(no subject)
Last Tango in Buenos Aires
(SYTYCD RPS, Ivan/Allison/Travis)
Beta'd by mcee. Thanks also to ink_stain for sitting still and letting me bounce ideas off of her.
Ivan has always been pretty good at hiding his emotions, but just because he isn't wearing his devastation on his sleeve for everyone to see doesn't mean that it doesn't feel like the world has dropped out from beneath his feet.
Beside him, Travis is shaking and shifting his weight from foot to foot, his arm brushing against the sleeve of Ivan's jacket with every rock back to the right. Ivan can't look at him, he knows he can't, or the lump in his throat will well up and out and he just can't.
There's a roaring in his ears and it takes him a moment to realise that it's the crowd, on their feet and screaming her name. The syllables of it tangle over each other as the music starts.
Allison.
She's bright and lithe and fierce and Ivan can't look away from her as she spins beneath the harsh stage lights. He barely notices when Travis stumbles forward a few steps, away from their huddled group, until he's pushing at the edge of her spotlight.
She sees him on the next turn and in a flash, she's across the stage and draped against Travis' sturdy frame, all loose limbs and wild hair. The roaring in Ivan's ears--he doesn't think it's the audience anymore--grows until it drowns everything else out.
Over Travis' shoulder, where the camera can't see, she's watching Ivan. She holds his gaze for a long moment before wrapping a deliberate leg around Travis' hip and pushing, just a little, angling their bodies just enough so that Ivan can see the hand knotted at the waistband of Travis' loose shorts. Travis is being steered by that tight grip, adjusted just so against her shifting movements until it looks as though his part in her dance had been choreographed and rehearsed.
For an aching, dragging second, they are frozen, Allison and Travis locked together, Ivan a few paces back in the shadows, held still by her steady gaze. She never once looks away from him and Ivan knows, he knows: tonight, she is in control and he is just going to take whatever she gives him. And there, on that stage, in this moment, what she gives him is Travis, raw and bleeding beneath her hands.
Then the moment passes and she's away and gone again, running and leaping and twisting across the stage with the kind of abandon Ivan has only ever seen in her when she's dancing alone.
End.
(SYTYCD RPS, Ivan/Allison/Travis)
Beta'd by mcee. Thanks also to ink_stain for sitting still and letting me bounce ideas off of her.
Ivan has always been pretty good at hiding his emotions, but just because he isn't wearing his devastation on his sleeve for everyone to see doesn't mean that it doesn't feel like the world has dropped out from beneath his feet.
Beside him, Travis is shaking and shifting his weight from foot to foot, his arm brushing against the sleeve of Ivan's jacket with every rock back to the right. Ivan can't look at him, he knows he can't, or the lump in his throat will well up and out and he just can't.
There's a roaring in his ears and it takes him a moment to realise that it's the crowd, on their feet and screaming her name. The syllables of it tangle over each other as the music starts.
Allison.
She's bright and lithe and fierce and Ivan can't look away from her as she spins beneath the harsh stage lights. He barely notices when Travis stumbles forward a few steps, away from their huddled group, until he's pushing at the edge of her spotlight.
She sees him on the next turn and in a flash, she's across the stage and draped against Travis' sturdy frame, all loose limbs and wild hair. The roaring in Ivan's ears--he doesn't think it's the audience anymore--grows until it drowns everything else out.
Over Travis' shoulder, where the camera can't see, she's watching Ivan. She holds his gaze for a long moment before wrapping a deliberate leg around Travis' hip and pushing, just a little, angling their bodies just enough so that Ivan can see the hand knotted at the waistband of Travis' loose shorts. Travis is being steered by that tight grip, adjusted just so against her shifting movements until it looks as though his part in her dance had been choreographed and rehearsed.
For an aching, dragging second, they are frozen, Allison and Travis locked together, Ivan a few paces back in the shadows, held still by her steady gaze. She never once looks away from him and Ivan knows, he knows: tonight, she is in control and he is just going to take whatever she gives him. And there, on that stage, in this moment, what she gives him is Travis, raw and bleeding beneath her hands.
Then the moment passes and she's away and gone again, running and leaping and twisting across the stage with the kind of abandon Ivan has only ever seen in her when she's dancing alone.
End.