Author: Me (were_we_really on Livejournal.)
Rating/Warnings:G, fashion and cake, Valley Girl-speak.
Original Prompt: Talking on the roof of the house together while there's a party inside - Cuba/Canada, America/Japan, or Turkey/Poland
Somebody's trying to climb onto the roof. Not doing a very good job, though. Turkey watches for a little bit with a grin on his face, then reaches out and pulls up what turns out to be Poland with a chuckle.
"Thanks," Poland pants. "Look, I, like, didn't know anybody was up here, or anything, so if you want to be alone or something I can just find somewhere else to hang out, you know?"
"Nah, you're fine."
Poland sighs. "I should probably go, like, talk to my guests."
"Hey, I'm your guest."
"You are! So maybe I'll just sit out here and talk to you. There's too many people in the house right now, you know?" Poland relaxes and stretches out, shivering a little in the nighttime air.
"Yeah. Cake?" Turkey holds out a half-eaten piece.
It's hard to see in the dark, but judging by his voice Poland's making a face. "No, thanks. I've got this great little velvet dress I'm trying to fit into by New Year's, so... yeah."
"New Year's isn't for..." Turkey does some quick mental math. "Three and a half months."
"Hey, it's a really little dress."
"Suit yourself," Turkey says, popping the rest of the cake into his mouth. "You're missin' out, though. It's really good cake."
Poland's teeth flash white in the darkness as he smiles. "Really? That's, like, awesome, 'cause I made it! Yeah, at first I was kind of worried, you know, 'cause I don't usually cook and I was going to get Liet to do it, but he had plans with his brother and so he was like, 'Oh, I'll just give you the recipe,' and I was like, 'Okay, since when do I know how to follow recipes?' but then he hung up the phone and e-mailed it to me, so I just ended up, like, texting him for help a lot. So I'm glad it worked out."
"Uh-huh." Turkey's only half paying attention to his words. The other half's on how he kind of wants more cake, and half's also on Poland's bare legs and how one's almost brushing against his jeans.
Hmm. That might be too many halves.
Whatever. They're really nice legs.
Poland waves his hand in front of his face. "Hel-lo-o? Earth to Turkey? You look kind of, like, spaced out."
"Maybe a little bit. I was just wonderin' who wears miniskirts at night in September."
"Me, clearly," Poland says, and they both laugh a little. "And I look absolutely fabulous, you know I do. I saw you staring, don't try to deny it."
"Who's denying anything? I just want to know if you get cold, need someone to keep you warm. Stuff like that."
"I'm pretty warm. My sweater's cashmere. It's thin, and all, but totally toasty."
"I'll take your word for it. I don't know from clothes."
"Obviously not. Like, your belt doesn't match your shoes, and this jacket? Tacky."
"And so's my sweater, and I look great."
"Yeah, you do."
They sit in silence for a while. Then Poland says, "Um. Turkey?"
"Even though I'm not cold? You can still, like, put your arm around me if you want to."
Turkey does. He's glad now he didn't go for more cake: this is better. "Hey. Poland."
"You're gonna have to show me that dress you were telling me about sometime."
"Well, it's a dress for New Year's, so if you want to see it you'll have to, like, come over then, or something."
"Sounds good, but only if I get to kiss you at midnight."
"It's a date. I'll make more cake."
Well, I managed to get one thing posted before I leave for band camp. I'll probably not have Wi-Fi for the next five days, so don't feel neglected if you message me and I don't reply for a while. If all goes well and/or writer's block doesn't decide I'm its new best friend, I should have some new things to spam you with when I get back.