(A/N): A good recommendation; listen to Girls Just Want to Have Fun when it's said to come on in the story. I don't know about you, but for me it had me smiling and feeling the moment just a little more :) Enjoy!

Sooner or later, sitting in the kitchen almost entirely sober while talking about whatever came to mind until there was nothing left grew boring. After 20 minutes, the silences began, and while they weren't awkward they were slowly numbing your mind into a grey haze of 'ugh'. Another 10 minutes and you and Brahms finally cracked and got a second drink, the buzzing in your body having dimmed into nothing all over again. Another 15 had you refilling your cup- from then on, whenever you reached the bottom of it you refilled it without even thinking. About an hour after your arrival you and Brahms had grown sick of the unsaturated silences and decided to suck it up and venture into the crowd like adults rather than stay hidden away like mice. With the time that had passed it seems the room had emptied just a little, guests leaving or moving to the backyard or rushing to grab a bedroom or bathroom to play around in, and there was just enough room for you and Brahms to stick together without being pulled apart by the tides of dancers. The temperature was high, the palm of your hand sweating where it held tightly to Brahms', and your breathing felt jittery and uneven. The music was still loud, deafening, but now that you had grown accustomed to it it was almost fun, in a foggy way; your head was beginning to shift and sway with your alcohol consumption, and you attempted to clear it with another sip of the rose-red liquid in the cup in your hands. Of course, the shock of booze piqued your alertness for a brief second, but then you were plunged into a drunken sea that was more intense than it had been before. Brahms, being dragged behind you as you searched for a clear-enough space to stand among the others, was blinking absently and swaying gently on his feet. He was more of a lightweight than you had turned out to be- he was already drunk off his ass.

"Did you finish your- your glass?" Brahms choked the words out, his brows screwing gently together in his efforts to hold tightly to his train of thought. You slowed to a halt, this area of the house a little less dense than the rest, and stared down into your cup. It was still half full, but the sickly-sweet scent that rose up to tickle at your nose was making you a little ill.

"No," You hum, and he extends a hand to ask to finish it for you. If you were sober you would have immediately declined- this much alcohol could not be good for someone who drinks as little as he does, especially when he was already so inebriated- however, it was his lucky day, because you were too tipsy to consider his well being. "Enjoy," You smile at him, uneven and definitely goofy-looking, but he returns it with a quirky smile of his own and then punches down the rest of the drink in one throat-burning shot. With a loud whoop and flushed cheeks, Brahms tossed the empty cup over his shoulder, shooting his arms forwards to catch both of your hands in his own. Leaning close, you could feel the heat coming off of him in waves and the first and last note of concern etched itself into your brain for the night. You were about to ask if he wanted to take off his cardigan when he started to chatter first.

"You know, Michael used to tell me to st-stay away from you," He staggered, and you guided him to the wall so he could slump heavily against it, "He said you would... that you would hurt us, or be scared of us, or think we're, like, weird." Unsure of where Brahms was taking this, you stayed silent, leaning against the wall yourself as the room swayed lightly. "He made me sc-scared, and-" Brahms hiccuped, shaking his head to clear it and speaking a little more evenly, "I'm sorry if it showed. I always try to be nice to people, but- sometimes I forget, and I don't really remember if I was ever mean to you, but I hope I wasn't."

"You've never done anything even close to mean, Brahmsy," You let go of one of his hands, patting his cheek a little harder than you'd meant to and knocking his head gently to the side. He let out a snicker and leaned his head away, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you towards him in a tight hug. You grinned as his arms wrapped around you, rocking you gently back and forth, and hugged him right back without any hesitation.

"You won't-" Brahms mumbled into your hair, but trailed off after only the two words. Curiosity lit brightly in the pit of your stomach and you patted his back reassuringly, letting out a hum to coax him on. Locked in his embrace, his drunken body-heat was setting you aflame- sweat sprung on your forehead but you didn't yet pull away. It had been a while since you'd experienced a hug this welcoming. "You won't..." Brahms continued, quieter, timid, "Leave us, will you? You won't get sc-scared away?" Now, you untangled yourself from his arms and looked up at him. His eyes were glassy and distant and his mouth hung open slightly, downturned in a fearful frown. You took his hands, and shook your head, firm and resolute.

