The drive to the school felt a little strange.
Not because of anything they were doing. The conversation was easy, familiar, just the two of them tossing out thoughts on what prom might be like. She'd joked that it'd probably just be a bunch of their classmates trying — and failing — to grind to music that wasn't made for it, which had made him snort.
No, it was strange because Larry was driving to school at night. That alone made it feel off, like he was breaking some unspoken rule. The streets leading up to the school were usually empty by this time, save for a stray car here and there, but now they were packed with students and headlights and people spilling out onto the sidewalks in formal wear. He's pretty sure he saw a limousine at some point.
It was weird.
Not bad, just... weird.
"Wow, this place is full," Penguin breathed, leaning forward slightly like it would somehow give her a better view.
"It is," he agreed, pulling into the parking lot near the gym entrance. Rows of cars packed the lot, headlights flicking off one by one as people arrived. The gym was lit up, its small windows glowing with all sorts of colors.
"I thought it'd be a little emptier," she admitted, fiddling with her jacket sleeves before tugging off her seatbelt. "'Tis a small town, after all. Didn't think there'd be enough people for somethin' like this."
"You're acting like we have a population of a hundred," he huffed, a smile tugging at his lips as he shifted the truck into park.
As he switched off the air and killed the music, his gaze flicked toward the gym entrance again. A few friend groups and couples lingered outside, some already making their way in. He watched as classmates hopped out of their cars, and sometimes — the guy, usually — jogged around to open the door for their date. It was a simple gesture, but he noticed the way it made the girls smile, the way they lit up just a little bit more, laughing or ducking their heads as their date held a hand out to help them down.
Maybe he should do that, too.
But just as the thought crossed his mind, movement at his side caught his attention. Penguin was already reaching for the door handle, ready to hop out before he even had a chance.
Oh, hell no.
He leaned over and caught the handle just before she could push it open, clicking it shut again. The way she blinked at him in obvious confusion was almost funny — head tilting slightly, brows drawing together like she was trying to process why her escape route had just been denied.
It made him huff out a quiet laugh as he said, "Let me get that for you."
Her reaction was immediate. She flustered, eyes widening slightly before a grin took over her face. "Ooh, fancy~! You learn that from a rom-com?" she teased, swatting lightly at his arm.
He rolled his eyes, fighting back a smirk. "Yeah, and you just ruined the moment," he muttered, cutting the engine and unbuckling his seatbelt.
She giggled as he stepped out, but the moment he shut his door, nerves settled heavy in his chest.
Because suddenly it hit him — he was about to walk into prom with her. Like, actually walk in, together, as a pair. He hadn't really let himself dwell on that before, but now, with the music thudding in the distance and the buzz of excited students around them, it was starting to feel real.
And that was— god, that was a lot.
But he didn't have time to overthink it. His feet were already moving, carrying him around the front of the truck, and before he could even take a steadying breath, he was pulling open her door.
She was grinning at him again, something playful in her expression as she reached up and extended her hand toward him with a dramatic flair, wrist bending delicately like she was a noblewoman. "Why, thank you, kind sir," she says, voice airy and posh.
He shakes his head, amused, but still reaches out to take her hand as she steps down.
Because hey, he was the gentleman tonight, after all.
As her shoes hit the pavement, she slipped her hand from his and reached up to tug off her jacket. And as much as he loved seeing her back again, he immediately noticed the way she shivered. His brow furrowed.
"Why'd you take it off?" he asked as she tossed the jacket onto her seat.
She blinked at him, caught off guard, before rubbing at her arms. "It doesn't match. Doesn't fit with the dress…" She reached up to tug at one of her straps, hooking a finger under the fabric and running it up and down in thought. "I didn't have a shawl, either. God, I should've listened to my grandma…"
"What does she say?"
"Well, it's not so much what she says as what she does. She has, like, three shawls in her purse at all times. She gets cold fast, too."
Larry snorted. "Seems like a smart woman."
