I love Dakota and I hate not posting things I've finished, so have some self-indulgence.
On with the show
This whole night had been one bad idea after another.
Ford wasn't entirely opposed to parties. He'd attended some by himself on occasion, and with Stan along it usually became a legitimately enjoyable time. So long as they left at a reasonable time.
But Stan, drunk with power after buying his first car, coerced him to stay longer and longer every time Ford had asked to go, and Ford couldn't really find a reason to insist. So now, nearing one in the morning, the partygoers had thinned to just eight or nine people: Ford, Stan and his girlfriend, Carla, the host, Maggie, and a few other students from their school in a different class than Ford.
In hindsight, it really was just a matter of time before someone finished off a cola bottle and had the brilliant idea. Ford just wished he could have caught Stan's eye to make enthusiastic no no no gestures at him before he made the suggestion.
"Let's play Seven Minutes in Heaven!"
And before he knew it, Ford sat on the orange living room carpet, sandwiched between a boy who could really use some deodorant, and a girl who'd been flitting from group to group all evening.
Over the past several years, the game had become almost a staple in high school parties, but that didn't mean Ford had gotten used to it. Seven minutes in a dark, enclosed space with a girl he didn't know was certainly not his idea of a good time, and even worse were the games where the girl was allowed to choose, because not getting picked at all was somehow more mortifying than the awkward encounters he was forced into, and he wasn't sure he could stomach Stan's flash of pity before his brother tried to change the subject.
Maggie and Stan were arguing rules across the circle, one of Stan's arms permanently draped over Carla's shoulders. So which would it be, embarrassment in the closet, or Stan's pitying face?
Maggie kept flashing him odd glances, like she wanted something from him. What, input? Ford would much rather just let Stan have his way and be done with the argument. "I say let's let the girls choose who they bring in!"
Pitying looks it was.
Stan settled with a sweet word from Carla, and the bottle was tossed in the middle. Maggie still hadn't stopped glancing at Ford, and he tugged at the collar of his polo shirt a little, trying to avoid eye-contact. He knew dealing with people wasn't really his thing, and he couldn't for the life of him understand what she wanted from him. Maybe if he just ignored it, she would stop...
"One more thing," interrupted Maggie before anyone could reach for the bottle. "Once a boy is chosen, he's not allowed to be picked again."
That's something that worked slightly in his favour, since the ratio of boys to girls was fairly even, but the sudden mental image of being shut in a closet with Maggie Brown caused a sweaty prickle to stab at his underarms. Not that it wouldn't feel nice to be chosen, so Ford probably had no right to get too picky about who it happened to be.
"Now," Maggie clapped her hands together, finally breaking eye contact with Ford. He felt his shoulders drop at the release of tension, fingers relaxing around his cola bottle. "Who wants to go first?"
A beat of silence filled by the hungry stares of eight hormonal teenagers, all waiting to pounce on the bait, before Maggie snatched the opportunity. "I'll start." She spun the bottle, and Ford could almost feel his head start to spin with it. It seemed like it would never stop, until it did, and his heart seized. It... it wasn't pointing at him, was it?
No, the mouth of the bottle opened directly towards the girl at Ford's left, the sociable one. Maggie's face fell, for some odd reason, before she plastered on a smile. "That's you, Dakota. Who's it going to be?"
If the muscle-bound football player across the circle had anything to say about it, she'd choose him. Looks like Ford was off the hook this round. He lifted his cola bottle to his mouth—
"This guy."
—and nearly spat it back out as the girl nudged his shoulder. He gaped at her. Surely she must be joking? Or she'd hit him as she pointed to someone else? But no, she stared at him with a wide smile, head tilted just slightly.
Ford suddenly found it very difficult to swallow his cola.
The girl stood and offered a hand to him, smile never faltering. Ford pretended not to notice, both the hand, and the strangled noises Maggie was making in the background, and got to his feet as well. The girl (Montana? He hadn't been listening) turned and led him to the next room with her head high, trusting he'd follow.
And, like a sheep, he did.
The gleeful chatter of the remaining group died behind the closed door. Maggie's parents were out of town, hence the party, and their room stood barren and dark. They had a large closet, which the girl disappeared into, and Ford followed, crossing to the back as she shut the door behind him.
Silence.
Now what? What did she want from him? Was he supposed to make a move? In his previous experiences, most of the girls he'd been trapped with had only wanted to talk about Stan, or stay quiet for the entire seven minutes. But none of them had... chosen him. What did he say in a situation like this?
"Do—" his throat closed, and he cleared it into his fist. "Do you, uh, want to sit down?"
Cripes, he had to do this for seven minutes?!
