TITLE: PLAN B

CHAPTER: DANCE, DANCE!

FANDOM: She's the Man

RATING: T

PAIRING: Olivia/Viola

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. I only own this story… And Malcolm's song. Haha! Kidding…)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: To all my faithful readers, thanks a bunch for sticking with this fic! Even though some chapters contain occasional typos. I read over my work (previous chapters) while typing this chapter and I found a lot here and there. So stupid. I'm also sorry for making you guys wait for the longest time. I hate myself for it! Anyway, we're finally at the dance! Yes! Yes! Hehe.. Anyway, here's chapter 7! Lotsa reviews faster updates!!

PLAN B

CHAPTER 7

Could your heels go any higher?! It was a miracle that you even made your way to the gym without tripping over or something equally unglamorous like that.

Maria, dressed as a nun (she never listens to anything sensible coming from you, why she came as a nun was beyond you…), sees the pain, so clearly etched on your face, and says, "They were on sale honey, and you said they were ehem… 'to-die-for'. Deal with it."

Note to self: Never let Maria run off to join a convent or something. You can't take her telling you off with a huge, black robe on any other time than tonight. That's so Paula Abdul, straight up…

"I miss my own mom." You say, pouting your lips and all.

"I know, you said that last, last, last night… Do you know you talk in your sleep?"

The earplugs. Right.

"It's strange how you're so vocal at night. Like walruses on the seashore."

Maria sucks at metaphors. Period.

Walruses, and anything concerning you, just don't belong in the same sentence.

Except maybe something humanitarian, like Olivia helped the walruses back into the water. Yeah, you could do with that sentence. You had to admit, watching 50 First Dates changed your opinion of Walruses.

"Ummm, can we not talk about that?" you snap at her, when you catch people looking at you like you actually did sound like a walrus on the seashore.

"Especially when the females are in heat—"

"MARIA!!!!"

Oh, she is gonna get it.

Guess who's going to get locked out of her room tonight…

"Oh look! It's a bird!" she declares out of the blue, her finger shooting out to point.

And you, very clever you, knowing very well that birds just don't fly into the gym, you turned to look. And duh Olivia, no bird. You turn back and surprise, surprise… no Maria.

No Maria but…

"Duke!" you squeak out. What? Did Mickey Mouse have you possessed or something? What was with the squeaking?!

"Olivia!" he exclaims, jumping back, equally surprised. The action gave you a good view of him in his full glory.

Not exactly his full glory. But close enough.

He looked like a gladiator or something, sporting a chest plate, a shield, a sword and a…

Skirt?

Wait a minute, Duke Orsino, captain of the soccer team, wearing a skirt?

God, why is that so hard to digest?

"You look…" you start, trying to look for an adjective that involved promoting masculinity even though said epitome of the male species was wearing a skirt.

You realize that you need to polish up your social skills. Specifically, the 'find the appropriate adjective' one, the skill in which a debutante retains her social etiquette by drawing attention to the minor misgivings of a companion, in a mild, and jolly way where the companion in company will never know that he/she was insulted.

Wait! You could feel it come back! You felt like you've finally found the word!

"…nice"

What Olivia? Nice?

The best you could come up with? And no, you can't blame Sebastian for your rapidly decreasing IQ anymore!

Duke blushes at the easy comment (that you had difficulty forming!). You're reminded of Bashful, one of the seven dwarves in Snow White. Who knew that Mr. Orsino could turn into three different shades of red?

"Errr… You too."

You had to give yourself some credit. You mean, 'You look nice' sounded so much better than something like 'You too.'

It goes dark all of a sudden. You feel this momentary fear that you might fall over. Okay, even if it was dark, the lights might suddenly turn on and you on the floor (once again) isn't that flattering unless Sebastian was on top of you.

Because in that case, you wouldn't mind if the rest of the student body thought that Sebastian couldn't help tackling you to the floor in a rush of mad passion. Whatever, a girl can dream…

A slow song starts playing and then multi-colored lights follow, illuminating the whole gym.

Oh, lookie here. Eunice is making out with something besides her hand. Your memory takes you back to the time when the both of you first met.

Let's just say that you never want to shake hands with her again.