"The smartest," she sighed dramatically, lifting her chin as if in praise.
He huffs out a soft laugh before bending his arm slightly for her. "If you get too cold, just tell me, yeah? I can give you my jacket."
The words slipped out before he could think about them, but he didn't mind. Not when her face lit up, her grin all big and warm as she eagerly locked their arms together.
"You hear that?" she said, leaning into him slightly as they started walking. "You're in danger of becoming a gentleman permanently."
He scoffed. "Don't get used to it."
"Oh, I definitely will."
He rolled his eyes, but he couldn't bite back a grin as they walked toward the gym, the thumping of music growing louder with each step.
As they neared the gym, the crowd of students thickened, clusters of people gathered near the entrance, chatting and laughing beneath the glow of hastily put-up string lights. The music pulsed louder, spilling out into the night air.
He barely noticed any of it, too caught up in the warmth of her arm linked with his until he felt a light tug at his sleeve. He glanced down, catching the way her fingers absentmindedly picked at his sleeve, her gaze flicking around. She wasn't looking at the gym or the people loitering by the doors — no, her eyes were lingering on the other girls.
For a moment, he wasn't sure why, but then he noticed her other hand fidgeting with her dress, lightly tugging at the fabric before letting it go, only to do it again. He followed her gaze more carefully this time, watching where her eyes landed, and then he saw it.
Compared to the girls walking around in shimmering gowns, ruffles and sequins catching the light as they giggled with their similarly decked-out friends or clung to their dates, Penguin's dress was… simpler. No glittering embellishments, no flashy accessories. Just clean lines and soft fabric, understated in a way that made her stand out to him — but maybe not in the way she wanted.
He, personally, could not give less of a fuck about how she compared to everyone else. She looked perfect to him. But from the way she kept fidgeting, from the barely-there crease in her brow, it was obvious she didn't feel the same. And he knew, at least in part, that was his fault. He'd asked her so late — maybe if he hadn't, she would've had more time to find something fancier, something that would've let her blend in with the rest of them.
So he tugged her a little closer, reaching out with his free hand to tap the back of hers. She smoothed over her expression almost instantly, like she didn't want to show she'd been thinking about it, but when she looked up at him, he could still see the hesitation in her eyes.
Slowing their steps, he leaned down just a little, voice low as he murmured, "You look great. Don't even start worrying about that."
She blinked, clearly surprised at being caught, before her cheeks darkened and she ducked her head slightly. But it didn't stop him from seeing the small, shy smile creeping onto her face as she curled her fingers a little tighter around his arm.
As they pushed the doors open and stepped inside, he was immediately assaulted — and there was no better word for it — by neon lights flashing across the gym and the overwhelming mix of about two hundred teenagers all trying to mask their scent with entirely too much perfume and cologne.
The air was thick with it, a cloying blend of floral, musky, and aggressively artificial fruit scents. Larry blinked, breathing in through his mouth in an attempt to adjust, but beside him, Penguin let out a sneeze.
He tilted his head toward her, and when their eyes met, it was over. Their shoulders shook with barely contained laughter, struggling to keep quiet as they stepped into line near the entrance.
They inched forward until they reached the table where one of the teachers sat, barely glancing up as he handed over their tickets. The man — he vaguely recognized him as the new math teacher after Mrs. Packerton — barely spared them a second glance before tearing the paper in half and tossing it into a box.
In the area they were in, rows of tables and chairs stretched out, their metal legs awkwardly hidden beneath draped fabric in an attempt to make them look fancier. It didn't fool him. Beyond that, the dance floor was already packed, students bouncing and swaying under the shifting lights, the energy of the room practically buzzing. The music wasn't his type, but he had to admit — it was good for dancing.
Penguin didn't seem to care about that, because while he kept walking toward the rest of the student mass, he was abruptly yanked to the side as she speed-walked over to the food table. He barely had time to stumble after her before she let go, immediately honing in on the spread in front of them.
