A/N: I have loved Duckie for as long as I can remember, and since this somewhat random plot bunny attacked me tonight I felt now was as good a time as any to put my version of how this movie should have ended. This is a Duckie/Andie ship to the max, so fans of Blane/Steff may want to steer clear.

This scene begins immediately after Blane and Andie's confrontation in the school hallway, where he tells her he cannot take her to the prom, and after Duckie's fight with Steff due to overhearing him insulting Andie.

I'm honestly not sure whether anyone even reads Pretty in Pink fanfics, so would really love to hear any comments/feedback from people that do. Anyway, I hope that if somebody does stumble across this story, that they enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And may the shipping of Duckie and Andie live on forever! :)

THE REAL PINK

Her vision was so blinded by tears she could barely see the parking lot. Andie strode forward, barely aware of where she was going. Her chest felt tight and her throat burned with unshed tears, but she wasn't going to cry, she refused to cry, she absolutely was not going to – her feet tripped over a rough edge in the bitumen, and she stumbled forward, only catching herself just in time. Despite her best efforts at control a sob ripped out of her, and she felt a tear dribble down her cheek. Pressing the backs of her hands to her face, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the furious voices whispering inside her head.

How could she have been so stupid? She had allowed herself to think that Blane was different, that he had really liked her for who she was and not just because she was one of the few girls in school who didn't fawn all over him. But it turned out he was just like all the others. Too concerned about image to ever be seen with someone like her. Too worried about other people's approval, his parents' money, what society would think of him… Why had she ever thought he would be different?

Taking a deep breath, Andie opened her eyes and blinked twice to clear her vision. She refused to cry over something so stupid. She had given him a chance and he had blown it – as simple as that. He was no loss, she thought viciously, just another spoilt rich boy who thought they were something special because of their daddy's money. But this idea did not give her much pleasure. After all, if he was a stupid rich kid then what did that make her? Just another ditzy bimbo like Benny? She should have known it would all end like this… after all, hadn't Duckie warned her –

Her eyes burned again at the thought of Duckie. He had told her, he had warned her that this would happen. He's gonna use your ass and throw you away, Duckie had said. Andie clapped a hand over her mouth as another sob seemed to rise up inside of her like acid. Why hadn't she listened to him? Duckie was her oldest, her bestest friend, why had she dismissed his words of caution so readily? If she had only listened to him then she wouldn't be standing here now, having humiliated herself in front of half the school and torn her pride to shreds.

There was a crash behind her and she span around. Someone had just stormed out of the school, running at full pelt as though fleeing for his life. Andie stared, her eyes narrowing as the figure drew closer. Didn't she recognise that jacket? And that mop of brown hair and those ridiculous golf shoes... It looked just like –

"Duckie?" she breathed. Her best friend was running across the parking lot now, completely oblivious to her presence. Without thinking she stepped forward and cupped a hand to her mouth. "Duckie!"

Duckie jerked as though he had been shot, then whirled in her direction so fast he tripped and fell, skidding painfully against the asphalt. Horrified, she ran over to him.

"Oh my god! Duckie, are you okay?"

He sprang to his feet like a jack-in-the-box, backing away from her as though afraid she might come too close. Andie pulled up short and stared at him in confusion, surprised by his reaction. Sure, Duckie had been ignoring her ever since her date with Blane, and she knew he was angry with her; but acting like she had some kind of contagious disease was a little much. Her gaze drifted over him, taking in his appearance, and she frowned. Her friend was panting, and there was a long tear in his shirt as though someone had yanked on it. His clothing was dishevelled, there were red splotches on his cheeks, and his eyes burned fiercer than she had ever seen before.

"D-Duckie?" she stammered. "What's wrong?"

He stared at her for a moment, his chest heaving as he sucked in several deep breaths. She waited for him to speak but he simply continued to stand there. His silence was beginning to unnerve her.

"What happened to you?" she tried again after a whole minute had passed and neither of them had spoken. Her gaze flitted to his ruined clothing and she frowned. "Did you – did someone beat you up?"

