Dancing Through The Stars - Dancing With Death - Gallagher - American Smooth
Author Notes: Writing Gallagher was honest to goodness was weird. He was both really easy to write and simultaneously really difficult. I gave it my best though, and it ended up way longer than I'd initially intended. As a real quick blurb about the dance based on my research: the American Smooth incorporates steps from the waltz, the Viennese waltz, and the foxtrot. It was highly influenced by Fred Astaire and Arthur Murray. The performance in this chapter was largely inspired by Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers “Night and Day” dance from the film “The Gay Divorcee.” I wrote this chapter while listening to the song “SimpsonWave1995” by FrankJavCee. Conversely, I edited it while listening to the song “Silver Spring” by Fleetwood Mac. Just like the rest of this series, reader is female. I hope you enjoy!
If you would like to read more of this series, the fics can be found here: Dancing Through The Stars Master-List.
Type: Female reader/ sfw/ pining/ angst with slight comfort
Word Count: 1985
In hindsight, you figured that you had to be some kind of fool for letting yourself get attached to Gallagher of all people. After all, everyone in Penacony knew that man eternally lived his life on the edge of a lie.
Or perhaps it would be better to describe him as an amalgamation of tiny truths woven together to form one gigantic, almost flawless lie.
And you’d fallen for that lie.
You inhaled as the jukebox in the background noisily loaded the next tune. Uncaring of the tension that spread out and filled the space between where you stood and where Gallagher remained. Staring at you with at least a small amount of remorse in his gaze. Though that hardly redeemed him or lessened the emotional sting you felt.
You met his gaze though, pressing your lips together into a too tight smile, “So, how much of it has been a lie?”
He shifted, adjusting his glove in an almost awkward fashion as he let out a sigh and glanced down before finally speaking. And his voice came out low, “Most of it…?”
His tone lifted at the end, almost as if he was asking you if what he was saying was true, and you almost scoffed. Crossing your arms and summarizing the intent behind his uncertain words, “So not all of it.”
His gaze drifted back up and those orange eyes of his that had always reminded you of dying embers in steadily cooling ashes locked with yours in a manner that was far too steady for a man as treacherous as he was, “No. Not all of it.”
You hated the way your breath caught at his words. Hitching treacherously even as your hands curled into determined fists. And at some point the jukebox had selected a new tune. One that was stupidly romantic and whose lyrics were all but begging for a second chance. Almost as if the world itself were mocking this entire scene. And a small part of you couldn’t blame it if that were the case.
You swallowed thickly, stubbornly dipping your head to sever eye contact with him as you took off. Making for the door in a split second decision only to find yourself stumbling to a halt as he stepped in front of you. Deftly blocking your and holding up his hands in a faux surrender. You knew the actual intention was that he would’ve been ready to catch you by your shoulders had you not gotten stopped in time, though.
You still looked up at him in disbelief as your words failed you even as your mouth opened slightly. Wanting to say something but failing all the same.
And, in response, he only offered a lift of his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug as a smile that danced on the edge of being apologetic played about his lips.
You held his gaze for a moment before pressing your lips together and twisting. Angling your shoulders and stepping on around him.
But before you could make it hardly any ways at all he’d reappeared back in front of you. Leaning back into view with his wide shoulders and causing you to stop with a slight huff. Barely shooting him a look before you turned on your heel and went the opposite direction. Heading for the side door instead without pausing for even a second.
This time you could hear him behind you and you sped up. Refusing to look back at him and instead marching on the door only to get blocked last second again as you practically stumbled to a halt.
This time his arms were spread so that his hands were held out as if to catch you should you try to shove past him. And you were half-tempted to do just that. Your hand even lifted to hit him in the chest, but as much as it might make you feel better you also knew it wouldn’t do any good.
Largely fictional backstory or no, he was still a security guard with the scars and skills to match. There wouldn’t be any just pushing past him if he didn’t want you to leave.
Your eyes snapped back up to his for a fraction of second and he tilted his head in some form of silent request. But you didn’t linger long enough to interpret his expression before you’d turned again. Hurrying back across the room as if that could change anything. Because you already knew what would happen.
Or at least you thought you had.
Because rather than Gallagher blocking you with his body again, you felt a warm hand curl around your wrist as he pulled you to an easy stop. Firm enough to actually stop you, but gentle enough that it promised that if you fought, you would go free.
And against your better judgment, you looked back at him this time. Fully intending to snap and ask what was wrong with him.
But you didn’t. Instead you watched him as he looked up from under his long bangs without his gaze wavering for even a second. And in some impossible way his words still seemed to echo around the room even despite how long it had been since he’d said them.
“Not all of it.”
