She told herself that this was a dance between two mature parties. Two consenting adults. But then her stomach started doing these flips, and then the flips made friends with some flops. And then every time he smiled at her, in that goofy apologetic smile, it was like a team of gymnasts were making pancakes in her belly.

She liked the way his hands were on her hips, thumb resting on the pelvic bone, four manly fingers above her buttocks; and the thinness of her waist, trapped in between. It seemed more sophisticated than her school dances had been, where everyone just kind of placed elbows on shoulders, hands clasped behind the neck, and moved back and forth, cemented firmly in one square of the tiled floor.

The way she was dancing now, was the way they danced in movies. Where the couples feet were in sync, their bodies in perfect harmony, the connection between them so powerful and beautiful and--

"Ow!" Dawn pulled her foot out from under Xander's heel.

"Oops." He gave another apologetic smile that produced a similar reaction from his partner.

"No, you're doing good," she said encouragingly. "I mean Patrick Swayze isn't feeling threatened or anything but you're doing really…better."

"Thanks, I think I'm starting to get the hang of--"

"Ouch!" She made a hopping motion, though still in his embrace. He stepped back as she rubbed her toes through the shoe.

Xander slumped onto the nearby sofa and sighed. "I think my feet are broken."

"*Your* feet are broken?" Dawn mumbled. She half-limped to the couch and plopped down next to him. "Five minute break and then we're back up for round number three."

"Do we hafta?" Xander groaned childishly.

Dawn giggled. "This was so totally your idea, remember? You wanted to be able to Fred Astaire everyone at the reception."

"Well, come to think of it, Anya's no Ginger," Xander reasoned. "Maybe a Mary-Ann but…"

"Really? I thought Anya would be good at dancing." Dawn pondered aloud. "I mean, a thousand years is a lot of time to practice."

"Yeah but for the bulk of those years the only dance she was in any position to practice was the Monster Mash," Xander remarked. "Maybe I should have you conjure that dancing demon again. That way I'd be twinkle toes for the reception. He'd probably make you marry him this time but then it could be a double wedding." Xander smiled at Dawn, who just looked away with a guilty expression.

They hadn't talked about that. How he had caught her look of desperation and then taken the blame. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. "I never thanked you for that," she said quietly.

"That's because you never had to," Xander replied matter-of-factly. "Look, casting a spell that wields unexpected results, is to be expected. It makes you more of a lesser being, more like us." He shot her a firm look. "But I was joking about doing it again, don't."

Dawn nodded, "lesson learned, grown as a person and thank you."

"Eh, don't mention it," Xander shrugged. "I've never had something over anyone else before. I'm ready to swim the dangerous waters of blackmail."

Dawn giggled again and stood up. She held out her hands, palms to the ceiling, inviting him to join her. Instead he just stuck out his bottom lip in a mock pout.

"Xander…" she warned him lightly and wiggled her little fingers, beckoning him to her. He didn't move.

Her glossed lips spread into a bright smile and she reached down and pulled at his arms, trying to budge him. He pulled back a little too hard and she landed in his lap. A startled blue gaze widened at a more-startled hazel one. Her stomach fluttered into her throat, and she swallowed nervously.

She moved her face into his, until their lips softly collided. He didn't pull back. But he didn't kiss back either, at first. Her lips tasted like raspberries. Raspberries…good. That's as deep as his mental process was able to go. Okay, one nibble. She whimpered softly into his mouth, and with his eyes closed, the noise sounded so much like it could come from a woman. Not a kid. Not Buffy's little--

The door opened and chatter arose from the foyer. Dawn yelped as Xander jumped to his feet, and she quickly slid to the floor. He pulled her up and they both brushed themselves off. She bit her lip, and noted the nice Xander flavor that it now had.

Anya and Buffy came barreling into the living room, carrying lots and lots of bags. The two exhausted blondes fell in unison onto the couch. Anya wore a satisfied smile on her face, but Buffy had a look of fear and pain.

"My God. I thought I knew hell…," her eyes found Xanders. "And then there were shoe sales at the bridal shop. And many, many demonic brides."

Xander raised a brow. "Demonic brides? Are we talking slayage?"

"No. She's just being dramatic," Anya stated. "Although I told her I wouldn't say anything if she put some of that preternatural strength of hers to good use. Some of those women *were* extremely pushy." She watched Dawn and Xander, who were looking around the room anxiously. "What did you do today?"

"Cards!"

"Monopoly!"

They looked at each other.

Anya nodded to the stereo that was emitting wedding songs. "While listening to Whitney Houston?" She glanced at Dawn who was, once again, massaging her sore feet. Anya's face turned from baffled to gleeful. "Xander! You were practicing dancing!"

"Aww, that's cute," Buffy grinned. "Did she stand on your shoes?"

"Not so much…" Xander winced.

The bride-to-be beamed and stood up, moving to him to place a peck on his mouth. She pulled back, licked her lips and frowned. "Um, Xander, are you wearing raspberry lip gloss?"

* * *

END

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