Fic - One Step Away - Jared/Peter PG
Dec. 2nd, 2012 02:58 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
candypinksocks.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
franklin_bashAuthor: candypinksocks
Pairing: Jared/Peter
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2800
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jekesta because we were talking about Strictly and thank you to vic_amy_z for the quick and dirty.
"Ah, Peter, Jared, good, you're both here." Jared looks up and then over at Peter who gives him the same look Jared's throwing his way - a mix of 'duh' and something just this side of smug, like they got detention and the teacher snuck out for a crafty one and is surprised to find them still there when he got back.
Stanton's holding up two suit bags, the bottoms barely off the ground as he walks to Peter's desk.
"I got your measurements from Phillipe. Excellent tailor, Phillipe. Did I ever tell you about the time I needed a very specific tartan, my family's own, for a ceremonial piping-in of the Patagonian foreign minister's last official visit before the unfortunate business with the goats got him summarily dismissed…"
"You did and a fascinating story it was too," Peter interrupts before Stanton can really get onto a roll and starts to unzip the bag closest to him. "And we need - " He finds a tuxedo jacket, vest, a white shirt with black studs instead of buttons and matching bow tie and cummerbund, "the James Bond get up why?"
"It's Infeld Daniels' turn to host the annual Law Review Charity Ball. I believe this year it's in aid of urban recreational area renewal. Excellent cause, one very close to my own heart."
Peter holds up his tux, watches Jared do the same and sees that Jared's has a bow tie and cummerbund in complimentary colors to his own. Like they're going to prom. He only just stops himself looking back in the bag for a corsage.
"And as our newest equity partners, you're expected to start the proceedings with the first dance. None of that modern claptrap either, something traditional like a waltz, or maybe a tango? Oh yes, that'd be splendid! A tango it is!"
And with that, Stanton's out the door before either of them has a chance to mention Jared's two left feet or the fact that neither of them have got any closer to a tango than watching Strictly Ballroom the year they graduated college.
*
It turns out re-watching Strictly Ballroom doesn't actually help with Jared's two let feet, or suddenly make them awesome tangoers - tangoists - dancers of tango. The broken lamp and Peter's bruised toes are proof enough of that.
*
"I don't think this is working, Peter." At least that's what Peter thinks Jared's saying. His face is buried somewhere in Peter's armpit where he's looking down at his own feet.
"You need to look up and get your hand off my ass."
"My hand is not on your ass, I'm holding onto your belt."
"Which is above my ass and you've got wandering hands." Peter smacks at Jared's hand and Jared looks up at him, frown pushing his eyebrows down and his lip caught between his teeth. He looks kinda pissed off and confused all at once, and Peter just wants to kiss him. Except they don't have time for that, what with the impending tango of doom and the inevitable distraction and nakedness that kissing Jared too often leads to.
"Chin up and hand up, back straight and try not to step on my toes this time, okay?"
The music starts up again and they manage three steps before Peter's legs get tangled in Jared's and Jared's hand slips again and they knock heads when Peter looks down and Jared looks up.
"Beer?"
"Beer."
Carmen throws a cushion at them and turns the music off, mutters something not very complimentary under her breath and heads to the fridge. "You're gonna need more than beer!"
*
They've got a week and every dance movie/instructional DVD they could buy, rent or steal stacked up and scattered across the table and none of it's working. If anything they're getting worse, if that's even possible. They spend every waking second they're not in the office (and some there too) trying not to trip each other over and mostly failing. And if he has to wake up another morning to Jared clinging to the edge of the bed again where Peter's 'danced' in his sleep and smacked him in the face, he think he might tell Stanton to try shoving the tuxes and the dancing and the Ball some place very uncomfortable.
"Can't we just - " Jared's flicking balled-up paper across the office into Peter's wastepaper basket goal and missing more often that he scores. It's pretty much how their life sucks at the moment.
"Hire a couple of ringers and run away to Cabo?"
