Let's play a game, shall we?
It's called "Find All The Panic! At The Disco References"
They're all based on their album "A Fever You Can't Sweat Out"
Comment on the line where you find them!
If I already said a reference, it doesn't count if I say it again.
There's 8!
Answers are at the end.
"(Y/N)," Phil leans down slightly so his lips are next to your ear.
"Hm?" You muse. Your eyes are locked on the beautiful bride in her flowing white gown, staring lovingly into the eyes of her soon-to-be husband.
Phil hesitates. "Never mind. Tell you later." He shakes his head slightly and straightens.
You glance up at him for a moment (stopping to think how handsome he looks in his tuxedo), then focus again on the bride and groom standing at the altar.
"I do."
*~*~*~*
You take a sip of your drink and look around the reception hall. One side of the hall is filled with round, numbered tables covered in pristine white table cloths.
There's a good reason these table are numbered, but you just haven't thought of it yet.
The other half of the huge reception hall houses the bar and the dance floor, both of which are crowded.
"What a beautiful wedding," you hear someone say.
You glance behind you and see a young lady in a long peach dress, a bridesmaid, talking to a waiter.
"Yes," the waiter nods, but soon after shakes his head. "But what a shame, what a shame the poor grooms bride is a-"
You immediately turn back around and try to focus on the conversations going on at your own table.
You are currently sitting at one of the large round tables along with Dan, Phil, and about eight other people that you don't even know.
You take another dignified sip of your dignified peach and lime daiquiri.
"So..."
You look over at the woman sitting on your left. The woman that you don't know.
"Alaska, right?" She slurs.
"Uh, n-no," you stutter. This woman is obviously drunk. "It's (Y/N)."
"Right, right," she nods and grabs a glass of wine from the table. "So...did you hear?"
"Um, hear what?" You ask, shrinking away a bit.
"The bride's b-brother k-k-killed himself," she says.
You gasp, and your eyes go wide. "H-He did? Oh my God, that's terrible-"
A man sitting on the other side of the woman turns his attention to you. "I'm sorry, is she bothering you with idle gossip?" Presumably her husband.
"G-Gossip?" You ask in shock. "The bride's brother committed suicide! Th-that's horrifyingly sad! Not gossip!"
The man shrugs and waves you off. "The only difference between martyrdom and suicide is press coverage."
"She's-" the woman stops to hiccup. "L-Lying. I never said that. I don't gossip, honey."
"I'm not lying-!" You protest incredulously.
The woman's husband, who is also a bit drunk, chuckles. "It's okay once in a while. Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, you know." He winks at you.
You abruptly stand up from the table, pushing your chair back. The woman and her husband to your left stare. To your right, Phil and Dan stop talking and look up at you, concerned. It seems everyone at the table stops what they're doing to look at you.
"(Y/N)?" Phil asks. "Are you okay?"
You don't reply. An anxious feeling grows in your stomach. You stand there for an agonizing second that seems to last forever before rushing off. To where, you don't know. As far away from that table as possible.
You make your way across the reception hall, mumbling "excuse me's" and "I'm sorry's" all the way. Everywhere you turn there's a person. Suddenly the long room seems tiny and crammed. You need to get away.
You finally stop at the bar and sit down at the stool on the end.
"Can I just have a Ribena?" You ask the guy behind the counter. "No alcohol." You rub your forehead. You don't want to end up drunk like these people.
The bartender nods. He leans down to get a bottle out from behind the counter.
"Thanks," you say when he hands it to you. You immediately open it and gulp down half of the bottle, right then and there.
The bartender stares at you, a strange expression on his face.
His name tag reads Esteban.
You look down at the half empty bottle in your hand with a scowl.
"You know what?" You say, setting the bottle down on the bar with a clink. "Give me a drink. Peach," you order. "And lime. Daiquiri."
The bartender—Esteban—nods, the same confused expression on his face.
You quickly finish the drink not long after Esteban hands it to you. It burns your throat, but you keep drinking.
"Another one, please, Esteban," you say quickly.
