Never too late, brighteyes. :) Though I fear you remember just a smidge optimistically.
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Chris's laughter is the absolute cherry on George's sundae, his victory hymn for this mighty accomplishment. As Chris gasps and wheezes, doubling over until he nearly bangs his forehead on the float pallet, George thrusts his arms over his head, turning in a slow circle as he surveys the entirety of Tucker Hall's seating laid out in neat, precise rows on the lawn, every chair and bench its horizontal distance from the lectern beside him down to the cm. Allowing for the uncertainty of grass, that's pretty good.
George whoops into the sleeping-or-studying night air, which makes Chris emit a choking kind of panicky noise; before he can start worrying again, or swallow his own tongue, George trots three steps and pats Chris on the shoulder. "Behold our valor, Pike! Our mighty accomplishment!" Chris merely hiccups out a doubtful noise. "We shall tell this tale in many a party and bar, from this night until the ending of the world!" Chris giggles, sharp and high and downright sweet. "Cadets and ensigns now abed will think themselves thrice-damned they were not here!" Chris falls onto his ass, howling with laughter, and this is more fun than George's had while dressed in months. "And hold their hijinks cheap while any speaks who dissasembled Tucker Hall on this completely random day!"
Rolling around, holding his belly, Chris tips his head against George's thigh. His curly-haired, solid, laughter-vibrating head. George hears himself make a little throat-closing noise of his own, and Chris looks up, along the plane of George's thigh, his laughter-crinkled eyes going wide and pale as the Moon above them.
George looks down at Chris through the sudden silence, his heart clanging like a bell. He thought he thought of Chris like a kid brother, a bundle of potential fun just needing to be pried from his studious shell. But Chris stares up at him, lips softly parted, cheek against his thigh, and he doesn't look like a little brother now.
A wisp of evening breeze brings them the distant sound of a security hovercar. Chris's eyes go impossibly round, white all round his shining irises, but he doesn't move. George should, and can't.
Much nearer, someone coughs, and snickers. George knows that snicker. He turns, and Winona stands at the other end of the West Aisle, clearly, clearly keeping herself from laughing. She's been teasing George about Chris's supposed crush for months, and now she's going to be absolutely, gorgeously insufferable.
"Win!" George calls, waving, as Chris scrambles back like George's leg just burned him. "Here to witness our great deed?"
"Here to save you from Security, you decorative dolt," she says, sauntering down the path, moonlight shining on her hair. George takes a breath and a moment to consider how lucky he is, then turns and grabs Chris's arm before he can escape. Chris sets his mouth in a flat line that's going to be formidable someday, George can already see it, and George just grins at him until he, if not quite relaxes, stops tugging away.
Winona arrives, tucking herself under George's arm. "Winona, hi," Chris says nervously, and when she smiles at him he actually does relax.
Then she raps George's shoulderblade with her knuckles. "Would you move already? Or are you waiting to get caught? Because if you are I'm grabbing Pike and making a break for it."
"Not until you tell me if you really think I'm pretty," George says, because by the engine noise and their customary velocity security's at least thirty-five seconds away.
"I think you're lucky you are," Winona says, and pinches George's ass. He yelps and jumps obligingly, and Chris shakes his head as he helplessly starts laughing again.
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Warning: Abuse of Shakespeare, multiple edits
Date: 2010-03-24 06:20 pm (UTC)Chris's laughter is the absolute cherry on George's sundae, his victory hymn for this mighty accomplishment. As Chris gasps and wheezes, doubling over until he nearly bangs his forehead on the float pallet, George thrusts his arms over his head, turning in a slow circle as he surveys the entirety of Tucker Hall's seating laid out in neat, precise rows on the lawn, every chair and bench its horizontal distance from the lectern beside him down to the cm. Allowing for the uncertainty of grass, that's pretty good.
George whoops into the sleeping-or-studying night air, which makes Chris emit a choking kind of panicky noise; before he can start worrying again, or swallow his own tongue, George trots three steps and pats Chris on the shoulder. "Behold our valor, Pike! Our mighty accomplishment!" Chris merely hiccups out a doubtful noise. "We shall tell this tale in many a party and bar, from this night until the ending of the world!" Chris giggles, sharp and high and downright sweet. "Cadets and ensigns now abed will think themselves thrice-damned they were not here!" Chris falls onto his ass, howling with laughter, and this is more fun than George's had while dressed in months. "And hold their hijinks cheap while any speaks who dissasembled Tucker Hall on this completely random day!"
Rolling around, holding his belly, Chris tips his head against George's thigh. His curly-haired, solid, laughter-vibrating head. George hears himself make a little throat-closing noise of his own, and Chris looks up, along the plane of George's thigh, his laughter-crinkled eyes going wide and pale as the Moon above them.
George looks down at Chris through the sudden silence, his heart clanging like a bell. He thought he thought of Chris like a kid brother, a bundle of potential fun just needing to be pried from his studious shell. But Chris stares up at him, lips softly parted, cheek against his thigh, and he doesn't look like a little brother now.
A wisp of evening breeze brings them the distant sound of a security hovercar. Chris's eyes go impossibly round, white all round his shining irises, but he doesn't move. George should, and can't.
Much nearer, someone coughs, and snickers. George knows that snicker. He turns, and Winona stands at the other end of the West Aisle, clearly, clearly keeping herself from laughing. She's been teasing George about Chris's supposed crush for months, and now she's going to be absolutely, gorgeously insufferable.
"Win!" George calls, waving, as Chris scrambles back like George's leg just burned him. "Here to witness our great deed?"
"Here to save you from Security, you decorative dolt," she says, sauntering down the path, moonlight shining on her hair. George takes a breath and a moment to consider how lucky he is, then turns and grabs Chris's arm before he can escape. Chris sets his mouth in a flat line that's going to be formidable someday, George can already see it, and George just grins at him until he, if not quite relaxes, stops tugging away.
Winona arrives, tucking herself under George's arm. "Winona, hi," Chris says nervously, and when she smiles at him he actually does relax.
Then she raps George's shoulderblade with her knuckles. "Would you move already? Or are you waiting to get caught? Because if you are I'm grabbing Pike and making a break for it."
"Not until you tell me if you really think I'm pretty," George says, because by the engine noise and their customary velocity security's at least thirty-five seconds away.
"I think you're lucky you are," Winona says, and pinches George's ass. He yelps and jumps obligingly, and Chris shakes his head as he helplessly starts laughing again.