Ever.

Wait! Is that… Toby?

Soccer Toby?

Hmmm, Sebastian must have taught him a thing or two.

Eunice and Toby, playing tonsil-hockey in the middle of the dance floor.

Man, miracles do happen. You wouldn't be surprised if a Unicorn came charging in, waving its mane all horse-like and stuff and its horn will sparkle in the spotlight. That'd be super-fab!

Ooooh, that could be a good Mane n' Tail commercial. No! You were a Herbal Essences loyalist! You weren't planning to commit any form of treason anytime soon.

But this was good. This was great.

At least you weren't the one who kick-starts the "let's all just make-out!" outbreak.

And you know very well why that was so.

Olivia Lennox does not make out with the first hot guy she sees.

That was Olivia Lennox last year.

Anyway, your 'hot' standards were high (at least you think they were).

And college boys are so over-rated.

Besides, even though you were practically after him, Sebastian was sure worth the night's wait.

And this dance you still owe Duke.

Woah! Did you just see a flash of some tongue-action there?!

God, this was worse than any Discovery Channel Animal Sex Special you've ever seen.

Including the ones Maria has seen, which meant The Walruses Out of the Waters.

You turn to look at Duke.

As expected, he was gawking at them with his jaw dropped.

You didn't want Duke catching any flies with his mouth hanging open like that.

He could get a disease and die or something.

That would be a perfect waste of boy.

Then a new song starts playing…

She smiles in a big way

A way a girl like that smiles

When the world was hers

And she held your eyes

Dashboard Confessional, Dusk and Summer.

Nice slow song. Sad, but nice.

You could so relate to the song. Except that Sebastian was like… a guy.

Okay, you admit that he was a bit on the feminine side, but he was still a guy nonetheless.

His innocent stare makes you wanna strip down to your underwear. And until that happens, you will be wearing Victoria's Secret everyday.

So, in conclusion, he's like, totally… a guy.

(Readers and author share knowing smirks)

Going straight to the point, this would also be a perfect waste of a song if Duke and you aren't going to dance to it.

"Hey, Duke." You call, waking him out of the nightmare, unless he considered it a fantasy, which would be totally gross…

His mouth shuts close. "Hmmm?"

You wanted to laugh because he was so pale, like he saw death…

You look back at the scene and even though the place was dimly lit, you could still see Eunice grabbing Toby's ass…ets.

Death… Or something really, really close.

You never felt this particular need to gouge your eyes out before.

Turning away in disgust, you face Duke again.

"So… How about that dance?" You ask, trying to wipe that bad mental image from your memory.

He takes another look at the kindred spirits getting it down and dirty on the dance floor for the last time and he cringes.

"Yeah, now would be a pretty good time." He says, probably incinerating what he saw with his powerful mind furnace! It probably set most of the things he learned in Advanced Chemistry on fire… or maybe not. Duke didn't seem to be that much of a dumb jock.

But you wish you had one, a mind furnace…

Oh wait, you already had one. And it christens itself: Sebastian.

Then Duke tentatively puts his arms around your waist then you snap back to your senses and put your hands on his shoulders.

Hey, it's a real breastplate! It wasn't plastic or anything. You could actually feel the cold metal of it.

So, for the most part of your dance with Duke, you were thinking about how cold your fingers were. Gosh, then Duke must be freezing…

The next three minutes were left for you to ponder upon the coldness of Duke's costume, looking everywhere but right in front of you.

After three minutes...

Yep, still cold.

No, colder. Definitely colder.

You've already lost when you only had

Barely enough… of her to hang on

As the song faded away, you take your hands off of the icy chest plate of doom.

His hands were on you waist.

You look up at him expectantly.

And then the imaginary light bulb floating above his head did an Einstein and lit up.

"Oh yeah… I forgot, my dance with you was only one song's worth." He reminded himself, laughing a little at his antics.

His hands: still on your waist.

"Duke…" you say in a slightly foreboding tone.

"Right!" and he lets you go, shaking his head in embarrassment.

Considering the situation and all, there was something you just had to ask Duke.

"Is Sebastian—"

And Duke cuts you off to say:

"Do you like Cheese?"

