A/N: I stole a line from Duckie Dale in Pretty in Pink. I remember hearing it years ago and was like lmaooooo Bender would totally say that too if he ever went to prom.
This is also not an extra chapter for anyone that still follows this story and received an update. I went back and polished up this story a bit more, adding some things here and there in earlier chapters. This is the only one that remained mostly the same.
This was a dream. An unbelievable, fairy tale-like dream—except without the knights in shining armor and fire breathing dragons.
Andrew asked her to prom. It was awkward and sweet and beautiful all at once. If this is what walking on cloud nine felt like, Allison never wanted to wake up.
Claire had taken her shopping—again—to help her. Allison, to Claire's shock, picked out a velvet and taffeta dress. Allison loved it, especially the skirt and how the color sparkled like rubies in different lighting. Claire said it was unique, yet simple, just like her. Claire even taught her how to do her own make-up and hair for it.
Prom was every girl's dream—maybe not Allison's in particular. Still, she knew it was amazing to be here, arm in arm with the guy she was probably head over heels in love with.
Allison stumbled up the stairs but Andrew's reflexes were quicker.
"You okay? Maybe we should walk slower." He offered gently.
"Yeah," She managed to croak. "I can't walk in these things."
"Why're you wearing them?"
"Claire made me," She muttered, fixing her stance. She really hated these silver heels she borrowed. Claire said they were the shortest she owned. "She took all my sneakers so I wouldn't cop out."
Andrew smirked. "She's definitely something else."
With the help of Andrew's arm, Allison was able to keep upright. He didn't mind being her anchor.
Andrew looked really handsome in his rented suit. Allison wanted to say it, the same way he complimented her earlier after the initial shock of her elegant design. Her own parents didn't even recognize her, actually speaking to her for the first time in months just to ask who she was.
But her tongue twisted, and her throat tightened, and she nodded—like it was their first time meeting all over again.
The live band's cover of "American Woman" by The Guess Who ricocheted through the hallway. The vibration of the bass pierced her chest the closer they got. She was nervous but excited.
A heavy arm around her shoulders almost made her trip on air. Again. Allison sucked in a breath.
"So! How's my golden couple doin'?"
"Get the fuck off me, Bender," Andrew whined, trying to shrug off his arm but John didn't let go. "You're ruining my suit. I paid good money for this crap."
"Now, now, Andrew," He wagged the index finger on Andrew's side. "Let's watch the mouth, huh? It's a school function. I don't wanna get kicked out before the party starts."
Andrew rolled his eyes. "What're you now, my mom?"
"Oh, god no," John retracted his arms and pushed forward, walking backwards with precision. He opened the flap of his tux, showcasing a peeking flask of alcohol in his inside breast pocket, wagging his brows suggestively. "I'm more like the favorite uncle that only comes around holidays but brings really nice presents."
Andrew grinned, knowing John would share.
"John…" Allison started, staring at his unusually elegant form. "What're you doing here?"
John looked refreshing in a rented suit and his hair slicked completely back. The ends stuck out like a duck's butt. He had no finger gloves on, either. Allison was shocked John chose a regular black suit.
He raised a brow in disbelief. "Am I not allowed?"
"That's not what I meant."
John shrugged, thrusting his hands in the pockets of the dress pants. "Had some business that needed takin' care of. Nothin' against you guys. Just needed to be alone for a while. All's good now."
"No hard feelings." Andrew confirmed. "Glad you're back to, uh, normal, I guess."
"This is also my formal apology to the future prom queen," John mocked gagged. "Me in this monkey suit should be worth a life time of 'em. There's no way in hell I'm comin' back next year for hers. "
"What're you talking about, man?"
"Cherry better appreciate the shit I go through for her. Don't worry, Sporto, this is between us outcasts, normal's aren't allowed." John turned around, waving dismissively to Andrew. "You'll find out soon enough."
Allison blew the bangs out of her vision though there was none. Her hair was in an elaborate up-do. "What happened to it's not the status quo?"
"Well," He clicked his tongue. "Some weird chick once told me that sometimes the risk is worth it. Turns out her advice was pretty solid. So here I am."
Allison smiled.
"But, I want you both to know that despite my appearance at this function, I remain now and always, John Bender." He pointed down at his feet.
Instead of wearing dress shoes, John wore his combat boots though recently polished. The red bandana poked against the fabric of his pants.
Andrew laughed and Allison decided that was better than any song she ever heard.
John's tidy appearance didn't last for long.