"Excellent idea apart from its obvious flaws. We'd never find anyone as awesome as us and a hundred dollars isn't going to get us to Malibu, let alone Cabo."
"Details, Jared, mere details." Peter throws the papers back over to Jared for him to flick back, ignoring that half of them seem to be the briefs they're supposed to be reading through for court in the morning.
"We've got six days, Peter." Jared's head hits the desk with a loud clunk and Peter wonders if they could cite Jared's rapidly-approaching brain damage as a way of getting out of it.
*
Three days to go and Peter's feet don't hurt anymore, Jared's stopped looking down, and Peter's starting to believe that they might just actually pull this off.
Stanton pokes his head around the office door just as they're getting ready to head home for the night.
"Do let Debbie know the names for your dance partners won't you? They'll need to be added to the guest list."
Dance partners. Of course.
"Of course." Peter shoots Jared a look and shakes his head when it looks like Jared's going to say something. Jared slaps his hand over his mouth and tries to look busy. He really sucks at that.
"Well I'll be a motherfucking son of a bitch," as the door closes behind Stanton and Jared tries the whole brain damage thing again.
"And we're even more screwed."
They grab take out burgers from the diner on the way home, don't dance, just take a long hot shower, fall into bed and stare at the ceiling until Jared rolls over and blows a raspberry on Peter's belly and then blows Peter's mind.
*
Carmen says 'hell no' to being either of their partners or hooking them up with any one of her friends. Pindy just holds his hand up, shakes his head and locks himself in his room.
Screwed doesn't even cover it.
"Craigslist?"
"Ritual suicide?"
"We could just -" Jared reaches for Peter's hand and gets his own in position; his thumb just riding the crack of Peter's armpit, fingers spanning down over his ribs and he looks up then, angry defiance in his eyes as he stamps his foot.
Peter lifts Jared's arm and steps forward 'til they're the perfect frame and counts down in his head. He nods just once and moves and Jared moves with him, back and to the side, three steps together before Peter dips Jared low and then back again, a fight and a dance, passion and perfection and he doesn't look, just holds his arms high and his head higher, counts silently in his head and waits for Jared to crush his toes.
It's not perfect, not even close to it, but when the dance is done and his toes are intact and Jared's grinning, he thinks they might just pull it off.
*
On Friday they get the summary judgment neither of them thought they'd have a chance in hell of getting and celebrate with too much tequila and spectacular sex on the couch.
Saturday dawns too bright and Peter wakes up to Jared's knee jammed in the small of his back and a dead ferret in his mouth. And he's not sure if the weight in the pit of his stomach means he's gonna puke, or that tonight's the Ball. Probably both.
"Not too late to pussy out. I hear Ebola's very fashionable these days." Jared pokes and shuffles and turns, gets his head propped on Peter's hip and he looks about as rough as Peter feels, hair all this way and that and couch creases all down one side of his face.
"Nah." Peter pats the side of Jared's head a little too hard before he pushes up and swings his legs off the couch and maybe that wasn't such a great idea 'cause now his head's pounding. "Urgh. I hate tequila and you for making me drink it."
"You and I recall last night very differently. I remember some bullshit about tequila making you a sex god," as Jared roots around under the couch for his pants and Peter tries standing up, only to sit straight back down again.
"Not bullshit. The sex god part, anyway."
Jared finds his pants and shuffles to the kitchen and soon enough there's the smell of coffee and bacon. Peter stops thinking about the limo coming for them in a few hours and that they're more than likely to fuck up the dance and ruin the whole ball and the firm's reputation and end up getting fired and out on the streets. Instead he drinks almost the entire pot of coffee before dragging Jared to the shower and to bed. No tequila required.
*
"Fucking tie." Jared tugs at the end of his bow tie again, frowning as he looks first at the instructions and then back in the mirror. "It doesn't work, Stanton gave us broken bow ties, Peter."
