Septicego Oneshots

Jameson Jackson x Reader: Swing

You loved swing.
And you loved to be swung! It was always an exhilarating rush of speed and energy. So, you found yourself at the local Swing Dance Club. You fidget, a little nervous at the idea of finding others who like classic stuff like you. Or the idea of completely missing your steps and embarrassing yourself. Once inside, you grin at the warm, fizzing environment. All around couples, and even a few solo dancers, tap their foot work and pulse to the time of the energetic music. Off to the side you test some of your own moves. A pair of double steps, maybe a triple, yeah! You found yourself a nice foot pattern and start expanding it out a bit. Of course, it's all fun and games until you notice a few glances being shot your way. Even though they were there, solo dancers in a swing room aren't exactly common...
There's so many pairs, more than you thought. You look around, hesitant to find a partner. "'Maybe this wasn't a good idea'" you think, edging toward the door, when a young man steps up to you. His smile is so warm and sincere. He swoops into a deep bow, holding his hand out to you. For a moment, you swear you see it quiver.
You cover your mouth in shock. Who was this guy? And why would he ask you of all people? For a split second you see him glance up at you, brows knit together. Oh...why not. You take his hand, and as if a switch was flipped he springs to life, pulling you a bit closer and toward the dance floor.
"Woah! Hold up!" You exclaim, tripping over your feet "I haven't exactly free styled before.." oh boy...
His face forms a look of surprise before he taps his v-shaped fingers below his eyes. Watch him huh? Follow the lead...
"Okay.." you glance at his toes and recognize his steps, and start mimicking, looking up to see his expression painted in pride. Then he breaks the pattern by swooping you in close and pushing back out. The amount of potential energy makes it easier for you to let yourself be pulled in again. "Are you...You are! I know this one!" You grin at him full heartedly. He nods enthusiastic, it's a classic! You let him spin and twist you every which way, the world is just a blur and it's beautiful.
He starts shifting the dance around a bit, spinning it off the original, before twirling you out, spinning you in, "Woah!" And catching you in a dip.
Your shoulders shake as a roll of laughter escapes your lips. The song starts to change as you try to sit back up, but you feel your balance fly away when your feet whoosh out from under you. Stupid spilled soda... The pair of you fall to the ground in a fit of embarrassment and giggles. The man sits up, shaking off the remaining laughter, and helping you sit up. He takes your hand again, making you feel your already rosy cheeks turn cherry.
'A-r-e y-o-u o-k-a-y' He traces on your palm, you look up to see his furrowed eyebrows. You nod and take your hand back.
You point at him before making tapping a quick path from your mouth to your ear 'are you deaf?'
His mouth drops and eyes go wide before he slowly starts shaking his head. He pinches some of his fingers together twice 'no..' he points to himself and continues 'I'm mute.' He pauses 'I didn't think you could sign'
'Sign is a little hard...'
His expression softens and he raises his brow 'hard to understand?'
'No, hard to make' you laugh
"Pff-f-f-fff" you watch his shoulders shake with the childish sound.
You point at him and put your hand by your mouth, bringing it to your other palm 'you good if I just talk then?'
He nods his head and fist, grinning 'yes, yes, it's fine'
"Great, wanna maybe get a pop or some snacks?" You offer
He exaggerates thinking a moment, legs crossed, tapping his chin before rubbing his goatee in thought. He nods sharply, helping you back to your feet.
There isn't really alcohol in this club, it makes it harder, and honestly dangerous, to dance. Plus the soda adds a soft, 50's feel to it. You wait in line before it dawns on you
"Oh! Um...I don't mean to come off as rude, and I don't doubt you have your ways, but you've got this, right?" You glance at your companion, a little worried.
He waves off your concern 'I'm fine, watch this.' He adds with a smirk.
He saunters up to the bar and pats the counter in a certain rhythm.
"Heeey! Look who it is! Tony, Jamie's here to see you." One of the teens behind the counter exclaims.
A larger man strides on over "glad to see you back, kid, what'll it be?"
He makes a little O by his mouth and pulls it into a fist 'Orange pop please.' He grins.
The other man nods before doing a double take to you
"Well I'll be darned, JJ, you sly dog, sweeping one of the newbies off their feet?" He gives the younger man a teasing wink.
You see...JJ? Turning red with embarrassment before frantically pinching his fingers
'No. No, stop it,' he points accusingly 'it's not like that.'
          "Yeah, yeah, of course." Tony waves off, still teasing a bit. "And what'll it be for you then." He smiles.
          "It's a bit silly, but do you think you could mix root beer and orange pop together?"
          "Yeah, we can do that. That'll come to 4.42, if you please."
          "Oh but, the sign says-"
          "I know, but last I checked, I'm in charge, not some silly sign." He smiles and waves you two off "we'll call ya over in a bit."
           You follow your new friend to an open set of seats, on the way he points over his shoulder with his thumb 'that wasn't what I was expecting...or wanting you to see..' he smiles a little sheepish
          "It's fine, he's a sweet guy."
His expression is soft as he nods along with his fist 
          'yeah, but still, sorry about that... he can be a little much...'
          "He almost acts like your dad." You tease, sitting down.
He quickly puts a finger to his lips with a low "ssshssh-chch", a look of sheer terror glazing his face 'don't let him hear you!'
"JJ!"
'Crap' He looks over your shoulder in fear, turns out, the order is ready. He wipes his brow with his arm in exaggerated relief. You see him start pre-counting the amount to pay, the amount in his fist is obviously more than what his drink cost...
"What are you doing?"
He kind of gestures toward the order with an inquisitive brow arch and furrow, as if to say "'I'm paying?'"
"Oh no...you don't have to, really!"
