Fic: Dancing
title: Dancing
pairing: Billy/Dominic, from Billy’s POV (1st Person)
rating: PG
summary: Step, step, turn, step, spin.
a/n: more of a ficlet, really; it's just over 400 words.
disclaimer: not at all true
Step, step, turn, step, spin. We take turns dipping each other. It’s comfortable, leaning back against his arm; I trust him implicitly - he won’t drop me. He feels light in my arms, much lighter than I was expecting, and it’s no trouble at all to hold him upright. My hand is against his spine and I relish the feel of him bending and leaning against me.
I let his steps guide us around the floor; it doesn’t seem like we’re moving all that much, but every time I look around, past his crooked smile and twinkling grey eyes, I find that we’re at a different corner of the floor, surrounded by different dancers. I recognize some as our friends, but most are strangers. It’s nice, dancing like this; there’s actual steps to follow, and it’s easy to fall into a graceful rhythm. It’s completely unlike most of our dancing experiences together, at clubs and concerts. There, it’s more sexual and raw: moving, grinding, touching each other, and bumping into the people around us.
The song ends and a new one starts up, faster than before. He recognizes it (I can tell from his grin) but I don’t. I smile back and whirl him around. He expertly curls back to me, wrapping himself in my arms, and I wonder where - and when - he learned to dance. I wonder who taught him as well, but the moment isn’t right for jealousy and I push the thought from my head.
I don’t know why he’s letting me guide us around the floor now, considering he knows the song, the beat, the rhythm, and I don’t, but I have to concentrate, and I can’t question his motives now. My hands are around his waist and shoulder; his, the same but opposite. He’s still smiling and his eyes drift closed in an expression of bliss. I lean forward, against him, and our feet slow to a stop. We’re now locked in a kind of swaying embrace.
It’s easy, like this; I don’t have to think and neither does he. His blonde-streaked hair is stiff with gel against my cheek as he kisses the side of my neck chastely. I want to return the gesture and more, but now is neither the time nor the place. He seems to realize it as well and in seconds, we’re dancing again, stepping in time to the music, weaving around our friends and strangers.
Step, step, turn, step, spin, and it’s perfect.
pairing: Billy/Dominic, from Billy’s POV (1st Person)
rating: PG
summary: Step, step, turn, step, spin.
a/n: more of a ficlet, really; it's just over 400 words.
disclaimer: not at all true
Step, step, turn, step, spin. We take turns dipping each other. It’s comfortable, leaning back against his arm; I trust him implicitly - he won’t drop me. He feels light in my arms, much lighter than I was expecting, and it’s no trouble at all to hold him upright. My hand is against his spine and I relish the feel of him bending and leaning against me.
I let his steps guide us around the floor; it doesn’t seem like we’re moving all that much, but every time I look around, past his crooked smile and twinkling grey eyes, I find that we’re at a different corner of the floor, surrounded by different dancers. I recognize some as our friends, but most are strangers. It’s nice, dancing like this; there’s actual steps to follow, and it’s easy to fall into a graceful rhythm. It’s completely unlike most of our dancing experiences together, at clubs and concerts. There, it’s more sexual and raw: moving, grinding, touching each other, and bumping into the people around us.
The song ends and a new one starts up, faster than before. He recognizes it (I can tell from his grin) but I don’t. I smile back and whirl him around. He expertly curls back to me, wrapping himself in my arms, and I wonder where - and when - he learned to dance. I wonder who taught him as well, but the moment isn’t right for jealousy and I push the thought from my head.
I don’t know why he’s letting me guide us around the floor now, considering he knows the song, the beat, the rhythm, and I don’t, but I have to concentrate, and I can’t question his motives now. My hands are around his waist and shoulder; his, the same but opposite. He’s still smiling and his eyes drift closed in an expression of bliss. I lean forward, against him, and our feet slow to a stop. We’re now locked in a kind of swaying embrace.
It’s easy, like this; I don’t have to think and neither does he. His blonde-streaked hair is stiff with gel against my cheek as he kisses the side of my neck chastely. I want to return the gesture and more, but now is neither the time nor the place. He seems to realize it as well and in seconds, we’re dancing again, stepping in time to the music, weaving around our friends and strangers.
Step, step, turn, step, spin, and it’s perfect.