I typed this last night from about 7 to...about 10:45ish. I took lots of breaks, though. If I take the time I took and put it all together, I'd say it took...about an hour.
This might not make sense at first, so I'll explain it at the bottom. I'm not about to give it away, though, obviously. If you catch what I'm talking about, this might actually be kinda boring-but if you don't then, well, I wish I could see your expression!
Cheers resounded as Sam Manson stood from her chair and kicked it out of the circle of chairs around her. Catcalls and hoots were heard from some of the goofs in the audience of thirty-two.
She chewed her lip, looking around the circle of chairs for that one, special person. Her lips spread upward in a grin as he ended up in her line of vision. He saw her gaze and immediately looked away, squirming in one of the squeaky fold out chairs that everybody else-save for Sam-was sitting in. His pale cheeks brightened into a cherry red colour, his eyes looked anywhere but at hers, and his posture immediately curled in on itself, trying desperately to be as invisible as he was when his hair was white and eyes green.
Beside the blushing boy was another one, an African American donning a red beret on his head and a pair of thick black square glasses over his eyes. His mouth was opened to let the joyous laughter bubbling from within him escape.
Sam slowly walked over to the pair of boys, letting her thick boots hit the ground with a loud sound each and every time, building suspense, enjoying every second that her best friend squirmed in discomfort, listening to the sounds of the delighted audience around her.
She took one last step and stopped when she couldn't walk any farther unless she wanted to walk on top of him. His eyes were now trained on the far wall on the opposite side of the room, taking in every tiny detail on the black painted brick, refusing to so much as glance at the goth girl smirking at him so deviously.
Her heartbeat picked up just the slightest; would this work? What would he say? How long would it take before he'd be coherent enough to answer anything she said?
She slowly lowered herself onto one knee, clasped her hands together near her neck in a hopeful, innocent looking gesture that contrasted greatly with her clothing style and attitude, and looked up at him with wide eyes and a solemn expression.
"Danny," she began, and waited for an answer. He gave a short nod in response, his face forcefully grim, a smile threatening to break that appearance. The audience around them booed, and informed him that he needed to look at her in the eyes. He reluctantly did.
Taking advantage of this, Sam batted her eye lashes at him in a flirtatious manor. His lips trembled-he was trying not to smile.
"Darling," she began quietly, looking him directly in the eyes, a trick that never failed to work, "I...I love you!" she yelled, spreading her arms wide and jumping to her feet, keeping her eyes locked on his. He was resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands, to hide his grin as well as his blush.
But Sam wasn't done yet. She leaned over, placing her face as close to his as she could without coming into contact with him. He couldn't help but notice how her lips were only a breath away from his own, how her eyes shined with sparkling amusement, and how her breath smelled as sweet as the gum that he'd given her only half an hour ago. He swallowed; all he had to do was keep a straight face and then this mocking torture would be gone, and it would switch to somebody else. Of course, Sam would never get this close to anybody else, would she? She was only this close to him because they had been friends for so long. They were comfortable with each other...
Sam opened her mouth, ready to finish what she had been saying. It came out in a whisper.
"...won't you please, please smile for me?"
Danny didn't say anything for a few moments after she'd finished her sentence. He barely dared to breathe with her so close, and he certainly didn't want to do anything that involved opening his mouth at the moment.
Thankfully, Sam was drifting away. She didn't seem to notice it-it wasn't even an inch, after all-but it gave the boy some breathing room to finally attempt to say something. Hopefully he could hear himself over the pounding of his own heart.
"D-darling, I love you," he replied, and he was aware of their audience 'oooh' at this new turn of events, "but I-I just can't smile...f-f-for..." he trailed off, now trying desperately to control his own expression as Sam gasped dramatically and threw her head back, one hand to her heart, the other to her forehead. He swallowed, and repeated himself, "darling I...I..."
Finally, the poor boy couldn't take it anymore, and burst into a fit of laughter.
"Alright, Danny, you're in." said Ms Little, the drama teacher. Danny, still red faced and chuckling slightly, stood up from his chair, which Sam promptly sat down in, grinning evilly at the former inhabitant of the chair.
Danny looked around the circle made up by his classmates, looking for someone to 'declare his love to'. He'd probably be in the middle for a looong time...
If one thing was for sure, it was that Danny Fenton did not like drama class.
Ok, I will at last explain. See, there's a game in drama class called 'Darling I Love You'. It starts off with a person in the middle of a circle of chairs (and there are people sitting in those chairs, obviously) and that person has to go up to somebody in the circle and say in any way you can (preferably a crazy, makes-anybody-laugh way) "Darling! I love you! Won't you please, please smile for me?"
Then, the person that it's being directed to has to respond, "Darling, I love you, but I cannot smile for you." with a completely straight face. If you smile or laugh, then you take the place of the person standing in the middle.
It's a good way to train yourself to keep a straight face. What I got Sam to do is actually very...small. What some people do is they go out of the circle, walk behind their victim, blow lightly on their face/ear or something...or whisper in their ear...
This guy in my drama class got out his ipod touch and played a really incredibly romantic song (the next time he did this he played the Rick Roll song) then got as close to his victim (another GUY, mind you, both straight, not that I'm against the other way but that's besides the point, and you're not allowed contact in this game) as he possibly could (he was almost straddling the guy. Seriously.) and started singing along-we were astounded at how long it took for the victim to laugh. He did laugh, eventually, but it did take a while.
Enjoy the fic, I hope it made sense, and I hope that I explained the game well (and I hope some of you, at least, have played it. It's a fun game.)