"No, Brahms," With a stony voice, you held his gaze, forcing as much certainty into your words as possible, "I'm not going anywhere." The music took hold of the both of you, throttling any other meaningful speech from your lungs. Brahms only nodded, letting go of one of your hands and dragging you after him with the other.

"Let's dance," He called over his shoulder to you, and you smiled again, toothy and ditzy and childish. The heat in the room that you felt through your stupor was sinking warmly into your bones, loosening up any tension held within them and easing the painful thudding of your heart that came with your social anxiety. As you and Brahms ventured out in the center of the room where the people were packed the most tightly, you eyes caught onto the form of Danny, standing against an abandoned wall with a cup in his hands and a despondent look on his face. His eyes met yours from across the room, and his head tilted back to snub you as he often did. You were dragged into the crowd and lost sight of him all over again.

This part of the room was screaming with energy- the chatter and laughter of other teenagers was almost overpowered the blaring music; it hurt your ears in the best way possible and sent your adrenaline through the roof. A giddy feeling pressed over you like a warm blanket, wrapping tightly around your brain to fog it even more, if that was even possible. Your hand still locked in his, Brahms began to do the closest thing to dancing that he could accomplish, both from his inexperience and his struggle to stay upright at all. He swayed his shoulders back and forth, waving his arms (and your one arm, in turn) through the air in tune to the music. You giggled, unable to stop yourself, and lifted your other arm to match the pattern he had fallen into. Together, the two of you probably looked like lunatics but you couldn't possibly care less. Going into this night, you reflected, you were terrified of judgement and disaster but now, a couple drinks in and with a heavily drunken (and outlandishly fun) Brahms all of those worries had faded into the background. To the tune of Girls Just Want to Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper you were living the best life you think you could possibly be living; who knew how you'd feel about Ashboro a year from now, or even a month, a week, a day- all that currently mattered was this moment, where your glee was unfazed by the millions of other problems with the world.

Suddenly, Brahms was singing, and a warm bubble of amusement worked its way up into your throat. He wasn't taking this seriously, that much was obvious. His voice wavered and cracked, entirely off-key; he wasn't the greatest singer, but that was just fine. You rose your voice and sang along with him, hopping lightly in place and smiling so wide your face started to burn as he began to jump along with you, taking your other hand in his as well to shake them back and forth energetically.

"The phone rings, in the middle of the night," Brahms lets go of one hand to spin you with a flourish, breaking out into boisterous laughter as you stumble over your own feet and almost go crashing to the ground. He catches you by the arm, rights you again, and then takes both hands to continue his chaotic dancing, "My father yells, "What you gonna do with your life?" The song continues and you and Brahms sing your hearts out, bumping into others and being shoved from all sides but always being there to catch one another, always being there to laugh so hard you're afraid something inside of you will burst. As the song comes to a close you and Brahms are doubled over and cackling, one hand on each other's backs and the other clutching your stomachs. You have tears brimming in your eyes and threatening to roll down your face, your breath escaping you entirely. Your knees are wobbling, feeling like jelly, and it's honestly miraculous that you and Brahms have managed to stay upright this long. With one final, heaving, lung-stinging breath, you get yourself back under control and wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. Your face is beet red and your cheeks are burning both with heat and from the ear-to-ear grin on your lips, and you suddenly decide that you want another glass of whatever alcoholic concoction Danny had whipped up for Amanda's party. Leaning close to shout to Brahms over the beginning notes of the next song, you say,

"Hang tight, I'm getting more booze!" He lets out a bark of a laugh, still not quite over the hilarity of singing so rowdily with you, and nods his head to tell you he'll be just fine waiting. With your whole body buzzing, you push through the crowd, ignoring the odd or annoyed looks they passed you with an easy joy. Oh, you're feeling great tonight, on top of the damn world. You'd drank alcohol before, but never like this, and boy did you love it! You stagger into the kitchen, still humming the tune of Girls Just Want to Have Fun despite the change in song. Your old cup is long gone thanks to Brahms tossing it away earlier in the evening, so you grabbed another one (one of the last ten or twenty) from the stack on the counter and move to dip it into the punch bowl.

