The cool night air bit at Larry's face as they made their way to the truck, a stark contrast to the stifling warmth of the gym.
The moon was half full in the sky, casting a soft glow over the mostly empty parking lot, aiding the dim streetlamps in lighting their path. Their steps echoed against the asphalt, sharp and uneven after hours of standing and dancing, the distant thump of music doing nothing to muffle them.
The moment they stepped out of the gym doors, Penguin shuddered so hard from the sudden drop in temperature that he was half-surprised her skeleton didn't rattle its way out of her body. She'd barely turned to him, eyes wide and pleading, before he was already shrugging off his suit jacket. With a snort, he draped it over her shoulders like he said he would. He was rewarded with the sight of her grinning at him and holding it closed.
As they neared the truck, Penguin piped up, "Where we goin'?"
He glanced down at her, only to be met with a pointed look, her eyes narrowed like she already knew what he was thinking. "I didn't ditch just for you to take me home," she said, adjusting his jacket around herself. "So, I repeat, where we goin'?"
Larry hummed, buying himself a second to think as he unlocked the truck. It wasn't midnight yet — probably closer to nine — but a lot of places were already shutting down for the night. Not that they had a ton of options in a town like Nockfell anyway.
Sliding into the driver's seat, he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, running through possibilities. Then it hit him — the lake. It was out of the way, and since it wasn't part of a park or anything, it wasn't like it closed.
"You ever been to the lake?" he asked as she settled into the passenger seat.
She turned to him with a look of genuine surprise. "There's a lake?"
"Yeah, it's on the map and everything," he said, amused at how she'd somehow missed that. "You wanna go?"
"Fuck yeah, I wanna go to a lake!" She practically bounced in her seat, then perked up even more. "Oh! We can pick up the wine from my house, if you want? I've never gotten drunk to it, so you should still be fine to drive after."
He considered it for half a second before nodding. "Yeah, that works. We can drink it in the back of the truck."
She let out a happy noise and reached for her seatbelt, buckling in. He did the same, turned on the truck, and then they were off. He was pleased to report that her hand slipped into his whenever he let go of the gear shift.
During the drive, he thought about what they were actually going to do. Yeah, drink wine in the back of his truck, but what else? Talk, obviously. Cuddle, probably.
His eyes flicked to the sky as he drove down a darkened street, catching sight of the stars scattered above. It wasn't something he usually paid much attention to — half the time, Nockfell's streetlights drowned them out — but here, without the glare, they were bright and clear.
He had a thought. 'Hey, why not stargaze?' The area near the lake would be even darker, no lampposts to interfere. They'd have a full view of the sky.
Reaching over, he turned the dial on the radio, lowering the music to something more background than blasting. "Hey, you know any constellations?"
Penguin turned to him, a little surprised by the question, but then she shrugged. "Yeah, actually. Pa' and I used to look at them when I was little. I still remember a few."
He glanced at her with a grin. "Nice. Thought we could do some stargazing while we drink."
Her surprise melted into something more excited, her hand squeezing his where their fingers were laced. "That actually sounds awesome," she said. His grin widened as he returned his focus to the road. So far, tonight was turning out to be a pretty damn good night, assholes not included.
The second he pulled up to her house and parked at the curb, she was already unbuckling her seatbelt and pushing the door open. "Stay here," she said, rummaging in her discarded jacket pockets for her keys before shutting the door behind her.
He let out a quiet chuckle as he watched her scuttle up the driveway, hunching slightly against the cold. She nearly tripped on the steps — classic — then fumbled with her keys, almost dropping them before shoving one into the lock. A second later, she was slipping inside, vanishing from view.
And now, he waited.
His hands drummed against the steering wheel as he leaned back, letting out a slow breath. 'The prom was fucking great.' That was the first thing that came to mind. He hadn't expected to enjoy himself so much, not when he'd always thought of it as some cheesy, overpriced event for people who actually cared about that kind of thing. But with her, it had been fun.
They danced, they laughed, they swayed together, and she'd been so close — warm against him, looking up at him like she had all the time in the world. It was different than when they curled up to nap together. Back then, it was comfortable, relaxed. This time, his heart had been hammering the whole damn night.