Peter's not having any more luck getting his tied either. It looks like it should just be a simple knot, but then it turns out looking like something a blindfolded three year old tied with their teeth and he has to pull it free again.
Of course, that's when Carmen comes in, slaps his hands away and ties it without so much as a second go around. She smiles at him, brushes her hands down the front of his vest before going up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek and then making short work of Jared's in turn.
"If I ever move out, I swear…"
"You're never moving out, you have to live here forever to make up for Peter's obvious deficiencies." Jared pulls her into a hug and kisses her cheek before he turns to Peter and twirls around on the spot. "All good?"
And Peter lets himself really look now. He sees Jared in a suit every day, always tailored, although his tie and vest choices have always been questionable. Never paid it much mind before, apart from when they could afford something other than off the peg and he noticed how spectacular Jared's ass looked. But this is something different.
Oh yeah, it's beyond good and Peter's already got several ideas about just how he's gonna get Jared out of those pants and now would not be a good time to let that particular thought settle. Although they're definitely keeping the tuxes.
"All good." There's no way he's not gonna kiss Jared right now, crinkles be damned. It's quick and hard and maybe a little bit fierce. "I could fuck you right now. I really wanna fuck you right now."
"Aw, you think I'm pretty." And there's that stupid, dumb perfect smile that gets Jared everything he wants. "Keep it in your pants - " Jared pushes him away just as he steps back, straightens his vest and reaches for his jacket. "The limo'll be here any minute and Carmen's already gagging from the PDA."
"You're the worst date ever, you know that, right?" Peter smacks Jared's ass and grabs his own jacket, pulling his shirt sleeves through as he shrugs his shoulders and tries really hard not to fiddle with his tie.
"The worst date who's gonna blow you in the back of the limo if you just quit yer bitchin'."
"Guys, I'm still here!"
Peter loves privacy screens and music and that he can stretch out the full length of the seats, his feet against one door and his head against the other, Jared between his thighs and his hands tangled in Jared's hair.
He also loves Saturday night traffic and that the carpeting in the foot well is soft and padded and doesn't give him rug burn when he returns the favor.
They both look a little disheveled when the driver opens the door for them, but he doesn't mention it, just smiles and tips his hat the way that drivers who are all knowing do and gives Jared his card for the return journey.
Peter drinks three glasses of champagne too quickly, and doesn't leave Jared's side for even a second. He's nervous and can't seem to keep his hands from shaking, except when he's got his hand shoved in Jared's pocket, his fist tight and Jared's fingers brushing his wrist.
He knows Stanton's going to get up and do his thing any second now, that the music'll start and they'll have to fucking dance and he's going to drop Jared on the first dip and everyone will laugh and point and there'll be nowhere to hide and -
Jared kisses him.
Right there in front of everyone.
And no one stops and stares, the music doesn't miss a beat and Jared just smiles as he kisses Peter again and once more, bites at his lip and whispers "Breathe," into one last kiss before he pulls away.
"We are going to be so awesome, the meaning of awesome will need to be re-written after this. This Ball will be known as the Franklin and Bash Charity Ball of Awesome. There'll be plaques, in gold - " Peter smacks his hand over Jared's mouth.
"Will you shut just the fuck up?"
Jared bites his finger and pokes him in the ribs. "Never."
The music stops and so does everyone else, there's a tap on a mic, Stanton coughs and four hundred people turn toward the stage.
"Ladies, Gentlemen and distinguished guests. As host, Infeld Daniels presents the first dance."
Peter nearly swallows his tongue and Jared grabs his hand and drags him into the gap three hundred and ninety eight people make in the center of the dance floor. It's too quiet and everyone's looking at them and he's going to throw up on his shoes.
And then Jared pulls Peter's hand high, tucks his other perfectly behind Peter's armpit, looks up and everything else just falls away. It's Jared and they're really doing this, there's no going back and he just goes with it.
