Voyeur - various football pairings (original) (raw)

title: Voyeur
pairing: various, mainly Sernando
rating: 14A
disclaimer: I make things up
summary: He came here often; he liked to watch the exchanges and notice things.

AN: So this is a bit different than anything I've done before. I sort of dreamed parts of it then later just had to start writing it down. (The first 200 or so words were written on my arms due to lack of paper.)

Voyeur

He stood at the rail along the top level of the club looking down at the people below bumping and grinding on the dance floor. He came here often; he liked to watch the exchanges and notice things. In the corner there was a handsome man with dark skin that seemed to both blend into the darkness and glow at the same time. The flash of pearly white teeth indicated he was smiling. He knew from pervious nights that the waif of a boy in his arms was the reason for the smile. A shock of dark hair fell across pale skin half hiding huge doe eyes. The Waif would blush pink and press closer and soon they’d disappear together. He idly wondered which of the Lolita pair was going to end up heartbroken because that’s where this was all headed.

Turning away he scanned the epileptic bodies crowding the floor. He saw the blonde with a mess of freckles. Actually the blonde was now a brunette, a shade that looked more natural than the straw colour of before. As per usual he was stationed at the bar. His eyes were fixed on his friend dancing. He always watched the other boy dance not that Freckles could be blamed as it was a sight to behold. The boy on the dance floor had tanned skin and long chestnut hair that was always trying to escape a messy bun or sleek ponytail that contained it. The hair was the closest thing on the boy to containment. He danced as if in a trance; not to the beat but with his own rhythm that both clashed and melded with whatever pumped out through the various speakers. His eyes would flutter shut and he’d stand there a moment; surrendering his body to some higher power and then it would begin. It reminded him of a book he read once upon a time; ‘The Witch of Portobello’ and he almost expected the Dancer to still and give the throbbing masses a cryptic prophecy that would both haunt and free them. He never did though. He’d dance and dance and then just as suddenly as he started he would stop and his eyes would open. With a smile he’d move gracefully off the floor and join Freckles at the bar. As soon as the dancing stopped Freckles would avert his eyes pretending to be scanning everyone instead of revealing his obsession. The Dancer would point out a girl or sometimes a boy but Freckles would shake his head and look at his feet shyly. As usual Freckles would have another drink and leave sharing a quick hug and a peck on the cheek with the Dancer. What Freckles didn’t see was the sigh after he left. He didn’t see the way the life energy that had been so consuming would wane and then the Dancer would leave as well; alone, always alone. He sighed as he watched the familiar scene unfurl wishing he could help them but knowing it wasn’t his place. It was something that Freckles and the Dancer needed to figure out themselves.

He changed his focus once again this time settling on a booth of college boys. Frat boys who thought they were the cream of the crop. He watched as a tall boy with short blonde hair and day-old scruff challenged a shorter boy with a mop of long curls to a Chug Off. Each boy emptied their pitchers into a tall glass and raised them in salute. A third boy seemed to be the self appointed referee. He was as short as the second boy with almost no hair; crop cut or premature balding, who knew. His hand came down on the table jarring the empty pitchers and the two boys began to chug. The others at the table cheered obscenely and he turned away disgusted even as Frat Boy 1 slammed down the empty glass.

Curiously he looked back over to where Freckles was and saw him ordering a shot which he quickly downed. The shot was new and he looked out at the dance floor for the Dancer, instinctively knowing he was why Freckles was doing shots all of a sudden. Sure enough the dancer had found a partner. She was a chesty brunette and unable to catch on to his unique rhythm she was instead settling for clinging to him like ivy. Poison ivy he thought darkly. He knew it was silly but he almost felt protective of Freckles and the Dancer; like a big brother. He quickly looked away before he did something stupid like go down there and rip Ivy Girl off the Dancer on Freckles’ behalf.