His fingers flexed against the wheel as he thought about the way her arms had draped over his shoulders, the way his hands had fit against her waist, the way her breath had ghosted against his neck when she murmured something to him over the music.
Letting out another deep breath, he dragged a hand down his face and glanced toward the house. 'Come on, Penguin,' he thought. 'If you take too long, I'm gonna start losing my mind over here.'
Thankfully, she didn't take much longer than that. Since he'd kept his eyes on her house, he caught the moment the door cracked open and she stepped out, quick and deliberate. She shut it carefully behind her, like she wanted to be gone before her mom could change her mind.
As she hurried toward the truck, he noticed a plastic bag clutched in one hand and what looked like a lunch bag in the other.
Then she yanked the door open, chucked the lunch bag straight onto the floor, and hiked her skirt up just enough to jump in, all while hissing at him, "Drive!"
"What—"
"She lets me drink, but I've never actually taken it out of the house before, and when I told her where we were going, she was like, 'Fine, but promise me you won't get drunk and die,' and then she tried to give me a talk about minding my choices when drinking with guys, so fucking drive!"
Larry blinked. Processed that. Then immediately threw the truck into drive before her mom could poke her head out the door to give her part two of the speech.
Penguin let out a breath like she'd just escaped a crime scene, then carefully set the plastic bag down at her feet beside the lunch bag. She buckled her seatbelt, slumped against the seat, and — without a word — dropped her face straight into her hands.
She stayed like that. Just hunched over, fingers digging into her scalp, radiating regret. He couldn't exactly look at her, focused as he was on the road, but from the corner of his eye, it was obvious she was suffering. And honestly? He wanted to laugh.
But then, like a goddamn flashbang, his mom telling him to 'be safe' while napping with Penguin slammed back into his brain, and he cringed so hard his soul tried to exit his body.
Yeah. Maybe best to move on.
"What's in the bags?" he asked instead, giving her an easy out.
A long sigh. Then the plastic bag rustled as she muttered, "Moscato wine, two cups… and in the lunch bag, since its insulated I have a fuck ton of ice so we can keep it cold."
His brows shot up. "Oooh, that's smart. I wouldn't have thought about that."
"Of course you wouldn't."
The second his hand left the gear shift, he reached over and jabbed her in the side.
She squawked.
He burst out laughing. Loud, full-bodied, chest-shaking laughter that he couldn't hold back if he tried. Penguin let out a dramatic groan and latched onto his arm, shaking him like that would somehow stop his amusement. "Shut uuup," she whined, but all that did was make him laugh harder.
His whole body shook as he tried — and failed — to focus on driving. "Dude, you squawked."
"It's not the first time! And anyway, you attacked me," she shot back, but there was no real heat in it, just the remnants of her earlier embarrassment.
"Yeah, and?"
She huffed but didn't let go of his arm for a few more seconds. By the time she did, he'd mostly reined himself in, though every now and then a stray chuckle escaped.
Before long, the lake came into view, dark and still under the wide-open sky. He pulled off onto the patch of flat dirt that acted as an unofficial parking spot for people who came out here, then backed up carefully. He stopped just shy of the short drop leading down to the small bank before the water started, close enough to hear the gentle lapping of the lake but not close enough to risk the truck rolling down.
The second he put it in park, Penguin was already moving. She popped open her door and hopped out, stretching her arms above her head before turning around to grab the bags from the floor of her seat. He followed, turning off the engine and hopping out the door, making his way to the back. He unlatched the tailgate and let it drop open with a satisfying clunk.
She rounded the corner, setting the bags in the bed before stepping back and planting her hands on her hips. Then she just… stared.
He raised a brow. "Everything okay?"
She squinted at the tailgate like it had personally wronged her, then motioned him over.
Curious, he walked up, careful not to get too close to the drop behind them. She turned her back to the truck and glanced at him. "Pull me up."
He blinked. "What?"