He couldn't help but laugh a little. "Don't wanna dance?" he asked, grinning as she stopped in front of the table and started scrutinizing the snacks.
"Are you kidding? This is way more important," she said, reaching for a small plate. "I didn't eat before coming here."
"Dude," he chuckled in disbelief. "Why not?"
She huffed, grabbing a handful of pretzels. "Because I got distracted with getting ready, obviously."
He shook his head, watching as she examined the food like she was making life-or-death decisions. The table was lined with big bowls of chips and popcorn, a few trays of sandwiches and cookies, and a sad, untouched veggie platter shoved off to the side like even the people who set it up knew it was a lost cause. And, of course, there was a huge glass bowl of deep red punch, because apparently that was a prom law or something.
She hummed before pointing at the table. "You want anything? I can grab some for you while you scope out a table."
He raised a brow. "Oh, so now I'm good enough to be your partner?"
She rolled her eyes, shoving a pretzel into her mouth as she made a shooing motion. "Just go."
He chuckled, shaking his head as he turned away, scanning the room for a good place to sit. Some chairs were already claimed, marked by purses slung over the backs or small plates and cups left in front of them.
Spotting an open pair of seats, he made his way over, tugging out a chair and throwing himself onto it only to immediately regret it. He had to bite back a hiss. 'Yup. Cheap, hard plastic chairs. My poor ass.'
He tapped his fingers against the table, idly following the beat of the music, when Penguin appeared at his side so suddenly that he startled. She looked way too pleased with herself about that, and the only reason he didn't jab her in the side was because she was somehow balancing two plates on her arms while holding two cups.
"How the hell—" He cut himself off, reaching to grab the plates before gravity could. Setting them down, he watched as she placed the cups in front of them and plopped into her chair — only to wince and shift, rubbing at her hip.
"Decided to grab some punch, even if it's probably spiked. With all this salty food, we're gonna need something to drink."
"Makes you wonder why they didn't just give us water bottles," he muttered, grabbing a chip off the plate and popping it into his mouth.
"Probably decided to cheap out, I don't know. How much do three hundred water bottles cost?" she mused, taking a sip from her cup. The moment the liquid touched her tongue, her face scrunched up in a way that made him raise an eyebrow. She set the cup down, swallowing before turning away to cough into her elbow. "Jesus fuck, what did they put in that?"
At her reaction, he snorted, leaning forward to grab his own cup. He took a sip, and immediately felt the burn of something far stronger than punch. The taste hit him hard — sharp, a little sour, with that unmistakable bite of alcohol clinging to his tongue. His face twisted, and he swallowed thickly, blinking a few times as he set the cup down.
He glanced at her, then back at the cup, frowning slightly. He wasn't an expert or anything, but whatever was in there was strong. Stronger than the watered-down beer he'd managed to sneak before, that was for sure. It wasn't just some cheap vodka either — it had too much of a burn for that. Someone had gone all out.
"Well, I'll say this much: whoever spiked the punch did it with their parent's best stuff," he said, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair.
"Their parent's best stuff fucking sucks," she huffed, pushing her cup away. "Though it's probably just 'cause I only drink, like, two things."
He snorted. "What, you broke into your mom's alcohol cabinet and tried every bottle there?" he teased, swirling the cup a little before taking another small sip. He was thirsty, dammit, and a little alcohol wouldn't kill him — so long as he kept sober enough to drive her home.
Her face scrunched up in confusion as she picked up a cookie from her plate and waved it around. "What d'you mean break into her cabinet? I mean, mama lets us drink if we wanna try it. I've had some here and there."
"Huh." He blinked. That was wildly different from what he was used to. "So what, you just don't like it?"
"Not really. Like I said, I only drink two things," she grinned. "Sometimes, when I wanna be real fancy, I sip on some wine while I watch a movie and eat those cheap crackers with cheese slices."
He snorted. "A poor man's charcuterie board."
