“What are you going to do? Convince her to change partners in the middle of the floor?” John asked, baffled.
“I don’t see why not,” Sherlock replied.
“You can’t do that to Tom! It’s rude!”
“He was rude to let her dance with me to begin with,” Sherlock replied with a wave of his hand.
“She won’t even speak to you after that stunt you pulled in the park! Really, pretending to be a hack driver, and chasing her through the park!”
“She wouldn’t speak to me before then either.”
John gave him a look. “Got round that all right, did you?”
“So how will you convince her to dance with you?”
“Mental telepathy, come along Mary, I need a partner to swap.” Sherlock grasped Mary by the hand and tugged her along to the crowded floor.
Must you dance every dance With the same fortunate man? You have danced with him since the music began, Won’t you change partners and dance with me?
Must you dance quite so close, With your lips touching his face? Can’t you see I’m longing to be in his place? Won’t you change partners and dance with me?
Ask him to sit this one out, And while you’re alone, I’ll tell the waiter to tell him He’s wanted on the telephone,You’ve been locked in his arms Ever since heaven-knows-when, Won’t you change partners and then, You may never want to change partners again.
Ask him to sit this one out, And while you’re alone, I’ll tell the waiter to tell him He’s wanted on the telephone,You’ve been locked in his arms Ever since heaven-knows-when, Won’t you change partners and then, You may never have to change partners again.
Molly really never did know how it came about, Sherlock was terribly smooth, but in a moment she’d been swapped out with Mary, and Sherlock was guiding her through the ballroom, out to the terrace. She resisted at first and he backed off, somewhat. Gently, he swayed, and she felt her resolve to be annoyed weakening. He was heaven, if she were honest. She couldn’t ignore the tension between them, of the delicious sort that couldn’t be put aside. Sherlock never pushed beyond what she gave, and she found herself wanting more, so she gave more. He met her, step for step, until the ballroom had cleared out so they could move. There might have been fifty or so at the party but they only had eyes for each other.
Sherlock didn’t even have the heart to look smug at the finish. He was just so pleased that she’d stayed in his arms, and danced willingly with him.
even speaking the words had taken so much
out of him. tiredness riddled his stiffening features, brows furrowed
as he took in the sight of jim moving closer, eyes flickering feature
to feature. but in the meanwhile fingers flutter atop knuckles,
brushing against the skin in a tentative manner. spock inhales,
swallowing some as his chin dips in what could ALMOST be called a nod. “ thank you, jim. ” he breathes, nostrils flaring. didn’t want to say the word nightmare. couldn’t.
This isn't probably what you meant but i just wanted to share with you the image of Jaal purposefully using his bioelectricity to make Ryder's hair stand on end. Like he'll hold her hand and tries to see how long before she notices
….You don’t understand, I nEED TO WRITE THIS NOW– (Best done if you imagine Sara/your Ryder with short hair, for maximum fluff.)
Holding hands at the conference table? Common. It definitely wasn’t unusual for Ryder and Jaal to be holding hands; hell, it could even be a way to predict how the meeting was going to go. A relaxed grip showed that it was just talk, something to go over as they went somewhere new. Tighter grips showed uncertainty and the need for comfort; times of stress were ahead and everyone needed to prepare.
What was less common was their hair going up like an animated movie or perhaps an invisible balloon being rubbed on the Pathfinder’s head. Hairs going up until they poofed into a hilarious looking fuzzball. It was a challenge not to laugh, but everyone would patiently wait for her to notice it.
Jaal especially found this humorous, staring at his beloved as she went on, their hands swaying and painfully oblivious to the gentle ripples of bioelectricity in the air. All he had to do was not grin, just watch, and wait….
“…and Voeld is finally warming up. It’s still hard to currently predict, but we’re hoping that the full effects of the vault should settle sometime within the next year or two. Slow and steady and all that… Complete restoration might take longer, though. Or so I’ve heard.” The Pathfinder sighed, giving Jaal’s hand a little squeeze…and frozen when she finally realized the sparks in the air and the tingle on her spine.
“Wah-?” Her free hand reached up, touching the raised ends and gasping sharply, the room free of their game and laughing as she turned to Jaal accusingly. “Jaal!!! I’m trying to host an important meeting, here!!”
“I’m sorry, darling one,” he crooned affectionately, not all that sorry in the least. “…Well, a little bit. What can I say? You look adorable like that.” He could only laugh when she huffed in embarrassment, pouting up at him. All he could do was kiss the top of her head, grinning wider when her hair fluffed up more and she could only sputter in flustered anger.