She sighed, dramatic as ever, and reached for his hands. Before he could really do anything about it she grabbed them and placed them on her hips. "When I jump, pull me up." She tapped the back of her hand against the tailgate for emphasis before pressing her palms against it. "I can't climb up with this skirt."
Oh.
He had no clue why that made his brain stutter, but it did. Something about her putting his hands on her like that — like it was obvious he'd be the one to help — sent a weird rush of heat through him.
"Uh. Yeah. Yeah, okay." He curled his fingers against the fabric at her waist, adjusting his stance. "On three?"
She nodded, bracing herself against the truck bed.
"One, two—"
She jumped on two, and he barely had time to react before hauling her up. She pushed off the tailgate as he boosted her, and then suddenly she was sitting on the edge, legs bracketing his waist as she adjusted her balance.
Larry, meanwhile, was still standing between her knees, hands still resting on her hips, staring up at her. And she was looking down at him. This was fine. Totally fine.
Nothing about this felt weirdly intimate or anything.
His hands twitched, and he cleared his throat, stepping back. "All good?"
She grinned. "Yeah. Thanks for the lift, strong guy."
'Jesus Christ.'
Every day, he got closer and closer to the idea that she was doing this on purpose. The teasing. The touching. The smirking.
It had to be deliberate. Right? Or maybe that was just his brain trying to rationalize it.
Then she nudged his leg with the toe of her shoe. Light, absentminded, but enough to pull him from his thoughts. Before he could react, she gathered up the fabric of her skirt, bunching it in one hand as she lifted her knees, tucking her legs neatly beneath her. The movement freed her from the weight of the fabric, but it also bared more of her thighs in the dim light.
He barely had time to process that before she leaned forward onto her palm, shifting onto all threes — one hand still keeping her skirt in place — as she crawled toward the bags. The fabric slid higher with each shift of her knees, the soft rustling somehow deafening in the quiet night.
He swallowed hard, his gaze immediately snapping up toward the sky.
Okay. Maybe she wasn't doing it on purpose. Maybe he was just reading too much into it. It wouldn't be fair to assume that every moment that left him flustered, every slip of fabric that revealed more of her skin, was intentional.
But damn if it wasn't getting harder to believe.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he sent his hair flying before running a hand through it, trying to settle it back into place. When he looked up again, she was already getting comfortable at the other end of the truck bed, leaning against the cabin like she belonged there. He huffed a quiet laugh and climbed in after her, the truck shifting slightly under his weight. She grinned and patted the space beside her as he walked over.
He took his time, letting himself look at her just because he could.
She had bent her legs to the side, her skirt draped over them in soft folds, concealing everything beneath. It made her look like something out of an old movie — a princess sitting primly with a dress so big it swallowed the rest of her whole.
With the moonlight catching on her earrings and glinting off the delicate silver of her choker, the image suited her more than it had any right to.
Settling in next to her, he watched as she pulled a wine bottle from the plastic bag. Even in the dim light, he could tell the liquid inside was almost clear — maybe with a faint tint of color — but it was hard to be sure. The moonlight helped, but only so much. It was only half full, so there was only so much a giant space rock reflecting sunlight could do.
She set down two tall wine glasses carefully in the grooves of the truck bed, making sure they wouldn't tip over, before unscrewing the cap. Holding one glass steady, she poured until it was almost full, then extended it toward him.
He took it carefully, fingers curling around the thin stem as he pulled back to watch her pour her own. The wine fizzed lightly, tiny bubbles catching what little light there was.
Before he could bring it to his lips, she lifted her glass toward him. "To…?"
He glanced at her, then down at the drink in his hand. "Uh. To…" He thought for a second before grinning. "To prom night, I guess?"
She huffed a laugh. "Lame."
"Okay, you come up with something better."
She paused, then smirked. "To ditching?"
His grin widened. "Now that I'll drink to."
Their glasses clinked together with a light tink, and then he brought it to his lips, taking a careful sip like he'd seen people do in movies.
The moment the wine hit his tongue, he nearly pulled a face.
