All I'm going to say before we commence: Listen to "Halo" (Beyonce), at least during the fourth segment.
Bon appetite. ;)
"Whoa. Shel, that's gorgeous." Laura stared at the glittering, midnight blue spaghetti-strapped satin dress that extended to just above the blonde's knees.
Shelby grinned. Her hair was in a simple half ponytail that somehow looked just right with her outfit. "Like it? Makes you wish you'd gotten one too, huh?"
"I'm happy with these jeans," muttered the other girl, who had taken advantage of the situation to get some non-jumpsuit clothes, but nothing fancy.
Shelby checked her blackbox. "Five-thirty. Wing should be here any—"
A knock sounded at the door. Squealing with delight, Shelby wrested it open as Laura attempted to blend in with the wall.
Wing stepped in, his eyes alight with excitement. "You look… beautiful."
Shelby's breath caught as she took in how he looked. Wing, her Wing, who never failed to make her stomach leap pleasantly, now looked…
"You're don't look too bad yourself, big guy." Mentally, she cursed herself. Epic understatement.
They stared at each other for a few moments. Minutes, maybe.
Laura cleared her throat. " 'Scuse me. I'll be off now."
Wing looked concerned as she left. "Where's she off to?"
"Library."
"Oh."
Another silence fell. Then, Wing held out his arm.
A chorus of squeals and swoons erupted inside of Shelby, threatening to break free. Very nearly melting into a puddle, she took his arm.
"Wow," Otto managed. "You look… wow."
Annie smiled happily, giving a little twirl so that the sheer pink fabric gleamed in the light of the corridor between their rooms. "Thank you."
The white-haired Alpha briefly smiled, his attention distracted by a flash of red hair vanishing around the corner.
Nigel was at peace.
He laid spread eagled on his bed, a laptop full of movies on his stomach and a giant bowl of caramel popcorn by his side.
This was what he wanted. Not running around, fixing up harebrained shipping schemes. Not sitting through long-winded (but admittedly hilarious) Ninja Matchmaker meetings, enduring all the dropped hints that they ought to hook him up while they were at it. Not listening to Franz ramble on about his outfit (Nigel had made the mistake of calling him "girly" in front of Shelby, who exploded into a fit about sexist pigs). Definitely not scrubbing dishes (Ms. Leon had blamed him for aforementioned commotion; the blonde had mysteriously vanished).
No. Nigel was happiest like this.
Idle.
Single.
In pajamas.
With a laptop full of movies and a big bowl of caramel popcorn from a species of corn that he'd bred himself.
Ah, bachelorhood…
Wing gave a small gasp as they entered the cavern previously functioning as the mess hall. Now, swathed in streamers, balloons, and pretty much everything one would expect at a party— just supersized to meet supervillain standards. Music he didn't recognize (and was therefore most likely something contemporary) was playing from several huge loudspeakers, one of which they passed right by, causing the poor boy to cover his ears. A… what were they called? PJs? No… DJ was positioned near a glittering dance floor, several dozen had already started… well, Wing couldn't exactly call what they were doing dancing…
Shelby pseudo-sniffled. "Ah, nostalgia…"
Of course, Pike and the team (or maybe just the old professor) had found it necessary to throw in some extra statements, like roller-skating (not roller-blading; Wing knew the difference) waiters and waitresses, many of which looked like students having the time of their lives. Drinks, hot and cold, balanced on their precarious trays.
Wing wasn't sure exactly where they were headed, but soon found that Shelby was tugging him in the direction of the food, although "food" hardly exemplified what was there. As they approached, cupcakes, tartlets, and various hors d'oeuvres came into view, heaping over several long tables. Strawberries were positioned around a huge, seven-tiered white chocolate fountain.
And that was only a fraction.
The blonde gave a little moan as they neared a platter of colorful mochi ice cream. "Oh, man…"
And with that, she attacked the food.
Wing couldn't resist a few strawberries, ever careful not to get chocolate on his clothes.
Shelby noticed this, and, through a mouthful of food, managed, "Loosen up, big guy. Here, try a deviled egg."
It really was good, and so were the mochi and the cupcakes and now he really ought to try the raspberry soufflé before he got too full…
But of course, eating is far from the primary focus of a party like this. Before he knew it, Shelby was once again dragging him elsewhere. This time, their destination appeared to be the dance floor.
They attracted a lot of attention as they made their way. Heads turned to sneak a an envious glimpse at the two, particularly those of the female population.
"Ignore them," Shelby whispered, as Wing started looking fidgety.
"I am doing so," he replied as calmly as he could. While it was true that the stares were bugging him a little, what was really making him nervous was the fact that he would soon be expected to dance.
Which Wing did not know how to do.
