Epilogue: The Tango
Author: AD
Rating: PG
Pairing: Webb/Mac
Category: R/H
Spoilers: Not really, but concurrent with Season 9
Disclaimer: Apologies to Paramount & Belisarius Productions for borrowing Clay and having my way with him. I definitely mussed the suit!
Summary: Webb & Mac Tango at Twilight.
Author's Note: I apologize to any and all who can actually dance the Tango. FUBAR tried this out with me as per Shadow's suggestion of a certain Tango song. We did our best, but you can be the judge.
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OCTOBER 25, 2003
ROBERT DUVALL'S FARM
THE PLAINS, VIRGINIA
Sarah glanced up at the stars and snuggled closer into Webb's embrace. Although suitable for ballroom dancing, her off-the shoulder black gown offered no protection from the chilly October breeze. "Clayton, I'm seriously freezing here. Couldn't Mr. Duvall afford to let us dance inside?"
Webb chuckled as he pressed Sarah closer. "I think he was going more for atmosphere than practicality. Just put your arms under my jacket and I'll try to maneuver us closer to one of the fireplaces."
Sticking her small purse into one of his coat pockets, she decided to take him up on his offer. "Well, this atmosphere stuff is going to turn me into a Popsicle if you don't do something�and soon." Edging her long arms under Webb's tuxedo jacket, Sarah placed her hands flat on his shoulder blades, hugging him to her breasts.
Slowing down his steps, Webb lifted the lapels of his jacket around her bare shoulders and rubbed her back. "Geez, Clay, you're like a furnace under here! Where'd you get all this lovely heat?" The words were out of her mouth before she could call them back. Forestalling the rakish gleam in his eye, Sarah shot him a deadly glare that advised him not to answer her question.
When he did eventually open his mouth to speak, her nails tensed warningly into the silk of his shirt, "Don't you even dare, spook!"
"Okay, I got your message---don't worry. Actually, the truth is gonna be harder to bear than any of my teasing." At her questioning glare, he elaborated, "It's a lot of work to dance with you, Sarah. Were you aware that every time I try to relax into the dance, you take over the lead?"
"I do?" That stopped her in her tracks.
"Yes, you do," Webb gave her a nudge to get her moving again. "I'm getting a real workout here just moving us through this simple Chalita. Do you think maybe you could ease up a little and let me lead?" His request wasn't unkind, but the strained smile on his face told her he wasn't kidding.
"Really, Clay, I'm sorry. I wasn't aware of how difficult I was making this for you." Sarah made a concerted effort to relax this time, but noticed that Webb was still straining to pull her in the correct direction.
"It's okay, Sarah. Why don't you just try to get your mind off the dance?" Webb massaged her shoulders a bit more and noticed that most of her problem was that she really was freezing half to death. Repositioning her hands so that she was hugging his middle, he draped his arms over her shoulders. Then he nudged the hair away from her ear so that it wouldn't tickle his nose. "OK, that's the best I can do for right now---tell me about the movie. What did you think of it?"
Sarah rubbed her forehead into the cove of his neck as she formulated an opinion of the mediocre film, "Let me see�a spook strutting through the Buenos Aires streets, speaking bad Spanish and striking up condescending conversations with everyone he meets�sound familiar to you?"
Webb leaned back, dislodging her cold nose from his neck, "Oh, please, Harm's not even here to defend himself!"
Rolling her eyes, Sarah turned her head to his other side, seeking the warmth below his left ear. "Clayton, I was not referring to Harm."
"Sounded like it to me, " he grumped. "Okay, focus on the music then, if your Spanish is so good. You can, uh, whisper the translations in my ear."
Sarah realized how close she actually was to purring in his ear and quickly raised her head. "You wish! What happened to your Spanish anyway? Your pronunciation has always been lousy, but I thought you knew the basics."
Breathing a sigh of relief at the narrow miss his nose had just taken, Clay took offense to the unintended criticism she'd just heaped on his language skills. "I still know the basics. I just couldn't concentrate well enough to understand it the last time I needed it."
"Uh-huh. Still have a hard time admitting you can't do something, don't you?" There was sympathy in her voice, but the words hit just a bit too close to home for Webb to tolerate.
"I can translate, Sarah." He executed a shallow dip, trying to get her to follow. The resulting wrench to his back nearly made him concede defeat.
Sarah wasn't even paying attention to the dance; she was too busy trying to prove a point. That point was going to result in a painful bruise to his chest if she continued poking him in that exact spot for much longer. "Prove it, Clayton. Next tango they play---you translate it."
Grabbing her finger and enfolding it within a gentle fist, Clay replaced her hand around his waist and waited for her to look up at him, "Okay, but not without some quid-pro-quo, Colonel."
"Name it." Her eyes glittered with excitement and he could tell that she was no longer feeling the chill in the air.
