Jason hates night clubs. He hates the shitty music, the sweaty bodies, the idiots spilling their drinks all over the place. He much prefers the lowkey atmosphere of his regular bar.

The only thing Jason hates more than this stupid club is seeing you sad. He sees the way you glance wistfully to the dance floor. He sees the way you glance at your boyfriend hopefully every time he speaks, only for your shoulders to fall in disappointment when it’s another boring statement about his podcast.

Jason chugs the rest of his beer, rolling his stiff shoulders in their sockets. God, he is so going to regret this. “Are you guys,” he glances from your boyfriend to you, “gonna dance?”

Your eyes light up and you open your mouth to speak, only for that babbling idiot to cut you off.

“We don’t dance.”

Jason scoffs, his intense eyes falling on you. “You love dancing. Come on, I’ll come with you.” You nod your head and rise to your feet. Jason places his hand on the small of your back, leading you through the crowd. Your boyfriend starts to say something but Jason shoots him an angry look over your head and flips him the bird.

The longer you dance with Jason, his strong arms fending you off from the bodies that would bump into you, the better you feel. He watches as you smile again, as the light returns to your eyes.

You sing to him as you dance, jumping around wildly and giggling. Despite how awkward he feels, he tries his best to dance with you. Jason hates night clubs, but he wouldn’t dare tell you that—not if it means he gets to dance with you like this forever.