The music starts up, his feet move and Jared's move with them. He leads and Jared follows and doesn't step on his toes. Their legs don't get tangled up and he doesn't forget. He's not thinking, not counting under his breath, he's fucking dancing and he can see Jared trying not to smile and knows he's thinking the same thing.
They're never gonna get tens on Dancing With The Stars but they don't fall on their asses and no one's laughing. And when the music stops and Jared's dipped low and holding strong, Peter can't help but grin.
It's quiet for a second after they straighten up and then the next dance starts and the floor fills up again. They don't move, just get squashed closer together, 'til Jared's got his thigh shoved between Peter's thighs. Peter's still got hold of Jared's hand, Jared's got his fingers tight in the back of Peter's jacket and they're getting shoved and shuffled now, a Viennese Waltz going on around them but Peter doesn't know how and doesn't want to move either. Not that either of them should be moving, what with the unfortunate Tango after effect - something that not a single one of the instructional DVDs cared to mention.
"We should probably -" Jared tips his head back toward the huge French doors that lead outside. He's got a flush high on his cheeks and sweat on his temples and Peter's just a little distracted.
He lets himself forget where they are for a second, his hand dropping to Jared's ass to pull him closer, leaning in 'til his nose is brushing the top of Jared's ear.
"How much of an exhibitionist are you feeling right now?" He pinches Jared's ass and grins when Jared makes a loud squeak and goes to jump back, except that he can't 'cause Peter's not letting go.
"Fuck off," even as he's trying to get closer and they're really gonna need to get the fuck out of here before there's an incident that'll get them fired and quite possibly arrested.
"Shuffle that way." Peter starts moving and Jared follows as Peter knew he would. They make their way through the crowd, knocking into Damien, all elbows and not quite accidently. They make their apologies and say their goodbyes and it doesn't matter that they've been there less than an hour.
They get off the dance floor and it's the closet, the balcony or the car and home. Jared makes the decision for them when he flicks the card at Peter and smacks him on the back of the head.
"There's no way I'm fucking you in the janitor's closet like some bad 80's cliché. I'm giving you wine and chocolates and really awesome rug burn, so get your ass outside and in the car."
end
Pairing: Jared/Peter
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2800
For
jekesta because we were talking about Strictly and thank you to vic_amy_z for the quick and dirty."Ah, Peter, Jared, good, you're both here." Jared looks up and then over at Peter who gives him the same look Jared's throwing his way - a mix of 'duh' and something just this side of smug, like they got detention and the teacher snuck out for a crafty one and is surprised to find them still there when he got back.
Stanton's holding up two suit bags, the bottoms barely off the ground as he walks to Peter's desk.
"I got your measurements from Phillipe. Excellent tailor, Phillipe. Did I ever tell you about the time I needed a very specific tartan, my family's own, for a ceremonial piping-in of the Patagonian foreign minister's last official visit before the unfortunate business with the goats got him summarily dismissed…"
"You did and a fascinating story it was too," Peter interrupts before Stanton can really get onto a roll and starts to unzip the bag closest to him. "And we need - " He finds a tuxedo jacket, vest, a white shirt with black studs instead of buttons and matching bow tie and cummerbund, "the James Bond get up why?"
"It's Infeld Daniels' turn to host the annual Law Review Charity Ball. I believe this year it's in aid of urban recreational area renewal. Excellent cause, one very close to my own heart."
Peter holds up his tux, watches Jared do the same and sees that Jared's has a bow tie and cummerbund in complimentary colors to his own. Like they're going to prom. He only just stops himself looking back in the bag for a corsage.
"And as our newest equity partners, you're expected to start the proceedings with the first dance. None of that modern claptrap either, something traditional like a waltz, or maybe a tango? Oh yes, that'd be splendid! A tango it is!"
And with that, Stanton's out the door before either of them has a chance to mention Jared's two left feet or the fact that neither of them have got any closer to a tango than watching Strictly Ballroom the year they graduated college.