He asks that, completely out of the blue. Wait, understatement. It was more like, completely out of the friggin' rainbow.

Real edgy, Duke.

Silence. Except for some weird, techno, background music. You were guessing Malcolm had something to do with that. You look for the DJ.

Yep, she was being harassed by Malcolm in a Superman suit. You know… the one with the fake, bulging muscles.

Oh God.

Sights like that shouldn't even be put on the face of the earth.

And sometimes the gift of sight isn't always a gift.

Someone with irrevocable beauty, such as yourself, would have no problem being spotted in a crowd. But when someone, like Malcolm for instance, is the person who spots you…

Well, that's when it's already a problem.

Uh-oh, disaster! This was getting too weird, or maybe it was just the techno music?

I see you through your window…

As I'm standing on a tree outside

And the gift of sound has chosen to vandalize itself too. He recorded his dumb song?

That is so gay. Akin to George Michael…

No Malcolm, I am not going to wake you up before I go, go…

One thing was clear… your hair was absolutely gorgeous tonight.

Well, that and the fact that you had to jet.

Duke was already frowning because of the said platinum piece of crap. And the rest of the school? Well, they stopped whatever they were doing because the song was that powerful. Like, you could hear crickets already… Oh, that was just Eunice and Toby kissing.

Holy Shizzle, you so did not want to talk to him. Especially with Duke around, Malcolm might even be crazy enough to get Duke through the roof. Duke and the roof. A big no-no.

"Duke?"

"Hmmm?" he leans in closer, you blame the techno music.

"I have to go."

"Thanks for the dance by the way." You whisper in his ear, leaning back to flash him your mega-watt smile which achieved its objective: he was smiling like a new-born, baby dork.

"Oh— Uh. Sure." He says, sort of unsure of himself.

You 180 your cute little angel ass around. Maybe if you walk away now, Malcolm wouldn't be able to get to you. Maybe the crowd will trample him to serious injury because he looks so unnatural in a Superman suit.

Besides, he would just kill your brain cells faster than normal. Sebastian was already conducting a major genocide in your head. And he wasn't even at the dance yet.

Okay, you are almost at the ladies' room. If you could just get your damn heels in there…

Someone taps your shoulder. Busted.

Just pretend that you didn't feel that. And walk faster. What were you, impaired or something? You were sure that you weren't carrying that much extra weight.

But all that red and blue jumped its way to the front, and soon, you were face-to-face with who you now acknowledge as 'SUPERFAG'.

"A pleasant evening, Olivia. Would you care for some refreshment?" he invites in his usual 'polite-but-internally-sleazy' way.

Hey, it was only excusable to talk like you were in a medieval movie if you were a Stratford Junior League Debutante.

And Malcolm, well, no junior leaguer in her right mind would even allow him to pose in a group photo. That's just… sick.

"That'll be unnecessary, Malcolm". Your tone, super-annoyed.

"But I insist—" he obviously… insists?

"No."

"Maybe just one glass?"

Ugh! Do you have to bring cheerleaders in and let them spell that out for him with their bodies?

Hey, when you think of it, it's actually a pretty nice— NO, you are NOT bringing in cheerleaders!

Can you just fuck off, you fag?

Olivia Lennox and swearing in public just don't go together. You were dressed as an angel for Christ's sake! You could at least play the part…

So, in Debutante Linggo, you say: "Go away, Malcolm!", trying in vain to get away from him as modestly as possible.

Okay, not as catty. But hopefully, that should do. Then you side-step and pick up your pace.

"Olivia—" he goes, all high-pitched.

And then he grabs you by the arm.

So that didn't work out…

Modesty sucks. You should've gone with the 'eff off, you fag!' line.

Seriously, he was so persistent tonight.

"Lady Olivia, thy lips are dying to feel thou. Grant thee this one wish!"

Shakespeare doesn't work on me, boy.

He puckers his lips and lunges himself at you.

Sexual harassment, anyone? Oh, shit… Your life is over!

"Let go Malcolm!" you whimper, trying to shove him off of you.

God, he's so close. You wanted to cry then and there. Malcolm was going to kiss you. And it's your fault because you don't work out that much so you can't push him away with your pathetic biceps.

