Here's Your 'Guy Who Goes to Dances' Costume. PUT IT ON.

[Clement Evans]

The only reason Clement even knew there was a dance was the stupid card he'd gotten. It had been slid under his door, telling him that his date for the Hammel Halloween Dance was Miss Brea White.

Okay.

1) Date? What in fuck. He hadn't asked anyone, hadn't signed up for anything. And he would've remembered signing up for a date. He was fourteen. Fourteen year olds didn't date.

Did they? Outside of stupid TV shows?

2) Because he didn't like girls. Or boys. Or anyone. Not like that. Ew. Which meant that...

3) He did not go to dances. There had been a few at his old middle school in Cali, but even if he'd been able to attend he would not have. They were stupid. From what Minho said, it was a bunch of girls on one side of the room and a bunch of guys on the other, a table set up with a teacher behind it with Kool-Aid and stale bulk cookies, and music no one really danced to but was too loud to talk over.

4) Who the hell was Brea White?

5) And did she know he was an asshole? Because she totally deserved better than him.

And the reason for number five was that, on the night of the dance, Clement was sitting at his desk writing a letter to Ajima and Minho. He was in the t-shirt and jeans he'd worn to school that day, his hair was a mess (as usual), and he had no intention of seeking out the unfortunate young lady. He didn't know the phrase 'standing up', but was doing so without any guilt whatsoever.

The door to his room was propped open in case Jesse stopped by, and due to the night's festivities some bright bulb had left the door to their dorm's common area open.

A perfect scenario for someone about to Be Served.

[Brea White]

And Brea was definitely going to be doing the serving.

She hadn’t signed up for the dance. She hadn’t been intending to go at all. But when the invitation had arrived for her in class, she’d known exactly what had happened.

And its name was Chris. Asshole.

But Brea wasn’t the kind of girl who let something like that bother her. She knew better—she’d go for it anyways and thumb her nose at her brother by having a very good time. But first, she had to check and see if her date was even acceptable.

He was the right age. It was also a he, something she was grateful for. However, everything else—not so good. He didn’t get very good grades. He kept getting held back. And from some innocent inquiries to her father, who taught at Hammel, he was…grumpy.

Well. She could plan for that too. This was the reason she was not particularly surprised when her date completely failed to show up for the meeting location. Brea waited for a full ten minutes, and then decided to initiate Plan B. If necessary, she’d let it go to Plan D, but she hoped it wouldn’t get to that point. Plan D was severe. Plan B was much better.

Plan B mostly involved a jacket and tie acquired at a local thrift shop and looking up this…Clement Evans. That was the reason why, about twenty minutes after the dance had started, Brea waltzed right into the common room and, seeing the door open to his room, walked right into that too.

“Clement Evans?” Her eyes narrowed as her eyes skimmed him up and down. Well, he’d do. But she did shrink herself a little bit to make it so she was the same height as him. “I’m the girl you’re standing up. Brea White. If you put this on, no harm will come to you.”

[Clement Evans]

Grumpy was one of the kinder (and rarely used) adjectives for Clement's attitude, and it certainly described the look on his face when a strange girl's voice spoke to him within the confines of his room. Along with 'disbelieving', 'surprised', and 'WTF'. Turning on his desk chair, he squinted at her for a moment, trying to decide whether to just throw her out or if she was serious. And what the hell was she holding?

Letting his pencil drop onto the unfinished letter, Clement stood up. The first thing he noticed was that she wasn't taller. He hadn't seen her shift in size, but had he known she'd done so he would've been even... grumpier. While Brea probably thought she was being considerate, in Clement's mind it was more like an insult. Like unwanted pity or a sort of degrading commiseration. He might feel different later, but had he seen it that's what he would've felt.

As it was, his eyes narrowed and his stance was something Xavier O'Conner would recognize. He didn't think she was going to come at him, but he was prepared for it.

"Put what on. And what do you mean harm?" A single, skeptical brown eyebrow rose. "You gonna beat me up or something?"

[Brea White]

To Brea, it wasn’t about being considerate at all. Brea wasn’t really a considerate person. It was about her personal image. As long as she looked good, she was happy with the situation, and that was all there was to it. It wasn’t about him at all—only about her. Sorry Clement. To be fair, she wasn’t that much taller anyways.