But she laughed, a nice sound, and Ford felt his shoulders relax again. "Sure." She slid to the ground, back against the door. After a beat, Ford did the same, facing her. That was correct, right? They were supposed to face each other? And then what?
It was difficult to see her face in the dim light, but her voice had a smile in it. "Chill, man, I can practically see your panic. We don't have to do anything, you know, not if you don't want to."
"Uuh..." not his finest moment.
"Here, let's start with something easy." A shift, and Ford saw her hand emerge through the darkness. "I'm Dakota Thomas. And you are?"
Okay. Okay, sure, this was easy. And in the light, she probably wouldn't notice his fingers, right? Right. Logic prevailed, but that didn't stop the tremble in his hand as he took hers. "Stanford Pines. Or, uh, Ford. But not Stan. Just Ford." Shut up now, Ford.
The handshake went surprisingly well. Ford busied his hands with fidgeting with his cola bottle, though. Just in case.
"So what brings you to this party, Just Ford?" Oh, she was making a joke. Heh. Ford felt a little better about his word-vomit, though his confusion had in no way disappeared.
"Oh, Maggie is in my calculus class. She invited Stan, and I guess by proxy, myself."
"Who did she ask?"
What? An odd question. "Uh, Stan and I were together when she asked, and directed most of her words to him." Though now that he thought about it, she had been looking at him quite a bit.
Dakota laughed again. "That's what I thought. It's a common tactic among girls."
Ford blinked owlishly at the place he thought Dakota's eyes might be. "Pardon?"
"She was asking you to come, indirectly. But she didn't want to make it too obvious, so she did it under the guise of asking Stan, dig?" A beat. "Haven't you noticed her making eyes at you all evening?"
"Was that what that was? I just thought I had something in my teeth."
"You seriously didn't know?" She sounded a little distressed now, shifting to lean her elbows on her crossed legs. "Dude, I'm sorry, I was getting the totally wrong vibes from you."
Getting the... what? Ford took a long swig of his cola, trying to wet his throat. "What... okay I'm thoroughly confused here. What do you mean by vibes?"
"I thought you weren't into it, which is why I asked you in here. I know Maggie can sometimes be a little pushy with the guys she likes, and you seemed like a nice one. I didn't want you to get uncomfortable at all. But jeez, if you didn't know I might have just ruined something for you, I am so sorry—"
"No!" The word was out of his mouth before he even really registered. The mental image of Maggie's glances flitted across his mind, and he shuddered. "No, you're right, I wasn't digging it. I just didn't know it in the moment. So, uh, thank you."
"Thank goodness." The smile was back. "Hey, and now you can't be chosen again!"
"But won't she be upset with you?"
Dakota scoffed. "A small price to pay. Ma always tells me 'no means no, specially when it's not spoken'. You gotta pay attention to the actions, you know?"
Ford studied the mouth of his cola bottle. "I was never very good at that."
"S' chill. From what I hear, you're good at a lot of other stuff. Not bad looking, either, if I'll be honest. And from what I saw tonight, your brother balances out the stuff you don't have. You two are good compliments."
She wasn't wrong, but what was that stuff in the middle? Ford replayed her last words in his head, blushing so deeply his ears burned. For once, he was glad of the dim light. "And... you don't mind sacrificing your turn?" He remembered the football player, and for some reason his chest constricted.
"Nah, there was nobody else interesting out there, anyway."
Nobody else, she said! She offered information so freely, so easily, that the nerves that usually paralyzed him when he spoke to girls had all but vanished. Maybe it was just because they were in a dark room together.
A dark room...
The nerves returned. She talked about not making anyone uncomfortable, but what if she were trying to hint at something? Ford had never been good at hints, he needed to be told outright. Maybe... maybe if he asked... But what if she didn't like the answer?
If she didn't, well... he figured he only had three or four minutes left to fend her off before Stan (or, horrifically, Maggie) came to bail him out. He could do that. If he phrased it right, maybe he could shave off an extra minute or two.
"Sooooo..." he studied his bottle, probably harder than he needed to. Be cool, Stanford! "What now?"
Her answering shrug was easy. "Whatever you want. We could just talk until time is up, I'd be cool with that. You seem like a hip dude. Or, you know, now is the time to try something too if you wanted."
Ford's throat closed again. That seemed like more of an invitation than anything. Clarification, that was what he needed here. "Try something?"
"I do have some limitations, but yeah."
Again, that factual exchange of information, just casual enough for it to set him at ease. She really was offering. Or... maybe she just wanted him to try something? Gah, girls were frustrating, give him a physics book any day!
As confused as Ford was, he couldn't deny the offer was... tempting. "Maybe..." would she go for it? Would she mock him? Ford took another quick swig of his cola and fired the words out before his brain could stop him. "Maybe we could try a kiss?"