And runny mascara is going to make you look so broke-down… Crying is not an option!

He leans in and tries to catch your lips. You pull our face away in utter disgust and somehow, his nose lands on your neck. You can feel his streams of breath, sending bad chills down your spine.

Then he lets his tongue loose, licking your collar like a psycho. You try to scream but you couldn't.

Maybe it was okay to cry now…

You shut your eyes. You did not want to see him while he did those things to you. You didn't want to see him at all again, ever.

Why wasn't anyone doing anything? Did they not find it unusual that Malcolm was doing ghastly things to Olivia?

Ironic as it seemed, you needed to be rescued from Superman.

"Hey, Clark." You hear a voice say and suddenly Malcolm came flying off of you.

"I'm not Clark!" Malcolm whines, his feet dancing a few feet above the floor, while a masked guy in a tuxedo holds him with both hands by the collar of his cape.

"I meant you, Superman." The masked guys growls coolly, and then he slams Malcolm against the nearest wall with a force that you could only see in movies, or like… in the O.C.

Malcolm bangs his head against the wall and the impact must've caused him to say, rather dumbly, "I swear I'm not Clark. It's me, Malcolm! Malcolm Festes! Clark, he must've left early. You know, he might've took the whole 'same costume thing' pretty hard… Don't hurt me."

The masked guy let out a little laugh and said, "Speaking of pretty hard, how hard do you reckon this is?"

"What is—"

WHACK!!

Obviously, the guy in the tuxedo doesn't let Malcolm finish that question by giving Superfag a well-deserved and well-placed hit to the face. It sounded like breakfast cereal, you know… crunchy. And that tells you, something must've cracked.

Ohhh, is that Malcolm's nose bleeding? Yes, it is. You don't know why you feel very satisfied seeing him like that. Oh right, he tried to push his tongue down your throat. Jerk.

You watch as his back slides down the wall until his ass hits the floor. His head hung in defeat… and because he got bitch-slapped.

Mr. Mystery squats down to his level and says in his oh-so-smooth voice:

"Piece of advice, if you ever go near her the next time around, I swear you'll never be able to get up to do that again."

You feel like a Disney Princess all of a sudden, with a masked prince charming defending your honor. How preschool could you get?

Malcolm, bleeding like the Niagara Falls, looks up at the masked guy and nods as fast as his head could allow him.

"By the way, Clark Kent is Superman, dumbass. You make me sick." He says spitefully at Malcolm.

Hey, maybe he'd even spit at Malcolm. Nah, you don't want to see this perfect guy spitting like a cheap, greasy hobo on the street. Even if it was going to be Malcolm he spat on. Na-ah.

"Now do us all a favor, get out of here."

Ten seconds and Malcolm was GONE.

Then hot masked guy gets up and does what any other guy in a tuxedo who just got out of a fight would do: he brushes off unseen dirt, gives his suit two nice tugs (one short and soft, the second fast and hard), and finally, he fixes his tie ( pull left, pull right, it falls center).

Can a mute say 'abso-fucking-lutely perfect'?

Hell, neither could you because you were like… speechless…

You mean… his hair was still perfect!

Well, it looks a little messed up, but nevertheless, it was still windsweptly (the word should be created as a tribute to him) godly

I am a man who will fight for your honor

I'll be the hero you've been dreaming of

And the DJ, who wasn't being annoyed by Malcolm anymore, hits the mood spot on!

Chicago was the only way to go, go!

Masked hottie makes his way to you and for a second there, you thought he was going to grab you into his arms and kiss the lights out of you.

That didn't happen.

Because actually, it went like this:

He walks up to you, and being the total gentleman he is, asks, "You okay?"

Your heels were killing you, Duke asked you if you liked cheese after a very boring dance, Malcolm just traumatized you for life, what else?

Oh, and you were totally falling for the guy in front of you.

"I'm okay." You smile at him.

And he returns it with his classic grin. You thank God that his mask didn't cover his mouth… and his eyes. Because, you know, if it did, you totally didn't have an excuse for ripping it off his face.

'Your mask is covering your über-gorgeous face so it has to be taken off' did not sound like a very good reason at all. Nope, na-ah.