He made a choking sound, and when her gaze returned to his face she saw that he was glaring at her in what appeared to be utter fury.

"Wh-what is it?" she asked in alarm.

"Why do you assume someone beat me up?" he hissed, taking half a step toward her before seeming to reel himself back. "Why do you always assume the worst about me Andie? Has it ever occurred to you that – " he broke off, clenching his jaw.

"I…" Andie could feel tears threatening at the back of her eyes again. On top of everything that had happened to her that day, Duckie's erratic behaviour was just the icing on a very miserable cake. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking just slightly.

The furious expression on Duckie's face flickered. He took a deep breath, exhaling heavily before raking a hand through his hair. As he lifted his arm Andie saw that his knuckles were red and swollen.

"My God!" she lurched forward and grabbed his hand before he had a chance to snatch it away. "What did you do to yourself?" she demanded, running her fingers over his bruised knuckles and ignoring his attempts to pull himself free. "Duckie – " she caught his gaze and held it, willing him to listen to her. "Tell me."

He ground his jaw, his eyes raking over her face, but she didn't look away.

"Please," she said, and his expression scrunched up as though she had played a cruel trick on him.

"I punched him," he said stiffly.

She gaped at him. "Who? Blane?"

He shook his head, mouth twisting in a sneer. "The other one," he muttered.

"What… you don't mean Steff, do you? Steff Spader?"

Even when he gave a short, reluctant nod, she couldn't believe him, sure she must have somehow misunderstood. It was absurd to imagine Duckine punching anyone, let alone Steff Spader. "No," she said.

Her grip had slackened enough for Duckie to free himself. He took several steps back, bouncing on his feet as though he wasn't sure whether he wanted to break into a run or not. His hands swung together and she saw him wince when his injured knuckles hit the back of his other hand.

"You can't be serious," she said when he made no move to respond. "I… I don't believe you."

A very bitter, self-mocking expression crossed Duckie's face, and he shook his head. "That's great Andie," he said, taking several more steps away from her. He wasn't looking at her now, she noticed, but staring off to one side instead "That's really great. Yeah. I'm gonna go and just – I dunno, bang my head against a brick wall, or something." He turned to leave, but Andie grabbed a hold of his jacket sleeve to stop him escaping.

"Wait," she said hurriedly. "Just – wait a second, would you? Why would you punch Steff?"

He shrugged a shoulder, his whole posture tense and agitated. "Oh I dunno," he replied in a sarcastic tone of voice. "Maybe cause I wanted to?"

"Duckie, I've never even seen you hurt a fly," she said.

"Yeah, well, you obviously don't know my violent side," he joked. It was the first real 'Duckie' thing he had said all day, and she was so relieved to hear it that she actually laughed. He looked surprised at her response, and for half a second the anger slipped from his face and he looked more like himself.

"But seriously," she said, still holding tight to his jacket in case he tried to escape. "What did he do to you?"

"To me?" Duckie's eyebrows rose and he gave her a disbelieving look. "To me? Nothing. Well – nothing more than usual."

"So… I don't understand," she continued, speaking softly in case he got annoyed with her again. "Why did you punch him?"

"His existence offends me," he said evasively.

"Duckie…"

"I don't know, alright Andie!" he burst out, shaking his arm to try and get her to release him. "I'm just – sick of it. I'm sick of all of them, of the things they say, the way they think they can talk about – about – they're muck-rakers!"

"Muck-rakers?" she raised an eyebrow, and his lips twitched.

"See, I pay attention in biology," he said earnestly.

She smiled, feeling the tightness in her chest release somewhat as she did so. Not talking to Duckie had been making her miserable all week, and it was so good to hear his voice that all her other worries seemed to fade into the background.

"Listen," she began, knowing she owed him an apology. "I – "

He pressed a finger to her lips, and her stomach gave a strange little jump. "Don't worry about it," he said gently.

"But – "

"Andie," he said, in a very familiar tone of voice. "Today I have demonstrated that I am an exceedingly violent man. Do you really think it's wise to cross me right now?"

