A/N: Technically, this is part of the Look My Way universe, but it can be read as a stand-alone. Fluff, pure fluff.

Late Spring 1985

Andy stared in disbelief at the figure lying sprawled out on his front lawn. He'd only gone inside for a few minutes, but in that short time, John had abandoned the work that they had been doing on Andy's newly purchased car, and managed to make himself comfortable in the shade of a small maple tree. He had even tucked his arms underneath his head and closed his eyes.

Andy walked over and nudged John's leg with the toe of his sneaker. "You asleep?"

"Not anymore," John grumbled. When he opened his eyes, Andy was standing over him, holding a glass of soda in each hand. The scowling jock was a far cry from the red-haired beauty he had been dreaming about. John sighed and pushed himself up into a sitting position.

Andy sat down on the grass next to John and tried not to feel guilty for waking him when he saw how tired John looked. "I guess that life after graduation isn't the party that you thought it was going to be, huh?"

John shook his head. Andy didn't know the half of it. Between his two jobs, band practice, and Claire, John had no time breathe, let alone think about partying. Strangely, he didn't mind it as much as he would have a year ago. It was a good kind of busy, if such a thing existed, and some days, he felt like constantly being occupied was the only thing keeping him out of trouble.

"Sporto," John lamented, "I think I might've become a responsible adult."

Andy offered one of the drinks he was holding to John. "Nah, I don't see it," he said, but in reality, he would've had to have been blind not to see the change that had occurred in the past year.

John took the glass from Andy. "Thanks."

Andy pressed his own glass against his forehead to cool down, and glanced over at his car. It bothered him to see it in pieces, but John had assured him that he knew what he was doing when he had taken it apart. Andy chose to believe that he wasn't lying.

"So when we're done here—"

"If we're ever done here," John corrected.

"When we're done here, do you want to go tux shopping with me?"

While Andy was asking his question, John had taken a large gulp of soda. He had been expecting Coke, but got a mouth full of root beer instead. It wasn't unpleasant, but it threw him off for a second while his brain struggled to catch up with his taste buds. That was why, when heard the words 'tux shopping', John couldn't for the life of him figure out what the hell Andy was talking about. He thought maybe that the recent car repairs had made him desperate.

"You've finally decided to give my idea a shot, haven't you?"

Andy frowned. "I'm not going to stand outside of Chez Quis and pretend to be a valet, I told you that last month."

"And I told you, it's not stealing if they give the money to you willingly."

"It's still wrong."

"It's a victimless crime. You're providing a service to the restaurant at no cost to them, and in return, you make some cash. Though, if you're hoping to make enough for a brand-new car, it might be faster just to steal one."

"Bender, can you be serious for five minutes?"

"Probably not."

Andy groaned in frustration, and John smirked. When Andy's look turned murderous, however, John backed off. "Alright, alright. You need a tux for…?"

"The prom," Andy supplied, as if it were obvious.

"Oh, that." John's mood soured immediately. "When is it, again?"

"Two weeks from tomorrow. Allison won't stop talking about it. Although that's probably because she's throwing the after-prom party this year," Andy conceded. "She's been really preoccupied lately." He loved his girlfriend, but he couldn't wait for the stupid prom to be over so that they could finally talk about something other than dresses and hors d'oeuvres. Andy turned to John and gave him a skeptical look. "Are you telling me that Claire hasn't mentioned it to you at all?"

"I know she was planning stuff in the winter, and had meetings and shit, but no, she hasn't said anything about it recently."

"Weird."

John shrugged. He'd forgotten all about the whole prom thing, but now that Andy brought it up it did seem strange that Claire had gone silent on the matter.

"It's a huge deal this year," Andy said, and then clarified, "For the girls, I mean. Everyone in school has been saying that Claire's a shoe-in for queen. Especially since she was the runner-up last year."

"I remember." John also remembered being glad when she didn't win because it meant that he didn't have to watch her dance with the pretty-boy who had been crowned king. "I don't know if I'm gonna to go this year, though."

"I've heard that before."

"Yeah, but I mean it this time," John insisted. "I left that fucking place and I don't want to go back."

Andy could understand that, though it didn't stop him from asking, "But aren't you worried that one of the football players will sweep Claire off her feet if you're not there?"

