Disclaimer: I do not own Tin Man or its characters and receive no profit from this story.
A/N: Though I tend to write more on the serious side of fluff, I wouldn't look for anything complex in this. Just an idea I had that wanted to be written. I hope you enjoy! And for anyone who spots the Firefly reference (without cheating by reading the other reviews), there might be a prize. :-)
This ball was stuffy, and not in the sense that it was humid. Unfortunately, DG, as a princess of the O.Z., was expected to attend. There were, however, a few reasons to enjoy herself, not least of which was the splendid view of one particular Tin Man's dress uniform-clad behind. DG figured someone up top in the uniform design department must have been a woman, because only a woman would realize just how fantastic a Tin Man's butt would look in a white dress uniform. Hard to clean, probably.
Dirty? Most definitely.
Then there was the top half. Tailored to accent already masculine shoulders. A column of brass buttons down the middle, laid over a strip of red fabric.
And here he came, Captain Tightpants himself:
Wyatt Cain, hunk extraordinaire.
"Howdy, princess." He grinned, and DG thought she felt her stomach melt. That might make digestion a bit difficult later, but she'd deal.
"Hi," she said, rather lamely. God, what was wrong with her? She was acting like a schoolgirl.
"Nice party," Cain quipped.
DG laughed. "Are they all like this?"
He snorted softly. "I think so. Unfortunately."
Well, not completely unfortunately. "Ah, well."
Suddenly, Cain swept into a mock-serious bow. "Would you care for a dance, Your Majesty?"
Her heart was pounding, but she managed to smirk. "If you promise never to do that again."
He chuckled. "Done."
DG took hold of Cain's well-muscled arm, and they moved onto the dance floor. Settling one hand gently at her waist and the other in hers, he led her into a waltz.
The longer they danced, the closer they seemed to migrate, and soon, she was pressed tight against him and his arm was wrapped all the way around her. At the end of the dance, he dipped her low, his face close to hers, and when he swung her back to her feet, they were closer, if that was possible, than they had been. He didn't seem to know what he was doing to her.
Or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing. He stared at her, as flushed as she felt. "You look lovely tonight, DG," he breathed.
He was so close she could feel his body heat through her dress—silk had never seemed so thin.
"You don't look so bad, yourself, Mister Cain," she murmured in reply.
Cain's eyes flared dark. DG flicked her gaze to his mouth. So close. All she had to do was lean forward an inch or two.
Judging by the direction his eyes had gone, he had the same idea.
She could feel the hardened muscles of his chest heaving against her silk-clad breasts with his heavy breathing, and she wondered how he would feel against her bare skin. Damn it, DG. Think princess thoughts.
But then he was leaning in, and she could feel his warm breath against her lips, and his body was pressed so tightly against her, and…
Pop. Pop-pop-pop. Pop.
What the hell?
DG looked down, only to find that the buttons from the front of his uniform were now... on the floor! Twisted off at the threads by a Freudian slip of a magical spell!
Oh, God. DG could think of several ways to kill herself, right now.
Then Cain kissed her anyway, and DG decided it might be worth living after all.
fini
A/N: Okay, so this probably isn't my most literary work, but I couldn't resist. ;-) I will respond to every review, praise and constructive criticism alike. Thanks for reading!