When it was time for dinner, he sauntered to their empty table—completely disheveled. The cuffs were unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled to his elbows, showcasing an undershirt. He was always careful to never show that cigar burn on his forearm. He loosened his tie, hanging it on top of the jacket on the chair.
Even Andrew followed his lead and loosened up his appearance, unbuttoning his shirt and shaking off the gel from his hair.
Halfway through dancing, Allison undid her hair and took off her shoes. The pins bothered her scalp and her feet ached. Claire frowned when she noticed Allison's hair but otherwise said nothing, taking a seat next to John.
Claire was already here when they walked in, dancing with a group of her friends. Like Allison, she was a rare junior amongst a crowd of seniors. She ditched them once she noticed John. They were inseparable since. Her friend's approval didn't matter anymore, they would be gone within two weeks.
"Holy shit," Andrew gaped when they told him they were together. He took a gulp out of John's flask when none of the administration looked their way. "I had no idea—fuck, this shit is strong. How'd you sneak it in? They checked everyone this year."
John shrugged innocently. "Stuck it down some nerd's pants."
Andrew choked, coughing roughly. Allison immediately reacted, gently patting his back. John hid his triumphant smirk with a lick of his lips.
"Is that any way to treat a friend?" Claire asked, bumping John's arm with hers. His red dress shirt was a nice compliment to her pink, satin dress.
"Who would I be if I missed any and every opportunity to make his life a living hell?" He asked, tone laced with sarcasm without even trying. "Cherry, you should know me by now. I ruin people's lives and I enjoy doing it. It's my job—and I do it free of charge."
Claire rolled her eyes, reaching out to fix his messy hair.
"I'm fine, Ally," Andrew croaked. He scooped up his plastic cup full of water, drinking slowly.
"You all right there, Sporto?"
"Shut up, Bender," He wiped his mouth with a napkin, pushing away his plate still full of food. "So why'd you guys keep it from me?"
John swallowed the chicken reluctantly.
Claire rolled her bare shoulders. "The only person that knew was Allison."
Andrew turned to his other side. "How come you didn't tell me?"
Allison finished pushing some rice on her fork. "It wasn't my place to say. I found out because I caught them once."
Even in precisely applied makeup, Claire flushed. "I'm still embarrassed about that. I'm so sorry."
John mouthed I'm not.
"I've seen worse. Don't worry about it." Allison said, detached. The rice tasted bland, she almost spit it out.
"This food is horrible. This tastes like my mom's casserole." John placed his utensils on top of the plate loudly. "You should've cooked for us."
Andrew paused from taking a sip, arching a brow. "… Is that a compliment?"
"Anyways," John deflected. "I'm hittin' the diner by the school after this. Wanna come?"
"I'm down," Andrew responded. "As long as you're paying."
John scowled. "Do you also need me to hold your hand while you wipe your ass?"
"It's the least you could do after those times I made you food in Home Ec."
Claire mouthed the word boys to Allison, covering the side of her face with her hand so John couldn't see. Allison pulled her lips together, trying not to smile.
John snatched his flask from Andrew and threw his head back—hoping the alcohol could wash away the awful taste.
Claire seized the flask from John's hand when he finished. She gave it a hesitant sniff before she took a long sip. John was impressed.
"... What?" She asked provoked, placing the flask back in his hand. "You think a high maintenance girl like me can't drink? Have you met my mom? The one who drinks at least 3 bottles of wine a day?"
"If memory serves me right she fainted when you introduced me."
Andrew chuckled softly by Allison's side.
"She was drunk, John. She didn't remember you the next day."
"She asked me if I was a witch from Salem," Allison chimed in, remembering that afternoon fondly. "Or if I practice magic."
John snorted. "I'm not surprised. I'm sure if Claire brought dear ole' Andrew home with her, mom would be all over him."
"Well…" Claire grimaced. "My mom does like them young and groomed."
Andrew's face fell. "Remind me to never step foot in your place."
"I like your dad, though," Allison said suddenly. "He's a good guy."
"No hate towards the man," John agreed in his own way. "He got me the job at the auto shop. He's also helping me find my own place. That man's got connections."
"Oh, I love this song," Claire hummed to the off key cover of Madonna's "Material Girl" the band started playing. She placed her hand on John's forearm to get his attention. "I'm gonna go, if that's okay with you."
John waved her off. She took one more sip of his flask and left without a second thought.
"Hey, Bender," Andrew slapped his arm. John shot him a look that said what the fuck. "You gotta tell me the details, man. I've known Claire since we were kids. She's never dated anyone."