*
It turns out re-watching Strictly Ballroom doesn't actually help with Jared's two let feet, or suddenly make them awesome tangoers - tangoists - dancers of tango. The broken lamp and Peter's bruised toes are proof enough of that.
*
"I don't think this is working, Peter." At least that's what Peter thinks Jared's saying. His face is buried somewhere in Peter's armpit where he's looking down at his own feet.
"You need to look up and get your hand off my ass."
"My hand is not on your ass, I'm holding onto your belt."
"Which is above my ass and you've got wandering hands." Peter smacks at Jared's hand and Jared looks up at him, frown pushing his eyebrows down and his lip caught between his teeth. He looks kinda pissed off and confused all at once, and Peter just wants to kiss him. Except they don't have time for that, what with the impending tango of doom and the inevitable distraction and nakedness that kissing Jared too often leads to.
"Chin up and hand up, back straight and try not to step on my toes this time, okay?"
The music starts up again and they manage three steps before Peter's legs get tangled in Jared's and Jared's hand slips again and they knock heads when Peter looks down and Jared looks up.
"Beer?"
"Beer."
Carmen throws a cushion at them and turns the music off, mutters something not very complimentary under her breath and heads to the fridge. "You're gonna need more than beer!"
*
They've got a week and every dance movie/instructional DVD they could buy, rent or steal stacked up and scattered across the table and none of it's working. If anything they're getting worse, if that's even possible. They spend every waking second they're not in the office (and some there too) trying not to trip each other over and mostly failing. And if he has to wake up another morning to Jared clinging to the edge of the bed again where Peter's 'danced' in his sleep and smacked him in the face, he think he might tell Stanton to try shoving the tuxes and the dancing and the Ball some place very uncomfortable.
"Can't we just - " Jared's flicking balled-up paper across the office into Peter's wastepaper basket goal and missing more often that he scores. It's pretty much how their life sucks at the moment.
"Hire a couple of ringers and run away to Cabo?"
"Excellent idea apart from its obvious flaws. We'd never find anyone as awesome as us and a hundred dollars isn't going to get us to Malibu, let alone Cabo."
"Details, Jared, mere details." Peter throws the papers back over to Jared for him to flick back, ignoring that half of them seem to be the briefs they're supposed to be reading through for court in the morning.
"We've got six days, Peter." Jared's head hits the desk with a loud clunk and Peter wonders if they could cite Jared's rapidly-approaching brain damage as a way of getting out of it.
*
Three days to go and Peter's feet don't hurt anymore, Jared's stopped looking down, and Peter's starting to believe that they might just actually pull this off.
Stanton pokes his head around the office door just as they're getting ready to head home for the night.
"Do let Debbie know the names for your dance partners won't you? They'll need to be added to the guest list."
Dance partners. Of course.
"Of course." Peter shoots Jared a look and shakes his head when it looks like Jared's going to say something. Jared slaps his hand over his mouth and tries to look busy. He really sucks at that.
"Well I'll be a motherfucking son of a bitch," as the door closes behind Stanton and Jared tries the whole brain damage thing again.
"And we're even more screwed."
They grab take out burgers from the diner on the way home, don't dance, just take a long hot shower, fall into bed and stare at the ceiling until Jared rolls over and blows a raspberry on Peter's belly and then blows Peter's mind.
*
Carmen says 'hell no' to being either of their partners or hooking them up with any one of her friends. Pindy just holds his hand up, shakes his head and locks himself in his room.
Screwed doesn't even cover it.
"Craigslist?"
"Ritual suicide?"
"We could just -" Jared reaches for Peter's hand and gets his own in position; his thumb just riding the crack of Peter's armpit, fingers spanning down over his ribs and he looks up then, angry defiance in his eyes as he stamps his foot.
Peter lifts Jared's arm and steps forward 'til they're the perfect frame and counts down in his head. He nods just once and moves and Jared moves with him, back and to the side, three steps together before Peter dips Jared low and then back again, a fight and a dance, passion and perfection and he doesn't look, just holds his arms high and his head higher, counts silently in his head and waits for Jared to crush his toes.