"Exactly," she said, pointing at him with the now half-eaten cookie. "Sophisticated as hell."
The two of them fell into a comfortable lull, the noise of the gym filling the space between them as they picked at their snacks. He tapped his fingers idly against his knee while Penguin absently swirled the ice in her cup, still scrunching her nose a little at the punch. Neither of them were in a rush to do anything, just soaking in the atmosphere, watching the crowd shift and move.
The music had been solid since they got there — nothing that made him itch to get up, but good enough that it kept his foot bouncing under the table. Across from him, she was doing the same, drumming her fingers against the plastic tabletop, eyes flicking toward the dance floor every so often.
Then, a familiar riff cut through the air.
He blinked at the sudden surge of energy in the room as You Shook Me All Night Long blasted through the speakers, the opening chords pulling a fresh wave of movement from the crowd. The floor vibrated under his feet as more people flooded the dance floor, cheers and laughter rising with the beat. The thrum of bass hit his chest, the song sinking into his bones, and suddenly sitting still didn't feel like an option anymore.
Without thinking much about it, he pushed back his chair and got to his feet. His hand found Penguin's before he could second-guess it, tugging her up with him. She barely needed the pull — she was already moving before she'd fully stood, a grin tugging at her lips as she let him lead the way.
They barely made it two steps before the crowd swallowed them whole. It was a wall of moving bodies, shifting and pressing in like a living thing, and before he could get his bearings, someone's elbow nearly knocked him in the ribs.
Penguin was already laughing, gripping his wrist with her other hand like she half-expected him to get lost. "Damn, did we just get abducted?"
He huffed out a laugh, instinctively tightening his hold on her hand. "Yeah, this place has a pulse of its own. If I don't make it out, tell my mom I love her."
She snickered, tossing him a smirk. "Don't worry, big guy. I won't leave you behind."
He rolled his eyes, but the grin tugging at his lips betrayed him.
Then they were in it. Surrounded on all sides by bouncing, swaying bodies, the heat of the dance floor settling around them. With the music pounding through his ribs and the sheer energy of it all, he could almost mistake it for a concert.
He's never really danced before, and he's sure it shows in the way he mostly just sways and bobs along, but she's right there with him, matching his nonexistent rhythm without hesitation. Her hands find his, fingers weaving between his own, and she grins up at him as she tugs his arms back and forth in time with the beat. He lets her lead for a moment, lets her pull him along into the energy of it, and suddenly, it doesn't feel as awkward.
It's easy.
There's no right or wrong way to move, no steps to memorize — just the pulse of the music, the warmth of her hands in his, the way their laughter gets swallowed by the noise around them. She's close, close enough that he can see the excitement in her eyes, the way her face lights up when the song shifts into another good one.
And then, without really thinking about it, he spins her.
It's clumsy, more instinct than technique, but she follows his lead without hesitation. Her skirt flares out as she twirls, a blur of soft fabric and movement, and when she comes back around to face him, she's grinning. Wide. Breathless. Bright.
Larry thinks he could drown in the sight of her like this.
And then, before he can even process what's happening, she's spinning him back.
It's not the smoothest move. She has to reach up higher to guide him through it, and he's definitely too tall for this to look anything but ridiculous, but he goes with it anyway. Lets her twirl him, just for the hell of it. His hair fans out as he turns, and when he comes back around, she's beaming at him, eyes sparkling with mischief.
She laughs, squeezing his hands, and this time, she's the one to tug him along, moving them deeper into the rhythm of the next song. And just like that, he's lost in it again — not just the music, not just the moment, but her.
At some point, they started moving in circles, giggling to themselves all the while. Not fast circles, mind you — more like lazy loops around each other, their bodies swaying in an uncoordinated rhythm as they spun and stumbled, lightheaded from movement and laughter. He had to focus more on where he was stepping, making sure he didn't accidentally stomp on her foot. The dance floor was packed, shifting constantly with other students bouncing and twisting, so his steps had to be careful, deliberate. She wasn't making it any easier, though, tugging him along playfully, sometimes spinning them a little faster before slowing back down, like she was testing how dizzy they could get before one of them tripped.
