Disclaimer: I don't own the characters
(A/N) blatantly self indulging myself here. College has started again, so you guys will have to deal with my short chapters :P
The sharp sound of metal clattering against metal was the first thing to pierce through his sleep. Florescent lights were the next thing to assault him and Scout groaned, turning over onto his side, trying to shield his oh so delicate eyes. When his vision cleared the Bostonian recognized the shiny metal table he was laid out on, sitting up quickly his eyes frantically searched the room.
"Velcome back Herr Scout."
His eyes pinned Medic with a stern gaze, "The battle, did I-"
"You vere unconscious, Heavy carried you back here. You're lucky Spy told us when he did."
Medic floated around the room, a clipboard in hand, going about his business as if Scout wasn't currently devastated he had missed the rest of the match. Hoping off the tablet he flexed his muscles, dully noting the ache in his cheek bone from the night before still nagged at his face. Snatching his bag and weapons from the floor, Scout left without a thank you.
Hitting the showers meant washing in complete silence, the doctor had fixed his calf good as new, no scar to remind him of BLU Sniper's lucky shot. He ate left overs alone, it was a wonder how not a one of his boisterous teammates had crossed paths with him yet. With their absence he could barely bring himself to care, he had more important matters to attend to and being a social butterfly was at the bottom of his list. Sprinting to the warehouse Scout entered to the sight of Spy smoking, sitting on top of a crate waiting.
"Ah, look who decided to show 'is face."
"Don't gimmie that. Medic said I fai-"
"Oui, I know. Ze battle is done, zis is about you and me."
The air was thick with the smell of Spy's cigarettes and Scout wondered just how many the man had gone through. Crushing the stick and Spy walked out to the space they had established as their dance floor, cleared of crates and other forgotten equipment. Tossing his hat and dog tags next to Spy's jacket and gloves, Scout joined the man.
"Now, Apilado, we must lean into each other and feel the strength of our partner."
Scout resists the urge to roll his eyes, it's not like he hasn't heard this before, sometimes he gets it right, most times he ends up with sore muscles from being too tense. Spy took the boy's left hand and slipoed the right around his side. He kept them in an open embrace for a moment, looking over Scout's posture. His shoulders were up and proud -even for being in the woman's position- his chest strong and his feet staggered slightly.
"Good, now, together," he stressed, "we lean forward."
Scout listened to the subtle cues of Spy's body, the hand on his back sliding, the look in his partner's eye and he leaned forward slowly. The moment their chests touch Scout leaned in just a little more, feeling his partner do the same to compensate and he relaxed. Breathing in he could smell everything that seemed to make up Spy. He'd grown accustomed to the man's unique scent and he resisted the urge to bury his nose into the man's shirt and breath deep.
"Perfect," Spy whispered. He could feel Scout exhale, feel the young man relax into him and he murmured softly into the boy's ear, because loud words would only ruin the moment. "Now, just as I taught you, on the 8 count."
Spy's voice was like honey, the accent achingly sweet and Scout savored it, let it roll around in his mind and stick his thoughts into an incoherent jumble.
"Ready, slow, slow, quick, quick, slow."
Scout felt the man move, felt his entire being press against him and he slid back. Spy quickly followed, this branch of Tango called for the partners to hold Apilado for the majority of the dance and before Scout realized it they were across the room and he was still holding against the Frenchman.
"I-we did it!"
A smile beamed onto his face and he made to pull away, he wanted to raise his hands and cheer, but Spy held strong.
"Do not get so excited, we must do it again."
Spy counted, each word mumbled so close and intimately Scout found himself closing his eyes and drinking in the man's pleasing voice. Like any other epiphany, Scout realized that without them both working together, the dance would fall apart and there would be no close embrace, no trust and certainly no Apilado. By their sixth time perfecting the move Spy stopped completely and stood a little straighter. Jarred from the familiar movement, Scout secretly denied he had, had his eyes closed like some school age girl dancing with her crush.
"Now that you can be lead, it is time you lead."
Scout swallowed thickly, Spy was taller than him, not by much, but it was intimidating to say the least. Switching hands he breathed in, Spy had been leading, why couldn't he?
"Remember, left foot first. When you step forward, let the foot in the back stay as long as the music will allow."
"We don't have music."
"Oui, not yet."
Gently pushing forward he felt the Frenchman respond with practiced ease and felt his ego grow a little, the man was following his commands now. Slinking back Spy allowed his teammate to take control, feeling the shift in their roles become solid. Sliding across the floor a few times, Spy whispered the counts into Scout's ear softly, if the words had been anything other than professional, an outsider might've mistaken them for lovers speaking intimately. Scout resisted the urge to press his face closer, tried not to slip into the surreal lull of having someone else pressed so close, but his eyes were already closed and again he bumped into Spy's unmoving chest, reality was a cruel mistress.
