[fanfic] The Greatest Show on Earth (5/?)

[tiptoe39]

Title: The Greatest Show on Earth
Chapter V: Flirtation
Rating: R for sexual discussions and hard language.
Summary: AU. Welcome to the circus. The lion tamer meets the new act.
Author's note: I think maybe this fic will have sections. I have no idea. This is the F Sequence - next one will probably be titled Full Moon. I see this fic having a lot of subplots with the Matt/Mohinder relationship as an anchoring thread. Like a soap opera. I really and honestly don't know what's gonna happen. In fact I am writing this author's note without having written a word of the actual chapter yet, so never mind!



Matt got up early. Hellishly early, under normal circumstances. The kind of hour at which no sane man in an advanced civilization, even the circus of an advanced civilization, should ever be awake. By all rights he ought to be still in bed, grumbling and most likely snoring so loudly the whole trailer would rattle.

But something had started last night, there in the dark among the spangles and the cheers of the crowd. Something had changed, and now he was buzzing with energy, stirred up like so much hot water.

He was excited.

It had been a whirlwind few days. Ever since he'd caught that slight, timid little man sneaking into the tent looking for all the world like a thief or an intruder, life had gone topsy-turvy. What he'd been missing was the reason why. But it all seemed so ridiculously clear now, with the early morning sky the color of peaches wide and unblinking above him, tangerine clouds tinting everything slightly tropical.

It was easy to have clarity this early in the morning. He enjoyed it. Perhaps he ought to wake up early more often.

Matt was, after all, a very simple man. He lived in his trailer. He did his show each night. He ate. He slept. He talked to his friends. He hadn't burdened himself with complicated relationships -- or, really, any relationships -- for along time. He didn't worry about current events or politics or the state of the world. He was happy in that bubble, unremarkable and unchanging, feeding his big cats and listening to gasps and cheers in the audience night after night. When there was a problem, he dealt with it; when a friend needed help, he helped. It was an old-fashioned kind of life, the sort he imagined was typical of small towns in days gone by. There was no reason anything should be needlessly complicated, when you live by the creed of do your work, help your friends, be happy. He was proud of that philosophy.

So when he'd looked into a pair of eyes and felt his world falling apart, he'd panicked. He'd lived without that exhilarating, terrifying feeling for so long, he'd figured he'd forgotten how to have it. And he didn't particularly want to remember, but at this point, he couldn't help it. He'd flown into the storm, and there was no way of steering clear of it now.

But then Ted had made it all simple again. And that simplicity was a blessing.

He wanted Mohinder. That's the way it was.

And he was a simple man. When he wanted something, he made a good, honest try for it.

He began with a good, honest sneak.

It had rained overnight, and the grass was damp under his feet as he crept across the yard toward the newest and least banged-up of the armada of trailers that dotted the back edges of the fairgrounds. Yes, Mohinder had been given a brand-new trailer. No wonder Nathan was resentful. He was getting star treatment, while the rest of them made do with what they'd always made do with. They hadn't quit so far, so why should they complain now?

Not that they worked under bad conditions, particularly. But getting a brand-new trailer was hardly something that happened to everyone. Usually, they reappropriated a used one from the employee who'd preceded you; the stagehands usually packed into hotel rooms at four men a room or just slept on blankets on the sawdust when it was raining too hard to get back to the tent. Main acts, like Matt and like Nathan and his brother, of course, had trailers. But Matt had to wonder just what it was that made Linderman fall all over himself to accommodate Mohinder. Was he that special, that needed, that they pulled out all the financial stops just to reel him in? There had to be a story there.

He rubbed his hand against the fresh coat of paint, stripes of red and yellow and green against the trailer's surface. The gaudy circus logo, a stylized eclipse with corona flaring, the same graphic they all featured. But where his had turned faded, the greens fading to gray and red to muddy brown, this was pristine, gleaming.

Mohinder was surely still asleep at this point. It was too early for anyone to be awake, save the big cats, who awoke at the first peek of sunlight through the canvas walls of their enclosure. The curtains were drawn on the front window. He ascended the stairs and tapped, then rapped sharply, on the door, trying to mirror the surprise wake-up call he'd received on a recent morning. He was pleased with himself for the idea. What better way to let Mohinder know he was interested? He knew what they said about imitation and flattery, after all.