That’s when he saw the suit. It wasn’t often that he saw suits in here and it immediately caught his interest. The suit was impeccable despite the five o’clock shadow that had come in and he watched him smile charmingly at his companion. Eyeing the neat and precise cut of the suit there was no doubt that it was both expensive and tailor made. He could see why he wore it; the man was GQ in the flesh. His companion seemed to be just as much in awe of GQ and he kept fidgeting with his phone as if the small electronic device was the only thing keeping him from yanking GQ forward by the tie, lapels or whatever he happened to get his hands on. The companion was not a model but had more down to earth good looks. He was the good looking guy you saw in the pub, the fan beside you at the football game. He was passion and loyalty and, the way he was eyeing up GQ, most definitely determination. He smiled as GQ seemed to unconsciously lean closer.

A commotion on the dance floor drew his attention away and he turned to see a short man with spiky hair and an outdated soul patch facing off with a man that looked more like a Neanderthal than a club goer. A small frame was pressed up tight behind the angry man one arm snaking around to rest on his stomach. He was both hiding and restraining his partner in a gesture he had noticed on previous nights. He chuckled to himself as he thought of the nickname he had come up with for this pair. Beauty and the Beast. He’d seen it countless nights before; the Beast would skulk around with a bitch face until his Beauty showed up. Then the expression would soften until that night’s Neanderthal got a little too grabby and the inevitable standoff would take place. Each time Beauty with doe eyes and an implied innocence to rival the Lolita Waif would calm the Beast so nothing more than heated words were exchanged and the pair would move off to some dark corner the hunger in their postures undeniable.

As they moved off he noticed Ivy Girl from earlier clinging to somebody new and he immediately searched out the Dancer. He was at the bar beside Freckles but this wasn’t the usual goodbye scene. Freckles was talking – shouting? – as his hands waved around pointing out at the dance floor and then back to the Dancer. His face was flushed from both alcohol and anger no doubt and his hands kept moving as if trying to prove a point even after his words stopped. The Dancer was standing there quiet, taking it all in like in that one moment before he danced. He found himself watching the scene with bated breath knowing that this was the moment that Freckles and the Dancer had been waiting for, all that was left was to see which way it turned. Finally Freckles stilled both words and actions coming to a standstill as he just stood there hopelessly; hopelessly in love, hopelessly drunk. The Dancer was still in his pre-dance trance and he watched as Freckles started to turn away. Then just as suddenly as with the dancing he moved reaching out and grabbing Freckles, pulling him close and crashing their lips together. He felt as if that kiss was the prophecy he was always expecting as an unexpected warmth surged through him. They pulled apart, presumably to breathe, but their bodies stayed together and then they were dancing. The Dancer moved with that unique rhythm that no one could pick up and just as easily as breathing Freckles was moving with him and they danced mere inches away from the bar and yet nowhere.

He knew his smile was proud as he turned away once more. They were his boys, his brothers even if they didn’t know he was there. He looked out to the floor and saw that the Lolita pair had slipped away while Beauty and the Beast were back out looking sated and lost in their own once upon a time. All around him and below people continued to dance and interact while he stood there watching until last call. Then he pushed away from the rail and drained the rest of his beer before putting it down on a random table. Slowly he made his way down to the bottom level passing GQ and his companion against a wall without saying anything. He left the club walking out into the fresh crisp air of the night stopping to take a breath before continuing. He walked a foot or so away and settled himself against the brick wall pulling his black jacket tighter over his t-shirt. He let his hands trail over his strong jaw as he waited feeling the stubble and idly thinking he needed a shave.

It wasn’t too long before a young man walked out of the club stopping much like he had before turning and seeing him there against the wall. He wore dark slacks and a white dress shirt unbuttoned. The sleeves were rolled up to display some impressive ink work working its way up both strong arms. He scratched at his short blonde hair and grinned rakishly at him before joining him against the wall.

“Good shift?” he asked.
“Yeah, did you see anything interesting this time?”
“Always do.” He replied with a smile.

The tattooed blonde leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips before pushing off the wall and turning to face him.

“Let’s go home.”