IT'S MUSSHYYYYYYY TIME!!! Run away!! And don't ask how I thought of this little vignette, 'cause I don't know. The whole thing's just an excuse to have them -- well, you'll see. (And no, not sex! Something far worse. <eeg>) But it had to be done. It was horribly inevitable. You've been warned...
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SLIP DOWN
Graham peeked around the edge of the brick alley wall as Arcane caught his breath.
"You think we lost 'em yet, sir?"
Arcane pricked his ears, his eyes widening as the sound of ravenous Doberman Pinschers grew louder. He shook his head quickly, mind and eyes whirring in concert. "You didn't say there would be armed mercenaries," Graham muttered.
"The mercenaries were a given, Graham. I admit I didn't expect the dogs."
"Let's just get out of here, okay?" *Revenge on Dr. Woodrue isn't worth this!!!* He stumbled backwards as Arcane pushed open the uninspiring-looking back door behind the two of them and rushed inside. Graham shut the door quickly.
The pair was immediately assaulted by a dance-i-fied mix of Right Said Fred rumbling, "*I'M*... too sexy for my shirt... too sexy for my shirt, so sexy..."
Arcane jumped as the tiles beneath his feet blinked from lime green to neon chartreuse, his eyes swivelling up to the mirrored disco-ball in
horror. Meanwhile, frozen at the door, Graham was getting that look in his eyes. He could feel the groove. It was slithering into his ears and seductively through the darkest recesses of his mind, treacherously playing to his instincts.
*"Come on, Graham,"* it whispered. *"Dance. You know you want to. It's Right Said Fred. A =dance mix=. It's ending, you only have a second --aww. How tragic. But what's this? Oh, look!! 'YMCA' is coming on! It's irresistible. You can't fight it..."*
Graham clenched his nails into his palms, his teeth set and grinding.
"Let's go," he whispered urgently, sweating, to Arcane, willing himself not to move. The doctor, however, looked distracted.
"Place can't be all bad, Graham." His eyes were sifting lecherously through the crowd, the sexy disco music already starting its own soundtrack in his mind. "Now, to find a female of the species..."
Arcane's grey eyes came to a screeching halt. "Graham?" he whispered, voice sounding small and confused. "There... there are no women on the dance floor."
Graham swallowed. "I... I think we're in a --"
"I know where we are!!" Arcane snapped. He spun around and slammed open the door, although the noise was unheard over the Village People.
Loud, sharp barking and a round fired off from an AK-47 made him shut the door again just as quickly. The doctor ran a hand through his hair, distraught. "Beautiful. Just bloody wonderful. Here we are, stuck in a bloody --"
He turned and rammed straight into wall-to-wall pectorals, veiled thinly by a sweat-soaked grey tank top. Arcane looked up. The muscle grinned and winked.
"Hey," he purred. "Goin' someplace?"
Arcane's eyes darted back from the door to the man, to the table with the punch in the back and deciding that there weren't any firearms or suitable blunt objects around, and back to the door. He chuckled nervously.
"Well, ah, yes, we were, but it seems we may be here for a little while longer." Graham nodded, then shook his head, and then nodded again as a sharp elbow jarred his ribs.
The bouncer cocked his head. "I don't remember seein' you guys come in..." He grinned. "But I see lotsa people all night. Whatever." A mental sigh of relief blew through the doctor's mind. The comforting breeze was quickly stilled as the man clamped a hand the size of a Buick on his shoulder. "So, will your buddy mind if we dance, or talk, or somethin'? I mean, if that's all right with you."
At that point, Arcane didn't know which was worse: the big, sweaty, brawny guy that was hitting on him, or the bad Motley Crue music that had just started. Desperate and panicked, he threw an arm around Graham that was much more akin to a headlock and grinned nervously.
"Actually, I'm with him for this one. Heh. Heh heh." He dragged Graham out onto the dance floor.
"Can't blame a guy for tryin'!" the bouncer called back to him good-naturedly. He chuckled softly. "They *do* look cute together..." His eyes scrolled down. "DAAAAAAAMN, what an ass."
On the dance floor, "Without You" was weaving its way out the speakers, and the dancers began to take it slow.
"We can't leave?" Graham whispered, narrowly avoiding a pair of swaying bodies.
"How fast can you run, Graham?"
Graham sucked his cheeks in. "Right." His blue eyes darted around. "So... w-we're going to have to, uh, blend in?"
Arcane pulled Graham to him and began to sway, his breath soft in the man's ear.
"If you breathe a word of this to any living soul, I'll cut off your testicles with a rusty spoon."
Graham nodded quickly with a gulp.
