fiction: feel like this (Swing Kids, Thomas gen, PG)
Title: feel like this
Author: ihatefastcars (girlcalledjane @ yahoo.com)
Fandom: Swing Kids
Character/Pairing: Thomas Berger (implied Thomas/OFC, Thomas/Peter Muller preslash)
Rating: PG
Summary: Thomas loves swing. 414 words. (8/11/04)
Disclaimer: I don't own it. I'm not making any money off it. No need to sue me.
Feedback: Feedback (general or con-crit) is always welcome.
Spoilers: Not so much. Pre-movie, set just a bit before the film takes place.
Warnings: SWING DANCING.
Author's Note: I can't dance.
- - - -
There's nothing better than swing.
That's always been his motto. There's nothing better than swing because nothing could ever make him feel the way that swing makes him feel. Like he can do anything and have anything and be anything. Like just in that moment, when the burn hits and it's impossible to imagine not dancing or ever even stopping, that he has everything anyone could ever want. There's nothing else like it.
Nothing like the way his skin tingles and his heart skips when he's pulling a girl so close her breasts are pressed against his chest and their legs are rubbing together, moving with her like they're one body. Spinning her out, taking the steps, watching her pull her dress up around her thighs as she dances back to him. Putting his hands on the soft curve of her waist and lifting her up high until she squeals with joy and clutches at his shoulders. And then with her legs around his waist, being able to feel her heat even through the thick material of his trousers.
Nothing like him and Peter out on the floor, side-by-side, their feet pounding out the steps they know better than their own names, moving together in perfect time with the music, just like they've practiced. Peter's arm bumping into his, sending tiny shocks straight to his heart. Laughing because he just can't keep it in and hearing Peter laugh with him, breathless and jolted and perfect. Feeling the energy pooling off the crowd -- feeding off it -- all eyes on them, everyone clapping and shouting just for them. Getting lost in the sound and in the steps and in themselves.
Nothing like the after, when the drums are still filling his head, making his ears almost throb. His heart still thumpingjumpingpumping his blood through his veins until he's sure that any second his skin is going to give and he's just going to explode. And Peter throwing an arm over his shoulders and pulling him close and looking right into his eyes and smiling at him. Gasping for breath and red in the face, a mess with his tie pulled loose and his sweat sticking his hair to his forehead and his shirt to his back but smiling like he's never been happier in his life. Peter smiling at him like he is the only person in the entire club that matters.
Well, maybe there is just one thing that's better than swing.
end.
originally posted to ihatefastcars on 08.11.04.