"You are improving, zis is good. We will move on then."
Letting go Spy stepped back, smoothing his shirt as if their proximity had caused a thousand invisible creases, he gestured for Scout to move away.
"Maybe one day you will learn enough and take one of those ah...planchadoras from their lonely seats and impress them, oui?"
"P-plancha-wattas?"
"Ah, 'ow you say... shy girls, ze inexperienced girls that will go chasing after you."
Scout felt the unmistakable heat of embarrassment crawl up his neck. He doubted his flaky skill in Tango would be enough to catch a girl, if he was evening look. Spy imitated the beginning position and looked to Scout.
"Now, ze Promenade. Left foot extended out."
He tried to pay attention, truly he did, but he was too busy drinking in the man before him and he was one tall glass of water. His long fluid lines were precise and beautiful, but they were nothing compared to his masked countenance. Expressive eyes, strong jaw and-
"Scout!"
Shoulders hunching up the young man looked to his teacher.
"Did you hear a word I said?"
"Uh...no."
Spy narrowed his eyes, Scout was losing his focus, quicker than normal.
"Either you pay attention, or you look like a fool when you try."
"Oh come on, you're exaggerating, all we've been doing is walking around."
"Walking around! You obviously have no appreciation for the finer points of ballroom. You are acting like an uneducated, unrefin-"
"Hey shut it! Jus' cause I don't walk around in prissy suits 'nd have an accent doesn't mean I'm stupid. You're acting real high and mighty for someone who hides like a bitch in battle. If you even tried to handle my job-"
Scout was still fuming when Spy practically stomped over, a look of annoyance and impatience in his eyes that threatened to materialize into a thousand balisongs and stab him repeatedly. He grabbed the boy's wrist, yanked him against his chest and took the dominant position. The feeling of being dragged snapped his mind to attention and Scout wanted to yell and scream at the man for even touching him after the insults. He was dipped over the man's leg suddenly, the hand behind his back supporting his weight and chills slithered under his skin as a warm hand slid its way up his chest.
"You are not stupid, you merely misunderstand the meaning of what this dance is. This dance is fire, passion," Spy whispered near Scout's jaw, "it is entregarme, to give oneself up to the leader's lead."
The hand was pure heat, burning through his shirt and up his neck. Nicotine and cologne invaded his senses, the contact of skin so sensual and forbidden he gripped tighter to his partner. Goosebumps rose on his flesh as Spy's lips whispered around his jaw.
"You must surrender yourself to me."
A shaky breath passed through his lips and the world was suddenly righted as Spy whisked him away. He had never seen such a fiery look in the man's eyes, or felt the all encompassing power as Spy lead him through the basic walk and unexpected swivels that had him almost sweating to keep up. The technique was precise and executed quickly before flowing into another trick. His heart raced, all their practicing was flashing in his mind as he tried to anticipate his partner's moves, what he hadn't expected, was the hand that hooked under his knee and lifted his leg. Scout almost punched the man in the face, his anger still a flickering flame in the back of his mind.
"Caricias," Spy explained, voice husky between their close faces, "a gentle stroking with the leg or shoe against some part of the partner's body."
With their hips pressed together tightly Spy egged his partner on, a smile of amusement on his lips at Scout's agitated state. Stepping forward into his partner, shifting their weight Spy felt his teammate's leg hook around his waist. The intimate nature of the caress wasn't the only challenge Scout had seen fit to man up to, the amount of contact between them was more than they had ever come close to before. He followed the way Spy's hand pushed down on his knee, he gave in to letting the leg drag down his partner's, let the pounding in his chest become a tempo and he almost leaned forward and up into the man's lips. With the men invading each others space, the air temperature had risen, melted into cautious passion and Scout realized that they had stopped moving.
He was still flush against Spy when the voice in the back of his mind spoke up, warning that if he didn't get away now, something bad was going to happen, something he would probably regret. Clearing his throat Scout looked away, feeling the moment break into a million awkward pieces as he retrieved his limbs from around the Frenchman.
"We will continue this at another time. I 'ave business to attend to tomorrow."
"Business," Scout questioned, watching the man move away to grab is belongings.
"Yes, business. Au revoir. Be sure to practice while I am away."
The air in the warehouse seemed cold, ominous, as the Frenchman left and Scout was alone once again. His body painfully cold and his chest tight with something he wasn't ready to admit to yet.