And then she pulled him in.
There was no hesitation — just a smooth, easy motion as she guided one of his hands down, slipping it around her waist until his palm pressed flush against her lower back. His fingers splayed out on instinct, meeting the warmth of her bare skin where the dress dipped low, and suddenly, fuck. He wasn't thinking about his steps anymore.
She slid her free hand up, resting it lightly at the curve where his shoulder met his neck, the touch warm and featherlight. The other was still tangled with his, fingers snug between his own, as if she never wanted to let go. And she was close now, smiling up at him like this was the easiest thing in the world, like pulling him into her space was natural.
And maybe it was — for her.
For him? It was a goddamn struggle.
His thoughts scattered, hyperaware of every point where their bodies touched. The softness of her waist under his palm. The weight of her hand on his shoulder. The way her body moved with his as they kept circling, as if they had some kind of rhythm figured out. He sure as hell didn't, though, because now he was too distracted, and keeping track of his steps got so much harder.
They kept moving, kept laughing, kept spinning each other around in clumsy circles, completely swept up in the moment. The music pounded through his ribs, the warmth of the crowd pressed in all around them, and every time she smiled up at him, it sent another rush of something sharp and dizzying through his chest.
But after a few more turns and too many near-stumbles, he felt the burn in his lungs, his breath coming faster. Judging by the way she was starting to lag slightly, still grinning but taking deeper breaths, she was feeling it too.
He caught her gaze, a little breathless himself. "You want something to snack on?"
She nodded instantly, not even hesitating. "Yeah, definitely."
That was all he needed to hear.
Carefully, he loosened his hold on her and led them toward the edge of the dance floor, weaving through the bouncing bodies as the crowd shifted and pulsed. Once they broke free from the thickest part of the mass, he felt a rush of relief — not just from the open space and cooler air, but from the fact that she wasn't pressed against him anymore.
Because, wow. That had been… A lot.
It wasn't like he didn't like it, but shit, he hadn't been able to focus on much of anything except her while they were dancing. Her hands on him, the way she moved with him, the warmth of her body so close. Now that there was some distance, it was easier to breathe. To think.
She barely seemed fazed.
"I want one of the little sandwiches," she said as she pushed a loose strand of hair from her face, already scanning the food table across the room.
"Got it." He nodded, glancing back toward the crowd before looking at her again. "Stay here, yeah?"
She hummed in agreement, moving back a little to mingle with the thin crow at the outskirts, still within his line of sight. That was good. It meant he wouldn't have to hunt for her again when he got back.
With one last glance, he turned and made his way toward the food table.
Getting there, he quickly scanned the snacks. He knew what she wanted, but he wasn't sure what to grab for himself. Whether to just shovel a handful of chips into his mouth like a damn horse or pick something smaller that wouldn't make a mess.
"Larry!"
He turned at the sound of his name, spotting a guy making his way toward him. He looked vaguely familiar — probably someone from one of his classes, maybe even a group project once — but for the life of him, he couldn't remember his name.
"Yo," he greeted anyways, because he wasn't rude, thank you.
The guy clapped him on the shoulder like they were old friends. "Didn't think I'd see you at prom."
He huffed a laugh, shrugging. "Yeah, well. Not really my kinda thing."
"Yeah, I figured if anything, you'd be hanging out back by the bleachers with a joint instead."
He smirked, grabbing a small plate and reaching for one of the little sandwiches. "Wouldn't say no to that, but—" he jerked his head toward where he'd left her, "—got a date tonight."
The guy followed his gaze, spotting Penguin by the edge of the dance floor. He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "That's your date?"