He brushed the invisible grim off the spot where Andrew hit him. "Guess there's a first time for everything, huh?"
"Don't give me that shit! I know how you act. I've seen those chicks in your wallet. Claire's—"
"—nothing like them. I know. And I'm glad," John folded his arms across his chest. "God, Sporto, relax, I know what I'm doing. Since when did you turn into her brother?"
"That's not the point, butt face—"
"Ya know, if you're so anal about the pictures bein' gone, why didn't you say so? I would've given you some of the photos. Sharing is caring—"
"—I just don't wanna see her get hurt, that's all," Andrew muttered and it was almost lost in the music. "And it would suck if it came from you, 'cause I actually consider you a friend, believe it or not."
John's mouth dropped open comically, gradually placing a hand over his heart. "That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, Andrew."
"You better lick it up, man," Andrew scowled. "'Cause I'm not repeating it."
John smirked. "I like the chick. Actually like her. I don't know why but I do. She's …different. Special, even."
"That's good enough for me."
"Allison knows what I'm talkin' about, too," He fixed her with a look. "Don't ya, Kooks?"
John said it in that sharp, deflective tone that would make anyone embarrassed. Allison felt her cheeks growing warm. Andrew turned to her questionably, with big blue eyes that matched a child's curiosity.
"What's he talking about, Allison?"
"Nothing," She shot John a glare. "Drop it."
"Well, look at the time. It's time for my grand escape," John pushed the chair back and got up, placing the flask in his pocket. The Romantics' "Talking in Your Sleep" started playing. "I'll be meeting you losers at the diner later?"
"Sure. Save us a seat." Andrew said with a curt nod.
John walked off, leaving them alone.
"So, what did he mean?" Andrew turned to her again, asking softly. "Do you… like someone?"
"It was nothing, leave it alone." Allison responded quickly.
Andrew blinked at her tone. "All right, forget I asked."
Absentmindedly, Allison massaged her sore feet. They had been dancing for about an hour nonstop before sitting down to eat.
The live band sucked. They kept playing mediocre pop music—music that someone like Claire loved. Andrew complained and John was there right by his side, barking the same complaints but they still danced. Allison wasn't sure if she could even consider it dancing. Andrew was a demon on the dance floor, with two left feet, and John was… well, John.
Allison loved to dance. She still remembered those nights, dancing alone in her room. Now were nights when Andrew's parents were gone and they jammed out to some rock songs on full volume that made the neighbor's knock on his front door at two in the morning. Shadow always jumped in, especially if it was Queen.
"Hey, don't you like this song?"
She hadn't realized the band started playing the beat of one of her favorite songs by Prince. "When Doves Cry".
"Yeah…" Allison started hesitantly.
Andrew held out his hand, beckoning. "Well, c'mon, let's go!"
Allison stared at his open palm, that same warm palm she held so many times and wanted to keep holding.
"But, Sporto…" She chewed on her lip. "You hate Prince..."
Andrew made a face, he didn't disagree. "I know, but you like him, right?"
She took his hand. And that was the final straw.
She was hopelessly in love with Andrew Clarke and she didn't know what to do with herself anymore.
Allison wished she drunk some of that alcohol. Actually, not some—the whole thing, if John would've let her. Being trashed was better than wide awake, having to deal with everything. She wanted to run, run and never return, but Andrew's firm palm guided her forward.
Prom was over; the final song of the night was a cover of Depeche Mode's "Just Can't Enough". Allison thought it was fitting.
They walked hand in hand back to his Bronco, his jacket over her shoulders. The cold and jagged cement of the sidewalk felt nice against her throbbing feet. All that jumping around also left her starving. She was glad John always thought ahead.
"You should put them back on," He squeezed her hand. "You never know what's on the floor."
"My feet hurt. This feels good."
"I could carry you, you know?"
She wondered what it would be like to be carried, bridal style by Andrew, but shook off that mental image. She wasn't a princess, Claire is.
Allison halted, using his arm as an anchor again to put the heels back on. She wished she had her bag; she could've stuffed sandals in it. Claire took that from her too, giving her a clutch instead.
"Is being carried so bad?"
"No." She almost bit her tongue at how rude she sounded. What was wrong with her?
After clasping the strap in place, she started to walk forward but Andrew's hand stopped her. He didn't move.
"Allison, are you okay?" He asked, concerned. "You've been acting really weird ever since Bender made that comment at the table."
