title: take me there
author: stoplight-melody.
summary: "wanna dance?" [oneshot]
pairings: denied wally/kuki – they'll be married and wally will still be denying it.
words: 1,291
time: countless hours of frustration
music track: inside of you by hoobastank/crushcrushcrush by paramore.

The beat of the pounding music, the scorching, rainbow flickering lights, the soft chirping and hearty laughter of his companions – it all faded into the background when he found her petite frame in the swell of the crowd. She was fascinating, addicting to watch as she swayed and swept across the floor; feminine skirt and long, long tresses of obsidian trailing after her.

Every shift, rustle of flowing fabric brought his attention there – fit porcelain legs, the graceful swell of her hips. His eyes trailed the lines of her form through the golden curtain of his bangs, unaware of the three sets of optics watching him amusedly nor the flush that dusted his cheekbones. The illusion crackled when an arm swung out (a growl crawled up his throat and something burned in the pit of his chest) to capture her waist.

It was like trying to tame the wind itself; fruitless and impossible. The girl dodged with dainty movements that mimicked the tattoo of the song. She twirled enthusiastically on her glittering heels, slender arms rising above her, body moving with the melody.

A snort, a strangled laugh, sounded next to him followed by a full and warm chuckle. Emerald, darkened sharply with something, shot to the source to see Hoagie grinning knowingly, goggles pushed into his shaggy auburn hair. On his other side, Abby was sipping at her soda, her mouth pulling into a lazy smile.

"Rejected," they stated together, cerulean and amber glinting playfully. The spy and pilot returned to viewing the display behind him, chortles and giggles of amusement tumbling from their lips with every suitor that was avoided with skill. "They'll never get that they're the wrong. . ."

It was cut off – the statement trailed off into incoherent mumbles.

Wally's eyebrows came together in a tight knitted line as he turned to face them again. Confusion flooded his features, mixing with the still settled blush. One of the mocha fleshed hands of his female comrade lifted from its entanglement around a damp glass to point past his right arm. Her full lips pulled over the shiny whiteness of her teeth. "Kuki is lookin' at ya."

He turned, head and body snapping towards the dance-floor. The girl was staring – no, gazing past him (to his eyes) standing still in crowd of grinding hormonal teenagers that continued to throb around her. One slight arm was cradled between her breasts, fingers curled into the fabric of her top. The other hand lifted, pale digits splaying to wave animatedly; narrowly missing swatting a passing couple in the face.

The Australian gradually turned back to face the table, hunching over his own chilly glass of sugary carbonated drink. Masculine lashes lowered as he gazed downwards into the darkened liquid, watching the florescent lights above flicker across its surface. "She's just catching her breath,"

Fingers – long, solid and thick – clutched and brought the glass to lips. The frigid cola swept over his tongue and down his throat, nerves prickling at the cold. Swallowing the last drops, Wally brought the cup back to the moist tabletop with a weak click. He was annoyed (in that slow throbbing, heated way that ached against the thick bone of his skull) that the Asiatic female hadn't been surveying him.

"Maybe," Hoagie began, stealing a glance at the pretty spy across table whose full lips morphed into a phantom of a devious grin. "But she's coming over here."

Green orbs widened; every shade of emerald, jade and moss sharp against feathery blonde bands. They churned with surprise, "What?!"

A red-tinted eyebrow arched, "Yeah, she's coming; I guess she felt you ogling her."

Heated blood pooled into Wally's face, painting over the fading scarlet from earlier. "I wasn't-" he swallowed thickly, saliva seemingly scarping on the way down, "ogling 'er!"

Abby smiled slightly against her knuckles as Hoagie leaned forward on his elbows, fists pressing into his cheeks. A smirk crawled across the teenager's face, something that only radiated mischief. "Fine, you were devouring her with your eyes."

The combat operatives' mouth fell open before closing again and repeating the cycle. Next to him, Abby let out a feminine sound of bemusement, "Don't even try denyin' it," she remarked, amber gaze shifting towards the pilot again. "Speakin' of that, we should probably get somebody to wipe up all that drool 'fore somebody slips."

Hoagie smiled toothily exchanging looks with the spy before he broke out into a fit of deep, echoing chortles. Abby let out a few chuckles herself as Wally slid deeper into the seat of his chair, molars grinding together heavily.

A vein, in his neck and one in his temple, throbbed with vengeance – blood pumping thick and hot. His brows furrowed into a deep 'v' – muscles along his arms bunched and tightened as he crossed the sturdy appendages across the broadness of his chest.

He was livid.

Air crackling, nerve meltingly livid with a hearty dose of embarrassment leaking into the mix.

Some friends, the confines in the back of his mind chanted and the boy couldn't help but, agree.

'Damn cruddy bas-'

Fingers wrapped around his chin, a matching set curling into the flat plains of his forehead, tangling into his fringe and pulling backwards gently. Tanzanite orbs shimmered down at him, a few locks of lustrous obsidian hair slipped away from graceful shoulders to tickle his neck. "Silly, Wally," Kuki murmured with a giggle lacing each softened syllable. She was clutching his head to the upper half of her breastbone, top and back resting against cloth and skin.

He said nothing but, let his canines press against each other, muscles twitching with the pressure. He was still flushed with maroon – he knew it. And she could feel it under her palms, he mused sourly, from the way she emitted a giggle that mimicked the same one of a little girl presented with a plucked daisy from a bumbling boy.

The Japanese girl let her fingernails skate across the hard bone of his jaw before letting both tiny hands cup his chin, a few fingertip breadths between her pinkie and the cartilage of his Adam's apple. A sound slithered its way up his throat - raspy, scratchy, deep - pleased at the sudden affection.

Wally forced it back with a grunt and sudden violent shake of his head that made the delicate bones of her nimble wrists jostle. Kuki held on fast and Wally let his own hands cup at hers, tiny everything nearly lost in his much wider palms.

His grip tightened with a growl.

He was gonna throw her off him, if need be.

"I was trying to get your attention before," Kuki continued on, fluorescent fuchsia bracelets glittering in the club lighting. "I wanted to ask you something."

Emerald narrowed up at her, the grinning faces of Abby and Hoagie suddenly very distant. Curiosity and something, something else that remained nameless in his mind pulled at his every cell. "What did ya want?"

The girl felt his jaws move as his teeth rubbed together, hard.

Kuki blinked, thick, long, long lashes caressing the high angles of the bone of her cheek like the gossamer wings of a butterfly before they lifted again and lilac twinkled. She smiled, melon-coated lips pulling over the glossy wall of her teeth in a gesture that was brighter than any fabricated rainbow-illumination.

Wally's heart thudded behind its cage of ribs.

"I wanted you to come and dance with me."

A/N:

I'm extremely fond of this piece even, if it does show off my knack for Purple Prose so well. My characterization kinda, sorta sucks though -- OK, it does suck, A LOT.

Anyway, edited for grammar blimishes and spelling destruction.

ღ

--Kati.

Abby, Hoagie, Wally, Kuki (c) Mr. Warburton.