She rolled her eyes. "Very funny."

His eyebrows quirked. "I'm glad you find my savagery amusing."

She shook her head, but inside her heart was swelling with happiness. She hadn't realised how much she had missed her friend until she didn't have him anymore. Grabbing his good hand, she began to drag them toward her car. "Come on," she said. "You're gonna need a strong drink to cope with the pain, I reckon."

"Are you casting aspersions on my manliness?" he demanded in mock outrage. "Why I'll tell you I've had wounds twice as bad as this and – "

"Shut up, Duckie."

Andie had had too much to drink. Duckie could tell from the pink flush that spread across her cheeks and the way she was laughing at everything he said. He watched her with amused affection from across the table as she chortled over something or other, utterly distracted by how beautiful she looked in the dim lighting of whatever bar they were currently in. Her radiance so outshone everything and everyone around her that being close to her was like standing near to a very bright flame, both painful and enchanting.

It took him a moment to realise she was speaking to him.

"Er – sorry?" he said, blinking once or twice and pretending to be somewhat tipsy himself, though he had hardly touched his drink. He wasn't in the mood for alcohol. Andie and he were finally speaking properly for the first time since that rich-boy prick had taken her out, and he didn't want to forget a minute of how it felt to be back to normal.

"I said," Andy giggled. "That I still can't believe you punched Steff Spader."

He forced a smile, although inside his gut knotted painfully. He was going to pay for that one, alright, if he ever stepped back into that madhouse his parents called a school. Still, it had been worth it, if for nothing else than to see the arrogant smirk wiped off that git's face. And he, Duckie, would be damned if he was going to let anyone speak about Andie like that in his presence…

"You know," Andie continued, a frown creasing her features and making her look adorably cute. "You still haven't told me why you punched him…"

"I hate this song," Duckie said, flapping his hand in the direction of the stage and hoping to distract her from her current line of thought. Luckily, she was drunk enough that it actually worked.

"What!" she squawked. "This is a classic!"

"Overrated," he responded coolly.

"You're overrated," she retorted.

"My dear Andie," he said without a shred of sarcasm. "To be overrated one must first be rated."

Her brow scrunched up as she digested this. "Does that mean…" she frowned again, and Duckie sat on his hands to stop himself from reaching out to touch her. "Duckie, are you putting yourself down again?"

"I'm sorry but I really hate this song," he said, fidgeting with his half-full glass of beer. "It's just… I can't listen to it anymore," he stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over. "I'm sorry but who organises these performances? Where's the quality control? They should look into it – I mean, we're paying customers. In fact, I demand a refund! I should get a refund for having to listen to this song!"

Andie had jumped up too, though she looked mortified at his behaviour. His rant had drawn attention, and several burly looking punks were glaring at him from nearby. Good. He didn't mind making a fool of himself, so long as it got her off the topic of his feelings.

"Will you stop it!" she hissed at him. "God Duckie you're such a – "

"An incredibly discerning musical critic?" he quipped. "An outrageously tasteful gentleman? A stylish connoisseur of the modern era?"

"A jerk," supplied Andie, and he gave her another forced smile.

"Come on," he said, holding out his hand to her. She was tipsy and it was time for him to take her home. "Let's go before your daddy gets mad at me for making you miss curfew."

She scrunched up her nose but took the hand he offered, letting him lead her through the crowded club. He liked these moments, the times when he knew that to outsiders they must look like a pair of young lovers, a boyfriend and girlfriend enjoying each other's company. Even though he knew it wasn't true, he still enjoyed creating the illusion.

"I'm gonna need your keys," he told her casually as they exited the club, nodding goodbye to the bouncer, who only glared back.

Andie gave him a horrified glance. "There's no way I'm letting you drive my car."

"Well, then we'll have to walk," he said with a shrug. "It's only, what, twenty minutes to your house from here? We could do it."

"I'm not walking either!"

"I'm afraid you don't have any other choice," he said, enjoying the way her eyes fixed on him, even if her expression was one of annoyance. It was enough that they were alone together and he wasn't competing with anyone else for her attention.

