I've been playing some old records
That I found in Grandpa's trunk
Beside a wind-up gramophone
Beneath a pile of junk
And in that dusty attic
I enjoyed a music show
Listening to the melodies
Of eighty years ago
Doo wacka doo wacka doo wacka doo wacka doo
The band would play
Doo wacka doo wacka doo wacka doo wacka doo
They'd dance the night away
I long for all the magic
And the days of cabaret
Bring back those good old melodies of yesterday
Bring back those good old melodies of yesterday
- Celtic Thunder, Do Wacka Doo watch?v=mv_kOb6JRaY
Jack gave another box a tug, coughing as he dislodged another fifty year's worth of dust. He knew everyone was busy around here, but yesh, you'd think they'd clean once a decade or something!
Phil had waved him toward the room earlier, muttering something in yeti about Jack looking in there for some boxes of fabric if he was so desperate to help out. Apparently he had an idea he wanted to try that needed the sturdy and fancy fabrics they'd tossed in here when they had stopped using the real stuff on the toys they sent out – silks and satins and velvets rather than in imitation stuff parents could justify or the magic could convince them they'd bought.
Jack didn't really care about the why, just so long as he had an excuse to go poking around in one of the storerooms.
The Northern Hemisphere's summer was boring, and there wasn't much for him to do in the Southern Hemisphere. Much better to have an excuse to go poking around in the Pole, now that he had free access to the building. He wasn't going to go into most of it without some reason, since he didn't want that access taken away, but when they said it was fine...
He was beginning to suspect that Phil didn't really want the fabric, he just wanted Jack out of the way. Oh well, his loss setting Jack loose in a storeroom. Jack grinned and moved on to the next pile.
It wasn't North's storeroom of adventuring souvenirs, but this was almost better – he didn't have to worry quite so much about damaging something in here.
He yanked open the next box, letting out a laugh and a low whistle as he dug inside. Very fancy, very fancy indeed, North, he thought, pulling out the tuxedo jacket. It was far too small for North, but too big for a child, and Jack wondered just why North had it.
It was still in good condition, thanks to North's spells on the storerooms to protect the contents. Dust, no, didn't protect against that, but at least they didn't disintegrate from being left alone.
Jack dug back in the box, pulling out the shirt and bow-tie to go with the tuxedo jacket.
The next box yielded a hatbox, and Jack laughed as he pulled out the old top hat. He laid it on top of the tuxedo jacket, shirt, and tie, debating trying them on for the hell of it.
No, he decided, he wasn't done exploring just yet. He went through a few more boxes, finding nothing of interest in them. Pulling at a drop cloth, he stared in disbelief at the gramophone he uncovered. One of the old ones, with a crank on the side and a huge trumpet. There was a box of records tucked underneath, and Jack dove in.
Five minutes later, he had the record on and was cranking the machine to wind it up. He hadn't heard this music in decades, and he missed it.
Suddenly remembering the tux, he set down his staff, pulling off his hoodie and grinning. Might as well, right?
Five minutes later, Jack tilted the top hat to a jauntier angle and gave a twirl, enjoying how the jacket's tails flared behind him. Hey, if he was going to dance to classy music, may as well look the part right? He'd always wanted to give it a try anyway.
The music kicked on, bright and lively, and Jack laughed as he danced his way around the clear area in the middle of the room, staff taking the place of a cane as he played.
The song came to an end and he bowed to his imaginary partners, straightening at the sound of clapping from the doors to stare incredulously.
Sandy stood there, smiling broadly.
Jack began to blush, frost spreading over his face at getting caught. Still, he summoned up a smile and gave his staff a twirl, sauntering over to Sandy.
The small dreamweaver grinned, summoning up a top hat and monocle from his sand. Jack laughed as Sandy restarted the record, giving him a bow. "Care for this dance?" he asked dryly as Sandy laughed silently.
They spun around the room, sometimes on the floor and sometimes taking to the air, Sandy's sand filling the room and twining around them as they dipped and spun, Jack's laughter filling the room alongside Sandy's streams. For a minute Jack was reminded of all the times he'd danced or played with Sandy's sand before, and he wondered if Sandy knew about those times.
When the door creaked open again, revealing a confused Phil who had been attracted by the noise, they didn't hesitate, Sandy pulling him into the room and Jack pulling him into the dance.
Phil protested at first – he was busy, Jack! - but gave in soon. Jack was one of the few who could get the stern workaholic to play, and they both knew it.
He was surprisingly light on his feet for such a huge spirit.
The three of them Charleston-ed, tapped, and spun around the room, making up their own silly dances, breathless from laughter by the time the record spun to its end.
Jack was going to give them both the traditional hand kiss and managed Sandy's before Phil grabbed him around the waist, squeezing tight and ruffling his hair, making Jack laugh and squirm for freedom.
He set Jack back on his feet, gesturing to the top hat and tails Jack was still wearing and saying something quickly. Same as with the tooth fairies, Jack was starting to pick up enough to understand most of what Phil was saying.
"Really? It's not my usual look," he replied to the compliment, giving a spin and tapping his staff on the floor like a cane. Phil just grunted out another laugh and some more yeti, telling Jack to keep the outfit.
He brightened – impractical as they may have been, they were still the first offhand present, let alone present, he'd gotten in as long as he could remember. "Really, Phil? Thanks!" he cried, throwing himself into Phil's arms for another hug.
Phil grunted at the impact but wrapped his arms around Jack anyway, Sandy floating down to join the hug. Jack needed far more hugs in both their opinions.
Sandy giggled silently and pressed himself closer to Jack's side. At least Jack had known he was dancing along this time. He still found himself far too amused at how oblivious Jack was when it came to the effect his dancing had on others.
Not that he was going to be the one to tell Jack. After all, these things had to be discovered on your own, right?
A/N: I admit it, this chapter was just because I 1) wanted to use that song, 2) wanted to get Jack in tails and a top hat, and 3) felt challenged to toss Phil in there.
Also, I am amused by Oblivious!Jack and Oblivious!Tooth, so while they both will eventually figure things out, it may take them awhile. Also, Sandy is a little shit and I love writing him as one.