Everything becomes light and giddy, and Allison can't remember the last time it felt good to be acting foolish, but to find herself perfectly in-step with someone. But everything slides into places, effortlessly like matching tumblers and locks, and whenever one of them switches something up, the other follows almost effortlessly. Allison can't look away from the laughter in Luther's eyes and the sudden dash of light, that is Luther getting an idea, that suddenly sends her up through the air.
Anyone else, anywhere else, and her first instinct would be to punch someone either before or during rumoring them, but she only laughs as the air and velocity of the spin sends her tumble of skirts spinning out around them, the way it tugs at her hair. But she's settled firmly against his chest, cradled with arms under her legs and one across her back, hand at her side, and never once in her life has she ever been afraid of Luther's strength or that he might drop her.
There's only laughter, light, and speed in it, bubbling up in her blood everywhere when he's setting her back on her feet, and she can't stop smiling enough even to catch her breath and breathe in because he's right there above her. Blue eyes burning electric bright, drilling down into her own, into her very center, and this is what's been missing from every breath in the last million month. These eyes. So close, and so bright, and so blue in the way she rarely gets to see when he always has his mask on for interviews.
This is the way it's supposed to be. The only way it was.
(Take off the mask when you talk to me.)
Her heart is going too fast, and the lights are caught up in his hair and the curve of his mouth, and there's that impulse to lean closer, starting to press into her toes, and she doesn't know if she's going to laugh or tease him or ki-- right as Luther jolts suddenly. Still.
Then, backward. And Allison swallows it like an unexpected blow, a sudden stupidity for her thoughts a second earlier, for letting herself get swept up. Because he's bowing and she's looking at the crowd, and if she faltered, just for a second there, she strong-arms her smiles back into place, and extends a hand like a declaration of showing him off to everyone.
no subject
Anyone else, anywhere else, and her first instinct would be to punch someone either before or during rumoring them, but she only laughs as the air and velocity of the spin sends her tumble of skirts spinning out around them, the way it tugs at her hair. But she's settled firmly against his chest, cradled with arms under her legs and one across her back, hand at her side, and never once in her life has she ever been afraid of Luther's strength or that he might drop her.
There's only laughter, light, and speed in it, bubbling up in her blood everywhere when he's setting her back on her feet, and she can't stop smiling enough even to catch her breath and breathe in because he's right there above her. Blue eyes burning electric bright, drilling down into her own, into her very center, and this is what's been missing from every breath in the last million month. These eyes. So close, and so bright, and so blue in the way she rarely gets to see when he always has his mask on for interviews.
This is the way it's supposed to be. The only way it was.
Her heart is going too fast, and the lights are caught up in his hair and the curve of his mouth, and there's that impulse to lean closer, starting to press into her toes, and she doesn't know if she's going to laugh or tease him or ki-- right as Luther jolts suddenly. Still.
Then, backward. And Allison swallows it like an unexpected blow, a sudden stupidity for her thoughts a second earlier, for letting herself get swept up. Because he's bowing and she's looking at the crowd, and if she faltered, just for a second there, she strong-arms her smiles back into place, and extends a hand like a declaration of showing him off to everyone.