fandomtownies | Valentines Dance, Town Hall, Saturday Evening

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Valentines Dance, Town Hall, Saturday Evening

The town hall had been transformed into a ballroom fit for a queen (and/or king. Or multiples thereof). The ceiling was resplendent in ribbons of royal purple, gold and white, and castle murals adorned the walls.

As they entered, tonight's guests were offered their choice of crown or tiara. Over by the photographer ~~who doesn't have a thread because that's what happens when you post at 6:30 in the morning~~, there was a pair of thrones set up to really complete the theme.

And- of course there was glitter. Really, people, did you even need to ask?

Anyway, the doors were open, the punch was as of yet unspiked... welcome to your 2012 Valentines Ball, Fandom!

[ooc: ocd up! up early for timezones and because i was awake already anyway. second post will go up later if/when it's needed! here, have some links for great threading justice: arrival/mingling / punch and food / shadowy corners / chaperones / dance floor / ooc ]

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The part of Peter's brain that would normally override his hormones and point out she was very blatant and that was ugh was... not functioning as much as usual, which left his hormones at the wheel.

His hormones who also had absolutely no idea how to kiss somebody, so he was just kind of letting Rebecca do her thing while his hands dropped to her arms.

Well, Rebecca thought he could be a bit more of an... active participant, but the hands on her arms were something, at least.

But not a lot. So.

"Dorms," she declared breathily, pulling back for a moment and smoothing her hair. Not that it was in any kind of disarray. But it felt like the thing to do.

Peter stared at her... okay, her boobs.

Then at her face.

And lo, the essayist and political commentator known for his loquacious and spirited moderate diatribes said onto her,

"Huh."

Something wasn't right here.

Rebecca knew Peter well enough by now to know that "Huh" wasn't really one of his most commonly-uttered phrases. She was going to take it as a tribute to her hotness, then, that he was reduced to the likes of that now.

So she hopped off of his lap, straightened her dress, and hooked one finger in at his shirt collar. "Dorms," she said again, making to pull him up for another kiss as incentive.

Bossy, bossy.

"Now, look," Peter said, recovering very slowly as he got onto his feet. "I have work to do tonight. And this is really... ... flattering--"

What had happened to his attention span? It used to be better than this.

Oh, Peter.

Would another kiss help with that? Because Rebecca felt like another kiss might help.

Also, there was maybe a hand reaching in between their bodies as extra encouragement. The tracing-over-his-crotch kind of encouragement. Hi, Peter.

...and hi, Peter?

"Only a little bit, then," he muttered.

He'd been ignoring whatever was in the air very well for the past twenty-four hours, but apparently his limit laid at 'boobs in his face and hand near his unmentionables'. Who knew.

His resistance to pollen was very impressive, it was true. Unfortunately for him -- or, well, let's be honest, it was pretty fortunate in the long run -- Rebecca Logan scoffed at pollen-resistance.

"Your room?" Try to think clearly with her hand there, Peter. Try.

"318?" Peter offered.

She was looking for an affirmative, Peter. Not-- oh, well.

At least his sister wasn't here to see this now and wow Peter should not be thinking about Valentine right now.

Okay, Peter, you asked for it.

Rebecca leaned in, cupped a hand around her mouth, and whispered a rather long-winded explanation of her plans for the evening into Peter's ear.

They were very dirty plans.

Okay, so to say he didn't know what half those words meant would be a big filthy lie.

He'd just never had them directed at him before. And, okay, normally that wouldn't impress him so much, but--

"Let's go."

Before he made an idiot of himself at a public dance.

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Valentines Dance, Town Hall, Saturday Evening

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