Niall: “No partner?” The kindly dance instructor gazed at you almost pitifully, his eyebrow raised questioningly. Glancing about you, you sucked in a breath of air, trying to ignore the burning in your cheeks as you noticed the paired off couples surrounding you. “Guess not,” you mumbled, lowering your gaze. You hadn’t even wanted to go to the dance classes to begin with, but unfortunately, being the maid of honor came with its disadvantages as well, and you had to all but drag yourself out of bed that morning. Before you could say more, a flustered, “Sorry!” caused you to turn your head to notice a blond head bursting through the door, cheeks flushed with exertion. Hurriedly crossing the room, the flustered boy mumbled his apologies, “Sorry, sorry, sorry. You must be Y/N? I’m Niall, the best man.” When he’d reached where you were standing, Niall extended his hand towards you, a wide smile like sunshine decorating his still flustered features. “Sorry again. I hope it wasn’t too inconvenient.” You bit back an urge to tell him that with eyes like his that he could tap dance on your toes for the wedding and you wouldn’t care, but instead you offered what you hoped wasn’t an overly crazy smile as you returned his handshake, “Don’t worry about it. I’d do anything to get out of dancing in public anyway.” As if he had been waiting for a new couple to torture, your dance instructor-Steve? Scott? Sam?-it was a name that begin with an S, you were almost sure, ushered the two of you to the dance floor, instructing Niall to place his hand upon your waist as he attempted to guide the two of you through the basic steps of the waltz. Noting the lack of enthusiasm between the two of you, he soon gave up and glided across to a much more lively-looking couple, no doubt new torturous dance moves running through his mind. “He’s something isn’t he?” You laughed, following Niall’s lead. Niall didn’t respond, his eyes trained on his feet, body tensed and features strained. “I-” before you could finish your sentence, your feet had somehow managed to tangle into Niall’s, and the two of you went crashing to the floor, your face mere inches from Niall’s. “S-sorry!” The two of you nearly shouted your apologies at the same time, panic and embarrassment decorating your voices. You were sure your faces were matching shades of red, and you stumbled over your. “I-it was my fault, I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy,” you muttered, trying to disentangle yourself from Niall, flushing a few shades darker. Niall shook his head, concentrating on your tangled feet as well-was that your foot? You didn’t remember putting on a sneakers before you came-before he offered you another blinding smile, “I’m clumsy too, probably even more than you. Guess we’ll make a hell of a pair at the wedding, huh?” Hiding a smile, you ducked your head and nodded, finally managing to pull yourself upright, helping Niall do the same. “We’ll learn together, yeah?” He whispered in your ear, pulling you in for a dance once more. Giggling, you nodded once, “Only if you let me wear steel-toed heels next time, though.”
Harry: “She’s beauty, she’s grace, she’s Miss United States! Oh wait, that’s the wrong song isn’t it?” You buried your face into a pillow, feeling your stomach ache with laughter at your boyfriend’s antics. In the short time that you had disappeared into the kitchen for a small movie snack, Harry had somehow found a tiara-a leftover party favor from the Halloween bash the two of you had thrown the year before-and had perched it rather precariously on his head of curls, declaring his potential at being Miss Universe, if not Miss Everything Ever Created and More. “H-Harry,” you gasped, bubbles of laughter escaping you, “You’re not graceful enough to cross a room without tripping over your own feet. What makes you think you’re Miss Universe material?” “Heyyy!” Turning to face you, Harry placed both hands on his hips, looking almost indignant, and you could almost swear he was offended at your words (because, to be quite honest, there was a small bit of truth to them, if not enough to refill the Grand Canyon and probably the Pacific Ocean as well). “This could all be part of an act you know, Y/N. I’m trying to lull the competition into a sense of security.” Harry twirled across the living room once more, grabbing a quilt laying it on the couch and draping it across his shoulders like a cloak, “I don’t want them to see me at my true potential, catch them off guard, you know?” Clasping a hand to your mouth, you nodded gravely, “Ah, yes, of course it’s all an act. How foolish of me. Twirl away, princess, twirl away! The title is all but yours!” Waving Harry away, you watched your boyfriend attempt another pirouette-yet another amazing feat considering his past mishaps, and you held your breath, preparing for the inevitable fall and mapping out the fastest way to a first aid kit in your head. Before you had quite finished-you were almost certain the nearest one was in the upstairs bathroom, or was it your bedroom?-a loud crash sounded as Harry twirled one too many times, landing right on his derriere. “I-” Harry’s shocked expression caused you to erupt into fits of laughter once more before you managed to hurry over to inspect your boyfriend for injuries. Despite the noise his fall had created, Harry seemed relatively uninjured, and you exhaled in relief. “How graceful, Miss Universe,” you cooed, placing a soft kiss to Harry’s nose, “You’re not in the least bit clumsy.” Crossing his arms, Harry rolled his eyes before relenting and pulling you close, “‘M not clumsy,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your hair, “I just didn’t notice all your junk in the way.” Glancing about you, you noted the spotless carpet that surrounded you, and you giggled once more. “Whatever you say, clumsy boy.”
