Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or any of its characters.

I just own the plot idea for this one-shot.

Author's Note: First posted on LJ. This is a gift-fic for the lovely haraamis. It's my very first venture into the GW fandom, too, so please be gentle with me and leave me a review! Thx.
Pas de deux

The door shut with a light click, separating her, at last, from the beehive that was her administration centre. On the other side of the wall, people were milling about on urgent tasks, immersed in conversations with others or talking into mobile phones while, in some cases, exuding an air of decidedly excessive self-importance. All in all, it was a cacophony of sounds which she all too gladly left behind by entering her soundproof sanctuary.

Her professionally impeccable posture sagged a bit as soon as no-one could see her any more. She closed her eyes and, taking a deep breath, enjoyed the quietness of room for a moment. This was her weekly, two-hour ritual where no-one, absolutely no-one was allowed to disturb her without having to fear dire consequences. She needed this bit of leisure time in order to recuperate and be able to do an excellent job throughout the rest of the week.

The room itself was spacious and sun flooded, held entirely in a soothing crème colour. A wall of mirrors, a small bench and a stereo was all the furniture it held.

Barefooted, having already changed into more comfortable, form-fitting clothes beforehand, she strode across the room towards the mirrors. Not willing to waste any of her precious time, she took hold of the barre, brought her feet into the plié and started with her warm-up exercises.

After a few minutes, she switched from warm-up to stretching her muscles. Alternately, she placed her feet flat onto the floor behind her until she felt an aching pull and held the position for several seconds. When she felt that she had sufficiently stretched her legs, she switched to stretching her upper body and then her arms. Diligently, she performed all necessary exercises, before finishing her preparations with a few fast kicks to the sides. Finally, after about thirty minutes, she decided that her warm-up was completed.

Sliding her left hand over the barre, she walked towards the stereo with a slight swagger, keeping the tension in her feet and legs. Unerringly, she selected her music and pressed play.

The song started already while she was still assuming her position in the middle of the room. A male voice filled the air, singing in a foreign and nowadays next to unknown language she did not understand. But she did not really care about the lyrics anyway, rather she loved the feel of the music itself.

When the piano set in she gracefully lifted her arms above her head and raised herself on her toes. Shifting her balance to one leg, she raised the other slowly in front of her thigh to a 120 degrees angle of the knee which was the attitude en avant. To stabilize her pose, she bent forward slightly while arching her back and lowering one arm in front of her.

She was aware how dramatic this particular pose was, but that was exactly why she loved it so much. It was far from perfect since she did not stand en pointe on the tips of her toes, for one. That was a feat she had never quite managed even when wearing the appropriate shoes. It hurt like hell and she was dancing to unwind and for her personal enjoyment, not to win some kind of competition.

Stretching her bent leg out at the knee, she brought it back down slowly. Keeping her posture erect, she twirled a few steps to the side on her toes, before lowering herself back into plié. Elegantly bending her upper body and arms, she flawlessly moved into the position for a series of grand battement kicks with one leg.

Then, she varied her dance with a series of moves of her arms and upper body only. When the music intensified with string crescendo, she twirled across the room with a few pirouettes, then turned on the spot and danced back to the centre on her toes.

Lost in the world of music and dance, she was oblivious to everything around her. Elation filled her. It showed on her face, in the spark of her eyes, the hint of a smile and the glow about her whole body that gave her the appearance of an ethereal being. Here, on the dance floor in her private sanctuary, she could live out her passion. She could dance with abandon, without care.

Her long hair blew about her as she twirled around the room with all her pent-up energy, preparing for the grande finale of the first song; a grande jeté, a graceful forward jump, followed by her favourite move, a fouetté en tournant. Spinning on one foot, she kept turning around herself through a few fast whipping movements of her other leg.

Then, she gracefully sank to the floor, breathing heavily and eagerly waiting for the next song start to continue her dance. As soon as the music began anew, she was moving again.

She was nearing the end of her allotted leisure time when she was starting to feel the strain of her vigorous dancing. Her arms and legs were beginning to feel heavy and slight tremors ran through the muscles of her legs. She would have to stop soon if she did not want to wear herself out completely. Regardless, she stubbornly continued her dancing routines.

It happened during a particular move when she was bent over backwards, precariously balancing with the help of her arms. Another tremor ran through her legs and her knees gave out under her. Tensing involuntarily, she prepared herself to crumple gracelessly to the floor, ending her beautiful dance on a potentially painful note.

Then, out of nowhere, there was an arm beneath her back, stabilizing her. Taken by surprise since she had not noticed another person in the room with her, she stared up at her unexpected saviour. He, in turn, merely smirked down at her amusedly.

Not giving her a chance to gather her wits and start asking questions about his presence, he hauled her up against his chest. Taking hold of one of her hands, he gave her a light push to spin her away from him in a pirouette. Following after her immediately, he caught her with his arm behind her back and took her with him in a series of fast steps and turns around the room, leading her through a series of classical dance routines he had seen so many other men perform with her while he had silently observed her from the sidelines on official functions she had had to attend.

Once she had overcome her shock, she allowed herself to be led by her partner and enjoy their dance together. Eventually, after what felt like a blissful eternity to her, the playlist reached its end to signal the end of her leisure time. With the final crescendo, he spun her away one last time, before bringing her back up flush against his chest.

Breathing heavily now, she stared up at him in wonder. He appeared as calm as always, not even remotely out of breath due to his superior stamina. If it were not for his accelerated heartbeat which she felt accurately from where her hand lay on his chest just above his heart, she would have thought he was completely unaffected.

Gathering her bearings, she voiced the question that had been burning in the back of her mind ever since he started their dance.

"Where did you learn to dance like this?"

Again, he gave his trademark smirk, before bending down to her. His breath caressed the shell of her ear, making her shiver in response. Gasping slightly, her eyes closed in delight at the sudden realization as to how closely his body was wrapped around her.

"Martial arts is like a dance already, Relena. And I'm very observant."

"Oh." The deep timbre of his voice made her shudder. Unconsciously, her one hand tightened around his while her other hand slid up from his chest to his neck to toy with his short ponytail there. Fleetingly, she thought that they were in quite the compromising position right now, if someone were to walk in on them.

And then his lips were on hers and she stopped thinking at all.

fin