You're on your third drink when you hear someone calling your name.
"(Y/N)!"
You turn around just in time to see Phil slide on to the bar stool next to you.
"Hey, Phil," you say as you take the drink Esteban hands you. It's now your fourth. Phil stares at you strangely when you take a swig.
"What was that about then?" Phil asks, laughing a little.
You look at him, then at your drink. "I was thirsty, and Ribena just wasn't-"
"No no no!" Phil says. "I meant when you got up from the table. You looked really upset."
You go to take another sip from your glass, but Phil reaches for it.
"And I think that's enough of those," he laughs.
Esteban the bartender sets another drink in front of you just as Phil takes yours away.
"I constantly thank God for Esteban," you say, reaching for the drink.
"What?" Phil asks. He takes your fifth glass away from you, just like he did the fourth.
You almost answer him.
Then a slow song comes on.
"Time to dance," you say, taking Phil's wrist and pulling him up with you. He barely has time to put the glass down before you virtually drag him over to the dance floor.
Once you slide onto the floor, Phil intertwines one hand with yours and puts the other on your waist. You try to steady your breathing to match the slow beat of the song.
"Okay, (Y/N), what was it about?" Phil asks you as the two of you try to dance along with the other couples. The two of you aren't the best dancers, but compared to the other drunk people on the floor, you both look like professionals.
You sigh. "There's just too many people here," you say quietly. "The man at the table..." You shake your head. "I was just really uncomfortable."
Phil holds you tighter.
"We could step outside of you want to," he says.
You shake your head. "I don't want to."
"But it's better if you do," Phil says, lifting up his arm and spinning you around. He smiles as he watches you twirl around in your dress.
"I don't want you to feel anxious," he continues as you start to sway to the delicate slow song again.
You drape your arms around his neck, and he wraps his around your waist.
"N-No..." You say. "I'm okay."
Phil smiles his little sideways smile. "You sure?"
"Mmm," you nod.
You and Phil dance for the rest of the song, but it feels like it lasts forever.
The way you move in time together, even if you are a little clumsy.
The way your light dress and his black tux seem to contrast perfectly, like you were the bride and groom yourselves.
The way the noise of the reception disappears with the beautiful, melodic music.
The way Phil looks down at you with his sparkling blue-green-yellow eyes, like you're the only other person in the room.
Like the way the groom looked at the bride.
The song slowly comes to a close. You and Phil stop dancing, but you're still holding on to each other.
"Phil?" You ask softly. "When we were in the church, during the wedding, you almost said something to me. What were you going to say?"
Phil thinks for a moment, then smiles slowly.
"I was going to say that the bride and groom are going to be us one day."
♡fin♡
Reference Answers!
1. There's a good reason these table are numbered, but you just haven't thought of it yet ↣ Song title: "There's A Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey, You Just Haven't Thought Of It Yet"
2. "What a beautiful wedding," you hear someone say.
You glance behind you and see a young lady in a long peach dress, a bridesmaid, talking to a waiter.
"Yes," the waiter nods, but soon after shakes his head. "But what a shame, what a shame the poor grooms bride is a-" ↣ From the song "I Write Sins, Not Tragedies"
3. You take another dignified sip of your dignified peach and lime daiquiri. ↣ From the song "But It's Better If You Do"
4. The man shrugs and waves you off. "The only difference between martyrdom and suicide is press coverage." ↣ Song title: "The Only Difference Between Martyrdom And Suicide Is Press Coverage"
5. The woman's husband, who is also a bit drunk, chuckles. "It's okay once in a while. Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, you know." He winks at you. ↣ Song title: "Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off"
6. "I constantly thank God for Esteban," you say, reaching for the drink. ↣ Song title: "I Constantly Thank God For Esteban"
7. "Time to dance," you say, taking Phil's wrist and pulling him up with you. ↣ Song title: "Time To Dance"
8. "But it's better if you do," Phil says, lifting up his arm and spinning you around. ↣ Song title: "But It's Better If You Do"
Did you get them all?