To see the disclaimer, see chapter one.

LP's and Nicknames

Tracy Turnblad, laying on her back, feet propped against the wall above the top of the bed, listening to the latest highly reviewed record on "The Corny Collins Show", was thinking about, not surprisingly, Link.

As she nodded her head with the basic beat and melodies of the song, she tried to shake off that gnawing, nauseated feeling that was determined to settle in the pit of her stomach for the past, well, month, if she was being honest.

Ever since the end of the Miss Hairspray pageant, when he had kissed her, in front of Baltimore, Amber, everyone, Tracy's smile widened unconsciously at the thought, he had suddenly became...distant, irritable, almost immediately afterwards. The smile fell almost as soon as it had appeared.

"Am I really that surprised?" Tracy said out loud to no one as she gazed upon her elevated legs, the skirt had slid backwards, revealing more skin underneath. She yanked the skirt back in place in annoyance. It isn't as if she was pining each and every moment to be thin, overall she liked her plump physique. But still, she had her days.

Sighing, Tracy looked down at her candy bar, enclosed in her palm, then promptly threw it across the room, hitting the wall and falling into the wastebasket.

Covering her face with her arms, she focused on the beat, unraveling the complicated patterns that the music followed. After listening to it for a few weeks, every beat, every note, every voice was memorized.

Suddenly, there was a new beat.

Tracy drew her arms off her eyes in curiosity, turning herself over on her bed, her brown hair falling across her shoulders as she directed her gaze toward her record player. It was still in place, spinning away under the needle faster than her eyes could follow at this time of night. Luckily, Edna and Wilbur take much more than the recommended dosage of sleeping pills every night, leaving Tracy to play her music as late as she wanted. Or until the neighbors yelled angrily from their windows. Whichever came first.

Raising herself upright, rubbing her eyes and slipping her feet into her fuzzy slippers that she'd possessed since she was ten, Tracy slowly made her way across the room to her record player in the corner, right below her window.

Bending over it and inspecting the spinning circle articulately, thinking there might be a scratch or nick in it somewhere, which, knowing the number of times it had already been played, wouldn't be a bad assumption, a flash of movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye.

Tracy gasped, taking a step back. In the time frame of about one second, she had visions of masked men forcing their way through the narrow opening, herself being kidnapped, being stuffed into a potato sack and being carted away to destinations unknown.

The beat continued, and Tracy realized that was what she was hearing, it was soft, almost unnoticeable. Peering closer, her heart lept to her throat. It was Link Larkin. Clad in a striped blue vest, black slacks, and that ever-present single curl falling onto his forehead, Tracy's visions of kidnapping and death immediately vanished, replaced by visions of every romance novel she had ever read.

He was poised on her fire escape, still knocking, his eyes wide and nervous.

She shook herself out of her romantic reverie, rushing to undo the latch of her small window. Link backed up on his knees as Tracy climbed out to meet him, the warm June air filling her nostrils as she turned to close the window behind her, only leaving an inch. When she turned back to face him, his eyes were downcast.

"I was hoping you'd be up." was all he said.

"Why are you here, Link?" it came out much sharper than she'd meant it to.

"I...I needed to talk to you, I had...a realization tonight."

Tracy just looked at him, pulling her knees up to her chest.

He sighed, "Trace, I....I....I...."

Her heart fell, and she swallowed, waiting for the inevitable statement that would follow.

Link stopped his nervous stuttering, itching his knee. He had never been this nervous. Ever, he was sure. His first ever performance on "The Corny Collins Show" at the tender age of thirteen was nothing compared to this. He opened his mouth to speak again. But Tracy beat him to it.

"It's okay, Link. I understand."

He just looked at her, "What?"

Tracy took a deep, jagged breath. "I...I understand, Link. I always knew this-" she paused, tears stinging her eyes, "wasn't what you wanted."

"What I wanted." he repeated. "What is it that I want, Trace?"

A tear slid down her cheek, "I don't know, just," her voice cracked, "...not me." Another tear slid down, clearly illuminated by the streetlight on the corner.

Link felt his heart just break, here, in front of him on a fire escape on a Saturday night, the girl he was irrevocably in love with, was crying. Because of him. Obviously, his powers of communications were not as great as he thought.

"Trace." he said softly, his own voice breaking.

She bit her lip as another tear fell, glancing over at the streetlight for a moment before directing her gaze back to him.

"Is that what you think?"

She nodded, unable to speak.

"Well," he said, leaning forward and brushing a tear away with his thumb, holding his hand, so warm, against her cheek, "you're wrong."

Tracy looked up at him, sure she had heard wrong. "What?"

"I....I love you, Trace. That was what I came here to tell you."

Shock was so evident on every aspect of her features, Link was almost hurt. Was he really that bad to her in the past month?

"But...but..."

He crouched over and walked/inched to the other side of the escape, turning and gazing right into her brown eyes.

"I was...stupid. I didn't want to see it, but, now I do. I'm selfish, self-absorbed, and just plain blind. Or, used to be anyway. You changed me, Trace, and, I love you." He smiled as he said it, as it sank in. The feeling he thought he had had with Amber, no, this was the real thing. The thing he had sang about, danced to, and now, experienced.

She smiled at him, her eyes still glistening.

He smiled a tentative smile in return, as he slowly wound his arms around her waist, and she laid her head down on his broad chest. They sat that way for a few moments in blissful, understanding silence.

"Link...just tell me something." Tracy said, looking up at him.

"What?" he replied, somewhat anxious.

She sighed, "Are you sure?" still looking up at him.

Link's grin broadened at the question, and he leaned down and caught her lips unexpectedly. In a kiss so sweet it nearly took her breath away, and then, too soon, it was broken.

"More than anything, baby doll." he said, cuddling her closer, as they both, together, turned their gaze to the bright lights of downtown Baltimore.

...

A/N: Hello readers! Last night I had a dream about Tracy and Link, although Tracy was a blonde Hilary Duff in the dress from Taylor Swift's music video "Love Story", BUT, that's beside the point. I was filled with such inspiration I had to write it down as soon as possible.

As much as I think this would be a cute way to end the story, it's not entirely over, so, read, review, and let me know what you think!