"What do you think you're doing?" A hand pops up from behind you, swiping the cup right out of your hand. For the quickest second you have no idea what happened, confusion sprawling through you, and then you let out a choked cry of protest and turn to follow the cup with your eager hands. Your cup is held high above your head and you stare up at it as if it's some relic, something rare and expensive and valuable. "Are you seriously going for another cup?" You break your gaze away from the bright red of the plastic cup and instead look at the one holding it, feeling a thistle of irritation prick at your chest and tamp down the joy you'd been loving.

"Give it back, asshole! Come on, I'm dying over here!" When Danny doesn't immediately move to return the stolen item you let out a huff, opting to take matters into your own drunken hands. Staggering forwards, you plant one hand on Danny's chest to steady yourself, springing up onto the tips of your toes and fishing through the air for the red solo cup- you had almost gotten it, your staggering movements surprisingly quick and almost catching Danny off guard, but he tossed the cup with a shocking skill right into his other hand, lifting that one high once more before you registered that it had even been thrown. Damn your fuzzy brain. "Why?" You whine, shifting to reach with your other hand instead.

"Surely you've had enough to drink, haven't you sweetheart? Why don't we step on the breaks before you make a mistake and end up hating yourself in the morning-"

"Piss off, Danny, I'm thirsty! Give it back!" Your annoyance is steadily rising; every second that passes where you don't have alcohol in your hands is one more thorn in your side driving you closer and closer to an outburst. You try to jump, using Danny's sturdy form as a balance, but he quickly notices what you're trying to do and pushes you gently backwards; thanks to your unsteadiness you don't react in time and stagger away harder than he had meant to happen, hitting your back against the marble countertop behind you and letting out a hiss of pain. "Fuck you, Danny I-"

"(Y/N), I'm sorry I didn't mean to-" suddenly, a brilliant idea comes into your mind and you spin on your heel to simply reach for another cup. "(Y/N), no!" Your fingers skim the cool plastic and then, fuck you're getting angry, those cups are stolen away from you too. "You're shitfaced already! That's enough booze!" Your face twists into a grimace. If he's going to yell at you you're going to yell right back. He's already ruined the glee you'd been feeling after your singing escapade- he couldn't ruin this evening any more.

"I'm dying of thirst, you fucking dick, just move the hell over! Fuck- Fuck off!" Taking a few steps backwards to set the cups on the counter behind him, Danny plants his hands on his hips and sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. With a much calmer voice, he says,

"Listen," Danny takes one step back towards you, holding out his hands in an attempt to diffuse the situation, "If you need something to drink, why don't we get you some water? That's a better idea, isn't it honey?" You're about to protest and then he's placing his hand on the small of your back. For a moment your drunken mind is stalled, confused- You almost melt into the touch, your anger forgotten for just a second as you let him begin to guide you to the sink. His hands are cold against the back of your shirt and his soberness makes him seem smart, grounded. You stare at his face as he looks at you, an evident concern in his golden eyes- you can't help but think that those eyes are just a little bit pretty- fuck it, his eyes are so fucking pretty you think you might throw up but then he speaks again and the sound of his voice, getting snarky and prideful, reminds you of who he is. "I think it'd be good for you if-"

"Didn't you he-hear me say fuck off?" You spit out the words as you shove him away, realizing how close to him you'd really gotten. Of course he'd gotten smug again, you were basically cuddling him and the thought made you sick. As he stumbles a step away and whips to face you you see the flutter of emotions that cross his face, one after the other, shifting like an old movie reel.

"Woah, what did I-"

"What do you mean you know what would be good for me? Fuck, D-Danny, you-" You lean heavily against the counter and knit your brows tightly together. "You're more fucked up then I am, asshole! You don't have a single fucking clue what you're doing!"

