| *lyrics from Careless Whisper by George
Michael I feel so unsure as I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor Never before had he understood exactly why Michael hated the Foundation's soir�es. Tonight was his education; his induction into official Foundation life. Already the idea of breaking ties with the association he owed his existence to was at the edge of his mind, if anything was going to swing it, the experience of a crowded room filled with the aroma of strong perfume and sweaty canap�s and the heavy sound of conversations all at odds with one another most definitely would. At least, unlike his partner, he didn't mind the tuxedo. He thought it suited him in a way, even Karr had remarked on it before they'd left the warehouse. And Michael� he thought Michael looked breathtaking. The sight of the man he loved dressed in a pressed, snow-white shirt, black bow tie, loose jacket and soft trousers was producing reactions in the android body was he only just getting used to. "And what is your connection with the Foundation, young man?" She - the daughter of the second wife of one of the Foundation's benefactors - was the fourth woman in a row to refer to him as 'young man'. It had made him think about the first impression he was giving. He had barely considered it before tonight. They'd kept the android looking similar to the last model simply because it had been obvious that Michael had found it attractive, or at least not unattractive, he personally hadn't put any real thought into the physical profile. But now he was catching the glances of most of the women and half of the men in the room. Whiskey brown eyes like the sun through an empty beer bottle. Sandy blond hair like a beach at dusk. Gentle facial features, low cheekbones, inches shorter than his partner, and apparently around twenty-one years old. He would never age unless they physically changed the android itself. He loved to see the heat, love and desire in Michael eyes when he looked at him. He loved the way Michael touched him, with such incredible reverence. This - these people with their expensive clothes and jewellery more fake than them - was all a smokescreen for the Foundation's real business. Like their bodies, like their speech was all a smokescreen for the real communication that flowed effortlessly, continuously between him and his partner. Ignoring the woman's question, he swept the room with eyes that saw more than anyone could imagine and found Michael on the other side of the crowd. As a slow, mournful melody seeped into his consciousness from the band on the platform to the right of the bar, his gaze locked with that of his lover and the link flooded with enormous pride and a love so strong he rocked on his polished black heels. Tonight the music seems so loud I wish that we could lose this crowd He hated these functions, always had done, always would do. If there was one single thing that would convince him to break ties with the Foundation, the requirement to attend these formal functions was it. This was the last time, he'd sworn to Nick as he and Kitt had left the warehouse. But the chances were he'd be back at Christmas. They'd arrived together in the car but Devon had managed to separate them almost the moment they were through the front door. He'd wanted Michael to meet an old friend, someone he'd subsequently vanished with. Presumably they were holed up in Devon's office polishing off an expensive bottle of Scotch Whisky. Bonnie had come to Kitt's rescue, whisked off on her arm to meet some Lady or other. Kitt�. He just wanted to get his partner back to the warehouse, into their room, strip him naked and make love to him until the sun came up. Every day Michael looked at Kitt and thought he looked beautiful, the soft blue denim jeans and white shirt combo that was becoming his usual outfit. He didn't care about clothes. But tonight, in the tux, he looked startlingly sexy, and Michael hadn't ever expected to think that about another man. Not just another man. His partner. The bright soul that shone at the back of his mind. A wrinkled hand landed on his arm. "Michael! I didn't see the Knight Two-Thousand outside! How did I miss the little darling?" With an inward sigh Michael started to think up an excuse. Their car was outside, but it looked so different now he hardly recognised it himself. Sleeker lines, no door handles, permanently tinted windows, not quite Karr - something from a nightmare - but darker, barely leashed power ready to explode when it was needed. Stunningly beautiful and sexy as hell. Just like the man whose sparkling brown eyes were locked with his own across the room. Michael dropped the light block from the implant and the link shone with need and desire so strong he had to close his eyes for a moment to keep his balance. He stepped forward almost involuntarily. And then he was walking towards Kitt, and Kitt was walking towards him, and they met on the small area of dance floor where couples were moving together to the slow ballad, the soft voice of the female singer. Michael slipped one arm around Kitt's waist, taking his right hand in his own and lifting it to his neck. Kitt was a fast learner and he brought his other hand up too, linking his fingers at the nape of his lover's neck. Gently, Michael wrapped his arms around his partner and simply swayed them to the music he was barely hearing over the cacophony of emotions in his head. In their own little world. //I've never danced before// //I'll never dance with anyone else like this again// Kitt's forehead came to rest against the side of Michael's throat, and turning his head he pressed a kiss to the silky blond hair. //only ever you// It could have come from either of them. They stepped back from one another when the song finished. "Can we go home?" Kitt asked softly. "I want to get you out of this suit and in to me." Michael swallowed once and nodded. His suit was too tight anyway. |