"I'm perfectly capable of driving myself," she argued.

"That's where you're wrong," he said, wagging his finger in her face. "Now give me your keys or I will drag you home by foot, Cinderella."

She groaned, but handed over the keys nonetheless. When they were inside and he was steering them onto the road, she put her head in her hands and mumbled something.

"What was that?" he asked.

She lifted her head and stared at him. "I said, I don't know what I'd do without you."

He felt his heart give a jerk, as it always did when she sprung these unexpected compliments on him. "I… guess you'd spend a lot more time with your imaginary friends," he said quickly to cover his reaction.

She snorted and slapped his thigh. He tried to ignore the burning sensation her hand left on his skin, concentrating on the road ahead of him. God knew if he crashed she'd never let him live it down.

"I'm serious though, you know," she said after a while. "You're a special guy, Duckie."

He groaned inwardly. Why couldn't she leave his poor harangued emotions alone for a night? If she gave him any more hope he might blurt out something that he would regret later…

"Duckie?"

"Hm, what was that?" He pretended not to have heard her.

She sighed. "Nothing, I guess. I'm glad you punched Spader though."

This woman would be the death of him. "Mm-hmm."

"He definitely deserved it."

"You betcha."

"You know he's always asking me out."

The car swerved dangerously as Duckie swivelled to look at her. "What?"

"Duckie!" she yelled at him. "Watch the road!"

"What? Oh, right," he glanced back in time to narrowly avoid hitting a car coming in the other direction. Whoops. Heart pounding, and not just from the near accident, he glanced at her again, trying to gauge her expression. "What did you say, just before?"

Andie was clutching her heart, and looked disinclined to answer him. "About Steff Spader asking me out?" she said at last.

That son of a bitch. Duckie clenched the steering wheel so tight superman himself wouldn't have been able to pry him free. The girl was, is, and will always be nada. It was those words, uttered so casually by that smug prick, that had tipped him over the edge and caused him to launch himself so recklessly at Spader to begin with. And to think that the prick had asked – that he dared to even consider –

"Duckie?"

He jumped, almost forgetting she was in the car there with him. "Hm, what? I know, terrible business, the poor Bosnians, the Lord only knows what's going to happen to them now…"

"What are you even talking about?"

He should have punched that git harder. Duckie flexed the injured knuckles on his right hand. Maybe he could have another go? Get himself really suspended this time…

"Honestly, and you reckon I'm too drunk to drive," Andie shook her head and blew the hair out of her eyes. "You're the one we should be worried about."

He pretended to laugh, though he barely heard what she was saying. He was too busy picturing all the damage he could inflict on Steff Spader if he invested in a pair of steel-capped boots. They weren't really his style but perhaps in this case he could make an exception…

"When did this happen?" he bit out at last against his better judgment. Andie had been staring out of the window and he probably should have let the conversation slip away, but his curiosity burned too greatly to allow it.

"When did what happen?" she asked.

"The – the – Spader – you know, what you just said," he said, smacking the steering wheel for extra emphasis.

"You mean, when did he ask me out?" Andie leaned forward, and in the light from a streetlamp they were passing under he saw that she was frowning heavily. "Well, to tell you the truth it was more along the lines of he just wanted to sleep with me – "

"I didn't ask for details!" he interrupted in a high-pitched voice. The very thought of Andie sleeping with that rich git… if he wasn't careful he was going to run off the road again… "When?"

"Oh he's been doing it for ages," said Andie.

"Why haven't you told me?" he demanded, trying and failing to keep the offence out of his voice.

"I guess I just never thought to mention it," said Andie casually. Too casually; he chanced a glance at her face and knew she wasn't telling him the truth.

"Well," he said, taking a left turn rather too forcefully and wincing as he heard the tyres skid. "If he ever does it again, you make sure you tell me and I'll –

"Brutalise your knuckles again?" asked Andie sarcastically.

