Dance.
T: Random crack because I can! Slash warning and total lack of plot/sensible characterisation. I own nothing you see here.
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The move about the highly polished floor in perfect sync, their movements so perfectly in tune that it is almost as if they are one being.
They are going through the motions of the raw, poetic, steps of an Argentinean tango, the spice of desire that the grazing of their bodies creates running deeper than simply showmanship.
It is not only the dance that captivates but also their contrasting beauty, he tall and dark with eyes like polished amethyst, her slight and pail with eyes of the most exquisite emerald. On their own they would be considered attractive and so together…together their beauty becomes something almost divine.
Their dance is drawing to a close now and as he bends her into the perfect dip the lights flair back into life and the crowd begins to raw.
They spend a few moments thanking the crowd for this courtesy before making their way off of the dance floor, their chests heaving for the exertion and their skin dotted with the finest layer of perspiration.
As they near the place where they will have to separate he bends a little towards her and enquires,
"Did it work?"
Her brows furrow momentarily and then she dips her head once in silent, though positive, response to the enquiry.
He lets out the smallest breath and remarks, "Good, I would hate to have gone to all this effort for nothing," as he gestures first to himself and then in her general direction.
She does not respond to this but rather begins to walk towards her dressing room, her posture slumping just slightly into itself.
He catches her at the threshold and bending down seals her lips in the most intense of kisses. She responds with a desperate fever for the briefest of moments and then, skin flushing, dashes into the relative safety of her bathroom.
Squashing the laughter that has begun to form in his chest he places his head against the door and informs her, "We should do this again real soon," before remarking, "Though we can do without the dress next time,"
Without much warning the door clicks inwards and his partner smacks him soundly about the head,
"We wouldn't have needed the dress this time if some nameless idiot hadn't of let his guilt get the better of him and promised a certain disembodied spirit that he'd win the competition for her."
He glances at the other and then, though he knows he shall come to regret it, he caves to the temptation and begins to laugh,
"I'm sorry, Hisoka, I just can't take you seriously when you look like that!" he remarks once he has gained some form of control over himself.
Predictably his partner reacts in a highly volatile manner and, by the time he finally escapes the dressing room, he is sporting some nasty lumps. He does not, however, regret making the comment or instigating this overly complex scheme in the first place, for at last he has been allowed to see a side of his partner that had, until now, been well hidden…has, at last, begun to see the more playful edges of his normally demure partner's character.