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On the dance floor [Italy/You] [One-shot]Swiveling on the barstool you had taken residence on, you raised your glass of champagne in a toast to the newly wed couple.YamiSango
You laugh as the groom, Alfred, grabs the microphone his best man is using to give a speech. He knocks over his chair in a scramble to jump on the table (much to the horror of his bride), “Time to partaaay dude and dudettes!,” his loud voice rings through the banquet hall, he snaps his fingers in the direction of the DJ who starts up the music.
You shake your head, watching in amusement as his wife tries to coax him down from the table. You smirk from behind your glass. Poor girl is going to have her hands full with him. You recall the obnoxiously long year that you dated Alfred, by the end you were at your wits end. On multiple occasions you even remember wanting to pull your own hair out. In your eyes Alfred made a much better friend then lover (his new wife seemed pretty on the ball with keeping him reined in for the most part).
I am: Mostly Italian with 25% , German, French, British, Scottish, Irish, Welsh, Native American, Cherokee, Seminole, Czechoslovakian, Russian, Icelandic, Norwegian, Danish, Swedish and Finnish.
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