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“So.”
“So.”
“Here we are again,” said Youssef.
“Indeed we are,” said Nathan.
The two men stood side by side, Youssef’s arms folded sternly in his maroon shirt, Nathan's hands loosely clasped with the cuffs of his burnt orange shirt that peeked out from his brown suit jacket. They surveyed the throng of teenagers dancing in front of them, scanning for any overenthusiastic public displays of affection or contraband substances. The Leaver's Ball was always tricky to chaperone, given the limited availablity for consequences. Somehow, though, this year's collection of students seemed to be legitimately focused on enjoying a last dance with their friends before scattering to the corners of the British Isles for whatever came next.
“Do you remember your Leaver's Ball?” asked Nathan.
Youssef shook his head. “Never went. To any dances, really.”
“You missed out. Awkwardly shuffling, stepping on each other’s toes, getting yelled at for making gang signs by teachers who didn't know the Macarana, channeling your inner Spice Girl.”
“I don't have an inner Spice Girl.”
“Sure, Scary Spice,” teased Nathan.
Youssef arched an eyebrow and glared.
“That look doesn't work on me,” said Nathan.
“Well, I can't exactly discipline you properly here,” grumbled Youssef.
They were interrupted as Harry Green stood by the punch bowl, glancing around nervously. Youssef directed the glare towards Harry, who very quickly moved away from the punch.
“I'll tell Priya to catch him from the other side,” said Nathan, pulling out his phone.
The music shifted from the high-energy dance mix to something slower. The mobs that had been dancing in groups drifted apart into pairs with hands on hips or draped around necks.
“We should practice,” said Youssef. “Before the wedding.”
“Mr. Farrouk, are you asking me to dance?”
“I did already ask you to marry me,” said Youssef. “So…? A first dance as fiancés?”
Nathan smiled, reaching for his fiancé's hand. “Come on, let's pretend we're not old enough to be their parents.”
Youssef wrapped his arms around Nathan's waist. “We're not that old.”
“They don't know that,” laughed Nathan.
“I wouldn't be a very good father,” said Youssef.
Nathan rubbed the back of his neck. “I think you would do a great job, if you decided that's something you wanted.”
Youssef looked over where Darcy was trying to stealthily pass a bottle to Elle, shuffling them towards the trouble. “I think we have our hands full with the kids we do have.”
“At least they can't vomit on your bed this time,” grumbled Nathan.
“Thank goodness for that,” said Youssef drily.