It's not perfect, not even close to it, but when the dance is done and his toes are intact and Jared's grinning, he thinks they might just pull it off.
*
On Friday they get the summary judgment neither of them thought they'd have a chance in hell of getting and celebrate with too much tequila and spectacular sex on the couch.
Saturday dawns too bright and Peter wakes up to Jared's knee jammed in the small of his back and a dead ferret in his mouth. And he's not sure if the weight in the pit of his stomach means he's gonna puke, or that tonight's the Ball. Probably both.
"Not too late to pussy out. I hear Ebola's very fashionable these days." Jared pokes and shuffles and turns, gets his head propped on Peter's hip and he looks about as rough as Peter feels, hair all this way and that and couch creases all down one side of his face.
"Nah." Peter pats the side of Jared's head a little too hard before he pushes up and swings his legs off the couch and maybe that wasn't such a great idea 'cause now his head's pounding. "Urgh. I hate tequila and you for making me drink it."
"You and I recall last night very differently. I remember some bullshit about tequila making you a sex god," as Jared roots around under the couch for his pants and Peter tries standing up, only to sit straight back down again.
"Not bullshit. The sex god part, anyway."
Jared finds his pants and shuffles to the kitchen and soon enough there's the smell of coffee and bacon. Peter stops thinking about the limo coming for them in a few hours and that they're more than likely to fuck up the dance and ruin the whole ball and the firm's reputation and end up getting fired and out on the streets. Instead he drinks almost the entire pot of coffee before dragging Jared to the shower and to bed. No tequila required.
*
"Fucking tie." Jared tugs at the end of his bow tie again, frowning as he looks first at the instructions and then back in the mirror. "It doesn't work, Stanton gave us broken bow ties, Peter."
Peter's not having any more luck getting his tied either. It looks like it should just be a simple knot, but then it turns out looking like something a blindfolded three year old tied with their teeth and he has to pull it free again.
Of course, that's when Carmen comes in, slaps his hands away and ties it without so much as a second go around. She smiles at him, brushes her hands down the front of his vest before going up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek and then making short work of Jared's in turn.
"If I ever move out, I swear…"
"You're never moving out, you have to live here forever to make up for Peter's obvious deficiencies." Jared pulls her into a hug and kisses her cheek before he turns to Peter and twirls around on the spot. "All good?"
And Peter lets himself really look now. He sees Jared in a suit every day, always tailored, although his tie and vest choices have always been questionable. Never paid it much mind before, apart from when they could afford something other than off the peg and he noticed how spectacular Jared's ass looked. But this is something different.
Oh yeah, it's beyond good and Peter's already got several ideas about just how he's gonna get Jared out of those pants and now would not be a good time to let that particular thought settle. Although they're definitely keeping the tuxes.
"All good." There's no way he's not gonna kiss Jared right now, crinkles be damned. It's quick and hard and maybe a little bit fierce. "I could fuck you right now. I really wanna fuck you right now."
"Aw, you think I'm pretty." And there's that stupid, dumb perfect smile that gets Jared everything he wants. "Keep it in your pants - " Jared pushes him away just as he steps back, straightens his vest and reaches for his jacket. "The limo'll be here any minute and Carmen's already gagging from the PDA."
"You're the worst date ever, you know that, right?" Peter smacks Jared's ass and grabs his own jacket, pulling his shirt sleeves through as he shrugs his shoulders and tries really hard not to fiddle with his tie.
"The worst date who's gonna blow you in the back of the limo if you just quit yer bitchin'."
"Guys, I'm still here!"
Peter loves privacy screens and music and that he can stretch out the full length of the seats, his feet against one door and his head against the other, Jared between his thighs and his hands tangled in Jared's hair.
He also loves Saturday night traffic and that the carpeting in the foot well is soft and padded and doesn't give him rug burn when he returns the favor.
