two left feet

Apr 16, 2011 13:27

two left feet
Author: allibabab
Rating: PG
Word Count: 386
Summary: The beat of the music is slow and melodic. (Will/Kate)
A/N: I wrote this, uhh, two years ago? It's been sitting on my computer for ages, at any rate, and I like it. So I'm posting it. You're welcome.

"I have two left feet," she warns him as she rises from her chair, fingers sliding against his outstretched palm. "No rhythm at all," she says.

He smiles, ducks his head, doesn't let go of her hand. He leads her onto the glossy floor and turns to face her, seeming almost hesitant to place a hand at her waist. She tries to smile and ignore the thumping of her heart, and as she steps forward he seems to forget his hesitation and he moves automatically, his arms rising and forming a half circle around her. His hand is warm where his fingers press against her hip.

The beat of the music is slow and melodic and this is the first time in a long time she's been this close to a man. She fastidiously avoids CJ's eyes but she can feel them on her, can imagine the smile creeping across her face, and it makes a bubble of some sort of hysterical laughter rise dangerously in her chest. She takes a big breath in, and out, and angles her face toward his. Either he's pulled her closer or she's leaning in, but either way she likes where she's standing.

She hears him laugh low in her ear. "You weren't kidding about the left feet."

Her teeth reveal themselves as the last remnants of that laughter come tumbling from her mouth. "Hey," she says, feigning offense, but his fingers are curling against the long muscles of her back and she can feel his warm breath on her bared shoulder. Her heart beats painfully and she suddenly can't think of anything to say. He doesn't seem to mind. She concentrates on the movement of his feet around hers and his hand, warm and dry, his fingers tucked around hers.

A few minutes pass and then she hears, "Hey, look at that."

She looks at him, and she's struck momentarily by the smoothness of his face, by his eyes, dark and intelligent behind glass lenses. "What?"

He smiles and she feels a sharp, sweet thrill run through her. "Maybe you do have some rhythm."

She realizes as he says it that they'd been moving in time with the music, that she'd actually managed to keep to the beat.

"Imagine that," she says, and steps as close as she dares.

fanfiction, writing, the west wing

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