WAR | Timothée Chalamet

16 | Lourdes

Y/N

_

After 145 years, the kingdoms were finally reunited again.

To celebrate the momentous occasion, Timothée, Henry, and I decided to throw a ball for everyone in the kingdom! Half of the party would be held at our castle, and the other half at our cousins.

"I've never seen this many people in the dance hall," Timothée smiled, his hands clasped behind his back.

We were well into the party by now, everyone drunk and dizzy with excitement. The two of us were strolling along the side of the ballroom floor, keeping an eye on all the guests. We wanted to make sure everything was perfect.

"I'll agree," I shrugged, "it is quite a lot."

As we passed by the buffet table, I exchanged a bountiful of greetings and thank you's from the people around us. As Timothée and I carried on, I noticed a smirk lined on his lips.

"What?" I laughed, nudging him in the shoulder.

"Nothing!"

"Tell me!"

He blushed, hanging his head so I wouldn't see, "I just think you make a beautiful Queen, that's all."

"Oh?"

"Everyone loves you."

"I hope that includes you as well," I teased, grabbing his hand and swinging it back and forth between us.

"Of course I love you," I smiled, before his eyes lit up excitedly, "wait!"

"What?"

It was just then that I noticed the music playing around the hall had stopped, and was now resuming with a soft Adagio. Timothee bowed his head, his crown almost toppling to the ground.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, sticking out his hand.

I placed my palm against his, squeezing it playfully, "of course you can."

He pulled me onto the dance floor, all the other couples dividing as we skipped towards the center. Once we came to a stop, I wrapped my hands around his neck, leaning my head against his chest.

Not even halfway through the song, I felt a sharp pain in my foot, and I winced.

"You're a terrible dancer," I whispered into the boy's ear.

"It's not my fault your foot was there!"

"It's your fault for stepping on it!" I pressed back.

We both stared at each other for a moment, before bursting into laughter. A few older couples sent glances our way, but we were too in the moment to care. Resuming our dancing position, we rocked back and forth to the smooth beat of the music.

Timothée smelled like vanilla, which tickled my nose as I leaned back into him. To be in this moment was everything, and I didn't want to give it up for anything in the world. I felt him lean his head forward, and he planted a gentle kiss on my neck spontaneously.

"We should dance more often," I muttered, the spot on my neck where he kissed me still tingling.

"Why, do you like dancing?"

"With you, yes."

"But I step on your toes."

"None of that matters," I smiled, tapping my fingers against his back, "I just like how peaceful this feels."

He nodded in response, tightening his grasp around me. We continued dancing for a while longer, before I felt his hands start to move from where they were on my back. Slowly, but noticeably, his fingers started to slide from my spine down to my waist.

And then they grazed a little too far down.

"Timothée..." I sighed, nudging his arm off.

I heard him gasp slightly, which implied he didn't realize what he was doing. He widened his eyes, blinking innocently.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "I forgot you wanted to take things slow."

I tilted my head, my eyes unconsciously flickering down to his lips. I didn't notice this action either, but Timothée certainly did. Suddenly a tension entered the space between us, and it tightened the knot in my stomach.

"Actually..." I said softly, "let's forget I said that."

"Said what?"

"To take things slow."

His ears perked up, "oh?"

I stopped dancing, staring into his eyes directly. God, I wanted to kiss him so bad at this moment. I didn't know what was urging me on like this; maybe it was the excitement of the celebration, or maybe it was because I realized I desperately needed him.

"Do you think anyone will notice if we leave?" I grinned, nodding towards the door.

I didn't outright say what I was thinking, but Timothée seemed to get the idea. He lowered his voice, lacing his fingers into mine.

"Honestly," he whispered, "let's not worry about that now."