John stared down at the half-melted ice cubes floating in his soda. He used to worry all the time that Claire would come to her senses and wonder what she was doing with a loser like him, but lately he'd relaxed a little. Finally, he told Andy, "Nah, if she was going to leave me to improve her image, she would've done it a long time ago."

"That's true," Andy agreed, despite the fact that he didn't think Claire's image had actually suffered any damage at all. If anything, she had become more popular. After the prom, every girl in the junior class had been swooning over the fact that Claire had inspired the resident 'criminal' to clean up his act.

John turned to Andy with a sudden thought. "You don't think that she expects a repeat of last year, do you? And if I don't show up she'll get upset?"

Andy shrugged. In his limited experience, it was next to impossible to predict what would make a girl upset. "Maybe you should let her know, just in case."

"Yeah, probably."

"'Cuz you know that way, she still has time to ask Brian to go with her."

John chuckled. "I'm not sure his mom could handle him having a date two years in a row."

xxx

Claire had successfully managed to tune out the background noise for almost an hour. But for the past fifteen minutes, she had been finding it harder and harder to focus on her book. Every time she looked up to check on John's progress, she became more interested in watching him try to beat his high score than reading about Hamlet try to decide whether or not to kill his uncle.

John swore loudly and dropped the joystick. He had failed to save his last frog in time.

"I take it you didn't beat your record," she said.

He looked over at her as if he'd just remembered that she was there. "I'm distracting you."

"I don't mind."

"You will tomorrow when you're taking your test and the only thing running through your head is the Frogger music."

"Mmm," she agreed, "That would be a problem."

"Yeah, and then you'll get an 'F' and spend the rest of the week pissed at me."

Claire laughed. "I think you're under-estimating my ability to study and watch you play video games."

"Maybe." John got up and turned the TV off. "I've got to split though, so you'll have some peace and quiet anyway."

Claire closed her book and sat up on the bed. "I don't want you to go." It was borderline whining, but she couldn't help it. It felt like John had only just got there.

"Unfortunately, I don't get money for nothing," he quipped.

"At least you get your chick for free," she teased back.

John's expression turned incredulous. "Are you kidding me? There was nothing free about you, Princess."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You say that as if I cost you thousands of dollars."

It was part of their banter, and Claire expected John to fire right back with some sarcastic retort, but he was silent for an unusually long time. She panicked. Maybe he actually did think that she cost him a lot of money? He was somewhat sensitive about the subject.

Just when she thought that she was going to have to say something to break the tension, John spoke. "Nah, just that—forget it."

"What?"

"It doesn't matter." John ran his hand through his hair. "Listen, about next weekend, were you planning on—" He stopped, and then blurted out in one big rush, "Do you want me to show up again?"

Claire blinked several times before she managed to figure out what he was talking about. "At the prom?"

"Yeah."

Claire was surprised that he had remembered. She didn't think that she had mentioned it in a while. "Do you want to go again this year?"

"Not really," he admitted. "I'd have to leave work early, and you know getting dressed up isn't my thing. But if you want me to…"

She tugged him down to the bed next to her, cupped his cheek, and then kissed him on the lips. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

"For what?"

"For being you."

Bewildered, he asked, "Who else would I be?"

She smiled and gave him another kiss. "Never mind. And don't worry about the prom, I've got a date."

For a brief moment, he looked jealous, but he quickly recovered. "You asked Brian again."

Claire nodded. "And I think his mom has already ordered our wedding invitations."

John grinned. "Am I going to get one?"

"I don't know," she said slowly. "That might get kind of awkward—inviting my boyfriend to my wedding."

He playfully pushed her backward onto the bed, supporting himself on his arms over her. "Not nearly as awkward as inviting me to the wedding night."

She curled her fingers around the base of his neck and pulled him down to her. "Oh, you think?"

He nodded and captured her lips with his.

She moved her hands around and slid them down his torso. "Can you stay for five more minutes?"

"Sweets, what I have in mind is going to take a little longer than five minutes."

She pulled his t-shirt up. "I suppose you'd better go, then. You wouldn't want to be late."

He helped her slip his shirt off over his head. "Did I ever mention that my boss is a very understanding guy?"

"How understanding?"

"Enough."