"Yes, SIR," he whispered.
"without you, there's no change
my nights and days are grey
if i reached out and touched the rain, it just wouldn't feel the same
without you, i'd be lost
i'd slip down from the top
i'd slide down so low, girl you'd never, never know..."
Graham swayed slightly against Arcane, the man's hands resting on his shoulders, the doctor looking around in a Herculean effort to appear supremely distracted. Graham gave a mental shrug. *Better fit in with everybody else.* He slid his hands around Arcane's waist. Arcane jumped. Settling back down with his feet on the floor, he shot Graham a "what the HELL do you think you're DOING?!" look. Graham inclined his head toward the bouncer, who was leaning against a wall, sipping some punch, and winking. Arcane quickly turned back to Graham and buried his forehead in the assistant's shoulder, shuddering.
Dr. Arcane didn't usually go for this kind of music, but he'd conceded that this song wasn't that bad. It was too long, though. Much too long. How much longer would they have to slow dance like this?!
On the other hand, it was better than dancing with Muscleman over there. And, although he'd never ever say it aloud, it *was* kind of relaxing. He didn't have to think of any complex formula or big, important plan. All he had to do was sway to the music. With Graham. Well, that wasn't so strange, now was it? They worked together... and... and Graham was his friend... sort of... and... *Oh, come off it, Anton! Next thing you know, you're going to start liking it!!!*
The smoke machine had been shut off at the start of the song, along with the strobe lights, replaced by just some little dimmed bulbs in the ceiling, so it wasn't pitch-dark. It made Graham kind of sleepy, inexorably. The music was steady and the guitar wasn't jarring. As they rocked slowly, left to right, left to right, he rested the side of his face on Arcane's chest, and closed his eyes, before stiffening slightly. *GOD, do you know how SWISHY you look?!?!! Geezus, Graham!* But Arcane didn't seem to mind, and Graham was tired.
Arcane had sank fully into the music now, letting his eyes settle on Graham for a moment before ripping them away and glaring down at his shoes. Why was he letting this bother him?! Graham was just a moron, and *he* wasn't letting it bother him. He was just adapting, going with the flow, as he himself should be. What the hell was wrong with him?! This wasn't as uncomfortable as he was making it look, and if he kept making it look that way, people might get suspicious or something. All these people here expected him to be gay. It wasn't like anyone here thought he was acting abnormal. They didn't know him.
*But isn't that the problem?! It isn't as uncomfortable as it should be!!* And then he paused. *Wait just a bloody moment. I'm Anton Arcane! Why the hell SHOULD I be uncomfortable if I don't want to be?!!*
Satisfied, he looked down at Graham. This wasn't that bad. He didn't really mind this *too* horribly. It was almost kind of... nice. *No it's NOT!!* his rational mind screamed. Arcane bit his lip. But it had been such a long time since someone had danced with him this way. The satisfaction of a second ago got promptly swept away by a new leaden ache in his chest. Nothing he made lasted. Everything he touched seemed to die. Unconsciously, against his will, he clung to Graham tighter. Graham looked up at that, a shiver running down his spine.
*What the...??* He shook his head invisibly, and just kept swaying, examining Arcane's face. He looked pained. *Is it me? Is this bothering him THAT much? I mean, it's not exactly as if we have a lot of choices here... Wait... No. It isn't me. What is it?* Confused, he did the only thing he could, and held Arcane closer by the waist in return, letting the doctor rest his chin on his shoulder.
*This is kind of nice,* Graham admitted to himself almost embarrassedly. *I never thought I'd be liking something like this. But... it isn't ba- it's not... it's nice.*
By now, Arcane didn't care who the warm body was that was snuggled against him, who he was holding onto. So what if it was Graham. Better Graham, his only friend in the world, than someone he absolutely reviled. He felt strangely comforted. Swaying back and forth, he reached up and stroked Graham's hair gently as the man rested his face on his chest again, sighing
peacefully.
The song wound down, gently sliding to an end as they unentwined themselves and made their way to the door as surreptitiously as possible.
"I think they're gone, sir," Graham whispered, no armed guerrillas or vicious attack dogs within hearing range.
Arcane nodded. "To the Porsche, then."
"Er, the Porsche was blown up, sir, remember?"
"To the bus then," he grumbled, shuddering at the thought of having to spend thirty entire minutes on a Greyhound.
As they walked down the sidewalk, he opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped. Graham didn't even notice. He tried again. "Grahamiwanttothankyou." It came out as a very rushed cough. Graham looked up from the sidewalk.
"Uh, pardon?"
Arcane put an arm around him.
"Nothing."
--end--
:) ;)