No luck. No stirring, nothing.

He eased around the side of the trailer, thinking to peek into the back window. Somehow the image in his mind of Mohinder sleeping-- long limbs tangled in bedsheets, shaggy hair a mess, face slack and smiling as he murmured his way through a pleasant dream-- made him ache.

A twig snapped beneath his foot and he seized up. Damn, but he was bad at this spy stuff. That was the last thing he needed, to get caught like he was some sort of a peeping Tom or a weird fetishist or a...

"What in the hell are you doing?"

Matt scrambled back. Mohinder was walking across the grass toward the trailer, fully dressed and perfectly presentable. He had a paper cup in his hand, and steam was rising in gentle waves from its rim. The words were sharp, but there was a vague pleasantness to his face that reassured him. "Looking for you," he said, managing to not stumble over his words. "Good morning."

Mohinder approached further. Matt caught a whiff of that scent that had seemed to permeate the air every time Mohinder was close to him-- sharp, sweet, and exotic. Only now it was stronger, and now its origin was clear. "What are you drinking?" Matt asked, feeling his tongue and senses dulled by the aroma's power already.

"Chai," said Mohinder. "Have you ever had it? It's quite good. Here." He held the cup forward in both hands.

Matt gingerly took the cup, trying to ignore the brief brush of fingers and the crackle of electricity it sent zipping up his spine. "What is it, some kind of tea?" Mohinder nodded as Matt looked dubiously down into the swirling, tan pool of liquid. It looked a little like liquid sand. But then he inhaled, and the overpowering sweetness of the scent made him close his eyes and groan a little. It was almost sexy, that smell. He couldn't resist taking a sip.

The creamy sweetness that filled his mouth wasn't just almost sexy, it was sexy, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Oh, God, this had to be what kissing Mohinder would be like, soft and warm and gentle and overwhelming all at once. He'd never, ever tasted anything quite so amazing. He almost didn't want to give the cup back, and it was a strain not to wax poetic when he did. "That is... incredible stuff," he croaked out.

"I rather like it." Mohinder took a long sip, his lips on the cup where Matt's had been, and Matt stared at that spot like a man obsessed. Mohinder's lips were full and perfect. His whole face was perfect. Now that he was aware of his attraction, Matt found he was enjoying it; looking at Mohinder was a pleasure in itself. He thought about drawing a hand over that gentle cheek, tilting the chin up to his, tasting the chai on a mouth that opened eagerly toward his own. The imagined sensations made him tremble.

"So." Mohinder swallowed and looked at him circumspectly. "Why were you looking for me?"

"Revenge." Matt grinned at the shocked look that crossed Mohinder's face. "You woke me up not so long ago. I figured this time I'd beat you to it. Now come on, the lions need feeding." He grabbed the man's wrist and dragged him across the grass as the tangerine clouds faded to gentle gray over the winking sun.

He'd hoped for a good reaction, and it's pretty much what he got. When Mohinder saw the basket of doughnuts and cartons of orange juice on the checkered paper tablecloth Matt had spread out over the cooler, his jaw want down and he stepped back, unbreathing. He turned his head toward Matt. "What is this for?"

"When I wake someone up," Matt said with a sly look. "I make it worth their while."

"You didn't wake me up, though."

"Yeah, well, that's your fault for not being asleep. Have a seat." Matt smiled, and Mohinder answered his smile with a huge, pleased grin that made Matt's stomach do a hurried tap dance along the bottom of his ribcage. He felt like he had hummingbirds fluttering in his wrists. "Sorry it's all 7-11 food. Not many places open this early, at least, that are close."

"What about the lions?" Mohinder looked at them. Both were still mildly sleepy, making little growls and shifting their weight but not doing much else. "Don't I still have to work for my breakfast?"

"Oh, absolutely," said Matt, taking a doughnut and watching powdered sugar spill everywhere like summer snow. "But they won't get hungry for another hour or so."

Mohinder leaned forward. "Then why do this?" he said with a touch of consternation.

