Dan looked up from the kitchen sink and over his shoulder to gaze out of the window next to the television at the night's sky. It was getting late, nearing nine, and everybody was still here.
Of course, they'd be leaving soon enough: when one person goes, everyone starts going; and it looked as if Summer and Jade were getting ready to leave.
Both girls had been the life of the party so far – Jade was great at reciting funny anecdotes and Summer had had plenty of amusing experiences, too, to tell.
Phil had his arms resting on the back of the settee, his arched back making his shoulder blades show through his shirt. He seemed to be quite enjoying himself, which Dan was glad of, and had kept people entertained in awkward silences with embarrassing stories of his own – after all, he always seemed to attract crazy people (maybe that was why Eliza liked him so much). He'd told them about the time that a man in a nightclub shoved him into another guy for staring at his girlfriend's fox tattoo, and also the time that he was attacked by a squirrel.
People liked him a lot – he was hard not to like, really, what with his cheery personality and his positively glowing smile.
Dan looked over to him and gently sniggered as he turned around to meet his gaze.
Taking his hand out of the sink, Dan gave a wave, soapy bubbles dripping off his fingers.
Phil grinned to him as some electro swing music played in the background. He looked the most awake he had been in days.
Dan returned to the washing up, wearing a content smirk, tapping his foot to the beat and listening to everyone talk behind him.
He'd been able to pick out Phil's voice amongst the rest and had been quietly chuckling at his conversations.
There had been a moment when someone had pointed out his wound and, from the kitchen, Dan's heart skipped a beat or two. Thankfully, Phil had simply replied with 'it was nothing; let's not get into that' and left it there. Taking the plug out of the sink and drying off his hands with a tea towel, Dan turned about and leaned back on the counter.
The song was ending and, because Dil had showed him the playlist earlier (and he'd given suggestions to his Sim for what to put on it), he knew which song was next: It Don't Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing): the original cast recording from Broadway. It was one of those songs you had to dance to – there was no way not to. Unfortunately, he didn't think anyone here could possibly be tipsy enough to get up and dance about the room to a Broadway song.
Dumping the towel on the worktop, he waited until the music started before wandering over to Phil and tapping him on the shoulder.
"What's up?" Phil asked, thinking something was wrong that needed fixing.
"Come on!" Dan chirped, taking his hands and pulling him forward to stand straight, next to the dining table.
"What are you doing?" Phil asked with a laugh.
Dan – still keeping hold of his hands – slowly swayed him from side to side,
"Are you doing alright?" He asked, out of earshot of everyone else.
Phil nodded, still slightly confused (but amused), as Dan turned him around in time to the music.
"Good; nothing better than having a dance with your best friend, right?"
"I can't dance," Phil chuckled, "Especially not swing… or with you."
"Ah, just make it up as we go along," Dan replied with a scoff, averting his eyes and looking down to his feet. If he was perfectly honest, the only dance he could remember was the one that they did in TATINOF for The Internet is Here.
He assumed that nobody was watching, so took a side step in time to the beat. Quite a few side steps, actually.
Phil followed along with his movements, the music speeding up, slightly worried about tripping over his own feet and everyone seeing him.
The only thing either of them could think to do was touch stepping back and fourth with their hands pressed together and then attempting to recreate some jive moves they'd seen done before – it didn't matter that it wasn't swing, it just matched.
It didn't fail, surprisingly, and, as the chorus started up, they picked up pace, too. A twirl, a couple of steps and another twirl later, they resorted to tweaking the dance from The Internet is Here. Of course, it was nothing like a dance you'd do for Swing, but nobody was watching so what did it matter? They didn't have hats or canes this time, but they could work with that.
They started beside each other, a few touch steps before the song got quicker and they sidestepped past each other, back and fourth.
They made sure to stay out of view, behind the bedroom wall and the table, near the back door next to the computer.
Some more steps to and fro, mixing in some Jive, hands back together, one twirl each before returning to TATINOF: separating and taking two strides to the left – palms facing downwards towards to floor and swinging in time to the beat – and then back to the right again.
They turned to face each other as the music started to reach a climax, put their hands together (Phil's left and Dan's right) – arms around each other's shoulders – and dipped to Dan's right in time to the beat before spinning round twice at the climax and dipping back to take a breather as a brief interval of piano music started.
Their hearts were beating rapidly from the unusual exercise, but they paid no heed to that; it was the most fun they'd had in weeks.
There was still one full minute of song left to play and the piano was drawing to a close, the other instruments joining in, so they put their hands together once again and, breath catching with every move, stepped along to the sound of the saxophone. They mimed to the lyrics, grins on their faces as they did, looking like they were having the best time of their lives.
"Well, it makes no difference if it's sweet or hot-" the vocals chimed in, signaling the song was drawing to a close.
They took two touch steps beside each other, going opposite directions before joining together again.
"Just. Give. That. Rhythm… everything you got-"
A bit of a jive – even some twirls here or there…
"No, no, it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing-"
Some more moves from TATINOF; a couple of strides to the left then to the right, a bit of a shimmy then hands together and a twirl-
"Do-wa do-wa do-wa do-wa do-wa- do-wa do-wa do-"
One last set of touch steps, back and fourth, hands together again-
"Yeah, it don't mean a thing, all you got to do is sing-"
A hop, skip and a jump in opposite directions like they did on stage, taking up almost all of the energy they had left-
"Do-wa do-wa do-wa do-wa- do-wa- da-wa do-wa do-wow."
A stage kick forward in time to the vocals then back. The music reached a high point, ending with a trombone blow and a trumpet sound as they did a twirl into each-other and dipped back, out of breath and panting, wildly.
They gave a loud laugh, stood up straight and shakily stumbled forwards into a warm hug.
And that's when they heard a chorus of 'aww'-ing and giggles along with a sound of clapping and they realised that they'd been watched the entire time.
Did they care? Not a bit. How could they? What could possibly be better than making up a dance routine as you perform it with your friend beside you, all in front of a room of people?
They quietly laughed to themselves, muffled by the fabric of their shirts, and waited for their hearts to calm down.
"Hey," Dan breathed, silently, lifting his head a tad, "Didn't I tell you this would all work out OK?"
