|the_water_clock (the_water_clock) wrote,|
@ 2006-02-13 12:56 pm UTC
|Entry tags:||[ canon: harry potter ewfs-verse ], [ pairing: seamus/dean ], fanfic100|
Title: In the Club
Pairing: Harry Potter: Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
fanfic100prompt: 049: Club
Summary: While checking out a popular gay dance club, a young Londoner finds himself fascinated by two mysterious men who share a magical connection.
Length: 1100 words
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: Thanks toely709,misscora and lunasparrow, who encouraged me to post this little tale. Written as a present for folk (maker of this icon btw) some years back that I am reposting now as part of my fanfic100 Seamus/Dean challenge.
John and Peter surveyed the floor from a landing just above it.
“Who is that dancing up a storm?” John asked.
“The dirty blond?”
“We call him ‘Hyper Boy,’” Peter shouted over the music. “There’s a big debate over whether he’s on something. I’ve never seen him come down, so I’m thinking ‘no’.”
“He certainly acts like it,” John commented.
Hyper Boy danced as though he loved everyone and everything around him. In a club such as this, his behavior suggested the kind of artificial stimulants that called for the consumption of vast quantities of water. If one of Hyper Boy’s old schoolmates had been about, they would have told John that Hyper Boy was like that naturally and always had been.
“That’s not the whole story,” Peter said, pointing. “Look up on the balcony.”
John turned his head and saw a tall black man in a dark v-neck shirt and trousers leaning on the railing of the balcony, his eyes on Hyper Boy. “Who is he?” John asked.
“That’s Still Man. Some think he’s Hyper Boy’s dealer but no one I know got anything off him, so I doubt that.” Peter shrugged. “He never moves, doesn’t really talk to anyone. He just stands up there and stares at Hyper Boy.”
John looked back at his friend, surprised. “Never moves? Not even to get a drink?”
Peter shook his head. “He knows the owner. Besides, there are plenty of men trying to get into his pants who send him drinks all night, even though he never leaves with any of them.”
John looked back up at the balcony, then asked, “Does he leave with Hyper Boy?”
Peter smiled. “You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?” Peter cocked his head toward the dance floor and John nodded, following his friend through the crush of sweaty bodies until they found a space to move in.
John could not take his eyes from Hyper Boy. He moved like a whirling dervish, his sandy hair flopping into his eyes. He had long since taken off his shirt and tucked the corner of it into a belt loop and his light brown chest hair glistened with sweat. He wasn’t exactly handsome and while he was fit, he didn’t have the sort of sculptured physique that one commonly saw in a club such as this. But his joie de vivre made him the most appealing man in the room; that and his air of both total openness and complete unavailability.
As the evening went on, John could see why the owners supplied Still Man and Hyper Boy with drinks. Hyper Boy kept the crowd on the floor, no matter the song. He danced with everyone around him, instead of distantly accepting the crowd’s adoration. John found himself feeling more and more drawn to this small boy with the sandy hair. He slowly moved toward the middle of the floor until finally he was face to face with Hyper Boy.
“Hello!” Hyper Boy called out. “I haven’t seen you before! First time?”
“Great fun! Wanna dance?” Hyper Boy shouted over the music.
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” John replied.
Hyper Boy laughed, then put his hands on John’s hips and pulled him very close, so that their chests touched and rubbed against John like a cat. “THIS is dancing,” he annouced before backing away slightly.
THIS is sex standing up, John thought but who was he to complain? “What is your name?”
They didn’t speak after that; there was nothing more to say. While they danced together to song after song, John noticed that Jim kept looking up at Still Man, as if to make sure he was still there. Bottles of water appeared seemingly from nowhere and Jim handed one to John before downing the other in one long gulp.
Sometime later John looked up at the balcony and saw that Still Man had gone. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Still Man crossed to the center of the floor. He tapped Jim’s shoulder. Jim turned, and the smile he gave Still Man was as broad and bright as the sun itself.
“Ready to go, sonny Jim?” Still Man asked.
Jim nodded and turned to John. “I hope to see you again, Ivan!” Then he pulled John toward him and gave him a kiss that was somehow simultaneously sexy and—well, friendly was the only way to describe it. He smiled again, then turned back to the Still Man and pulled on his hand.
The Still Man squatted down on the floor and Jim climbed onto his shoulders. As Still Man rose, Jim took his shirt from his belt and began swinging it over his head. The crowd cheered and parted to let the men off the dance floor, up the stairs and out the front door of the club.
John stood on the floor, staring after them. The brief exchange he had seen between Jim and Still Man reminded him of why he had let Peter talk him into coming to the club in the first place: to find a boyfriend. Dancing all night with someone clearly unavailable was hardly the best way to go about it. He shook his head and left the dance floor. Perhaps Peter was around the bar someplace.
Still Man and Hyper Boy, meanwhile, were walking back to their flat hand in hand. Well, not all the way back, exactly. They had cheated a little by Apparating to their own neighborhood but Hyper Boy liked a bit of a walk in the cool night air after an evening in the club.
“Who was the blond, Seamus?” Still Man asked, a slight edge to his voice.
“Wasn’t he cute, Dean?” Seamus asked blithely, ignoring Dean’s tone. “I wanted to put him in my pocket and bring him home.”
“Who was the blond, Seamus?” Dean asked again, more urgently.
“I don’t think I’ve seen him there before,” Seamus went on. “Good dancer, though.”
“Who was the BLOND, Seamus?” Dean growled through clenched teeth.
Seamus laughed, putting his free hand over his mouth. “Baby, are you jealous?” He kissed Dean’s hand and said, gently, “You know you never have reason to be.”
Dean shrugged. “You kissed him. You don’t usually kiss them,” he mumbled, looking down at the street.
“He wanted kissing. He was kissable,” Seamus stated flatly. “Anyway, how many drinks did you get tonight?” he asked saucily.
“I didn’t kiss any of them,” Dean replied. Seamus raised an eyebrow. “Okay, nine.”
“Ha!” Seamus shouted, his point made. He jumped into Dean’s arms, wrapping his legs around his waist and his arms around his neck. They kissed deeply, then Seamus shifted his hips slightly and Dean’s eyes widened.
“Seamus, we won’t be able to Apparate home if you keep doing that,” Dean pointed out breathlessly.
Seamus stopped wiggling and smiled seductively. He stared into Dean’s eyes for a long moment then whispered, “Take me home, then.”
With a shimmer, they were gone.