Her eyes narrowed at the stance, and she folded her arms over her chest. She didn’t do physical confrontations. It was one of her main aspects that she didn’t do physical confrontations. She was a master of words and silent confrontation, and like hell did she ever want to fight.

She rolled her eyes. “No. But I’ll probably dump whitewash on your head. I don’t beat people up. Girls who want to break the glass ceiling and become president don’t beat people up. It’s kind of a rule. I don’t want things on the record.” She eyed him, then held up the button-down shirt and tie. “And put on these. This might’ve been random but I am not showing up for a dance all by myself.” Her eyes flickered up and down, and she added, albeit a little reluctantly, “I’ll do your homework. Or tutor or whatever, don’t care.”

[Clement Evans]

If Brea was really worried about looking good, she was trying to get the wrong guy to the dance and should probably rethink this entire venture. For his part, Clement had only cared about image insofar that his clothes didn't smell too obviously and the latest bruise from his sitters didn't show, to keep from getting into trouble with Officials. Here it was sort of the same thing, except that most of the Officials had superpowers, which totally wasn't fair. (Yeah, he had one too, but still.) And after years of his clothes being washed every two months whether they liked it or not he was quite vigilant about doing his laundry. So... he was clean. For a fourteen year old boy that was probably an unexpected point in his favor.

It could be argued that Clement was not master of the physical confrontation either, but it was his most easily accessible tool and he was perfectly willing to use it on a girl. Equal opportunity brawler, was Clement. But when she moved into a different tactic he was forced to shift with her, not that he wasn't still ready to block a punch. He frowned at her, hands on hips.

Okay, he didn't know what 'whitewash' or the 'glass ceiling' were, but Brea was obviously ready to do Things Other Than Fighting to get him to this stupid dance. The whole not wanting things on her record was something he could've used if he'd had a quicker mind, but she'd taken him by surprise and he was still catching up. Squinting at what she held, he had no idea what they were, but he wasn't going to take them. At her offer to do homework, he snorted. "I'm not wearing whatever that is, and if you want to go to the dance with someone there's a lot of other people who'd go with you."

He... thought, anyway. She was pretty pushy.

The offer got a raised eyebrow, for several reasons. Clement didn't take bribes (though this was maybe the third time in his life he'd been offered one), and was positive someone would notice if another person did his homework. Even if they fudged enough answers to get a grade in his usual range, his handwriting was distinct and his teachers knew he couldn't type. "There is nothing you could offer me that would make me want to go." He squinted at her again. She was wearing a dress and had her hair nice, looked like. "Why can't you just go yourself?"

Folding his arms over his chest, he finally said, "I didn't sign up for this. I don't know who did, but..." He trailed off, and then added, "I've never even been to a dance. I hear they're stupid."

[Brea White]

It didn’t matter. If she showed up to the date with a guy, even if he was poorly dressed and had a bad attitude, she would prove to her siblings that she was A) capable of dating a guy, B) didn’t care about their prank, and C) would go to a dance without needing to be escorted by someone else, specifically a sibling someone else.

Besides, he was clean. This was a point past her brothers and would settle in a bad situation.

Yes, Brea was willing to do things Other Than Fighting to win this and get him to settle for going with her. In fact, she’d do anything BUT fight in order to get him to go to the dance with her. She was not a brawler. She used her mind and her mouth to solve problems and ALWAYS preferred that as a method.

She folded her arms over her chest. “That’s ridiculous,” she said. “There’s gotta be something. Everyone has a price. Look, I make cookies, I can even sew a little, I can do anything you want—almost anything—if you just come to the dance with me, okay. Besides, it’s a jacket and a tie. You can even wear a t-shirt. What’s the problem.” She glared at him. “My brothers got me signed up with you, so therefore, I’m going with you before they figure out something’s up. You come smiling, that’s even better. If I go by myself, I’ll get teased for months, even YEARS, about how I wasn’t good enough to get a guy this one night. It’ll be the end of my existence as a rational human being. And yes, they’re stupid. Just give it an hour. You can say you went and I’ll leave you alone. Please.”

She wasn’t a huge fan of begging, but she would in this case. But she suspected that wasn’t working. She gave him a measuring look, narrowed her eyes, then offered him a smile suspicious in its pleasantness.