You pressed your lips together, fighting against your own emotions until a wavery smile finally made it to the surface, “You really are unfair.”
He straightened, a weary looking smile appearing on his face, “And you really are too much trouble.”
You let out a soft but bitter laugh as you shook your head and pulled your hand back toward you. Not fully breaking his grip but still reestablishing your position in this conversation, “Haven’t we done this enough times, Gallagher? This same song and dance?”
He was silent for a moment, not denying your words for even a moment before he shifted. His hand sliding down to your hand as his grip tightened like some sort of promise. Or maybe it was an omen.
And the smile that he wore somehow coalesced everything that had haunted you since the day you'd met him into one thing.
“What’s one more time then?”
He gave your hand a light tug as he spoke and you turned to face him fully. Almost hating the way you slipped right into his hold as if it were exactly where you were meant to be. As if nothing you did could ever change this.
And it was almost instinctive to let your free hand rest against his shoulder as one of his hands pressed against your back while the other remained curled around yours.
He walked backward, his motions somehow melding with the low music as his gaze stayed locked with yours. And again, you distantly wondered if you were some sort of fool for being drawn back into his orbit. Because nothing could come of this but heartbreak. Or at least that was the only foreseeable ending. But here you were. And the worst part was that you weren’t sure if there was anywhere else you’d rather be.
His hand left your back and you spun out, leaning back before he twirled you lightly, and then you were back in his embrace.
And it was almost laughable. To think that a man with perpetually wrinkled clothes, an askew tie, and who spent his free time at bars could dance this gracefully.
But then, if he were a fictional entity, then you supposed that he could truly be anything he wanted or needed. Even a good dancer.
Your motions sped up as you spun a couple of rotations together until you gradually slowed. Leaning to the side dramatically as you let out a slight laugh despite yourself. And the mere sound of it had his lips twitching up slightly as he rocked you to the side for a fraction a second before he was pulling you back toward him.
But this time you resisted, spinning across the floor until you were only connected by your interlocked hands. And for a second the two of you just looked toward each other. Something unspoken flickering there.
Perhaps it was an apology, and perhaps it was simply the recognition that things could never just exist peacefully for you. Because even if Penacony was a land of dreams, this was one dream that could never be. Not with it not being a part of his story.
You exhaled softly in something akin to a sigh before you twirled toward him. Stopping just short of re-entering a closed hold with him. But even then, you could feel the warmth of his arm wrapped around you..
He walked forward, looking your way with the slightest tilt to his head. Almost as if he was waiting for you to say something even as you held his stare in silence. Not sure what to say as you matched his steps. Swaying across the floor with him as you inclined your head slightly.
He hummed and you spun out once more, parting from him before he spun toward you. His arm lifted along with the hand that held yours. Causing you to twirl as he spun around you until you found yourself facing him once more.
And the two of you continued that way. Dancing to the music of the jukebox as an infinite number of feelings and thoughts drifted between both of you without a single word being said as you parted. But then, you would inevitably join back together to continue in your dance. Sometimes fast, and sometimes slow. Almost as if the two of you couldn’t decide if you wanted to rush through the rest of your time together or to prolong it.
Until finally, you found yourself spinning back toward him. His hand catching yours as your gaze caught on his once more and you finally spoke. Your voice coming out softly, as if you were afraid your words would shatter this strange moment you found yourself trapped in with him, “You said that most of it was a lie, but not all of it.”
You paused, swallowing slightly as your grip on his hand tightened and you pressed forward. Determined even despite the mixed feelings that still filled you, “So how much of it was real?”
He sighed, a tired sound that perfectly matched his indolent appearance and personality. But his eyes held yours, perfectly pointed and unwavering as always. A part of him that had never truly fit the lies he wove around himself.
The part of him that left you hoping, perhaps foolishly, that he would be honest with you.
Your motions slowed as the two of you swayed lightly and he spoke in a quiet tone, “I’ve always followed my script, but all of my actions are not scripted.”
His hand left your back and reached up to curl over where yours rested on his shoulder, slowly pulling it over and until it rested flattened against his chest as he spoke, “This right here…”
You inhaled at the steady pulse of his heartbeat under your hand as his eyes never left yours, just as steady as the constant beat of his heart, “This has always been real.”
You pressed your lips together, fighting against the wetness that pricked at your eyes before you leaned your head forward. Resting it lightly against his shoulder, and after a brief moment he let out a sigh and tilted his head so that you could feel the gentle pressure of his chin against your head.
But at the very least you knew now, for better or worse, not all of it had been a lie. And some of it had always real and just as steady as you’d always hoped it had been.
So even if you were a fool and had found yourself essentially dancing with death, you didn’t really care. Because it was real.
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