"I feel like we got off on the wrong foot," Matt replied, shrugging. "I don't really mean to get on your nerves like I do, and I don't want you to think I'm nothing but a big jerk."

"I..." Mohinder took a breath, exhaled, took another. "I don't feel that way at all. At all," he repeated.

"You don't?"

He shook his head. "You can be rather irritating at times, but I see it as rather a challenge. In fact, I might say you've been giving me wake-up calls in more ways than one."

Matt scratched his head. "I'm not sure how to take that."

"That's exactly how I feel about most of the things you say." Mohinder bit half a doughnut into his mouth and began chewing vigorously, putting a hand over his mouth to mumble, "Very sweet, aren't they?"

"So was that tea of yours."

Mohinder grinned and swallowed. "I have a horrible sweet tooth. I eat altogether too much sugar."

There was a touch of glazing on the corner of his mouth. Matt tried hard not to stare at it, tried hard not to just lean in and lick it off. Mohinder was twisting him in a thousand knots just by sitting there. He was going to need an inhaler at this rate.

"Where are you from?" he asked absently, sounding, he thought, a little stoned.

"India," said Mohinder, licking glaze from his fingers. "The town is called Chennai."

"A long way away," Matt said. "Do you miss it?"

"Me?" He looked amused by the question. "I'm a foolish little boy who disgraced his parents by becoming a performer rather than a geneticist. I couldn't go back if I tried. My father, in particular, would have my hide."

"Not the school type either?" At the words, Mohinder started, but Matt went on. "I was the same way. Can't read for shit. Could never keep the letters where they belonged."

"That's a disability." Mohinder frowned and leaned forward. "Didn't they have support for such things?"

"If anybody had thought to ask, maybe." Matt took another doughnut. "But I didn't really care. My mind was always somewhere else, anyway."

At this, Mohinder relaxed and smiled. "Yes. Mine as well."

His smile flummoxed Matt. "We, uh... we have that in common." The urge to grab his hand was like a thousand prickling mosquitoes under his elbow. Instead, he chomped on the doughnut and felt his mouth flood with chocolate. The intensity of this attraction was blowing him away, and he was loving every second of it. Between the doughnut's decadence and Mohinder's beauty, this morning was turning out to be a feast for his senses.

"Matt." Mohinder let his voice trail over the name, and fixed Matt with a puzzled look. "Why are you doing this?"

"I told you." Matt gulped a swig of orange juice. "To make it up to you."

"Is that... the only reason?"

There was a tinge of disappointment in Mohinder's voice. It made Matt blush, but it also gave him some hope. "What else would it be?"

And then he got a pointed look. "Not to be entirely inappropriate," Mohinder said, "but it feels quite a bit like flirtation."

All at once Matt knew what it must feel like to be the knife-thrower's assistant. Yikes. He opened his jaw and listened helplessly as the words came pouring out. "Does it? Really? It's been so long since anyone flirted with me, I don't even remember what it looks like." He got up and started to clear away the impromptu table settings, hoping that a little busy work might keep him too occupied to say anything colossally stupid.

Mohinder was staring at him, though, and frowning, and that made it hard to concentrate. He caught Matt's gaze and said quietly, "I feel it necessary to remind you that we've only just met."

We've only just met.

He didn't say I don't swing that way. He didn't say I could sue you for sexual harassment in the workplace.

He'd said, We've only just met.

Matt could have done a jig at that moment.

Instead, he came to a stop next to where Mohinder was sitting. Mohinder swallowed. Matt bit his lip. Their eyes were still locked.

"Whoa. Never mind. Gay soap opera in progress. Sorry!"

A skittish blonde girl had appeared and disappeared in the space of a few seconds, ducking briefly behind a tent pole, then dashing off.

Matt snickered. "She must be hiding from West again."

"West?"

"He's our human cannonball, and not just during the show. He's been chasing Claire ever since he first met her. Guy's not right in the head." He jerked back into motion, the moment broken. And as if to seal the deal, Janice abruptly let out a yawning roar that blasted sound and animal breath all over the small enclosure.

Mohinder laughed merrily and reached down to unlock the cooler. "I think it's time for breakfast."