As a matter of fact, it had been one of his increasingly urgent concerns ever since the dance was announced. Now, he felt quite queasy.
They stopped near the center of the floor. Shelby looked up at him. "I suppose I should teach you now, huh?"
"How did you—"
"Women's intuition." She smirked. 'You're not exactly stealthy with your fears… at least not with me."
The music had changed to something slower, as if on cue. He recognized this singer. The girl in front of him had mentioned the name Beyonce several times. She was singing something about a halo…
You're everything I need and more
It's written all over your face
"So…" Shelby continued. "You put your hand here… you'll have to stop twitching so much, Wing…"
He wasn't really listening. Their faces were close. Very close. And they were only getting closer with every adjustment and instruction Shelby made, which were, in truth, all going in one ear and out the other. Then, she looked up and grinned. Apparently, they were properly positioned.
Hit me like a ray of sun
Shining through my darkest night
Wing felt bad about ruining the fruit of her meticulous arranging efforts, but he had to do it. It wasn't much of a change, really. The hands around her waist just slipped further around, and pulled her forward to close the distance between their mouths…
Shelby was startled, but only momentarily. Wing could feel her smiling as she leaned in, tilting her head to adjust comfortably and wrapping her hands around his neck.
Suddenly, Wing didn't fear dancing quite as much as he did before.
Hidden in the shadows, a figure watched the proceedings with the tiniest of smiles.
"So sickeningly sweet, that," murmured pigeonattack.
Otto watched the two, (sort of) dancing a little ways away. He envied how happy they were. Their path had been so clear of bumps and boulders and forks and other obstacles (at least as far as he was aware).
The albino was sipping hot chocolate next to the chocolate fountain (heh), waiting for Annie to come back from the restroom.
Otto wished he could truthfully tell himself he was happy with Annie. She was smart, sweet, and definitely gorgeous. There wasn't anything wrong with her. It was just that there was someone else with those qualities, which he'd been totally taking for granted. Someone who, when he stopped to think about it, meant more to him than anyone else, including the girl currently running up to him excitedly.
"Come on!" said Annie, grabbing his arm and pulling him over to the dance floor. "I just requested 'Firework' and they'll play it next!"
"Oh! Cool." Otto tried to sound enthusiastic.
Annie was many things, but dense wasn't one of them. "Something's bothering you."
"Nothing," Otto lied.
"Tell me," she begged.
"Fine," he sighed. "I think I'm lactose intolerant."
She looked surprise. "That's it?"
" 'That's it'? I won't be able to have dairy anymore! This is terrible!"
"Well, eggs don't have lactose. Plus, soymilk is better than cow anyways. When'd you realize it?"
"Just now, when I drank that hot chocolate."
"Oh. Let's dance."
Luckily, she didn't see the relief on Otto's features. "Firework" had started up.
For some reason, Otto could not kid himself that he was having the time of his life as they danced. Sure, they were one of the more graceful couples (many of the junior super villains were awkwardly moving or simply bobbing up and down alone).
Then came the climax of the song. Annie was looking up at him, her eyes wide and hopeful… her eyelids fluttered shut... Otto felt himself leaning in…
"INCOMING!"
A roller-skating waitress burst between the two, the impact sending piña coladas in every direction. Several people screamed (guys mostly) and Otto jumped back, stunned.
"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" the waitress yelled, and Otto realized that she was talking to him. "YOU'VE GOT A DATE WITH DESTINY!"
"Wha—"
"THE LIBRARY, GENIUS, THE LIBRARY! NO, I'M NOT CLEANING THIS MESS. IT'S YOUR FAULT FOR BEING IN THE WAY! I DID WARN YOU."
It took him a while to realize that she was no longer talking to him. Then, shaking his head clear at this odd turn of events, he turned and made for the library at warp speed.
Partly to get away from the commotion.
Partly because the aforementioned commotion was the perfect cover to skedaddle.
Partly because he knew she'd be there. Funny how it had taken a crazy girl with a hyperactive complex—on wheels— to force him to answer the question that had been nagging at his mind the whole time he was at the dance:
What the bloody hell am I doing here?
He sprinted past flyer upon flyer advertising things that no longer mattered to him. In fact, he couldn't imagine ever having been interested in that stupid dance. He mentally kicked himself again and again for letting the chance to be with her drift past him… now he had to get there… and tell her… but she probably hated him, now; he sure hated himself, and there was no reason she shouldn't, after every idiocy he'd committed…
And there it was.
The library he loved, and within it, the girl he…
Feeling (shamelessly) like a soap opera star, Otto yanked open the door.
Hmmm…
I realize the lyrics aren't consecutive. I factored in time for Wing's thoughts.
You know that bobbing up and down thing that most people do at dances? I call it "The Mushroom".
Ah, soap opera-esque drama…
:)pidge