"It'd be worth it," he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

They had reached her house. Duckie frowned as he saw that another car was parked out front. And yet the house was dark and suggested her father had already gone to bed. Pulling up slowly, he scanned the front yard for signs of a visitor, and his eyes came to rest on someone sitting on the steps to the front porch. A very familiar someone, that he had only seen a few hours beforehand.

"What's going on?" asked Andie, clearly noticing the scowl that he could feel had formed on his face. She followed his gaze and he heard her gasp. "Is that… Blane?"

"Don't worry," he said quickly, barely allowing the car to stop before he jumped out. "I'll handle this."

"Duckie wait!"

He ignored her, stalking up the front path to where Blane sat waiting. He stood up quickly when he saw Duckie, his own expression wary.

"Er… I'm looking for – "

"I know who you're looking for," Duckie said, making his tone as hostile as possible. He wasn't normally an angry person; in fact, Andie was quite right when she said he normally wouldn't hurt a fly. But the memory of Blane's words to Andie in the corridor at school that day was too fresh. And anyone that made Andie cry like that made an instant enemy out of him, the Duckster, for life.

Blane swallowed. He glanced over Duckie's shoulder and must have seen Andie, because his face tightened. "Listen, I only wanted to – "

"No, you listen, you little toaster," he cut him off. "I'm warning you now that I will rip your limbs off of your body, pulverise them into something that resembles hamburger mince, and feed them back to you with a straw if you so much as look at Andie the wrong way again." He paused for effect, enjoying the way Blane was gaping at him. "Do you understand me?"

Okay, so maybe he watched too many Hollywood movies. But his words had certainly had the intended effect. Rich-boy looked absolutely petrified, and refused to even glance at Andie as she walked up to join them.

"What's going on?" she asked, standing so close to Duckie that he felt himself literally swell with pleasure. His hand twitched as he thought about putting an arm around her, but he decided that would be overkill and settled instead for smirking at rich-boy, enjoying the odds currently in his favour. "What are you doing here Blane?"

"Uh – I just – came to – nothing – I mean – I'll go – so, um, bye," he scurried past them. Duckie didn't even turn to watch him go. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the car door opening, the rev of the engine and the screech of tyres as rich-boy fled back up the street. Ah, the sweet music of victory.

"What on earth was that all about?" Andie mused as she fumbled with the door-key. Her movements were clumsy and she was obviously still tipsy. He watched her in adoration. "Did you say something to him Duckie?" She span to look at him quite suddenly, and he fixed a blank expression on his face as quick as lightning.

"Me?" he said, blinking innocently at her. "Now, why would you think that, Andie?"

"Because you – oh never mind," the door opened and she slipped inside, gesturing for him to be quiet. He motioned zipping his lips together and followed her up the stairs.

Andie fell onto her bed as soon as the door was closed behind them, groaning and scrubbing a hand across her face. "Man I'm tired," she said.

"Lucky we found this bed then, isn't it," he joked lightly, shrugging off his blazer and dropping it on the floor.

"We?" said Andy slyly, her mouth curving upwards in a smile that made it all at once very hard for Duckie to breathe.

"You don't agree that it's fortunate," he continued as though she hadn't spoken, now kicking off his shoes. "That after all the places we looked, we found one right here, at the end of our journey. Just when all hope was beginning to be lost!"

"You're a dweeb, Duckie," Andie mumbled.

"Why thank you," he said, perching himself on the end of her bed and taking the opportunity to admire her while she wasn't looking. She was perfect. Utterly perfect. He could stare at her all night and still not have enough of her.

"I can't believe I ever thought Blane was different," she sighed, turning her head to look at him. "You were right about him, Duckie. About everything."

"Well yes, I usually am," he said lazily.

She smiled, and her hand reached out to cover his own. Duckie swallowed, feeling like a lump had formed in his throat, and his chest, and his gut… his arm tingled and he didn't dare move, lest she take her hand away. Her fingers were soft and warm; if he turned his hand, he'd be able to lace them with his own…

"Will you stay for a while, Duckie?" she asked softly.