They both look a little disheveled when the driver opens the door for them, but he doesn't mention it, just smiles and tips his hat the way that drivers who are all knowing do and gives Jared his card for the return journey.
Peter drinks three glasses of champagne too quickly, and doesn't leave Jared's side for even a second. He's nervous and can't seem to keep his hands from shaking, except when he's got his hand shoved in Jared's pocket, his fist tight and Jared's fingers brushing his wrist.
He knows Stanton's going to get up and do his thing any second now, that the music'll start and they'll have to fucking dance and he's going to drop Jared on the first dip and everyone will laugh and point and there'll be nowhere to hide and -
Jared kisses him.
Right there in front of everyone.
And no one stops and stares, the music doesn't miss a beat and Jared just smiles as he kisses Peter again and once more, bites at his lip and whispers "Breathe," into one last kiss before he pulls away.
"We are going to be so awesome, the meaning of awesome will need to be re-written after this. This Ball will be known as the Franklin and Bash Charity Ball of Awesome. There'll be plaques, in gold - " Peter smacks his hand over Jared's mouth.
"Will you shut just the fuck up?"
Jared bites his finger and pokes him in the ribs. "Never."
The music stops and so does everyone else, there's a tap on a mic, Stanton coughs and four hundred people turn toward the stage.
"Ladies, Gentlemen and distinguished guests. As host, Infeld Daniels presents the first dance."
Peter nearly swallows his tongue and Jared grabs his hand and drags him into the gap three hundred and ninety eight people make in the center of the dance floor. It's too quiet and everyone's looking at them and he's going to throw up on his shoes.
And then Jared pulls Peter's hand high, tucks his other perfectly behind Peter's armpit, looks up and everything else just falls away. It's Jared and they're really doing this, there's no going back and he just goes with it.
The music starts up, his feet move and Jared's move with them. He leads and Jared follows and doesn't step on his toes. Their legs don't get tangled up and he doesn't forget. He's not thinking, not counting under his breath, he's fucking dancing and he can see Jared trying not to smile and knows he's thinking the same thing.
They're never gonna get tens on Dancing With The Stars but they don't fall on their asses and no one's laughing. And when the music stops and Jared's dipped low and holding strong, Peter can't help but grin.
It's quiet for a second after they straighten up and then the next dance starts and the floor fills up again. They don't move, just get squashed closer together, 'til Jared's got his thigh shoved between Peter's thighs. Peter's still got hold of Jared's hand, Jared's got his fingers tight in the back of Peter's jacket and they're getting shoved and shuffled now, a Viennese Waltz going on around them but Peter doesn't know how and doesn't want to move either. Not that either of them should be moving, what with the unfortunate Tango after effect - something that not a single one of the instructional DVDs cared to mention.
"We should probably -" Jared tips his head back toward the huge French doors that lead outside. He's got a flush high on his cheeks and sweat on his temples and Peter's just a little distracted.
He lets himself forget where they are for a second, his hand dropping to Jared's ass to pull him closer, leaning in 'til his nose is brushing the top of Jared's ear.
"How much of an exhibitionist are you feeling right now?" He pinches Jared's ass and grins when Jared makes a loud squeak and goes to jump back, except that he can't 'cause Peter's not letting go.
"Fuck off," even as he's trying to get closer and they're really gonna need to get the fuck out of here before there's an incident that'll get them fired and quite possibly arrested.
"Shuffle that way." Peter starts moving and Jared follows as Peter knew he would. They make their way through the crowd, knocking into Damien, all elbows and not quite accidently. They make their apologies and say their goodbyes and it doesn't matter that they've been there less than an hour.
They get off the dance floor and it's the closet, the balcony or the car and home. Jared makes the decision for them when he flicks the card at Peter and smacks him on the back of the head.
"There's no way I'm fucking you in the janitor's closet like some bad 80's cliché. I'm giving you wine and chocolates and really awesome rug burn, so get your ass outside and in the car."
end
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