There. There were the words now, out in the open. She could do what she wanted with them, and he fully expected her to just take them and fall into uncontrolled hysterics. His heart palpitated wildly in his chest, and he knew he shouldn't have drunk so much cola, Ma always said it was bad for him—
"Is that what you really want?"
His eyes flew open to stare at the place she might have been. It wasn't accusatory, or mocking. It was slow and careful, like she was trying not to scare him. "W-what do you mean?"
She shifted again, like she was giving him every ounce of her undivided attention. "I want to make extra certain you're asking me because you want to, not because we're in a closet together and you think something's expected of you. You can say yes, and I'll agree because I want to agree, or you can say no because you know you don't really want to and I'll agree because I know if I told someone no I'd want them to respect that. The choice is fully yours, and I promise nothing bad will happen no matter what you choose."
Ford gaped. This... this was...
So unlike anything he'd seen Stan and Carla doing.
He figured they must kiss because they wanted to, but he wondered if they'd had a discussion about that when they first started dating or not. From what he'd seen, it was usually the male in the relationship that took control, and the female who just went along with it, but he'd never had the chance to figure that out for himself. He wondered if it was something he actually wanted to do, or if Dakota was right and he just thought something was expected of him. But he was here, with a good looking girl (from what he remembered when they sat in the circle, anyway), and she was showing him a frankly alarming amount of respect despite the fact that he was acting like the female in this situation when their roles should be reversed, and all it did was make him...
Well, make him want to kiss her.
He wanted to kiss her.
Voice oddly strong, he stated, "I would like to kiss you." And then, quieter, "If that's okay with you."
There was a laugh in her voice, but it was far from malicious. "Finally, a man who asks." She slid to one side, an invitation for Ford to scootch into the space next to her. He manoeuvred himself beside her, so both their backs were against the door, and his heart started to pound again. He was really doing this.
In position, side by side and angled slightly towards each other, Ford could see bits of her face lit by the slats in the closet door. She had nice skin, and bright eyes that studied him with such an intensity it made him want to look away, while at the same time not bearing the thought. Her mouth lifted in a reassuring smile, voice all business. "I assume this is your first kiss?"
She didn't tease, but he flushed anyway. "Is it that obvious?"
"You asked. Boys who've kissed before rarely ask. I'm going to let you take the lead, okay? If there's anything that feels uncomfortable, or if you decide you don't want to after all, just tell me and we'll stop. You are in control here."
Somehow that made him both feel better and worse. What if he messed it up? What if she laughed at him? He'd imagined this scenario countless times, but being confronted with it in reality was something so entirely different and nerve-wracking his stomach churned like he was going to blow chunks. Not ideal when staring into the face of a pretty girl.
Okay, Ford, focus. How did Stan do this? He'd seen him and Carla making out so many times it ended up disgusting him, so probably not the best idea to do it like that. So, opposite of face-mashing... Maybe face-touching? Yeah, that seemed like a safe option. Face-touching didn't seem like it needed much technique, maybe he could get by with that. Problem number one: remedied.
Problem number two? "My lips are dry."
Dakota laughed, and her eyes brightened impossibly further. "Take a drink if you need. Remember, we're on your schedule."
Technically, they were on the 'seven minute' schedule, but now didn't seem to be the time to mention that. He took a swig from his bottle, but it didn't help much.
"Think I could have a bit too?"
He passed over the cola and Dakota tipped it into her mouth. She handed it back, and Ford saw the glittering wetness of her tongue flicking over her lips. His adam's apple bobbed.
Okay, problem number two: remedied. Only one thing left to do. "I'm, ah, I'm going to try now." Stupid! Why did he say that?
Dakota's voice was soft, comforting. "Whenever you're ready."
He leaned in, and she leaned too, and his heart jumped into his throat. Just a face-touch, just a face-touch, nothing special about it...
He missed, bumping his nose against hers. He jerked back, breathing hard. "I'm so sorry, that was— I'm—"
A weight calmed him as she set her hand on his shoulder. "Don't—" her shoulders bounced, and he realized she was trying to suppress a laugh. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry, I'm not laughing at you, I swear. You're just—wow, you're being really sweet right now and I appreciate it, that's all. Here, we can try again if you want. It might be easier to keep your eyes open." Another quiet snort. "For aiming purposes."
Ford swallowed his nerves. If she said she wasn't laughing at him, well, for the first time in his life he actually believed it. No evidence so far had suggested she considered him in a malicious light, and he trusted the facts.
Just a face-touch, after all.
He leaned towards her again and she matched him, just like last time, but this time he saw her eyes drift shut, saw the soft perk of her lips, the easy set of her eyebrows. Quietly anticipatory, not dreading or repulsed.