This was too much. Duckie wanted to raise his eyes to the heavens and ask whatever deity might be up there if they thought it was amusing to tease him in this way; but Andie was still watching him, so instead he simply smiled tightly and said, "Well, now that you mention it, I did leave my bike back at that nameless cesspit of terrible music..."

She snorted, and scooted over so that he could join her at her end of the bed. Duckie moved slowly, careful not to brush against her. He reached the headboard and tucked himself in like an old man, but Andie immediately rested her head on his shoulder and snaked her arm across his chest. Her thigh pressed against his under the blanket, and Duckie closed his eyes, praying that his body wasn't going to betray him. Gods knew he wasn't cut out for this kind of self-restraint.

"You're the best Duckie," murmured Andie, burrowing into his shoulder and causing all kinds of danger signs in his body. Breathe in, out. Count sheep. Don't think about her against you, don't think about her – "You know that right?"

"Of course," he answered, his voice breaking like a thirteen year old's. He cleared his throat. "I mean, I get that all the time."

"Oh shush." Her hand reached up to stroke his neck, and he stifled a moan. This was impossible. He was too highly strung and the day had been too intense to handle this kind of pressure. His lower half was going to betray him and then she would banish him forever and he would be consigned to wandering the streets and picking up cigarette butts and playing a xylophone for his supper like he had seen that man at the end of the street do once and –

Andie shifted. He glanced at her to find her staring at him with wide, curious eyes. Uh oh. That look could only mean one thing.

"What's wrong Duckie?" she asked, confirming his fears. "You look worried."

"Me, worried?" He attempted to scoff, but it didn't quite come out the way he wanted. "Please, I'm just – just – "

"Just?"

Just really desperate to kiss you. "Oh shit," he groaned, shaking his head like a dog to try and clear it. Everything was getting foggy.

"What is it?" Andie demanded, clearly alarmed by his behaviour. Her hand clung to his, preventing him from making a mad dash for the door.

"Er… I just remembered, I've got a… an uncle from – from Ukraine, coming over tomorrow. Yep, damn uncle. Completely forgot that I had to – to vacuum the house and – and bake cookies and – I mean, I wish I could stay really but I – " he was rambling, he knew he was rambling, he knew Andy knew he was rambling, but really what else could he do in this extremely compromising situation? Pin her to the bed and kiss her until she forgets her own name. "Sweet Jesus!" he yelped, leaping backwards and forgetting she still had hold of her hand. They both toppled off the bed, Andie landing on top of him and knocking the air out of his lungs.

"Duckie!" she giggled, looking down at him from her position straddling his chest. "What are you doing?"

This situation was approaching catastrophic proportions. He had to do something, and quickly, before he lost all control. But there was very little he could do when she was perched on top of him like she currently was. He could feel her thighs against him, the warmth of her body; he could see her breasts through the thin material of her shirt. He groaned, his hands trembling, powerless to stop his own reaction.

"Duckie?" Andie's voice had changed, and he knew the game was up. He summoned one last, desperate attempt to avert disaster.

"You – you should get off," he whispered in a strangled voice. "Go… back to bed Andie."

"What, and leave you here on the floor?" she leant closer to him, smirking wickedly. Her breasts were almost touching his chest now, her lips only a few inches from his. "I don't think so. Maybe I'll just – "

He rolled them over quite suddenly, so that she was lying on the floor, and before she could speak he captured her mouth with his. He groaned as their lips met, the tight ball of tension erupting in his stomach and causing his whole body to tingle with the ecstasy of kissing her. He couldn't help it, she tasted too good, her lips were too soft…

With an almost superhuman effort of self-control, Duckie pulled back a fraction, enough to break the kiss and stare into her eyes. He was panting as though he had run a marathon, and he knew she must be able to feel the rather telling lump pressing into her abdomen. Andie's cheeks were flushed and her eyes a little glazed. She stared up at him in shock, as though unable to believe what had just happened.

