First Published: April 26th 2017

Pairing: prinxiety

Genre: fluff, comedy

Word Count: 852

Warnings: alcohol mention

Summary: Long story short, Anxiety lost a drinking game and how has to attend the ball with Prince and a change of attire. (Someone made fanart of this fic and it's amazing: http://velocifoxy.tumblr.com/post/162458581252/the-royal-ball )

-

Anxiety woke up with a groan and a pounding head. "How drunk was I?" he muttered, forcing his eyes open and squinting against the light. He looked down and saw... pink.

"What the hell?" He murmured, picking up the material that stood out against the doom and gloom that was his room. A white card fluttered through the air, previously hidden amongst the folds of the dress.

Curious and a little scared, Anxiety picked it up. On it, in golden, loopy handwriting that could be from none other than the royal pain in the neck himself, was written:

Dear Anxiety,

You really need to stop making bets you simply cannot win. You, outlast the Prince in any sort of drinking game? I've had my fair share of poisons over the years and I've built up quite a tolerance. However you, my dear, do not seem to possess the same ability. Never fear, for all you have to do is to put on this dress and attend the royal ball tonight! No skipping out this time, my love, for you have promised.

-          Yours forever and truly, Princey.

Anxiety scoffed at the cheesiness. He rubbed his forehead as hazy memories came back. Something about everyone laughing as they shook hands, a vague conversation about wearing a dress and then downing shots until... warm hands picked him up and carried him to his bed...

He blushed when he remembered how he had clung to Prince's shirt the whole way there, trying to convince his boyfriend to stay with him with slurred words.

Roman had only chuckled, tucked him in and left the room, returning a few minutes later with some water and painkillers. "For tomorrow," he had said, pressing a quick kiss to Anxiety's forehead, then shutting off the lights and leaving.

Speaking of such... Anxiety looked to his left and saw the items on his bedside table.

'Thank god,' he thought, swallowing them quickly whilst downing the glass of water. His head still pounded but at least he felt somewhat alive.

-

Now, Anxiety didn't really care that the dress was pink so much as the fact that it wasn't black. If he was going to wear something with frills, you can damn well bet it was going to be pitch black and suitable for moving in. There was no way he could squeeze into that tiny waistline. Or really 'dance' in the constricting fabric.

Not that he wanted to.

And so, he went out, avoiding the others, and went to get a dress with his own money. There was no way he was letting Prince hold the debt over his head as a way to get him to do some ridiculous dance. No way.

-

Who knew getting a dress that perfectly fit your olden film from the 70s that some lady wears descending her marble steps in her mansion aesthetic was this hard?

Anxiety sure didn't.

It took many stores and hours of, ugh, walking before he finally found something suitable. The person serving him told him that he had a very lucky lady, to which Anxiety muttered "I know," then quickly grabbed the bag and returned to the safety of his home.

-

"Anxiety?" Prince called, knocking on the side's bedroom door. "Are you ready? Can I come in?" There was some muffled shouting and cursing, as well as a thump. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Princey, now hold your horses," Anxiety insisted. "I'm getting changed into a ridiculous dress, I think I'm entitled to a few extra minutes."

Prince chuckled. "Fair enough." He leant his back against the door. And promptly fell over.

"Prince- what the-" Anxiety stepped aside as Roman stumbled into the room. "Ooo, that must have hurt." He laughed as he leant down beside Prince.

Roman groaned, and cracked open his eyes to see gloved hands reaching out to him. His eyes trailed upwards and he took in the black fabric. Frills were pinned up with satin ribbons and the neck line was lace and oh my god, Anxiety had never looked so...

Smug.

"What, cat got your tongue?" he teased. "C'mon, Prince, you should treat your date with some respect. Now get up, we have a ball to go to, and I must say, you sure aren't living up to your regal expectations."

Finally seeming to unfreeze, Prince flushed and picked himself off the floor, brushing off his suit. "R-right, yeah, the ball." He couldn't stop staring at Anxiety, and how his pale skin contrasted so nicely against the dark gown. Roman didn't even think to ask where his gift from before went, although he gained some suspicions when he caught a glimpse of pink hanging out of the bin.

"Come along, my love." He hooked his arm through Anxiety's, leading the boy to the ballroom where they were quickly swept up in the sway of gowns, suits and music.

-

"You look beautiful," Prince whispered into Anxiety's ear during a slow dance. They spun slowly, and Anxiety pressed closer to Prince's warm chest, not at all hiding a smile.

"If you say so, Charming."