He nodded, already feeling the usual rush of warmth when he looked at her. Even from here, he could see the way she pushed her hair out of her eyes, the way she grabbed at her skirt and swung it side to side with the music.
Then, as if she could feel him watching, she glanced over, and when her eyes met his, her whole face lit up. She gave him a little wave, fingers wiggling in a way that was just so her, and yeah, he was gone. Fully, helplessly, hopelessly gone.
He barely registered the way his own hand lifted to wave back, something soft and stupid curling inside his chest.
"Yup," he finally said, his voice coming out a little lighter than before.
"Damn, man." The guy let out a low whistle. "So, you two a thing, or?"
"Hopefully, at some point," he said, smiling a little as he turned back to him. "If I don't fuck it up."
The guy chuckled, grabbing a sandwich from the spread in front of them. "Shit, doesn't look like you're doing too bad. Girl's been all over you tonight." He nudged Larry with his elbow, shooting him a smirk. "Kinda crazy seeing you out here dancing, though. Didn't think that was your scene, to be honest."
He huffed a laugh. "Yeah, me neither."
"Guess she's got you whipped already, huh?"
That got a scoff out of him, but he didn't argue.
The guy took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before nodding toward the dance floor. "I mean, hey. Prom's kinda the night for this sorta thing, y'know? Get dressed up, go all out, spend the night with someone special…" His smirk widened, voice dropping just enough to make Larry bristle. "You got it all set up, then? A little after-party action?"
It took him all of half a second to realize what the guy meant, and then oh. Oh, fuck you.
The assumption was so fucking far off base that for a split second his first instinct was to scowl and shut it down immediately — because seriously?
That's the first thing he thinks of?
Larry had spent weeks getting closer to her, circling around the feelings he barely knew what to do with. He'd held her hands, listened to her ramble, learned the way she laughed when she was really happy. He'd watched her cook, let her tuck herself into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world. He'd walked her to class, teased her, spent every day wanting her a little more.
But that wasn't the first thought that came to mind when he saw her.
He didn't look at her and immediately go there. That wasn't what this was about. Yeah, sometimes his mind wandered — he was seventeen, not dead — but he didn't see her as some girl he was hoping to sleep with.
She was her.
And then this asshole came by, looked at her once, and that's where his head went?
For a second, it burned. Not just the assumption — but the casualness of it. Like it was just some foregone conclusion. Like he wasn't out here holding her hands like they were fucking precious. Like he wasn't savoring every glance, every laugh, every time she leaned into him just a little too close. Like he hadn't spent days tripping over himself trying to stay normal about being around her before he exploded.
It was so fucking insulting he almost couldn't believe it.
But this was prom. This was high school.
And if he let that anger show — if he snapped at the guy for what he'd said — it'd turn into something else. He would see him get all pissed and think 'Oh, man, he's embarrassed. He's defensive. Maybe that is what he had planned, and now he's just trying to cover his ass.'
And that would just piss him off more.
So he forced himself to breathe. Forced himself to let out a laugh, to not crack a tooth clenching his jaw. Because if he opened his mouth to actually talk, he'd curse the guy out—maybe even knock him in the teeth.
He grabbed another sandwich instead. Kept his movements casual, like he wasn't forcing himself to stay relaxed. "Something like that," he said after taking a few breaths, voice even.
The guy just laughed again, giving him a thumbs up. "Nice! Have fun with that."
Larry hummed in response, nodding as he turned back to the food, trying to focus on not fuming. He couldn't afford to get kicked out of prom for knocking some guy's lights out, no matter how much he wanted to. Not when he was here for her. For them. They were supposed to be having fun, and he wasn't about to fuck that up over some asshole's assumptions.
At some point, the asshole wandered off, and a song he vaguely recognized started playing. He exhaled, trying to ease the tight coil of frustration in his chest, and grabbed another sandwich, careful not to crush it between his fingers. With the food secured, he turned back toward the crowd—
And stopped in his tracks.
