YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME. Thank you so much for reviewing! So, as a reward, the Prom chapter, as promised.

As you can probably tell if you ever read my other fics, I love doing pre-movie/book or post. I really hate doing "Right as they left off" ones. And I like doing post better than pre, although most Grey's fics are pre. Anyway. This is one of my favorites.

Disclaimer: Je n'ai pas any part of HSM. I'm horrible at French.

A photograph

They're seniors, and somehow, they've both managed to go to prom dateless. Or, at least, completely single, without a single lingering of a commitment, because they are each other's dates, and neither sets of parents really comprehend the match. They're childhood friends because they played in the same sand box, not because their parents thought it would be nice if their little tots got married. Quite the contrary, actually.

So, the obligatory posed pictures with the held-for-too-long smiles and the stiff postures are forgone by the parentals, and the real prom photos that are developed show two seniors laughing and grabbing at each other's arms.

A few minutes after the prom starts, Sharpay makes a girl cry.

"Why are you always so mean?"

"What are you talking about?"

"She was scared out of her mind!"

"And then she stabbed herself in the eye with her eyeliner!"

"Bitch."

"Asshole."

"It's not my fault she's so jumpy. I just wanted to borrow some bronzer."

"I won't ask."

And even though they're single, and have no commitments, and therefore dance for most of the night, they mostly dance with each other. Well, she most certainly couldn't dance with Ryan. Incestuous laws and such. They'd certainly apply if Sharpay and Ryan were as close as she and Troy are.

"Miss Evans, what is that you're doing with your...hips...?"

"Mister Bolton, where exactly are your hands going?"

"Point taken."

"Horny pervert."

"Hot slut."

"That's not very nice." He smiles, hovering right above her lips.

"Well, you're not a very nice person." She smiles back.

"Neither are you." And then he kisses her, once, chastely, and they just spend the rest of the time swaying, grinning against each other's mouths. He discovers that she does wear strawberry-flavored lip gloss.

A few hours later, they're sitting on her roof, slightly cold and still wearing their prom clothes. Sharpay shivers slightly at the light breeze, the folds of her blue-purple dress flapping around her. Troy offers her his navy jacket. The sleeves reach past her fingertips.

"You're short."

"Shut up." He rests his chin on top of her head. "And you don't have to rub it in."

She burrows her face against the crook of his neck. "The...stars are...beautiful," he says. She raises an eyebrow that he doesn't see.

"Bolton?"

"Yeah?"

"Grow a pair and kiss me, already." He happily complies. "We should take a picture of this."

"Of what?"

"Of the school king and the school bitch, sitting on the roof and not wasted. I'm surprised." He laughs.

"Wench."

"Manwhore."

And he takes the camera that's sitting between their legs and snaps a picture, of the two of them giddily happy and totally not stoned, in the throes of teenage love and really bad romance-novel jargon. They're already committed to each other without once saying it out loud, without once even consciously acknowledging it, and there's a picture to prove that.

That's the picture that covers up the prom photo in the photo album.

This will undoubtedly make many of you happy. It made me happy.

Yes, getting wasted is a fine tradition as a senior at Prom. YOU'RE SENIORS. You're allowed to celebrate so that your few sober classmates can perform the college tradition of drawing embarrassing things on your face.

As you can tell, I had a hella awesome time at prom. I'm not a senior.

quota: 45! Yes, I'm getting ambitious. There's only one more chapter!