A/N: All of these were submitted to a LiveJournal forum a very long time ago, I just never got around to posting them here. They get pretty racy, but this first one is tame. As usual, I own nothing.
Clutter
Mary winced as her car screeched to a stop in front of her partner's house. He hadn't sounded worried on the phone, but it was very rare for Marshall to need her help with anything. There was no response when she knocked, but she heard music, so she let herself in.
"Marshall?" He popped his head in from the living room and smiled.
"I'm here."
"What the Hell is going on here? You said you needed help." She walked into the living room and nearly tripped over a stack of science magazines. The room was littered with stacks of books and magazines, random hobbies that Marshall had picked up over the years.
"I do need help."
"If you called me here at 8:30 at night to help you clean so help me I'll -"
"Relax. Wanna dance?" He held out his hand for hers and she just stared at it.
"Have you lost your mind? Why did you call me?" His hand was still hanging in midair.
"I need a partner. My lessons are going well, but there's only so much I can do alone. It's completely different dancing with someone."
"Call Stan. You two seemed pretty good together."
"C'mon Mar." He wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand.
"I'm a terrible dancer Marshall."
"That's what lessons are for." He finally reached down, grabbed her hand and pulled her against him. "As a favor?" She rolled her eyes.
"Fine. But you owe me."
"Don't I always?" He had already begun moving her to the music. Their knees bumped together and she stepped on his toes more than once. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Just close your eyes and let me lead." She closed her eyes, but every muscle in her body was tense. Mary Shannon was not the kind of woman to let someone else lead. He whirled her around the room and having her eyes closed was only making her dizzy. She thought she was starting to get the hang of it. She hadn't stepped on his feet for a while and she smiled slightly.
"I see that smile." She laughed.
"I refuse to admit to having fun of any kind."
"I'll just have to try harder then." He began to speed the dance up and she pulled back slightly so she wouldn't step on his feet again, but stepped into one of the stacks of books instead. The fall was a blur, but she was conscious of Marshall falling on her. The man might be skinny, but he had muscle. They ended up on the floor, legs tangled, with her head next to and old Singer sewing machine. He propped himself up with his elbows on either side of her arms.
"Having fun yet?" He was smiling.
"Is that a sewing machine Marshall?"
"Probably."
"Could you let me up?"
"Probably." She snorted. "But you have to admit you had fun first."
"Oh no way. You dragged me away from a good book, you dragged me around your cluttered living room, and then you topple the both of us into a heap on your floor and won't let me up. That's not my idea of fun."
"Then why are you smiling."
"I'm not smiling." She was, though. A wide smile that was threatening to turn into a laugh.
"You're right."
"No surprise there."
"I should've called Stan."
"Okay, fun's over, Big Boy. Get off." He lifted an eyebrow at the 'Big Boy comment and looked around, considering.
"I don't know. I seem to have lost the use of my lower body."
"The ladies will be so disappointed." He was chuckling, and the fingers of his right hand had begun to trace along her collarbone. He didn't seem to notice. She shifted slightly but realized her mistake when his hips pressed hers into the carpet. She sighed and tried not to concentrate on the feeling of his fingers on her skin.
"Why did you call me?"
"I told you, I needed someone to practice with."
"There's a dozen clubs in town, you could have found a girl in any one of them to be your dance partner." He looked her in the eyes, still tracing his fingers along her neck.
"But you're my partner." She moved her hands to his waist and smiled again.
"Okay, and I might, possibly, have had a little fun. But don't let it go to your head." His smile was like Christmas morning and when he kissed her it wasn't elegant or full of the usual passion, but it warmed her to her toes. They broke apart, smiling.
"Okay, get off me now. You're no lightweight." His expression was exaggerated hurt.
"Are you calling me fat?"
"Yes, now get off." He laughed and helped her up.
