(ret-con) take seven

[wellownedbkup]

Jordan is thankful for the lack of nametags. His every thought of how school reunions go comes from far too many movies for his tastes. But with the advent of Facebook and Myspace and so many other social networking sites, there’s little room for mistaking who’s who in the melee. Not all of the pictures match, so much vanity not allowing for much in the way of change from 10 years ago. But there’s enough of a resemblance that he knows exactly who he needs to know.

Not to mention how he hasn’t strayed too far from the group of girls that he’d been fast friends with back in their day. It hasn’t been a regular thing, not like they would have hoped. It’s only been random, here and there, when jobs and holidays and families allowed time for a lunch or a few hours of hanging out wherever they could. It’s been at least a year and a half since he’s seen any one of the girls or guys he used to know and call his other half. A year and a half wherein he’s gone from a single man to as near as he can be to marrying Scott.

They’d decided before they came to the reunion that they would arrive separately, see their old friends on familiar terms before they introduced them to the current arrangement. Jordan thought that perhaps it mostly benefitted Scott, who had been popular enough to have an image that would be affected by current situations. It wasn’t a question of jealousy. Just a fact that was underscored by the lingering kiss Scott gave him as they parted at the door. 10 minutes separating their entrances guaranteed no one would link them.

Jordan finds his old friends without any trouble, grin far too wide as he takes in the beautiful dresses the girls wore. He’d missed out on prom, a life of Before that he rarely thought of anymore, but was determined to rectify at his reunion. Each girl dances with him for a song or two. It takes very little to convince two of his guy friends to dance with him as well, music from their parties drifting from the speakers like a wave of nostalgia. He feels just the slightest bit drunk without having had a drink, giddy with being the right person in the right time for once. He doesn’t even think about what he’s doing when he grabs Marina’s hand to dance to the slowest song they’ve played all evening.

She blushes and drapes her arms around his shoulders, the one face he’d missed the most in this change from who he once was, and who he is today. He tells her so with a sweet kiss to her blazing cheek, his euphoria spilling over as they spin slowly around the floor. She’s speechless, and forgoes saying anything by curling tighter into his body.

“You’ve been busy,” comes the whisper at his ear at the end of the song. Jordan smiles and reaches behind him without turning around, hand unerringly finding its way to curve around the nape of Scott’s neck.

“You remember Marina?” he asks by way of introduction.

Scott nods, sliding closer until Jordan’s pressed tightly between their two bodies, framed. “It’s been awhile.”

“Things have definitely changed,” she agrees archly before stepping back. “Jordan didn’t tell me he was seeing anyone, Scott.”

Scott just smiles and takes her hand to pull her back in. “I wasn’t trying to interrupt. Please.” He presses a soft kiss to the curve of Jordan’s jaw. “Enjoy yourselves.”

Jordan spins, mouth open in incredulity. “Scott?” he asks softly, voice carrying just enough to reach his lover’s ears.

Scott leans in and brushes his lips teasingly against Jordan’s. “Have fun, sweetheart. I’ll catch up with you later.” He winks and gives him a quick, hard kiss. “Besides,” he says louder, pulling back with a smile, “you’d never forgive me if I made you come talk music with the band.”

Marina watches Scott go back across the room, his fingers trailing away like they’re loathe to stop touching each other. She grins. “New development?”

Jordan hums noncommittally, instead sweeping her back into another dance. “My keeper says I should have fun. I thought maybe you’d be interested?” He chuckles a little when she stumbles, pulling her up close to him again. Whispering, he laces his words with promise and sincerity. “You’ve always been more beautiful and good than I deserve. But it doesn’t hurt to ask, does it? And I couldn’t leave without telling you just how much I appreciate what you’re wearing tonight.”

“Your keeper?” she asks again, her feet stilling on the dance floor. This is not where this conversation should be happening, but it’s already spun far out of control.

Jordan blushes. “I told him that, should there ever be an opportunity… I wouldn’t without his permission.” He curves his palm to her cheek tenderly. “I only ever assumed it would be you.”