It wasn't bad, but it was… unexpected. The fizz threw him off at first, the tiny bubbles popping against his tongue in a way that felt almost sharp. Then came the taste — kind of strong, a little tart, with something almost bitter before it finally smoothed out into a soft, lingering sweetness. It was way different from the cheap beer he'd had before. Beer was all weirdly bitter, kind of like drinking bread if that made any damn sense. This had actual flavor. Fruity, almost juicy, like someone had watered down a mango and then carbonated it just to mess with him.
He smacked his lips lightly, rolling the taste over his tongue as he tried to decide if he actually liked it.
"…Well?" she asked, watching him over the rim of her glass.
He took another sip, letting it sit for a second longer this time. "…Dunno yet."
That earned him a quiet snicker before she took a sip of her own. Placing her glass down, she carefully screwed the cap back onto the bottle, then dug a hole into the ice inside the lunch bag to nestle it in. Once it was secured, she picked up her glass again and shuffled closer, tucking herself right into his side like she belonged there.
His body worked without his input, throwing an arm over her shoulder and pulling her in like it was second nature. He took another slow sip, letting the sweetness settle on his tongue as he tilted his head back to scan the sky.
Just like he'd thought, the darkness made it easy to spot the stars, and with the sky so clear, it felt like he could see everything. Score. It was like the universe was trying to make the night go perfectly.
As his gaze bounced from one bright star to another, Penguin shifted beside him. A moment later, her hand lifted into his field of vision, pointing toward one of the brightest little dots in the sky.
"That's Arcturus," she said, tracing a small shape in the air. "And those little stars around it make Boötes."
His nose scrunched. "Booties?"
"Bo-oh-tees," she snickered, reshaping the constellation for him. "It does kinda look like a boot, though…"
He tilted his head, squinting. And yeah… he could actually see it. "Well, I helped you learn something new," he said with a grin, only to be rewarded with a little scoff and a gentle shove of her shoulder.
"Congratulations," she drawled, pressing into his side a little harder, like she was trying to push him over just for the hell of it.
He chuckled, taking another sip before gesturing upward with the same hand — no way was he moving the one slung over her shoulders. "What about that one?" He motioned toward a bright star a little ways off from Arcturus or Erectus or whatever she'd called it.
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she lifted a hand, tilting it as she measured the sky with her thumb, the same way he did when figuring out the composition of an empty canvas. He watched, fascinated, as she adjusted her angle, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration.
"I think… that's Jupiter," she murmured, shifting her hand again before making a satisfied noise. "Yeah, that's Jupiter."
"I didn't know you could see Jupiter," he mused, swirling the wine in his glass before shifting to glance down at her. "How'd you know that was it?"
"Mmm," she squinted up at the sky, taking a quick sip before gesturing with her free hand. "Since we already have Arcturus, I just needed to check what else was around it. See that other bright dot? It's closer to Jupiter, kinda between them but a little lower."
He followed her pointing finger, eyes scanning until he caught sight of the star in question. "Yeah," he nodded.
"That's Spica," she said. "And the stars above it, plus the ones near Jupiter, make up Virgo. Since Jupiter isn't in the constellation but close to it, I just had to put two and two together." She shrugged, lowering her hand. "Could always be wrong, though. I'm not an astronomer or anything."
Bringing his hand around, he let his glass clink softly against hers, smiling when she glanced over at him. "You seem to know a whole lot."
She grinned, lifting her glass to her lips, and he took the moment to swirl his own again, watching the way the liquid caught the low light. He hadn't really been keeping track of how much he'd had, but now that he looked, he was a little surprised to see his glass already more than halfway empty.
Huh. Shouldn't he be feeling something by now? It tasted more like fizzy juice than anything. Well, if it didn't even taste like alcohol, then there was no reason to sip it all careful-like, right?
He shrugged to himself and took a swig.
Instant regret.
His throat locked up on instinct, his body violently rejecting the sudden flood of syrupy, overly sweet, vaguely fizzy liquid. It was like someone had taken a mango, a strawberry, and a handful of sugar, blended them together, and then carbonated the hell out of it. And he just threw it back like it was water.
