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Title: At the Dance
Fandom: original
Prompt: Hyggelig (Danish): A warm friendly cozy demeanor
Characters: Lars, Thorsten, Axel, Dagmar
Word count: 369
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Summary/Preview: Painfully shy Lars finds friendly Dagmar easy to be with…
Notes: Thanks go out to my beta Kat for pinking this. This was written for allbingo's January bingo and the 12 days of ficmas.

Lars Erikson stood awkwardly against the wall as he watched his friends dance with the pretty girls from their village. Painfully shy, he wished he could chat up girls as easily as his friend Thorsten, and dance as gracefully as Axel. Neither of them ever had a problem with girls, unlike him. Lars’ heart would speed up and his palms would get all sweaty as words failed him. It was always worse whenever they giggled, as he was sure they were laughing at him. Except for her…

Dagmar never laughed at him, never seemed to find his palms sweaty, or his voice all squeaky and harsh. Lars always found her warm and friendly, and he wished he could be as brave as she was, as she was never tongue-tied. He could never understand why the other boys called her an ugly old cow. She may not have been classically beautiful, but in Lars’ eyes, she was and more.

“Hey, Lars,” Dagmar said as she walked over to him. She sighed softly as she stood next to the object of her secret desire. Lars may have tall and lanky with a bushy head of mousey brown hair, and painfully shy as well, but she never had a problem talking to him, nor did she find him unattractive.

They stood in companionable silence, enjoying the simple warmth of each other’s presence. After a while, his hand found hers and he gave it a gentle squeeze. Lars nearly died when she looked up at him and smiled.

“Do you want to dance?”

“Hunh?” he stared at her blankly as his cheeks heated up.

Dagmar thought he looked adorable. “Come, let’s dance.”

Before he knew it, Lars was holding her in his arms and they were dancing. It was like they were in their own little world where nothing except them existed. When the song ended, she kissed his cheek. Lars sighed. No one else gave him the warm and fuzzies the way she did. He wished he was brave enough to ask her father for her hand in marriage. Maybe one day… until then, he would retreat to comfort of holding her in his arms and waltzing her around the dance floor…


the Duchess of Crack! and the Queen of Fluff

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