A/N: Written for FemFeb this year. Set vaguely post-series. This is an idea I've had on and off for years but never bothered to sit down to write. Then it finally got its claws in me.

.

"And that," says Frieda, using exaggerated keystrokes to finish submitting the final draft of their final announcement for the school paper, "is officially that!"

"Finally!" Daisy cheers. She tosses their notes into the air and falls back on Frieda's bed, arms outstretched. She shoots a grin at Frieda past the falling papers. "Just think. In one week, we'll be enjoying the dance instead of organizing it."

"I hope I can enjoy it after organizing it," Frieda says, curling her own grin into a grimace that she can't hold. She kicks off her desk, chair wheels squeaking across the short distance to Daisy. It isn't the most comfortable position, perched sideways on the chair while laying back on the bed, head on Daisy's thigh, but it's worth it. "So, what are you most looking forward to?"

"Everything going perfectly," Daisy quips. She wriggles a bit, dragging a pillow closer to prop up her head so she can look down at Frieda more comfortably. "Honestly, everyone enjoying themselves."

"They all better enjoy themselves, after this," says Frieda. She does some wriggling of her own, almost losing control of the chair as she turns on her side.

"Heh, yeah. Oh, hey, are you going with anyone?" Daisy asks.

"No," says Frieda, catching her breath before it hitches. The hope that dares peek its head out is shoved firmly back into the closet. "Not yet anyway."

Daisy sighs, lips twisting into shapes that are gone as soon as they're there. "I think everyone assumes I'm going with Virgil."

"Aren't you?" Frieda asks. Her lips round into an oh and then press against a laugh at the look Daisy gives her.

"He keeps looking like he's gonna ask me but then…" Daisy makes a complicated sound, accompanied by one hand waving abstract patterns into the air. "You know him." There's a pause. Frieda considers saying something but Daisy beats her to it. "I'm not sure what I'd say if he did," she admits, staring up at the ceiling. "Part of me feels like of course I'd say yes but the rest of me is just like– why?"

"Yeah," Frieda shakes her head, a shadow of a frown on her face. "He's a great guy most of the time, but he's gotten flakier the longer I've known him."

Another pause; Daisy is quicker to break this one too. She pushes herself up on her elbows and looks at Frieda like… Frieda isn't sure, actually. She says, "There's that, too," like she isn't sure if she should regret it.

Frieda breathes deep, in and out. She sits up a little and hears herself ask, "Is there someone else you want to go with?"

"There might be," Daisy says, a little too fast and a little too quiet. "I'm not sure."

They stare at each other, the air around them going hot and dry. Frieda's heart is drumming in her ears, so fast that she wonders if she's hearing Daisy's too. Daisy has just started to shrug back, eyes averted, when hope leaps out of the closet and knocks, "Would you go to the dance with me?" out of Frieda's lungs.

Daisy hesitates and Frieda can see her breathing deep too. She looks Frieda in the eye again, not quite smiling; her voice wavers when she asks, "As friends, you mean?"

It's a way out, a door open to someplace known and safe; hope blocks it with outstretched arms. "No," says Frieda. She reaches for Daisy's hand. "I don't."

Daisy's smile as she takes Frieda's hand is answer enough, but Frieda still thrills to hear her say, "Yes."