Work Text:
Drabble II, Chance Dance
by Scribe
It is a measure of how depressed I am that when the jukebox starts playing Garth Brooks I don't get up and leave. It's a measure of how drunk I am that it takes me a full chorus of Friends in Low Places to realize that it may be a Garth song, but that's a woman singing it. What the fuck? Then I remember--I'm at Caritas, so that's not a jukebox, it's some silly bint on stage. I consider throwing my glass at her, but notice there's still a half-inch of booze in it.
A hand settles on my shoulder, and I look over, trying to decide if I want to break, or just bruise. It's green. Lorne settles in a seat beside me. "Want me to see if I can find Melancholy Baby in the song book?"
"Sod off."
He shakes his head. "You English--such sticklers for the little courtesies. What's wrong, Sunshine?" I snarl. "Oops, my bad. What's wrong, Starlight?"
I sigh. Lorne talks too damn much, and he dresses for shite, but he's not a bad guy. "I dunno. Just wondering if staying ambulatory is worth all the crap."
"Hmm, just a case of the plain ol' blues, eh? Of course in my case that would be the purples."
"I've got to tell you, the bleedin' song selection isn't helping." The silly cow had moved on to Two Pina Coladas.
"Hm. Yes, I could see how overly cheerful might make you feel like rearranging facial features. What you need is something that will point up the good things in life without shoving them in your face. Since we're talking about Garth, I think I know just the thing. Let me go make a suggestion."
He got up and hurried away, and I called after him, "You wouldn't! Lorne, you..." I didn't go after him to stop him. That damn chip would have split my skull if I caught him and did what I wanted to do. He talked to the girl, who had just finished the song. She glanced at me, and smiled. I started looking around for cocktail napkins, hoping I could stuff them in my ears.
The music started. No whining steel guitars. She took a breath and started. "Looking back on the memory of the dance we shared, 'neath the stars above..."
Hell. I've heard this one before. Yeah. Oh, sod it all. This is what I wanted to write, back when I was still warm. And despite my determination to hang on to my snarky mood, I can feel it slipping away. The song is bittersweet. I remember reading somewhere that it's been used for all kinds of life events--funerals, weddings, graduations... It says a lot about life.
The hand's on my shoulder again. I look up into Lorne's red eyes. He cocks his head a me. "Better?"
"Yeah, actually." What the hell, might as well. If anyone will understand, it's Lorne. I stand up, offering my hand. "Care to dance?"
He tilts his head, considering, just long enough for me to wonder if I'm going to end up feeling foolish. Then he smiles.
"All right, but you have to lead. You're taller."
end