Phantom of the Opera: A Dance Lesson
Title: A Dance Lesson
Fandom: The Phantom of the Opera
Characters/Pairings: Erik/Christine
Genre: Gen.
Rating: G
Word Count: 754
Author’s Note: For Beeeeeee. You are evil; I hope you hate this as you hate all good things! Enjoy, darling!!! Also, see if you can spot me perving on Howard’s elbow grab!
As far as scene insertion goes, I’m implying that Christine made another trip down to the batcave between the first trip down and Il Muto. DEAL.
Summary: Christine teaches her singing instructor how to dance.
Christine turned to face the wall and sighed. Seeing that nothing had changed since she had stared aimlessly at it last, she turned in another direction repeating the sigh for effect. She had been doing this for hours and was beginning to lose hope. She had no idea how one spent their time when they were buried five stories under an opera house with their not-an-angel-after-all singing teacher.
“Angel?” she said finally venturing into his presence. She was still frightened by how he had acted the last time he had brought her here and she still had no idea how she was supposed to address him.
The man was sitting at his organ, dressed in black as usual, and absorbed entirely in his music so that her interruption took him completely by surprise. He was a terribly alert person when he wanted to be and could hear, see, and respond to almost anything in seconds. It was because she knew of his uncanny senses that Christine was a little sad to find him with his guard down.
“So used to being alone,” she thought with a mournful shake of her head.
“You’re up,” he observed emotionlessly. Knowing too well how passionate he could be, Christine was intimidated by his ability to play dead.
“The song you were just playing…can you play it again?”
“Yes, if you like it. Are you familiar with it?”
Christine was relieved to hear his cold detachment melt at the mention of music. She had been doubting how good of an idea it had been to approach him at all.
“Yes…I used to dance to it. With my father. He taught me the entire routine,” she bit her lip and wondered if this Phantom had ever danced with anyone in his life. She remembered the sensual movements of his thin frame the first time he had brought her to this place and thought that he might make a dazzling partner-in an awkward, frightening way of course. Not at all like the carefree, well-bred dancing she had become so familiar with when she had escorted Raoul to balls. She was sure he would laugh some awful, demented bark if she even suggested it but now that the idea was in her head she couldn’t make it seem less fascinating. “Do you know the dance?”
“I don’t know any dance,” the man replied, a sarcastic bite in his voice. “There aren’t many parties down here.”
“I could teach it to you,” she suggested before she could convince herself to leave well-enough alone.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
She walked over to the man and put her small hand on his shoulder.
“Please?” she asked in a tiny, frightened voice. The cold white mask turned in her direction, the malformed lips trembling beneath it. He stood slowly, reluctantly. He knew he could deny her nothing but he was certain he wanted to.
“Here, stand like this.”
She took his hands and placed one on her waist, he nearly pulled away but she held him fast.
“Trust me!” she said, forcing playfulness so he wouldn’t suspect how afraid of him she still was.
Anyone who saw them would have either laughed or fainted with shock. She was a pretty young woman, hardly old enough to be called that; he a corpse old enough to be her father. To add to that, they were five stories underground in this highly unusual dwelling. The situation was unfathomably bizarre and yet here they were, waltzing as if they were at some perfectly mundane ball.
After a while Christine paused and smiled at her teacher.
“You’re a very graceful dancer.”
He didn’t know how to reply. He felt very uncomfortable being so close to her, mainly caused by the fact that he felt more comfortable than he’d ever been in his life. He looked down at the girl and was shocked to realize that she had closed her eyes and leaned into him, her lips upward as if she were going to kiss him. The hand that had been on his shoulder moved down his arm, using his elbow to pull him closer-the man grasped her elbow in response, much tighter and forced her to stop her advance.
“Angel?”
“I think it’s time I took you home,” he said icily, dropping her arm as though it were burning him.
“But-“
He did not listen to whatever protest she was going to make. He had already turned away from her and begun to walk towards the gondola deliberately.