In tandem, they approached the cages to feed the lions. Leona snatched hers from Mohinder's outstretched hands in a sudden flash of paw, and Mohinder jumped back, startled, clutching his heart with one hand. A moment later, he looked down at his shirt and saw the fingerprints in meat juice and water he'd left on his shirt, and let out a little cry of despair.

Matt laughed, and like a switch Mohinder's distress turned to amusement. He looked over at Matt and chuckled, his eyes glittering. Matt felt the world drop away for a breathless second. He answered the smile, and the joy that rushed through him at the shared enjoyment of the moment threatened to topple him completely.

Mohinder straightened up, smiling more broadly. Matt could feel his heart drumming a restless beat. The itch was back in his fingers again. He wanted to see what Mohinder looked like in soft light, his eyes glowing. He wanted to touch the sweet dark powder skin and feel the scratch of his stubble. He wanted to kiss down the line of that slender shoulder, run his hands over a smooth chest not his own for the first time in his life. God, he wanted to see another man naked. Badly.

And then what?

Ted's crass words came back to him. "I hope shit doesn't gross you out."

Matt smacked his head against the cage's bars with a loud clang.

"Are you all right?" Mohinder was by his side in an instant, pressing those dirty, meat-soaked hands into his head and feeling for the lump that was undoubtedly beginning to swell. But as he sat down, dizzy and somewhat nauseated by the smell and the pain, Matt was sinking from excitement into panic. Am I really thinking about doing THAT? Or having it done to ME? he thought helplessly. Oh, my GOD!

It didn't help that he had to clean out the cages after that, and Leona and Janice had left him a hell of a lot to clean up. He tried not to look or smell. There was a reason the stuff was so foul, he thought. You're not supposed to get near it. It's not natural. It's full of bacteria, or algae, or fungus, or something. And you're supposed to...

Ugh. He couldn't even finish his mental sentence without blushing and feeling vaguely ill. He paused and pointed his finger, trying to imagine putting it...

"What are you poking?"

Claire was back, looking a little more relaxed. "Let me guess," she said with a grin. "An invisible man?"

"Yeah, Claude Rains was back there," he said.

"Hmm?"

Matt sighed, feeling hopelessly old. "Never mind. Before your time." He stepped down from the cages, bolting the doors behind him, and took off his gloves, scrubbing his hands with a liberal dollop of antibacterial gel. He grinned at Claire. She was barely sixteen, but she carried herself like the working woman that she was. Tough and relentlessly cheerful, she got dimples when she smiled, and the loose curls that framed her face bounced with every movement. Yet there was a gravitas about her, a sort of resigned sadness, that reminded him at odd moments just where she'd been. This was a girl who'd walked through fire.

"So what's with you and the new guy?" Claire said, clearing off an area of sawdust to sit in. "And don't tell me nothing, I have eyes."

He blinked at her. "Is it that obvious?"

"Kind of." She shrugged her shoulders, casually, like she was just having a conversation with a girlfriend rather than stabbing Matt in the heart. And then she had to go and twist the blade. "You have good taste. He's a hottie. We've been wondering what kind of guy you were into."

Matt was fairly sure he was doing the classic jaw-dropping eyes-bulging spit take. "Wha?"

"I mean, we thought maybe you were into Nathan for a while, but I guess he's a little too townie for you, am I right?"

"Wait, stop, hold it, cease and desist," Matt spat through suddenly tight and rubbery lips. "You were wondering what kind of GUY I was into? And who's 'we', anyway? Are there..." He took a breath. "Explain, please."

Claire looked at him for a moment, her mouth pursed in silent amusement. Then she laughed and clapped her hands. "Too funny!" she declared. "No offense, Matt, but you're kind of obvious. I mean, you're like the policeman from the Village People."

Matt sank to his knees, deflated. "Now that should be before your time." He pouted.

She giggled again and came to squat across from him, her teeth glinting behind a wicked smile. "So were you thinking about him just now? When you were poking..." She imitated his little finger jabs, and at the sight of red blotches blossoming all over Matt's neck and face, she burst out in a new round of hysterics.