He adjusted trajectory to match her and his mind blanked.
No bolstering comments, no calculations, no hyperawareness of his sweat glands working overtime. It was just his lips, against hers, soft and innocent and wonderful.
He pulled away, too quickly, but fearing he might be overstepping himself. He couldn't meet her eyes, terrified and desperate to see how she reacted. That was so much more than just a simple face-touch.
Dakota made a satisfied noise beside him, and he whipped around. Her thousand-watt smile was back, not unkind, but oddly proud. "Wizard, for a first-timer."
"That was okay?" Suddenly he needed her validation more than anything in the world ever. He can't have just botched his first kiss!
She licked her lips and grinned, and wow. "Your girlfriend is going to be so lucky, Pines."
His heart leapt at the notion, and the words exploded from his mouth before he could stop them. "Could I be better? Do you have any tips? Could we try again?"
Her grin grew into 'beam' territory. "Of course! My only note would be just relax a little. Should be easier now that you've got your first one out of the way. I can help you with that if you like."
"Yes," he said, immediately. "Yes I would like that."
"Alright, whenever you're ready."
He leaned forward again, eagerly, then hesitated. He had to remember, even though she was letting him take point, there were two people involved in this experiment. And she liked it when he asked. "I'm going to kiss you again, is that okay?"
Her voice went soft, lilting. "Yes, that's more than okay."
So he did, and he closed his eyes before they made contact, and there it was, that excellent press of her lips on his.
He became vaguely aware of a shift, and suddenly her fingertips rested gently on his jaw, tilting it just so, and wow he could get used to this! His own hand lifted of its own accord, first settling on her shoulder, then sliding up to the warm curve of her neck, his thumb just tracing her jaw.
They melted.
"Yo! You two dead in there? Seven minutes are up!"
Ford leaped away from Dakota, though she barely seemed bothered by the interruption. Curse Stan and his timing! He tried to straighten himself out, feeling oddly ruffled, like he'd just been caught doing something raunchy.
Dakota seemed to notice, because she set a hand on his shoulder again, stilling his fussing hands. "You look fine, Ford. And people are going to talk no matter what we look like coming out of here."
She was right, of course, but that didn't stop the heat gathering in the tips of his ears. Should he say something to her? 'That was nice'? No, that was lame. It had been better than nice anyway. "Was that your first kiss?" He blurted out.
She pushed open the closet door, holding it for him to pass. "No, I'd never use my first kiss on a party game."
He sagged, moving past her, but she caught him on the shoulder.
"I'll tell you a secret, though," she winked at him, and Ford's shoulders hitched again, though not from anxiety. "That was certainly one of the better ones."
And she breezed to the door, like her comment meant nothing to her and everything ever to Ford. She opened the bedroom door and suddenly his blood went cold. He couldn't leave it like this! What if they never spoke again? What if she pretended she didn't know him at school? He needed closure, before things went back to the way they were!
"Dakota?"
She paused, the door halfway open and light from the hall spilling into the dark room, and Ford could see her face clearly now. Open, honest, a little flushed (which he took secret pride in). And expectant.
"Could we," he shuffled his feet, suddenly becoming very interested in the carpet. It was a different orange than the one in the living room. Design flaw, or purposeful choice? No, Ford, you're getting off topic! "Could we maybe... do this again sometime?"
"What, lock ourselves in a dark closet?" He could see her grin fully, and it was lovely. It made his adam's apple bob again. He hoped she couldn't see it.
"No, just..." what, kiss? Start dating? That didn't seem right, it felt too soon, like there was more they had to do yet. But he couldn't just let her slip away. "Just... hang out. You know, at school. Or outside of school."
Her smile softened to an expression he'd never seen before on a human face. She studied the carpet with the same intensity he had a moment earlier. "Yeah," she said quietly, and Ford's heart burst. "Yeah, I'd like that."
"You two mix up your shirts or something?"
Oh, Ford was going to have a talk with his twin.
"We'd better go." And against his impulses, Ford knew she was right.
He gave what he hoped was a gallant gesture towards the door. "After you."
He tried valiantly to keep the smile from his face as he entered the living room again, but it proved difficult with Dakota radiating pleasure from his left side. Maggie, now that he looked, though, was a veritable stormcloud, staring daggers at Dakota. She pretended not to notice, and it was Ford's turn to suppress a laugh.
Stan glanced up from Carla long enough to notice the exchange. He locked eyes with Ford, one suspicious eyebrow arcing into his hairline. "You, ah, have a good time in there, Poindexter?"
It took every ounce of self control not to glance to Dakota, and by the hitch of her shoulders he figured she was thinking the same thing. So he grinned amiably at his brother.
"Yes, Stanley. Yes I did."
END