There was a moment's silence. Duckie held himself very still, waiting for the moment when she would leap to her feet and admonish him, ask him what on earth he thought he was doing, why he thought he had the right to maul her when she was innocently lying in bed ready to go to sleep… he winced as he imagined the accusations that were about to be thrown at him, the rejection that he had always dreaded, the certainty that came with the knowledge that she now knew, irrevocably, just how badly he wanted her…

When she didn't move, and just continued to stare at him in shock, he opened his mouth to attempt some kind of explanation. Wild excuses ran through his brain, each one more unbelievable than the last. You had something on your mouth… I thought you looked like you were choking… I had a seizure… I'm actually madly in love with you… "Andie," he croaked. "I – "

She seized a fistful of his shirt and pulled him back down, her lips crashing back against his. For a second Duckie thought he must have been concussed; maybe he'd hit his head without realising it and this was all some kind of wonderful dream. But her body was warm and real beneath him, and he didn't have the strength to deny what she was offering. She was kissing him back. She was kissing him back. She was kissing him back. She was kissing him back.

His hands slid down her body, the touch of her warm, soft skin almost burning him. He rolled again so she was back on top, straddling him once more, and there could be no denying what his body was announcing now. She must have been able to feel the pressure of his erection against her, but she showed no sign of stopping. Instead she whimpered, and her tongue flicked out to run along his bottom lip, sending him into orbit somewhere up around Saturn. Sweet holy lord Jesus, this was better than he had ever dreamed. With one hand, he stroked the silky hollow of her neck that had always fascinated him, while his lips continued to massage hers, and drew great satisfaction when he heard her moan softly in response. Oh yes, he could definitely get used to this…

A car alarm erupted somewhere down the street. The sound took a moment to permeate Duckie's foggy brain, but when it did it was like a jackhammer pounding into his blissful, sweet oblivion. He felt Andie freeze above him, and cursed all the deities he had been heaping praise on only seconds ago for interrupting them. Clearly, the universe enjoyed tormenting him.

Andie's eyes were wide as saucers as she drew back from him. He studied her reaction like a scientist pouring over a microscope, searching for any hint of regret or horror or disgust or any of the reactions he had been expecting when he kissed her. But all he could find was shock, and embarrassment, and perhaps a tinge of disappointment that the kissing had ended.

"Wow." Somehow he had found his voice. It sounded like dried up sandpaper exposed to a desert sun, but considering he had been doubting whether he would ever speak again a minute or so ago, he was willing to take it.

Andie blinked. She pushed herself off him and slid onto the floor. "Yeah," she said. Her voice was thick and reminded him of what it had felt like to kiss her. He tensed, and only the continuing car alarm in the distance prevented him from dragging her back to him.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Eventually, the siren outside faded to silence. Duckie was still lying on his back on the floor, staring at the ceiling and wondering if he had imagined everything that had just happened. He had spent so long convincing himself that Andie didn't share his feelings, that she would never respond to him the way he wished she would, that to see his conclusions so thoroughly contradicted had left him feeling somewhat adrift. Of course, he was floating on a cloud of happiness, but part of him was terrified that it was all just an illusion, and that at any moment it was going to burst and he would find himself back where he started, playing best friend to a girl he was hopelessly, irreversibly in love with.

He jerked when he felt Andie's hand slide into his again. She lay down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder, and he put an arm around her to draw her closer.

"Duckie?" she asked, her voice soft and tentative. He closed his eyes, deciding he could listen to her say his name like that for the rest of his life.

"Mm?"

"Will you go to Prom with me?"

The smile that spread across his face right then could probably have powered its own lighthouse. Duckie certainly felt as though he had electricity coursing through him. "Andie my love," he said. "I'll be the best damn Prom date you've ever had."

She laughed, and kissed his jaw. "That sounds good," she murmured.

"Doesn't it," he agreed. "You know, I think things are really starting to look up."

And for the first time in a long time, he believed it.

A/N: Yay, Duckie gets the girl! He totally deserves it too, what an absolute babe. Anyway, please let me know what you think, as I'm an absolute glutton for feedback!

Thanks for reading, ~Appello