He shushed her. "It's easy for you to say!" he hissed, peeking every other second at the gap in the draped canvas as though checking for eavesdroppers. "Look, I realize it makes me look like an idiot, but I'm just figuring this out. Yeah, you're right, I like him." It slipped out so easily, he should have been surprised. But he was too busy panicking to worry about the little things. "The thing is, I don't really know what that means. I mean, what do I have to do now? Do I really have to..."

"Stick your dick in his ass?" Claire said bluntly.

"Oh, God, don't say it like that!" He hung his head. His life was over, for sure. "God, Ted's bad enough..."

"It's not that bad," she said.

He snapped. "You sleep on a bed of nails and walk on hot coals for three hours a day. You can't be grossed out! How would you know, anyway?"

"Oh, I don't, not from personal experience," she laughed. "I used to have this friend, Zach. And he totally freaked out when he figured out he was into guys, too. He did the exact same thing you're doing." Matt watched her face as her eyes drifted off into some distant mirage of the past just behind him. She got a small, dreamy smile on her face. "And then one day he comes to me with this big goofy grin on his face and he says-- I can still hear the way he said it. He said, 'Claire! It's totally worth it!'"

Matt smiled weakly. Somehow this was actually pretty comforting to hear. Maybe it was just knowing other people went through it; maybe it was the air of calm that hung around Claire like a warm haze. She was so bright, so good-hearted. It was hard to believe her advice wouldn't be sound.

And as if to prove his point, she went on. "But it's not like you have to worry about that right off the bat, is it?" she asked. "Why don't you just, you know, be romantic? I mean, it's the same for girls, right? We're supposed to say no the minute we feel uncomfortable. Just... do what you want to do, and don't do what you don't. Right?"

Once again, the impossibly complex had become improbably simple. "Are you really 16?" he asked, awed.

She chortled. "No, I'm about 400, just really well-preserved."

"Must be the bed of nails," he mused, straightening up. "I hear it does wonders for your back."

By the time she waved goodbye and went on her way, Matt's momentary panic had evaporated and his excitement had returned. She was absolutely right. It had been a million years since he'd felt this light, this joyful. It was like a candle had been lit in the bottom of his heart, filling his ribs with warm, gentle heat. Mohinder made him feel that way. He should enjoy the flirtation. The rest would take care of itself.

"OK, Parkman, where'd you get the canary?"

Matt turned. The pre-show tumult was in full swing, and he could barely see Nathan over the crush of people making their way through the crowded wings. "What canary? What are you talking about?"

A stagehand ran through, pushing a gigantic plastic ball and carrying five metal rings. Nathan had to shout over the clanking. "The canary. The one you swallowed. What's with the stupid smile? You know something I don't know?"

"Don't make me crack my whip at you, man." Matt made a fist, flexing his arm threateningly.

Nathan pushed through the stream of people to take hold of Matt's shoulders. "You know I don't care for him, right?"

Matt made one last-ditch attempt to feign ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Look, whatever." Nathan shook his head. "But whether he rubs me the wrong way is another story. Look, Pete and I could see it the minute he walked in. That's Matt's type of guy, he said. That's the guy he's been waiting for."

"Did everyone figure this out before me?" Matt wailed.

Nathan grinned briefly and patted his shoulder. "The important thing is that you be happy. Go for it, man." And with another wave, Nathan leapt into the throng and was carried away.

Matt shook his head and looked down at the well-trampled dirt. He didn't have time to waste standing around thinking about it. It was time to get the girls out of their cages for the night. But the hell with trying to get rid of his swallowed-the-canary smile.

Mohinder was standing by the cages. Looking perfectly green.

"I thought I... I should be here when you took them out. You know." Matt was surprised he didn't waver and topple right there. "Facing my fear."

Concern filled him, and he moved to Mohinder's side faster than he knew how. "Right before your act?" he murmured. "You don't want to be panicking when you're up there?"

Mohinder tried to look haughty, but through his trembling it didn't much work. "I told you, it's perfectly secure," he said, but his gaze fell.

"Look, do it another time, OK?" Matt said.

"No, Matt, listen." He was speaking urgently all of a sudden, his face full of emotion. "I need to. I need to be here and face this. Please."