(Y/N) if I said something wrong then-"

"Of course you said something wrong! When don't you? I hardly fucking know you and I know you're just some giant screw up trying to look for some drunk person to fuck around with!" Something raw floods Danny's gaze. You ignore it, knowing you'd feel guilty if you let yourself acknowledge its existence. "You don't know what you're talking about and you never ever will. I told you to leave me alone! I'm a rep- resp-" The words get caught in your throat and the anger inside of you roars, tinging the edges of your vision with red. It's Danny's fault that you're feeling like this. Right now, irrational, everything is Danny's fault. "Responsible adult and I don't need some asshat like you to tell me what to do! You've done nothing but annoy the shit out of me ever since we've met, and now-" You scoff, and wipe at your mouth, "Well, now you won't even let me have fun at this shitty party that you made me come to!" You scoff again and take a step forwards, extending an accusatory finger in his direction. "You try to act all- all t-tough and badass but I think you're just afraid to admit to yourself that you're the most obnoxious person on this whole entire planet. I was having fun, I was enjoying myself, and now you've just- You've just wrecked it all, like you always do! Just like that!" At once, Danny's face shifts. The rawness in his gaze vanishes to be replaced by ice. His back straightens, his frown sinks into a flat line, and the expression he had been showing, the care, the concern, is gone entirely. You scoff again and jam your finger into his chest. He doesn't even flinch. Taking a step closer, desperate for a reaction, you jab your finger into his chest again.

"Stay," You hiss, poking again, "the fuck," Again, harder, taking a step closer so that you and him are nose to nose, "away from me." This time, you don't poke him. You catch him off guard and push him with all of the strength you can muster. He is caught off guard, stumbling a single step backwards before catching himself again. "I don't like you, Danny. I never fucking will." There is a beat of dead silence; the music is in the midst of a song change and a hush seems to have fallen into a momentary silence. In the perfect stillness, just you and Danny, gazes locked, you swear you can hear the frightened, sporadic thudding of his heartbeat. He reaches, silent, for the cups on the counter, and shoves them into your chest.

"Enjoy the party, honey." Danny leaves without another word.

***

The party is winding to a close. You and Brahms have found yourself sitting on the stairs up to the second floor, chattering aimlessly as you usually found yourselves doing. People were filing through the front door every few minutes, the house growing emptier and emptier. You were glad to hear that you could go home soon, that this party would be over; it was thirty minutes to midnight, which meant your dad was already fast asleep and wouldn't see you staggering inside, more intoxicated than you had been in your whole life.

"I'd never play any sports," Brahms said, having at some point reverted to his higher-pitch voice without either of you really realizing it; you were in a quiet enough place that neither of you minded, either. "But I used to take ballroom dancing classes as a child. Waltz, Tango, Foxtrot, Quickstep- I knew it all." You let out a hum, leaning back to lay over the steps despite how uncomfortable it really was.

"Do you know any of them now?" You ask, and Brahms just shrugs his shoulders. With a smile that was still as tipsy as ever (you had been sticking close to the punch) you hauled yourself to your feet and extended a hand to him. "Well, may I have this dance?" Brahms' brows screwed together and he cracked a smile.

"With... with this song?" The song in question just so happened to be Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen- yeah, not exactly the peak waltz song, but you didn't mind. For the first time tonight you wondered if this music belonged to Danny or Amanda. Both seemed entirely unlike them.

"Fine with me. We don't have to, like- stay in tune or anything. I just wanna learn." With a heavy sigh, Brahms stood as well, placing his hand in yours. "What do I do first, good sir?" You participated in the mandatory dancing class way back in grade 7, but other than that you were in totally unfamiliar territory. Brahms set one of your hands onto his shoulder, clasping the other in his own. Then, his other hand fell on your waist and he stared down at your feet.

"Stay with me, okay? Just follow my feet- don't step on them, please." He took a step forwards and you matched it with one back, he moved his foot to his right and you matched it with your own right, he stepped back and so did you- It was choppy, stumbly, nothing even near professional but hey, you were still on your feet and you were kind of getting the hang of it! It wasn't as hard as it had looked (though surely it would have been harder in a room full of other people) and before you knew it you and Brahms were spinning through the small entrance hall, moving faster and faster in some unspoken competition of 'who could go the longest without tripping?'. In the end, of course, you were the one to lose with little to no experience. You moved a little too quick and got Brahms' foot tangled in your own, pulling it from under you so that you had to stagger a few steps backwards to make up for it. Both of you burst out into another fit of drunken laughter that had you doubling over and wiping tears from your eyes, climbing a little closer to the joy that came along with drinking. Just as it seemed you were going to reach that bubbly adrenaline again, you heard creaking from the stairs as someone- no, two people, actually- began to descend them. With a passing glance, you looked over at the two, but as you looked away you had to look back again to double check what you were seeing.