Of course he recognized the song. Smells Like Teen Spirit was one of Penguin's favorites, showing up in damn near every mixtape she put on when they worked. But hearing it here, now, with the pulsing energy of the gym and the buzz of teenage excitement in the air — it hit different.
And her? She was all in.
Bouncing on the balls of her feet, shaking her head side to side like Sally did when he headbanged, mouthing the lyrics with barely contained excitement. The wild energy of the song practically poured out of her, stomping along with the beat, her body moving in loose, unfiltered motion.
His grip on the plate relaxed as the tension in his shoulders unspooled, melting into something softer. How the hell was he supposed to stay pissed when that was what he was walking back to?
By the time he reached her, she turned to him with wide, bright eyes, a little breathless but grinning from ear to ear. When he handed her the sandwich, she wasted no time, nearly shoving the whole damn thing into her mouth in a way that shouldn't have been cute but definitely was.
She barely took the time to chew before grabbing his wrist and tugging him back toward the crowd, her excitement carrying them both forward. He huffed a laugh, having to quickly set the plate on a random table and letting himself be pulled along, and with barely a moment to brace, they were back in it — lost in the sea of movement, heat, and sound.
It was easier this time. The energy was infectious, buzzing under his skin, and Penguin's presence made it feel right. She was still riding the high of the last song, and he let himself match her — swaying, bouncing, their movements easy and natural, close without even thinking about it.
The music was loud, the lights shifting in bursts of color across the dance floor, and it was all too easy to get caught up in the moment. Every time they locked eyes, she grinned at him, and he swore it sent something electric through his chest.
And then the song ended. The DJ's voice crackled through the speakers.
"A'ight, everyone, you know what time it is! Grab your dates, grab your best friends, and get close. This one's for all the lovers out there."
He blinked as the crowd shifted. The air around them changed, the mass of moving bodies slowing down, pairing off, arms draping over shoulders, hands settling on waists. He barely had time to register it before Penguin turned to him expectantly — only, for once, she hesitated.
Her hands hovered awkwardly, fingers twitching like she wasn't sure where to put them. And shit, he didn't either. Did he just—? Was this one of those things where he was supposed to lead? He nearly lifted his arms, ready to place his hands somewhere, anywhere — but then she huffed softly, almost like she was telling herself to get it together, and took charge.
She grabbed his hands, guided them down, and settled them on her hips like this was just how it was supposed to be.
Her own arms draped easily over his shoulders, fingers lacing at the back of his neck.
Yeah. Okay. That was happening.
This was… closer than he thought slow dancing would be.
Not that he was complaining.
Penguin fit against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. They swayed easily, slowly, the music washing over them, but he couldn't focus on it. Not with her looking up at him like that, eyes bright, lips parted just enough to make his heart stutter.
The space between them was dangerous. One wrong move, one shift in the wrong direction, and they'd be kissing.
Not that he would, obviously. Not here. Not now. But if she leaned in even a little more — if she looked at him like that for even a second longer — he didn't know if he'd have the sense to stop himself.
One song bled into another, and he barely noticed. He could've stayed like this all night, just holding her, letting the warmth of her settle into his bones.
But then a third slow song came on, something soft and crooning, and he realized… yeah, he was getting bored. As much as he loved having her this close, this wasn't his type of music. And with how long they'd been standing there swaying, he was starting to feel it in his feet.
He shifted slightly, weighing his options. If he just blurted it out, would she take it the wrong way? He had a big mouth, he knew that, but the last thing he wanted was for her to think he wasn't enjoying being with her. Because he was. He really, really was.
But pretending he was still into this wasn't doing either of them any favors. And if he was getting bored, maybe she was, too.
So he ducked his head slightly, murmuring just loud enough for her to hear over the music, "Hey, uh… Don't take this the wrong way, but… I'm getting kinda bored."
She immediately sighed in relief, squeezing his shoulders. "Oh, thank god you said it first." Then, with a little grin, "You wanna ditch?"