'But I want to!' He puts extra emphasis on the want.
          "Yeah, But it was my idea, so if anything, I should!" Were you seriously going to debate who pays? Yes. Absolutely. "half and half, at least."
          He taps his chin thinking 'fine. How about....75-25. Final offer before I book it to the counter.'
         "Aurgh, deal. Ya know, you're a pretty stubborn guy." You hand him the pound and ten pence.
'I get told that a lot.' He grins, taking the money. The man almost skips his way up and back, helping you into your seat
'I guess we should introduce ourselves..' he rubs his neck sheepishly.
"Yeah.. that might be a good idea." You give him your name, shaking his hand lightly.
'Wow...such a lovely name.' He signs, making you tint a little pink 'My names Jam—on Jac—on' you struggle at first to catch the fingerspelling, but you piece it together. He slides his fisted, pointing fingers palm together 'Nice to meet you.'
You accidentally sign back while talking "nice to meet you too" his face splits into a wide grin, shoulders shaking as he holds his chest in breathy, almost silent laughter. "What??" Your tint spreads to an even coating
  'You signed date instead of meet' He wipes a mock year from his eye.
Oh
OH.
          Only your hands can provide a place to hide from your shame and embarrassment as your whole face turns beet red. "Sorry..." you grumble. You feel light tapping on your arm, forcing you to barely peak up from behind your fortress of shame.
Jameson puts his thumb under his chin and flicks it out 'Don't be sorry, it's cute.' His cheeks quirk in a small smirk 'Your ears are so red.'
You rub your ears self conscious. "Don't remind me."
A pair of beats pass in silence 'So how long have you been dancing?' Jameson decides to break it
"Oh, a few months maybe? I tried picking it up around Christmas.."
'Really? Wow, you've caught on pretty quick then.'
"Thanks, what about you?"
'Oh, years, I don't even remember... maybe...10?'
"No wonder you could do that dip thing!" You exclaim in amazement.
His cheeks dust a bit as he rubs the back of his neck, 'yeah..'
"Okay, okay...what's one of your favorite movies?" You change the topic for the sake of his bashfulness.
His face completely lights up 'Phantom of the Opera'
"Seriously?"
'Yeah! Lon Chaney was fantastic!' You watch him go over some of the highlights of the film 'he designed his own ——— and some of which was kept secret and ———' some of these signs were completely out of your knowledge, but you don't stop him, opting to get at least the best idea you can. It's fun watching him tell stories, if you weren't careful you'd almost miss their meaning. His various expressions and energy are just so...Entertaining? Nice? Contagious? Come on. He's not a disease. It just made you happy to see his passions 'Don't get me started on Chapman. He's amazing!'
"Is that why you have a mustache?" You ask absently.
He freezes mid sign 'what?'
"Well, Charlie's signature look was his mustache. So I just assumed" you rub your arm and fidget, worried you'd offended him
He reaches up and touches the hairs above his lip, thinking, 'I...guess so.' His expression is hesitant and a little dumbfounded before it turns into a look of amazement 'I'd never thought of it like that.'
He rubs his mustache again, seeming to contemplate the meaning of life itself.
"One of my friends tried to grow a mustache.." You try to add. Jameson's eyes flick up to you as his hands stop their scritching. He raises an eyebrow, urging you to go on "It didn't go very well at first...he ended up with what looked like mouse whiskers" you gesture above your own mouth, rubbing where your friends quote-unquote mustache would be. "It took him forever for the rest of the stuff to grow in and balance it out." Jameson nods, shoulders shaking lightly. "I swear, he tries so hard to not be a hipster that he ends up one." You roll your eyes, thinking of your friends antics.
          'Sounds like my brother, but not so edgy.' You see him grimace at first before shifting it to a grin of teasing.
          "Yeah?"
          'Yeah, he tries so hard to be this giant edge lord, and constantly clashes with our dad...'
          "Sounds fun.."
          'You have no idea..'
          You enter another soft lull in the conversation, watching a few of the other dancers go by and working on finishing your soda. You hate wasting things...
          "hey JJ?" You turn to face him, catching him off guard, and making awkward eye contact. His eyes dart away and a guilty look flashes across his face before he lets himself look back at you. "Thank you for dancing with me..." you rub your arm "I was actually about to head home before you came over." You fiddle lightly with your hair, trying to fix it.
          'Of course' He nods in understanding 'are you ready to go home?'
          "Yeah, it's pretty late.."
          'I guess your right...' His lip pokes out in a pout before a light seems to kick on in his head
          'Would you' He stops, hesitating his next signs 'do you maybe..' he seems to slowly grow into a wince 'want to do this again sometime?' JJ seems to be holding his breath
           You stare at him, his hands holding the position of his last signed word. "I-I uh.." you're caught like a dear in the head lights as his hands slowly start to droop. It's then your brain kicks back into gear "I'd love to." You rush out.
          Jameson's entire body seems to perk up as if to say "'really?'"
          "Why not, I still have a lot to learn, don't I?" You tap his shin with your foot. His smile grows and you can't help but chuckle at his excitement. "You're a real peach, Jameson." You say, glad things actually went well, and slowly stand up. Before you walk away you feel him grab your hand again, whipping around just in time to watch him lift your hand to his lips, planting a light kiss on your knuckles. The warmth shooting up your arm and to your cheeks, your nose, your ears.
          He lets go, slowly, letting his hand linger a little longer as you step away.
          "Good night..." you feel the foreign object that was slipped in your palm. Not daring to look at it until you were in the safety and privacy of your own car. The hand writing loops and curves in neatly spaced lines.
          Head home safe
               Hope to see you soon.
          Below was a string of numbers and the elegant signature of Jameson Jackson.