"Quite the ride, Danny," A girl hummed in a low voice, her arm linked with Danny's as they descended the stairs together. This girl was one you didn't recognize, with light brown hair that was gently mussed (combed through with fingers, maybe) and hazel eyes ringed with slightly disturbed mascara. Though she didn't notice you, Danny sure did, and his face remained soulless and unmoving. You cleared your throat, chasing away your laughter, and took a step closer to Brahms to let the two pass by.

"Yeah," Danny said, stark for one more moment before mustering up his trademark smirk and leaning over to press a kiss to the girls cheek, both actions seeming strained, "Sure was, sweetheart. I'd love to do it again sometime," He finished his words off with a wink, purposefully avoiding the sight of you as the two stepped by to rejoin the party. For a moment, both you and Brahms don't dare say a word. A strange pang of hurt claws at your stomach and you have absolutely no idea why.

"What a lucky girl!" Brahms mocks, wiggling his fingers beside his face and rolling his eyes heavily. You crack a smile all over again and the ordeal is forgotten. The people in the other room are suddenly shouting, rowdy, cheering the word 'ouija board' over and over and over again. You and Brahms pass each other a confused glance, moving in tandem for the door back into the living room; the party had really emptied out now, only about ten people left and you could, surprisingly, name a good few of them. Danny was sitting on the couch with his side piece clinging to his arm, his face devoid of feeling once more. Billy Loomis and Stu Macher were on the floor just beside him, shouting along as they grinned giddily at one another. You recognized Bo, Leslie, a boy named Philip, someone you knew as Freddy, and two other boys you hadn't ever caught the names of. Amanda was on the far side of the room with a box in her hand made of metal. The chanting continued, rising in tension, and then you finally caught sight of the writing on the top of the box and felt a stone of dread drop in your stomach. Just as they were chanting, it was a ouija board- you had never liked the things. They were unsafe.

"Go Mandy!" Stu beamed, punching her in the leg as she dropped onto the couch beside Danny and set the box on the table to take off the top cover. Her gaze landed on you and Brahms and you immediately expected to be sent away or something of the sort; instead, she cracked a surprisingly kind smile and beckoned for the two of you to join the group.

"Hit the lights and get over here- the more the merrier with this type of shit." With one last glance at Brahms, you flicked off the lights and made for the group, sitting on the ground beside the coffee table where Freddy and an unnamed boy moved over to make some room. A lighter flame bloomed to life, and Amanda began to light the candles scattered around the tables surface. "Okay, guys," she begins to speak once the candles are lit, her dark eyes scanning over each person in the room, "Have any of you used one of these before?" Heads are shaken all around you, but you feel Brahms shift as if he wants to raise his hand or speak up. In the end, he doesn't, and Amanda's smile goes just a little uneasy. "Neither have I, but I think I know the rules," Out comes the board itself along with the planchette. The box is moved away, set underneath the coffee table, and a few brave souls lean forwards to take up a place with their hands on the triangular slider itself. "First question, anyone?"

"Oh! Ask the spirits how they died!" One of the unnamed boys leans forwards, an eager light shining in his eyes. No one protests, but again, Brahms shifts beside you. Amanda opens her mouth to speak.

"If there's anyone here, how did you-"

"No!" Brahms finally speaks up, the sudden loudness of his voice making everyone, who had been tense waiting a response, jump. The girl hanging off of Danny's arm let out a cry and nestled against him, though she looked anything but scared as she fluttered her false lashes only to be ignored as Danny stared off into space. A few annoyed glares were sent Brahms' way and he quickly leaped to explain himself. "You-" He swallowed hard, his hands clasping nervously together, "You shouldn't ask a spirit how it's died. And-" Again, he swallows. He's a ball of anxiety now, speaking in front of all these people so much higher on the social food chain. "You should ask the spirit to introduce themselves first, too. It's just... polite."

"What, you're an expert?" Amanda asks, tilting her head. For a moment you can feel Brahms tense up as he assumes he's being antagonized. Then, Amanda scoots over, patting the spot beside her. "Can you show me what to do? I don't want to go making immortal enemies or anything."