What could Matt do against a face like that? He nodded. "It'll be fine," he said.

Mohinder nodded, but he still looked green.

Matt gave a little bellow with the bottom register of his voice, and the lionesses perked up and came to stand by the door. Speaking in a soft undertone, he guided them from their enclosure one by one, looping their collars around each tawny, muscular neck. Janice licked at his hands. Leona eyed Mohinder suspiciously. Still guiding them with a series of musical syllables-- "ayuh" and "so, so, so"-- Matt led them around to the back, then bade them sit with a flick of his hand. In unison, the two leaned back on their haunches and relaxed.

He looked up at Mohinder, then, who had ceased trembling and was staring in fascination. "Oh, my God," he whispered, so softly that Matt read his lips rather than heard him. He crept around carefully to the side and joined Matt in front of them, inching up to stand just behind him. Matt felt heat at his back. "You're so.... they're magnificent," Mohinder said softly.

"No sudden movements," Matt said in a low tone.

"It's so confusing," Mohinder confessed, stretching out his hand slightly and tilting his head to ask Matt's permission. Matt nodded, and he stepped, still shaking, toward Janice. "To be this frightened and this fascinated all at once. I adore them, but I'm afraid to even touch them."

Janice nudged her head forward and under Mohinder's palm. He froze up. "Relax," Matt whispered. "Relax." Slowly, his shoulders dropped, and he began to rub small circles into her forehead. Janice made a satisfied purring noise low in her throat, and Mohinder looked back at Matt, a delighted smile on his face.

"They're so wonderful," he said. "Thank you." His voice lowered, and he spoke as if the words were sacred. "It was definitely worth it."

And all at once it was like stars were racing through his head. Mohinder, here, facing his fears, learning how to love something that terrified him. Claire and her optimism, Nathan and his good wishes, Matt himself, still standing here, stock still, transfixed by the beauty and bravery of this man who'd made him feel a trembling, a blossoming, that he didn't understand but desperately wanted to embrace.

Matt's whole body flushed with heat. He didn't really know what he was doing, just that Mohinder was coming closer, and the lions were purring like a symphony drumming its noise into his ears. The crowd was beginning to fill the stands, and their humming added to the volume of his own blood pounding through him and suffusing him with warmth. And he was nearer now to Mohinder than he'd ever been, the man's face infinitely more beautiful up close, the desire he felt more overwhelming than ever. He reached out to finally, finally feel the touch of that skin beneath his. And the contact set his flesh afire.

"Matt?" Mohinder was whispering, but the word barely came out before Matt crushed the sound between their lips.

It was a small, short, hot kiss and it seemed to last forever. There were bells ringing and sirens going off inside Matt's body. The circus was in full swing in his gut, elephants dancing a stomping samba against his chest, trapeze artists flipping his stomach over a thousand times without ever seeming to land. His throat was dry. He didn't know what planet he was on. He just knew it was a crazy, frightening, beautiful place and he never wanted to leave.

The lions snorted in a huff of hot breath, and Matt pulled back, suddenly aware and terrified and incoherent. "I just... uh..." His fingers waggled nervously. "I want.. that is... good luck tonight."

Mohinder stood and stared at him with hollow eyes. The tips of his fingers traveled to his mouth as though to feel the impression that had been pressed there.

"Curtain in five!" It was D.L.'s bellowing voice, and it cut through the moment sure as a sheet of cold water. Matt turned white.

"Thank you," Mohinder said, lowering his eyes, and ran off. Matt stared at the hole where he'd been.

The lions came in to fill the gap, stepping forward as though to nudge him toward the ring. Their noses were cold and tickled, and Matt laughed. "All right, all right," he said, "calm down. Let's go." His girls were always there to ground him when things got crazy, he thought. They were right... the show must go on. For a moment he pitied the high-wire acts. He was lucky enough to work with a more reliable safety net than they'd ever know.

He'd done it. He'd touched the untouchable moon. Whatever happened now, it was worth it.

Embracing the giddy confusion, and still drinking in the sweet chai taste of Mohinder's lips on his, he held his head high and marched into the spotlight.

TO BE CONTINUED