"I'm always weird, Sporto," She responded flatly. "It's not something that I can turn off with a flip of a switch."
"You know what I mean. John's just being an ass, don't take it to heart."
"I know. Everything's cool." She said but looked away.
"No, it's not," His other hand settled on her wrist, working up her arm to warm it up. He could feel the goose bumps but it wasn't from the chilly night air. "You're doing that thing you always do when you're upset—"
"Which is?"
"You're shutting me out. Don't shut me out, Allison," He pleaded gently, with that soft voice that made her want to spit it out because he wouldn't judge her. "Just tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong."
"You've always been a shit liar to me, Allison. If it's what he said, just let me know. I'll talk to him tonight."
"No," She said slowly. "You can't fix this because... John was right."
"What do you mean?"
She finally looked at him. "I do like… someone."
"But?" Andrew probed with a shake of his head, not getting it.
"I don't think he likes me that way," Allison rolled her shoulders as nonchalantly as possible. "I think I'm taking everything he does for me the wrong way."
"Well," His brows furrowed. "He'd be stupid not to like you. You're an amazing person, Allison. Any guy would be really lucky to have you in their life. I know I am."
Allison swallowed against her tight throat. She wanted to say it, but words failed her. When words failed her, she had a canvas but that wasn't here.
Against the light of the street lamp, his hair looked like a bed of snow again. Like the snow she wished for months ago. Almost her snow, but he would always be too far away for her to reach.
"What're we doing, Andrew?" She asked softly, laced with fear of the unknown.
Andrew froze. "I'm not sure what you mean?"
"This," She indicated at their still joint hands. "What is this supposed to mean? Friends don't do this. Couples do this." She breathed heavily, the impact of her own words crashing down on her that her eyes starting watering. "And you do it with me… All the time… Does that mean…"
"I—"
"I'm really scared." She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting nothing more than to rip her hand out of his.
He took a step closer, so close that she could feel his body heat. "What're you so afraid of?"
"Being alone. I don't want to be alone anymore."
"You don't have to be," He paused, gently placing his hands on her upper arms under his jacket. They were so warm, like sitting in front of a fire place, though they were calloused from playing sports. She didn't care. "You haven't been since we met."
"I'm also really scared… That you might not like me the same way I like you."
There, she said it. Not completely straight forward, but Andrew knew her enough to get it this time. She couldn't look him straight in the eye, biting down on her bottom lip in anticipation.
He did something she didn't expect.
Andrew chuckled.
Her brows furrowed and body straightened as she looked up. "What's so funny?"
"I'm not laughing at you, Ally," He gave her that shy smile she loved so much. "I don't think you've noticed but I really like you too."
Her breath caught in her throat, the bubbling anger she felt seconds ago vanished. "The same way?"
"The same exact way." Andrew reaffirmed.
"…Yeah?" She asked, skeptical that this was still just a perfect illusion. Any moment she would wake up and it would be time for another day at school.
Andrew nodded, one of his hands maneuvering to the back of her neck, fingers curling through her hair. He had that same delicate look in his blue eyes, the one he gave her when they slow danced to John Lennon's "Love"—like she meant everything to him, the same way he meant everything to her.
As his face got closer to hers, like some magnetic pull, she felt herself leaning in too—until their lips met.
It was everything and more she imagined for a first kiss. His lips were welcoming, molding against hers that she was able to match every movement perfectly. Maybe Andrew really was made for her.
Her stomach felt so light and fluffy, and maybe this time it was because she hadn't eaten. She could feel the fluttering, the butterflies flapping their wings furiously. He pulled away ever so briefly and came right back. Allison wanted this to last and it seemed so did he.
His fingers weaving through her hair sent tingles down her spine and she didn't know what to do with this sudden burst of energy going through every square inch of her body except bounce like some dumb bunny.
Finally, he pulled away completely.
The bouncing didn't cease. Andrew didn't seem to mind. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"I was afraid you didn't like me back too. You're not exactly the easiest person to read, Allison, but that's okay," His hand that wasn't tangled in her hair came down to rest on her waist. "It's who you are."
Allison nodded against his forehead. "That's fair."
"So, uh, do you wanna do something tomorrow? Like go to the movies tomorrow? We could watch The Goonies?"
His sudden shyness was so cute that Allison couldn't help smiling. "I'd like that."
They found his Bronco after wandering aimlessly through the parking lot. He held the door open for her, like he always did, and Allison wondered how she never truly picked up on that habit of his.
She wasn't a princess, but Andrew made her feel like one.