"Oh, I-" Brahms glances over at you. He looks uncertain, and you offer him a reassuring smile and a gentle punch in the arm. "Yes, sure, I can... I can do that." He stands, hesitates, and then moves to take the seat at Amanda's side. The planchette is covered in others hands, too many to get any real responses, so Brahms doesn't move just yet. To get him to do so, Amanda leans forwards and shoos the hands away. Much lighter than the others had been holding it, Brahms rests his fingertips on the cool plastic and clears his throat. "If there's a spirit here, we'd like to ask you a few questions," You hear his voice waver and offer him a thumbs up, scooting a bit closer to see the board as best as you can, and to offer more moral support. "I'll be the seance leader, if that's alright with everyone." Amanda nods her approval. "Is there any spirit here that would like to introduce themselves?" You watch, everyone holding their breaths, as the planchette, very slowly, begins to shift.

"No fucking way," Freddy shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest. "You've gotta be moving it." Brahms doesn't bother answering as the triangle continues to move, pausing over yes. Looking back at Amanda, Brahms pulls his hands back towards himself to rest in his lap.

"If you don't believe me, you can try it yourself. Any of you can." A few people race to lay their hands on the thing, eager to prove this all false. You were sure a few of them were nervous now. "Make sure you hold it lightly. Hardly at all." A quick pause, and then Brahms asks, "Did you ever live on earth? As a human?" Again, the planchette moves. There are a few gasps, even one from Amanda, and now it seems that everyone believes what's going on. The planchette doesn't go far before doubling back to land on yes again.

"How do you know how to do this?" Billy asks with wide, curious eyes.

"I, uh," Brahms had to clear his throat to get the words out (after all, Billy was one of the most popular kid in Ashboro), "I have a spirit in my home. I've spoken to it before." You blanch, surprised that you had never heard of this until now.

"What?" Leslie leans in closer, "What's its name? Does it break stuff or anything like that?"

"No, he's friendly. We call him Brahms Jr., just because he's... well, he's difficult sometimes, but he'd never hurt anyone." The group bursts out into interested mumbling, the ouija board momentarily forgotten as questions are fired in Brahms' direction; the one he answers first is What does he look like? Have you ever seen him? "None of my family have ever seen him in person, but he interacts with us through a porcelain doll we were gifted by family when I was a boy." The chatter continues, questions like How long have you had him? and What's the creepiest thing he's done? being thrown around and answered in a hurried fashion. Brahms grew more and more open as the conversation progressed, a relief spreading out inside of your stomach as the group accepted him as one of theirs for the evening. You rested your head on your arm, letting your eyes tumble shut. You didn't sleep, not yet tired, but you did space out as the conversation died and the ouija boarding picked up again. You weren't certain how long had passed before the spirit stopped responding, dragging the planchette towards Goodbye before going silent. Brahms assured that the seance was ended properly to avoid any disturbances, and then it was decided that the party was over for the evening. Now, after dozing for so long, you were tired, and couldn't wait to be home again.

After a few more minutes of teenagers filing out of the front door, you, Brahms, Billy, Stu Amanda and Danny were the final ones left. Too drunk to drive, Billy, who was already driving Amanda and Stu back to their homes, offered to get you and Brahms to your houses too. You had fallen asleep in the back seat beside Brahms almost as soon as the car began to move, something light and restless and filled with the humming of the wheels on the road. Upon your arrival Brahms gently shook you awake and pointed out that you had made it, that you could stagger inside and fall asleep. You did just that. Exactly like you had guessed, the house was silent, and you were just about done with all forms of social interaction. You were out like a light as soon as your head hit your pillow. You could thank Brahms for coming with you to the party the following morning in the midst of the killer hangover you didn't yet know you were going to have.

(A/N): Normalize platonic hand holding. Brahms and you aren't interested in each other romantically (just stating that to avoid any confusion)! I'm pretty happy with this chapter though I feel like it's a little rushed in the end (I wanted to show that you're tired and drunk so everything is a little blurry. I don't know if I managed that effect) but that's alright, because drunk Brahms is my new favourite thing and sober Danny worrying for drunk you is pretty nice, even if it did end with the two of you pissed off at one another. Thanks for reading, and share your thoughts why don't you?