It was negotiation time and both of them were in their element. "All right Sarah: you have to relax and let me lead you in a real tango." The widening of her eyes was the only indication she gave of being uncertain; she wasn't sure she could let him lead, but she would never let him know that.
"I don't know; can you focus on the steps and translate at the same time, Agent Webb?" Webb's eyes narrowed as he tightened his hold on her and deftly guided her towards one of the long couches.
"Yes," he ground out. She had made a direct hit. Thus, the bargain was made.
As the last notes of the Chalita faded away, Webb came to a halt and slowly released her from his embrace. In return, Sarah reluctantly pulled her arms away from the warm comfort of his body heat. Looking at his determined expression, she decided that at least he was in the right frame of mind for a tango.
Deliberately walking away from her, Webb removed his tuxedo jacket and laid it over the arm of the couch. Pulling his black tie loose, he draped it over the jacket and removed the first three studs from his shirt. Sarah watched, mesmerized, as he approached her. Hearing the opening strains of `Por Una Cabeza' being played by the orchestra, Webb shot her a salacious smile.
Sarah's throat was dry as she spoke, "That's the song they played on that Schwarzenegger film, `True Lies.'" Webb pulled her unresisting body flush against his own and positioned her left hand behind his head.
"Never saw it." He felt her fingers clench in his hair and dragged the edge of his nose from her forehead to the side of her neck as he took in a deep breath. "But I remember it from `Scent of a Woman'."
Dragging in her own deep breath, Sarah couldn't believe how exciting it felt to be held in such a manner by Clayton. He was remote, but intense, staring into her eyes and guiding her by force of will.
When he abruptly tuned his body and repositioned her hip, she instinctively clutched at his shoulder and followed his lead, never breaking eye contact. His touch was commanding and exciting, his eyes speaking volumes. The hand on her hip burned through the fabric of her dress, causing her hips to sway in an exaggerated manner as they made their way across the floor.
She was drowning in the depths of those green eyes when she noticed the beauty of the music. Clutching his head more securely, she licked her upper lip and dared him with a glance. He ignored her warning and pushed her back, his spine erect, using his left hand to turn her. Then he brought her abruptly back to his chest. His eyes bore into her own with deep passion. She breathed in his fresh scent and closed her eyes.
"Sarah." She automatically answered his call, once again gazing into deep green eyes. "This is `Por Una Cabeza'�to lose just by a head. " Sarah focused on his deep voice as he told the story of a noble thoroughbred who, in the final lap of a race, comes faltering down the stretch, losing the fortune of his master. "And do you know what the chorus says, Sarah?" Clayton urgently whispered.
Sarah shook her head, hanging onto his every word as the violins hit a crescendo and Webb tipped her backward. Grasping his shoulders, her head fell back as she instinctively wrapped a long, stocking-covered leg around his lean hip. His evening beard scraped down her neck and cleavage as he slowly leaned back and whipped them around, never missing a beat.
Only slightly out of breath, he murmured, "The chorus goes, Por una cabeza... All of the craziness... Her mouth with her kisses erases the sadness, calms down the bitterness. Por una cabeza... If she ever forgets me, what matters losing my life�a thousand times, to me, in order to live?"
Sarah lost track of time as her body responded to the mastery of Clay's, the whisper of his voice caressing her soul as they covered the ballroom floor. She felt like floating liquid as she brushed up against the heat of his body only to move away again as he guided her through the intricacies of the dance. Wanting only to maintain her hold on his body, she was totally unprepared when the music finally came to a gentle end.
The last strains of the violins could still be heard when Webb raised her hand to his lips, and bowed to her. The loss those tempestuous eyes boring into her own nearly unbalanced her. Gamely executing her own deep curtsy, Sarah welcomed the return of his strong arms as he hugged her close, congratulating her on a fantastic tango.
As they both tried to regain their breath, several people came up to compliment them on their passionate tango. Sarah lost sight of Webb as she was inundated with offers from potential dance partners. Flushed and feeling somewhat empty, she declined all of the good-natured offers. Looking all around the crowded dance floor, Sarah felt abandoned.
"Hey, how about some water?" Sarah turned around to find her tango partner slightly flushed from their dance and bearing good old Perrier.
Grabbing the small green bottle, Sarah quickly downed half of it, ignoring the glass Webb had brought along. Wiping the back of her hand against her mouth, she caught Clay laughing at her.
"What?" She couldn't help but grin in response.
"You are fantastic, Sarah MacKenzie. Absolutely fantastic. The tango really is your dance, you know. You're a natural." Webb's dimples weren't hiding tonight. He was obviously happy and basking in the afterglow of their dance.
"Yeah, well, you're not so bad yourself spook." Sarah held out her hand and he accepted it. He gamely went along when she began to drag him toward the buffet table. Now that she'd come down off the high of their dance, she was famished. "By the way, where'd you learn to tango like that?"
Grabbing his jacket and tie off of the couch as they passed by, his answer was simple and to the point: "My mother."
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