Duv and Delia dancing
Dec. 14th, 2012 10:49 amOkay, I've decided that how I'm doing this is to post songfic meme responses as I get to them, and take particular songs out of circulation as they're requested, so I don't have to do them more than once. (Which means that as of the moment #s 1, 3, 5, 9-10, and 12-15 are still available.)
So, this is for![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
philomytha: Duv/Delia, dancing, #6, which was Simon and Garfunkel, El Condor Pasa.
*
Duv was getting better at dancing, Delia thought as she let him lead her into a twirl in time with the lovely, familiar music. Even given that there'd been a lot of balls recently, in the lead-up to the Imperial Wedding, she was inclined to think he'd been practicing. Smiling inwardly at the notion of him gliding around his office with an invisible partner, or reviewing footwork in the cabin of a fast cruiser between Komarr and Barrayar, she shifted closer and let him steal a quick kiss without breaking rhythm.
They'd booked a long run of dances together -- the privilege of engaged couples -- so when the music ended she stayed inside his embrace, and caught the expression on his face as a lone string player strummed out a slow beginning to the next tune.
"What is it?" she said, and then the music began in earnest and he was guiding her into it, with even more confidence than before, but a distant look in his eye.
"I'd rather be a hammer than a nail," he said, not singing, but in time with the beat. He questioned her with an eyebrow; she shook her head.
"The tune's familiar, but I didn't know any words went with it."
"It's an Escobaran song, originally. But we sang it on Komarr. I'm just… intrigued, to hear it here."
Which meant it held some significance, probably protest-related, that Delia wasn't about to inquire into under these circumstances. Because that would make Duv trip over her feet.
"Well," she said, executing a perfect rond du jambe and moving in close again, "I'd rather be a socket wrench. Or possibly a smoothing plane."
Duv grinned. "Why does it not surprise me that you can come up with those examples on the spot? How about a plain old screwdriver?"
"I'd rather be a screwdriver than a screw," Delia mused, and then, lowering her chin and fluttering her eyelashes, "Unless it was a really good screw."
Oh, it was delightful to make him flush like that. She gave him a few seconds' fantasy, and then added, "But you'd rather be a screw too, love. Or a nail, even."
"And why's that?" said Duv.
"Holding things together," she answered, and he swung her around and the ballroom and the world revolved about them.
So, this is for
philomytha: Duv/Delia, dancing, #6, which was Simon and Garfunkel, El Condor Pasa.*
Duv was getting better at dancing, Delia thought as she let him lead her into a twirl in time with the lovely, familiar music. Even given that there'd been a lot of balls recently, in the lead-up to the Imperial Wedding, she was inclined to think he'd been practicing. Smiling inwardly at the notion of him gliding around his office with an invisible partner, or reviewing footwork in the cabin of a fast cruiser between Komarr and Barrayar, she shifted closer and let him steal a quick kiss without breaking rhythm.
They'd booked a long run of dances together -- the privilege of engaged couples -- so when the music ended she stayed inside his embrace, and caught the expression on his face as a lone string player strummed out a slow beginning to the next tune.
"What is it?" she said, and then the music began in earnest and he was guiding her into it, with even more confidence than before, but a distant look in his eye.
"I'd rather be a hammer than a nail," he said, not singing, but in time with the beat. He questioned her with an eyebrow; she shook her head.
"The tune's familiar, but I didn't know any words went with it."
"It's an Escobaran song, originally. But we sang it on Komarr. I'm just… intrigued, to hear it here."
Which meant it held some significance, probably protest-related, that Delia wasn't about to inquire into under these circumstances. Because that would make Duv trip over her feet.
"Well," she said, executing a perfect rond du jambe and moving in close again, "I'd rather be a socket wrench. Or possibly a smoothing plane."
Duv grinned. "Why does it not surprise me that you can come up with those examples on the spot? How about a plain old screwdriver?"
"I'd rather be a screwdriver than a screw," Delia mused, and then, lowering her chin and fluttering her eyelashes, "Unless it was a really good screw."
Oh, it was delightful to make him flush like that. She gave him a few seconds' fantasy, and then added, "But you'd rather be a screw too, love. Or a nail, even."
"And why's that?" said Duv.
"Holding things together," she answered, and he swung her around and the ballroom and the world revolved about them.
