Title: Dancing Spirits
Rating: T
Couple: Shizuo X Izaya / AU / Inspired by Steven Cravis - Dancing Spirits
Prompt: Fingers
Words: 987
I Do Not Own Durarara.
His fingers ran lightly up and down the black and white keys. His eyes were closed as he played the piece with not a single imperfection. His body was swaying with the way he played his music, and his wrists popped up when he lifted his hands of the keys. He was in absolute bliss right now. Doing what he loved, for the humans, which he loved.
The piece was nearing its end, but his fingers never stopped, never faulted. Then with perfect movements his long and thin fingers quickly moved quickly in a run that faded as the song ended. He let his hands hover above the piano, his arms held out until he moved them down to his lap.
He stood up smoothly, making sure his tux had no wrinkles. Everyone in the audience stood up when he finished and was clapping. He bowed, and moved to cover the great musical instrument. Then he walked off stage in a fashion that made everyone watch him leave with awed gazes. He had that effect on people.
His dressing room was plain and simple. Sheet music was lying scattered on the table beside the keyboard he had been practicing with before going on stage, the couch messy from where he had taken a small nap, and his clothes that he was to wear to the after party was lain across a large plush chair.
He pulled the bow tie from around his neck, and took of the large jacket, unbuttoning the top few buttons to breathe. Throwing himself onto the couch, his dark hair strewn across a fluffed pillow, he relaxed. Concerts always took a lot out of him, but he loved doing them none-the-less.
He loved what he did, and so did many others. But it never failed to tire him out. And he always fell asleep right after.
No later than ten minutes did he get a knock on the door, the person disturbing him telling him to get his ass up and get ready. Namie was always mean that way. So he got dressed, a simple pair of black slacks, black shoes, and a black button up shirt which he pushed the sleeves up on. Two buttons at the top were undone and the necklace he had gotten from an admirer hung around his neck.
And then he was dragged off to converse with famous people he could care less for. He would listen, drink champagne, listen some more, give his opinions, drink, and then listen. It was the same thing everytime and he was getting just a tad bored with it all.
His boredom would end soon, he promised himself. It surely did, when an elderly man walked up to him with a young blonde haired man behind him. The blonde man stared at him, eyes roaming his figure, brown irises stopping to glance at his hips every now and then. The black haired man smirked at the blonde, letting him know he knew where he was looking.
"Mr. Orihara. This is my grandson, Shizuo Heiwajima," said the old man as he introduced his grandson.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Heiwajima."
Shizuo made a huffing sound in acknowledgment.
"Be nice, Shizuo. He's still in college, senior, you know? Well he's a cello player and I wanted to know if you would perhaps, perform with him? I promise to pay you, Orihara, sir."
Izaya thought about it, holding up one finger to let the man know he was thinking. The blonde was good looking, and his fingers had signs of callouses that proved he was an avid player. He decided, he would, but not until he heard him play. And it seems he even brought his instrument along.
"Alright, but I want to hear him first."
The old man beamed at this, and had Shizuo sit down in a nearby chair to show off his skills. And skills he had. The blonde closed his eyes while he played, getting lost in the beauty of the music he was playing. His body swayed with the pressure and intensity with which he played. It was like watching your greatest fantasy play before your eyes. You want to look away, break free of a spell, but keep watching because it is a need to know how it ends.
The cellist finished with a finale no one expected, and his chocolate eyes opened to stare into mahogany. Izaya quickly nodded his head at the old man and proceeded to drag his grandson away after he finished packing up.
"What do you want?"
"You. . . You're playing was magnificent. Like a dream," the raven blinked up at Shizuo, eyes shining.
"Um, thank you? This seems out of character. . ."
"Yes, it probably does. I'm known for being harsh, but I just can't be with you," a smile and the blonde nodded, leaning down just an inch. Which was far enough for Izaya to reach up and plant his lips against Shizuo's.
Large hands flew up, strong sturdy fingers gripping into deep black hair as the two partook in a passionate kiss. Thin fingers wrapping together as they connected behind a pale neck. Their bodies pressed against each other as they broke apart for air, lips still almost connected, a thin strand of spit breaking as they pulled apart.
Mahogany eyes were wide with realization, brown eyes hooded with lust. And then another kiss, this one deeper and far more intimate.
One hand found another as pianist fingers roped around cellist fingers, holding on as tightly as they dared. Musician hands linked between two bodies as they danced to their own music.