." Imogen replied immediately. Foot-in-mouth infecting her once again. "I mean-"
Fiona scrunched her nose, laughing softly. "You mean because I'm the only girlfriend you've ever had? Yeah, I'd hope I'm the best."
Imogen couldn't help but laugh, a whine hidden behind it. "Fionaaaaaa. You know what I mean." Bringing her hands onto Fiona's hips, Imogen pulled her girlfriend onto her lap only to remember that Fiona's lower body had only a light thong caressing it. "Would it kill you to put on some pants? For my sake?"
Fiona smiled, extremely sure of herself and stood from Imogen's lap, turning her ass to her girlfriend. She stood there for a moment, Imogen's eyes fixated on it, then finally Fiona pranced to the bed, sitting down and pulling her comforter over her lap.
Imogen groaned, not even the slightest encouraged to outdo Fiona's advances. She removed her Chuck Taylors, going to the drawer full of her own belongings. She changed into a simple black tank and Spongebob-inspired bottoms, climbing into bed with Fiona. Imogen couldn't help but stare into Fiona's lap, wanting to burn the fabric that hid her girlfriend's amazing body.
"Obviously somebody likes what they can't have," Fiona teased.
Imogen tapped her girlfriend's nose. "Just you wait and see."
Fiona smirked. "Oh yeah?"
A cocky, sly grin crept onto the quirky girl's face. "Prom night, it's so on."
(((So I know this is basically fluff, and I'm not sure how far I want to go with this story, hence me neglecting it some. If you're thoroughly enjoying it, even just one of you, I'd be more than happy to continue. If you guys are bored though, I'll put it to an end. Review if you can. [: )))