“Just an hour,” she said. “With a jacket and tie. My mom does homecooked meals. I can bring you some. The food here isn’t bad, but it’s nothing compared to my mom’s cooking.”

[Clement Evans]

Okay, she was still here. Not storming out in a huff, not flinging verbal abuse at him (and storming off in a huff), not even threatening to tell an Official. And from her tone, she was pretty used to getting her way. In this Brea had something of an upper hand, as Clement was not used to getting his way and was furthermore very used to being forced to do things he didn't want to do. But, by adults. Still, she wasn't giving up, though Clement hadn't crossed physical altercations off his list of tactics to get her to go away.

...Everyone had a price? Well. Hm. That gave him an idea.

And this had to be the first time a girl his own age had begged him to do anything. It was so novel he didn't recognize it as begging. Without any siblings of his own, he didn't quite get how being teased for not showing up at a dance would... do that thing with all the words she'd said, probably something bad, but he did understand showing people up who didn't think much of you.

A corner of his mouth lifted a little at all the things she'd offered. It wasn't Brea's fault she was using all the wrong levers, she couldn't know she was talking to a particularly unusual specimen of teenage male who didn't respond to food (or sewing? What was up with that? What could he have for her to sew?)

Hands on hips, he looked at her. She wasn't asking much, and he could get something out of it. "Ten bucks," he said. "And I'll go." Brow furrowing a bit, he added, "I don't know how to do a tie. And I don't have any other shirts except... t-shirts. But whatever, I'll help you out." Then he frowned. "We don't have to like... dance or hold hands, do we?"

Holding his hand out for the coat, he slipped it on. It was too big, but not so overly big that it looked bad. And hey, it was warmer with it on.

[Brea White]

Brea stormed out in a huff a lot of times. But that was mostly when she’d been younger and her brothers could still bother her. Now, however, she was an adult, grown up woman who could take down her brothers far quicker than they could get to her. She refused to give up in this. If she had to knock him out and sic an animator on him, then she would, if only to rub it into her brother’s faces. And she’d do it without apologies.

Perhaps Brea shouldn’t be president. It wouldn’t end well. She’d be ruthless.

And as for sewing, that one worked on her brothers all the time. Brea, can you sew up my shirt so I don’t get into trouble with mom? Brea, can you put this patch on my pants so I don’t have to spend the money to get new ones? The list was endless.

Brea stared at him. “Ten bucks. That’s it?’ Had she known, she would’ve offered it sooner. But realizing this was revealing her hand, she quickly dug out her purse and pressed a ten dollar bill into his hand. She earned her own money doing tutoring. Her parents wouldn’t know. “I’ll do the tie,’ she said briskly. “And no, no hand holding. You show up, you stand next to me for a while, maybe tap your foot or smile…” She stopped and stared at him, then sighed. “Never mind. No smiling. That’d be terrifying. Show up and stand next to me for an hour and you’ll be good.” She fetched the tie and before he could comment or move she tied it around his neck and studied him. “It’ll do. Let’s go.”

[Clement Evans]

In his days at his old school, Clement had gotten into more than one fight with a girl, but physically and not verbally. Verbal fights were not his forte, unless they were in Korean, and he doubted Brea spoke. He recognized her kind though. It wasn't often he ran into them, they typically didn't bother with kids like him. Unless they were, say, paired with them randomly for a dance.

"Ten bucks. That’s it?"

A brown eyebrow rose. In Clement's world, ten bucks was a lot of money - certainly more than he'd ever had himself. But the way Brea said it... wasn't ten bucks anything to her? It was too late to ask for more, but he tucked the info away for later. And... well, shit, she just had ten bucks on her? Clement tried not to look impressed and succeeded, but looked sort of weirded out instead. The ten went into a desk drawer to be locked away later, and then the tie whipped around his neck and was suddenly in tie formation a few seconds later after flying around god-knew-how.

He nodded. "I can do that."

Clement followed her out of his room, locking his door. Walking beside her and a little behind so he could see where she went, he thought about things. The night was going to be pretty stupid if they just stood around, but what to talk about? Half a smile tugged the side of his mouth.

"You sound like a person who likes revenge. So what're you gonna do to your brother?"

It might not be a completely worthless night after all.

((FIN))