Dancing Nancies - Seanlijah
Title: Dancing Nancies
Author: chimerablack
Rating: G/PG
Pairing: Sean A./Elijah
Summary: Another day, another dance. A post ORC story.
Disclaimer: I don't own. Yada yada.
A/N: Written for the lovely Beizy on her birthday. I hope you like this. The title comes from the Dave Matthews Band song of the same name. A sample of the lyrics can be seen in my icon.
He looked a bit ridiculous, really. Twirling about the room, one hand on his chest, the opposite arm stretched out in front of him. Then there was the ever present grin smeared across his face.
“Look at you. You really liked that, didn’t you?”
Elijah stops in mid stride, turning toward Sean. “What, you mean the dancing? Of course! I think I should actually go out and get myself some real lessons.”
“Real lessons? Just what are you implying?”
“Well, you made fun of me earlier for the way I was doing it, and you’re the one who taught me. So, I suppose that I’m implying that you’re just not a very good teacher.” Elijah gives a mocking shrug of the “oh well” fashion. Must have gotten that cheek from Dom.
Sean’s mouth flops open like a fish as he feigns offense. He lobs a pillow from the bed at Elijah. “Fine, I’m not a very good teacher. But I never said I was. Just you remember that.”
“Oh, I will. I’m drawing it up on my invisible typewriter as we speak. Sean. Astin. Is. A. Sucky. Teacher. There, that ought to do it.”
Sean pulls an invisible piece of paper from Elijah’s hands, and brings it up in front of his nose. “Hmmm… You spelled that wrong.”
“Spelled what wrong?”
Sean points to a small spot in the air. “There. Sucky. Should be spelled with an ‘L’ instead.”
“Ah, so Sean Astin is a lucky teacher, is he?”
“He most certainly is.”
He walks around from the other side of the small table in the hotel room and stands in front of Elijah. Extending his arm, he gives a small bow. “Mr. Wood, would you care to dance?”
“Why certainly, Mr. Astin.” He bows back, taking Sean’s hand in his.
The two prance around the room, in a sort of half dance, half skip. They manage to run into every possible thing in the room, including each other. After they’re both laughing so hard they can hardly stand up straight, they collapse onto the bed in giggles and wait for the blood to drain back down from their faces.
Sean stands up and straightens his tie, makes it a bit less snug around his neck. He heads for the door.
“Sean, where are you going?” Elijah whines it like a wounded puppy.
Rolling his eyes, Sean rolls back and places a small kiss on the younger man’s forehead. “Well, we have a dinner to get to, remember? Or is this something you forgot to put into your typewriter?”
The same pillow Sean threw earlier just barely misses his head. He pulls Elijah up by his wrist. “C’mon now. Get your coat. We’re going to be late.”
Elijah slides the coat on and follows Sean out the door.
Author: chimerablack
Rating: G/PG
Pairing: Sean A./Elijah
Summary: Another day, another dance. A post ORC story.
Disclaimer: I don't own. Yada yada.
A/N: Written for the lovely Beizy on her birthday. I hope you like this. The title comes from the Dave Matthews Band song of the same name. A sample of the lyrics can be seen in my icon.
He looked a bit ridiculous, really. Twirling about the room, one hand on his chest, the opposite arm stretched out in front of him. Then there was the ever present grin smeared across his face.
“Look at you. You really liked that, didn’t you?”
Elijah stops in mid stride, turning toward Sean. “What, you mean the dancing? Of course! I think I should actually go out and get myself some real lessons.”
“Real lessons? Just what are you implying?”
“Well, you made fun of me earlier for the way I was doing it, and you’re the one who taught me. So, I suppose that I’m implying that you’re just not a very good teacher.” Elijah gives a mocking shrug of the “oh well” fashion. Must have gotten that cheek from Dom.
Sean’s mouth flops open like a fish as he feigns offense. He lobs a pillow from the bed at Elijah. “Fine, I’m not a very good teacher. But I never said I was. Just you remember that.”
“Oh, I will. I’m drawing it up on my invisible typewriter as we speak. Sean. Astin. Is. A. Sucky. Teacher. There, that ought to do it.”
Sean pulls an invisible piece of paper from Elijah’s hands, and brings it up in front of his nose. “Hmmm… You spelled that wrong.”
“Spelled what wrong?”
Sean points to a small spot in the air. “There. Sucky. Should be spelled with an ‘L’ instead.”
“Ah, so Sean Astin is a lucky teacher, is he?”
“He most certainly is.”
He walks around from the other side of the small table in the hotel room and stands in front of Elijah. Extending his arm, he gives a small bow. “Mr. Wood, would you care to dance?”
“Why certainly, Mr. Astin.” He bows back, taking Sean’s hand in his.
The two prance around the room, in a sort of half dance, half skip. They manage to run into every possible thing in the room, including each other. After they’re both laughing so hard they can hardly stand up straight, they collapse onto the bed in giggles and wait for the blood to drain back down from their faces.
Sean stands up and straightens his tie, makes it a bit less snug around his neck. He heads for the door.
“Sean, where are you going?” Elijah whines it like a wounded puppy.
Rolling his eyes, Sean rolls back and places a small kiss on the younger man’s forehead. “Well, we have a dinner to get to, remember? Or is this something you forgot to put into your typewriter?”
The same pillow Sean threw earlier just barely misses his head. He pulls Elijah up by his wrist. “C’mon now. Get your coat. We’re going to be late.”
Elijah slides the coat on and follows Sean out the door.