Joe and Dianne's Strictly Stories

Show Dance: I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor

A/N: This chapter was written mostly by hd1606, so thank you very much for your help! Also, thank you to BlueInfernoDemon for the ideas for this chapter. This dance wasn't originally going to be included, but your premise persuaded me! Enjoy!

Dianne stared down at the ticket in her hand tearfully, "Mumma, you shouldn't have", she whined into the phone that she was holding in her other hand.

"Yes, I should," Rina replied determinedly, "I could tell from our last call that you needed cheering up, so I thought this might help".

She was right. Dianne had almost been in tears when she had last spoken to her family back in Australia. She had only been living in the U.K. for a few weeks, and was missing them all desperately. London hadn't been as fulfilling as Dianne had expected. She had assumed that it would give her more opportunities as a dancer than Western Australia did. But having been rejected from audition after audition, Dianne's spirits were low. Lousy self-confidence and homesickness were an awful combination, so Rina wanted to do something to bolster her daughter's spirits. Dianne's favourite band, The Franklins, were performing a concert locally the following week, so Rina decided to buy her a ticket. They were quite expensive, and she knew that Dianne needed to save all the money that she could, so she decided to buy one for her as a gift instead.

"Thank you," Dianne murmured, "You have no idea how much this means to me".

"I think I do," Rina replied, "I want you to have a good time, forget about all the aggro, and dance the night away!"

Dianne snorted, "I'll try!"

"I love you, sweetheart," Rina reminded her, "And all this will pass".

Despite not being able to see each other, Dianne just nodded; unable to speak out of fear of sobbing down the phone. Rina realised what was going on and decided not to make her daughter more emotional by prolonging the conversation, so she said a quick but loving goodbye before hanging up; leaving Dianne gazing wistfully at the ticket with mixed emotions.

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After climbing out of the steaming shower that she had so desperately been craving, Dianne held the towel around her body tightly as she stared at her overpacked wardrobe. Hindsight was an annoying thing – Dianne discovered – as she realised that she definitely should have decided what to wear earlier, and not two hours before she had to leave! The biggest decision for her was whether to go full on 'fangirl' and wear all of the merch, or to look sensible; some might even go as far as to say 'normal'! But 'normal' wasn't in Dianne's vocabulary; anyone could tell that from the vibrant hair and career choice. So, with this firmly lodged in the forefront of her mind, she pulled out all of The Franklins merch and dumped it gracelessly on her bed.

Eventually, the downtrodden dancer settled on an oversized purple top with the band's latest album cover on it, and a pair of tight black denim jeans. She also picked a charcoal beanie and some bracelets – all official Franklins merch – to top the look off; but she would leave the shoes until later. Make-up was much easier to decide on: it was a rock concert, after all. She applied heavy eyeliner and made sure to perfectly tint her lips with a ruby red lipstick; her new signature look.

By the time she was shoving her sore feet into chunky biker boots, Dianne Buswell couldn't have looked further from the professional dancer that she was supposed to be... and it felt good. It was kind of liberating for her to be able to go to this concert tonight and just enjoy herself, forgetting about the countless failed auditions and the ever-looming debt that was sure to result.

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Dianne could hear the excited buzz of the crowd around her, and her body felt alive for the first time in too long. It was almost uncontrollable, and she loved it. Given that she had been living in the busy city for less than two months, Dianne had gotten lost on her way to the venue, and therefore hadn't managed to find as good a place in the queue as she had hoped. The redhead had wanted to be so close to the front that she could practically touch the lead singer. So close that she could see the passion on his face as he sung the songs that he had spent so long writing. But she had managed to get into the second row, and conceded that that was good enough.