discoveredinalj | Day 26 – Discovered Among the Reindeer – Save The Last Dance For Me by Melanie Athene (Reply)

Happy holidays, everyone! Hope you enjoy the story.

I'm not built to be a runner, not like Ray. Lithe of limb and light of foot, he fairly dances as he runs. I, on the other hand, put my head down and charge like a bull. No dancer, me. No grace, no beauty, when I run. No great joy, either. I run only if and when I have to. Ironically, this means I run a lot. Macklin sees to that. So does Ray. Too many early mornings I've joined him for a jog. Mile after mile of running side by side, until he moves up a gear and leaves me trailing in his dust. Mind you, I can't complain about the view. Our Ray has a pert arse and legs that go on forever. Sometimes I fall behind on purpose, just to watch him go.

I'm not the only one to take notice of my partner. I see the eyes following his every move, I see the look of longing on other people's faces. I've seen that selfsame look when I glance in the mirror. But what's a fella to do? Nothing. That's what. I'd never risk losing what we have. We're good together. The best. Cowley's top team, and proud of it. We each have our own set of skills, and between us there's nothing we can't handle. Unfortunately, sometimes those special skills lead to us working solo. Neither of us likes that much, but we're good little CI5 boys. We do what we're told (mostly) and we go wherever we have to go, do whatever we have to do.

So if the job calls for a dancer, Ray's the one the Cow picks for the gig. Can't say I blame him. We both look dapper dressed up, but Ray's a real treat to watch on the dance floor. That halo of hair lit by disco lights makes him look like an angel. A sexy, wanton angel. All sinuous moves and easy grace. And when the music calls for slow dancing...

I used to envy all those birds. I used to wonder what it would be like to be held in those strong arms and whisked around the room. I used to imagine his come-hither look was fixed on my face; that he pulled me close, so close, until our bodies moved as one.

I don't wonder any more.

Last Christmas he caught me staring. I don't know what he read in my unguarded expression, but his green eyes widened, and his steps faltered for a moment before he recaptured the rhythm and turned away.

Shit, shit, shit, repeated on a loop in my mind. I was so distracted I lost sight of the bloke I was supposed to be tailing. The Cow was not best pleased with my performance. Never mind that we caught the bastard in the end, I got a well-deserved tongue lashing.

Ray, of course, went home with the girl.

At least, I thought he did.

But there he was on my doorstep at the stroke of midnight: a purloined bottle of Cowley's finest tucked under one arm, a serious look on his face.

“We need to talk, Bodie,” he said. And my heart plummeted clear down to my toes. This was it. This was where he called me a poof, told me off, and demanded a new partner.

Except that isn't what happened. And we didn't talk all that much, but what was said changed everything between us.

I may never dance with Ray in public, but that's okay with me.

What goes on behind closed doors is quite another story.

Title: Save The Last Dance For Me

Author: melanieathene

Slash or Gen: slash

Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: yes.

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to each other.

Notes: My prompt for this challenge was "Dancer"

Many thanks to cali_se for betaing and brit picking.