"Did he hurt you?"

You could practically see the blue-green through the holes of his mask as they examine you intently.

Intently…

Oh my God! Your hair!!!

You must've looked hideous.

"Let's just say that it wasn't as badly as you hurt him." You say playfully and he lets out a little laugh at that.

"Actually, my hand hurts a little…" he confesses, observing the knuckles of his right hand.

"But I have to admit, that felt great. I mean, I've never punched anybody before…" he realizes.

You find yourself smiling because he was going to start talking non-stop in his 'Hastingsly' cute way.

Wrestling Commentator Voice: Let's get ready to… RAMBLE!

"…never thought about doing things like that—"

Awww, he was so friggin' cute.

"…It was just that Malcolm spiked the punch—"

And you, at the moment were…

"he tried to get you drunk— are you sure that you're fine?"

NOT.

"Um, Sebastian?"

He stops, mid-dialogue.

"Oh sorry, I'm rambling." He apologizes sheepishly.

"Yeah, I've noticed." You tell him.

His face falls.

"But honestly, I love listening. You're like Seth Cohen… except for the part where you did a Ryan Atwood on Malcolm." You assure him good-naturedly.

"But you're way cuter."

Okay, did you just say that? What the hell Olivia?!

Then the smile creeps back to his lips. He actually kind of looks… smitten?

Alright Lennox! You're in the zone! Score!

Props to you and your amazing pick-up lines. They really work!

Even when you were probably looking like the thirty-year old prostitute with the angel costume in Can't Hardly Wait.

Which reminded you:

"it's just that I kind of need to use the ladies' room."

"Sure. Yeah, I think I need to comb my hair too. My hairdresser worked so long—"

He stops again, realizing what he said.

Okay, so he goes to a hairdresser.

Where do you find those kinds of guys?

Outside Principle Gold's office, that's where. And you weren't even looking…

Speaking of outside, outside the girls' bathroom, right at the entrance, you were surprised to see that Sebastian was still by your side, about to walk in and all.

You give him an amused look.

He gives a questioning one, right back at you.

You don't even bother to break the 'look-fest' as you look at the sign on the bathroom door.

Sebastian follows your gaze until his eyes are also resting on the sign.

He stares at it a while until it finally dawned on him.

"Right, I am not a girl." He states, smacking himself on the head in the process.

Right you are, Mr. Hastings. Apparently, you are not a girl.

Would you be head over two-inch heels, in love with him if he was?

insignificant bathroom scene because Viola can't be there to join in on the fun

When you walked out of the ladies' room, you felt fabulous again.

Partly because you did indeed look fabulous and partly because you had your leading man outside waiting for you.

"Did I take too long?" you ask him worriedly.

"The only thing you took was my attention." He answers with his smirk that could power five US sates.

Oooh, he's good. Damn him and his charm…

"Wow, the only thing I can say right now is… I don't know what to say." You say honestly.

Then you hear the familiar drum and bass beat of that oh so famous Fall Out Boy song.

"Well, great. Cause' you don't have to say anything right now. It's time to dance!" he takes you by the hand and leads you to the dance floor.

She says she's no good with words but I'm worse

Barely stuttered out the joke of a grown man

He stops and notices the coincidence.

"Dance, dance" he turns around to add.

"Man, the DJ is so spot on!"

Your thoughts exactly.

Dance, dance!

We're falling apart to half-time

Dance, dance!

These are the lives you'd love to lead

Three minutes of dorky dancing(done mostly by Sebastian) later

Your faces were flushed from the dancing and the laughing.

Actually, Sebastian danced. And you just laughed your ass off.

You try to stand straight to regain some air.

Breathing hard, you catch his eye.

He was breathing hard too.

There was something about the simultaneous rise and fall of your chests that somehow made the DJ play a slow song again. It was like she and you had an affinity or something, with her playing the right music at the right time.

Perhaps it was because you have both been pestered by Malcolm and that has created some sort of cosmic bond between the both of you.

Passed out in our school clothes

So we wake up in our Sunday's best

I never asked for your opinion

I just got it. And I get it

You've never heard this one before. You catch Sebastian listening intently, concentrating on the song.

