cellophane-ria prompted on twitter
“ jesse and dance-off :D”
Jesse thinks that somewhere, someone is saying something about finally getting to see Jesse’s acting ability, but for the first time he doesn’t think about the cameras, all he can hear is Andrew saying, “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it, Jess, I’m so sorry,” into his ear.
They’d known the tango was going to be tough, like, dance off tough, but neither of them had been prepared for this, although maybe they should have been, fucking Andrew and fucking Method.
So Jesse buries his face in Andrew’s neck, tries to come back to them, from that space on the floor where they hated, and he says, “I know, I know, me too,” and he doesn’t care about anything else at all, he just wants to be sure that Andrew knows that.
anna_unfolding HeyTell requested (do I win some sort of prize for different ways of getting prompted because I feel like I should) Shoebox Project verse (ahaha, thanks Anna, no pressure) the summer before That Night.
Remus had been resigned to being the not cool uncle, the one who never brought the right gifts or sweets or knew funny, cool things to say and do.
It’s always a surprise, then, whenever he shows up at the Potters’ and Harry smiles widest just for him.
Or maybe the real surprise is how Sirius, who usually demands to be first and best loved, smiles too.
“Any reason why your stall has a beacon light on it tonight? Who are you trying to call back safely?” Andrew asks, leaning on the post at the edge of Jesse’s stall with feigned nonchalance and the easy grace of someone who can dance with demons and never fall.
Jesse looks at his hands, his scrolls, anywhere but at Andrew; all in black save one red flower, with bright eyes and fever fruit juice still at the corner of his mouth just begging to be shared.
He says, “Oh, it bring all the boys to my yard,” and - as much to his own surprise as Andrew’s - reaches up to pluck the blossom from his lapel.
“I am a fricking DEMI-GOD,” Dustin yells, which sounds like the kind of thing that Dustin yells like, ninety percent of the time when drunk and about 89.9% of the time while sober.
Only this time there’s a hammer in his hand and he’s positioning himself in between Chris and whatever the fuck that is and, holy crap, is that lightning?
Dustin says, ”You can’t pull those tricks around here any more. These are my people, this is my time on this planet, and you can take that message and tell it to the nine worlds,” and as the monster starts to glow and fade he shouts after it, “Dustin out, bitches.”
“I’m here to… rescue you?” the man in the vines below Chris’s window tries, and Chris frowns.
He says, “I’m kind of busy right now, actually, can it wait until tomorrow,” because he is, he has a whole spy network of bats to check in with now that dusk is coming, more messages to send by bird, never mind checking in on his ridiculous friends down there in the woods.
The man looks sort of crestfallen and Chris supposes that he did climb all of this way, and he does have a nice smile, so Chris relents and says, “You can wait up here if you like.”
