Title: Dancing
Author: ficklemuse
Fandom: Lost
Characters: Shannon/Sayid
Word Count: 1,038
Rating: PG
Author's Note: This story is a tiny little offshoot of my bigger Sawyer/Boone series. It's totally not necessary to have read any of the other stories first, but if you wanna read them – that'd be nifty too!

Previous Parts in Order:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
Part Fourteen

Interlude

Shannon would never say it out loud, but the truth was she didn't mind taking a shift in the hatch every now and then. It was nice to be in out of the heat and off the beach. It was also nice to be able to take a shower (or three) and sit in a real chair again.

But the best part, aside from no sand fleas, was the stereo. A stereo and enough room on a solid floor for Shannon to dance.

The truth was, Shannon hadn't actually danced in a real studio in over a year. That part of her life was pretty much demolished when Sabrina screwed her over for her father's money. But Shannon found that she didn't need wood floors, a bar, and mirrors to dance. In truth she didn't even need the music. Just a little space and the chance to get into her own head.

She spent the first twenty minutes of her shift flipping through the record collection. Nothing classical, but then she wasn't really in the mood for classical.

One record cover caught her eye and Shannon found herself smiling around the lump in her throat. When she was a little girl her father used to dance with her standing on his feet like most fathers and daughters. There were few people in the world whoever got to see Adam Rutherford's silly side. If his business associates had seen him dancing in his socks to Motown with his gangly 8 year old daughter in his arms or over his back she doubted anyone would have been afraid of him. Ever.

Smiling through the tears, Shannon reverently pulled the album from its cover and placed it on the turn table. It took her fingers a few tries before they remembered how to operate a record player. Then the music came on. Shannon turned it up. Then turned it up again.

Then she started to dance.

Not in first position. Not in any acceptable form.

She was dancing just for the joy of it. For the fun of it. Her hips swung and she spun quickly making it all up as she went along.

Making her way around the living room area of the apartment, Shannon quickly pulled all the furniture off to the side so it wouldn't get in her way.

When even dancing wasn't enough, Shannon began to sing along with the record. It didn't matter that her voice was as rusty as her dancing. It was exciting and beautiful and she didn't ever want to stop. Not with the music pulsing in her veins and the beat taking up a place in her chest giving her heart a good kick start.

She spun around and around and around and when she finally had to stop or fall down she saw him.

Sayid.

Sayid in the doorway with his backpack slung over his shoulder and an enigmatic smile on his face.

"Uh- Hi." Embarrassed, Shannon came to an abrupt stop. "I was just…"

Sayid didn't say anything. He just nodded and set down his backpack. Nodding he crossed the room and held out his hand to Shannon. "Would you honor me with a dance?"

Shannon blinked. "Wha-?"

"I cannot compare to you of course, but I am more than willing to let you lead." Sayid coaxed.

Shannon laid her hand in Sayid's and felt his warm fingers close around hers. Shannon was smiling so hugely that her face hurt and she probably looked ridiculous but she didn't care even a little bit as Sayid pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers.

After a few jerky starts and stops, they fell into step and Shannon found out that Sayid had lied to her. A white lie. He had no problem keeping up with her. He would never take the stage as a ballerina, but he was fluid and graceful and focused just like he was in everything he did.



Bernadette, they want you because of the pride that gives,
But Bernadette, I want you because I need you to live.
But while I live only to hold you,
Some other men, they long to control you.
But how can they control you Bernadette,
when they can not control themselves, Bernadette,
from wanting you, needing you,
But darling you belong to me.
I'll tell the world you belong to me,
I'll tell the world, you're the soul of me,
I'll tell the world you're a part of me.



By the time the song was finished Shannon was flushed and giddy. She flung her arms around Sayid's neck and kissed him deeply. "Oh God. Thank you. Thank you."

Sayid chuckled. "Surely you've had more skilled dance partners."

Shannon ducked her head, her hair covering her face. "I haven't danced with anyone I loved since I was eight." She admitted quietly. But instead of the usual panic she would normally feel, all she felt was a deep sense of calm.

Sayid's fingers curved around Shannon's jaw and lifted her gaze to meet his. "Then I am truly honored." He leaned in and kissed her passionately. "I have never danced with a woman I loved until this moment. I look forward to dancing with you often."

His words were thick and sweet like honey and sent little shivers up Shannon's spine.

"But – now I have some pressing business to tend to." Sayid said with a rueful shake of his head.

"What?" Shannon turned bright red as Sayid's hand on her back guided her lower half to press close against him. "Oh."

"One of the dubious advantages of having access to a shower; one can take cold showers."

Shannon bit her lip. "Sorry?"

Sayid ran his thumb over Shannon's lower lip, forcing her to release it before kissing the indentations her teeth made. "Don't be. I promised you we would take things slowly. I meant it. One dance with you is worth one million cold showers." He said lightly with a parting kiss.

Alone in the living room again, Shannon set about putting everything back to normal. And if she sang a chorus or two and maybe danced a few steps while she worked, well that was nobody's business but hers.