"Hey, I know this." He muses, grabbing your hand for the second time that night.

"My brother—" he stops, and he gently pulls you closer to him.

"I" he corrects himself, "—have this on my playlist." He explains.

His hand is not in yours anymore and you try to switch your attention to what he was saying… instead of the feel of his hands, which you now realize, were already on your waist.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

We move slow like daytime drama

And I'm boring like his songs

So while I'm taking you for granted

We'll be humming along

Your hands move to his shoulders and they're stiff there. Then the both of you start to sway and get lost in the rhythm.

Damn brain, and it chooses to abandon you now?

You keep your head down. Your knees were going so weak. You know, one look in his eyes and you're dead.

You still managed to step on his toes even though your gaze was plastered to the floor.

He winces a little, and you apologize to his face, then he swears he's okay by smiling it off.

Okay, now, you were officially… dead.

Sebastian, if you feel sorry for your feet, stop being so makeout-able!

Well cross my heart and hope to
I'm lying just to keep you here
So reckless, oh (so reckless)
So thoughtless (so thoughtless)
So jealous
I could care less

"It's by Taking Back Sunday" his voice, raspy. He was as nervous as you were. But now that you were finally looking at him, he decided to say something.

You wonder how that band got their name. You also wonedered if he'd be okay with you wrapping your arms around his neck.

"What's it called?" You breathe out in a whisper, and your arms slowly snaked themselves around him.

He inhales deeply, and you panic a little. But then he eases into you, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

So let us pray (we don't believe in)
So let us pray (second chances)

"Slowdance On The Inside." He answers, barely audible, eyes trying to read you.

Despite getting lost along the way, his hands meet each other at the small of your back.

You start to hear your heart pounding in your chest. It almost drowns out the music.

The both of you are pressed against each other, so intimately close.

Don't you ask me
and don't you lose

(I win)

Close enough to smell his aftershave again.

It was still fruity.

Everything goes hazy and your thoughts are all scattered in your head, appearing and disappearing in and out of a huge cloud inside.

Smelling him, only makes the situation worse. Or better, because you were starting to like the scent of his neck since you, sometime during the dance, rested your head on his shoulder.

Well cross my heart and hope to...
I'm lying just to keep you here
I'll keep you here
I'll keep you here

He doesn't smell like any other boy you knew, he didn't look like any boy you knew either.

All you knew, was that he was the only boy you wanted to smell and look at for forever.

And all you wanted to know is what this boy here, tasted like.

Well one of us never did it, but were taking it all
And tell me why you never promised that you wanted it all
And though her eyes never batted when she said it
It's a long night, open, know it all

His lips were soft like you expected them to be. At first, he froze and leaned back a little in surprise. But like the time he eased into your arms before, he did the same into your mouth too. And damn, he was a good kisser.

This glass house is burning down
You light the match, I'll stick around

He pulls away quickly, shaking his head in disbelief. Through his mask, you could see a sea of regrets and mistakes flooding into his blue-green pools.

"Sebastian, I—" you start to apologize, not knowing exactly what to say to explain why you suddenly shoved your tongue down his very-platonic throat.

"I have to go." He says softly, and finally.

I'll give you everything you want
And wish the worst on what I was

You don't know why you just stood there and watched as he walked away.

So much for the 'just friends' plan, eh? You're such a conniving bitch.

At this point, 'just friends' was the best thing that could happen to you.

And it is as if the chances of that are like… finding a pair Chanel boots, 75 percent off, and in your size.

You were left there again, on the brink of collapse and breakdown.

Where was a swivel chair when you needed it?

Tonight won't make a difference


Tonight won't make a difference

You lick your lips to try to taste him again.

Lipgloss, Strawberry.

……

Strange.

You swear you used vanilla tonight.

Tonight won't make a difference…

-end-

2ND AUTHOR' S NOTE:

So how do you guys like this one? It was long to compensate for lack of an update. Was it worth the months of waiting? Well, I hope it was, I tried to squeeze every bit of my genius (if you can call it that) into this chapter and I'm practically brain dead right now. Oh, and check out my Gossip Girl fic!

- doble D Cervantes