Fandom: The Phantom of the Opera
Characters/Pairings: Erik/Christine
Genre: Gen.
Rating: G
Word Count: 754
Author’s Note: For Beeeeeee. You are evil; I hope you hate this as you hate all good things! Enjoy, darling!!! Also, see if you can spot me perving on Howard’s elbow grab!
As far as scene insertion goes, I’m implying that Christine made another trip down to the batcave between the first trip down and Il Muto. DEAL.
Summary: Christine teaches her singing instructor how to dance.
Christine turned to face the wall and sighed. Seeing that nothing had changed since she had stared aimlessly at it last, she turned in another direction repeating the sigh for effect. She had been doing this for hours and was beginning to lose hope. She had no idea how one spent their time when they were buried five stories under an opera house with their not-an-angel-after-all singing teacher.
“Angel?” she said finally venturing into his presence. She was still frightened by how he had acted the last time he had brought her here and she still had no idea how she was supposed to address him.
The man was sitting at his organ, dressed in black as usual, and absorbed entirely in his music so that her interruption took him completely by surprise. He was a terribly alert person when he wanted to be and could hear, see, and respond to almost anything in seconds. It was because she knew of his uncanny senses that Christine was a little sad to find him with his guard down.
“So used to being alone,” she thought with a mournful shake of her head.
“You’re up,” he observed emotionlessly. Knowing too well how passionate he could be, Christine was intimidated by his ability to play dead.
“The song you were just playing…can you play it again?”
“Yes, if you like it. Are you familiar with it?”
Christine was relieved to hear his cold detachment melt at the mention of music. She had been doubting how good of an idea it had been to approach him at all.
“Yes…I used to dance to it. With my father. He taught me the entire routine,” she bit her lip and wondered if this Phantom had ever danced with anyone in his life. She remembered the sensual movements of his thin frame the first time he had brought her to this place and thought that he might make a dazzling partner-in an awkward, frightening way of course. Not at all like the carefree, well-bred dancing she had become so familiar with when she had escorted Raoul to balls. She was sure he would laugh some awful, demented bark if she even suggested it but now that the idea was in her head she couldn’t make it seem less fascinating. “Do you know the dance?”
“I don’t know any dance,” the man replied, a sarcastic bite in his voice. “There aren’t many parties down here.”
“I could teach it to you,” she suggested before she could convince herself to leave well-enough alone.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
She walked over to the man and put her small hand on his shoulder.
“Please?” she asked in a tiny, frightened voice. The cold white mask turned in her direction, the malformed lips trembling beneath it. He stood slowly, reluctantly. He knew he could deny her nothing but he was certain he wanted to.
“Here, stand like this.”
She took his hands and placed one on her waist, he nearly pulled away but she held him fast.
“Trust me!” she said, forcing playfulness so he wouldn’t suspect how afraid of him she still was.
Anyone who saw them would have either laughed or fainted with shock. She was a pretty young woman, hardly old enough to be called that; he a corpse old enough to be her father. To add to that, they were five stories underground in this highly unusual dwelling. The situation was unfathomably bizarre and yet here they were, waltzing as if they were at some perfectly mundane ball.
After a while Christine paused and smiled at her teacher.
“You’re a very graceful dancer.”
He didn’t know how to reply. He felt very uncomfortable being so close to her, mainly caused by the fact that he felt more comfortable than he’d ever been in his life. He looked down at the girl and was shocked to realize that she had closed her eyes and leaned into him, her lips upward as if she were going to kiss him. The hand that had been on his shoulder moved down his arm, using his elbow to pull him closer-the man grasped her elbow in response, much tighter and forced her to stop her advance.
“Angel?”
“I think it’s time I took you home,” he said icily, dropping her arm as though it were burning him.
“But-“
He did not listen to whatever protest she was going to make. He had already turned away from her and begun to walk towards the gondola deliberately.