He barely managed to turn his head before forcing himself to swallow, fighting the urge to gag as the taste coated his tongue. When he finally looked back, Penguin was already staring at him, expression blank. Like she was watching an idiot in real time.
Then her lips wobbled. Then a little breath of a laugh slipped out. And then she lost it.
She hunched forward, her entire body shaking as laughter burst out of her, barely contained at first before she just let it go.
"Y-You—" she tried, but whatever she wanted to say drowned under another cackle. She had to press a hand to her face, her drink wobbling in the other as her whole body jolted with laughter.
"It wasn't that bad," he tried, scowling as he wiped at his mouth, but she was too far gone to hear him.
And then she choked. Mid-laugh, her breath caught, and she jerked forward with a strangled little cough. Her free hand shot up to her throat as she hacked out a breath, and Larry's instincts kicked in before his brain did.
His arm moved off her shoulders, his palm finding the bare skin of her back as he started rubbing in slow, firm circles. "Alright, alright, breathe, dumbass."
That only made her wheeze harder, her shoulders trembling under his hand as she tried to wave him off between coughs. He scoffed, grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he shook his head. "Look at you, choking on your own damn laughter."
She finally sucked in a full breath, blinking at him through watery eyes, her face flushed from laughing so hard. "S-Shut up," she croaked, but there was no bite to it, just a whole lot of wheezy amusement.
"Hey, don't talk to your personal medic like that," he teased, keeping his hand on her back for a moment longer, just to be sure she was okay.
Not that he had much of a choice. Her skin was warm. He wasn't really in a hurry to move.
After she sniffled and sucked in a quick breath, she sighed shakily, reaching for the bottle. "Do you want more?" she asked, her voice still a little raspy but steady enough that he, reluctantly, pulled his hand away from her back.
"Yeah, please."
She shifted the bottle to her other hand and held it out to him, and for a second, he didn't get it — until she pointed at the cap with her chin. Oh. Right. He made quick work of unscrewing it before bringing his glass closer. She poured him another glass, then refilled her own before he sealed the bottle again and she tucked it back into the ice.
For a few minutes, they just sipped at their wine, the quiet settling comfortably between them. He was much more careful this time — no way in hell was he letting that happen again.
She pointed out a few more stars, even Mars at one point, and when she traced another constellation in the sky, he recognized the name.
"Libra, huh?" he hummed, swirling his glass lazily just for the fun of it. "I don't know much about zodiacs. Ash was kinda into 'em, so I know of them, but that's about it."
"They have months," she said. "I only know the months, aaand pretty much nothing else." She turned a little to face him, tilting her head. "When's your birthday?"
"August 16th."
She hummed in thought before nodding, "Leo." Then, after a brief pause, she added, almost sheepishly, "Mine's the 17th."
Larry stared at her.
Did he— did he need any more signs? Jesus.
After that, she points out a few more stars, but it's getting harder for him to tell exactly where she's gesturing. The stars she names now are dimmer than the big ones she started with, and no matter how much he squints, he can't quite follow along.
Then, just as he's about to tell her to please slow it down a little bit for him, she shifts. He hears the soft rustle of fabric and glances over just in time to see her gathering up her skirt again to free her knees. Then she's turning, walking on her knees over in front of him.
His brain barely has time to process that before her knuckles brush against the inside of his knee. The only reason he doesn't jerk in surprise is because he's completely frozen. He can only watch as she nudges his legs apart like it's nothing — like she's not setting off every single alarm in his brain.
And then she moves in, settling between his legs, shifting until her back is pressed snug against his chest. His free hand settles instinctively on her waist, like it belongs there, and she just leans into him, completely at ease.
'Breathe.'
'Breathe.'
'Holy fucking fuck, Johnson, breathe.'
'You're fine.'
'You can do this.'
'Just breathe.'
'Don't you dare fucking get a boner with her being close enough to feel it.'
'God, why does your body react to her being nearby like that?'
He's so sure his face is bright red, even in the low light, but she doesn't seem to notice. Or care. She just keeps pointing, keeps naming stars, completely oblivious to the fact that he's dying.
Shit.
Maybe the wine was actual wine and not just fizzy juice…