Hehe, don't worry about it, LLK! I love reading your stories, and I know everyone else does. Besides, I'm a feature-whore, I think. Hehe. Just to be annoying, though, isn't it like, week 72 or 73?

TQ: Which part of your body do you most use when you write? Yes, I'm serious. Use 500 words or more to explain. Enjoy!

Okay. Already, officially, my favourite TQ ever. I'd say, facetiously, my fingers, but I would probably lie, because my fingers are really just an extension of my brain. Directly. Or of the neurotransmitters that absorb caffeine. Can caffeine count as a part of my body? It may as well be, really. I'm like 65% water, 20% caffine and 15% everything else.

On a good day.

But seriously? Um. I think it depends on what I want to get across, and how invested I am in the piece. For the first chapter of Dance, I can easily say that I used my ears and the rest of my body for it. It was, for me, a very sense-related piece, and I almost needed the music there while I wrote it.

It definitely helped, at least.

On the other hand, I have a whole lot of stories that I just sort of ended up with. You know? LIke, I started writing and just ended up with a few thousand words, and I would imagine that they tend to come from the more cynical part of my brain.

If I'm writing something more angsty, or (for lack of a better word) lyrical, there tends to be more emotion in it. I have a lot more invested in those pieces, which makes all the sense in the world. Even if it's something I've never experienced, though, the feeling that I get (or create) while I'm writing it will stick with me for ages. (In an I think some of my teachers think I'm depressed kind of way). Which I suppose would probably be my... torso? Sort of that tension that you get when you're nervous.

And I'm lucky in that I tend to be able to summon that up whenever. I just can't get it gone afterwards. Sometimes, anyway. Hehe.

LLK, I love you! This is really hard to put into words!

As far as the hear-versus-brain thing, though, I couldn't say. Very, very few of my stories originate as purely intellectual ideas (most of those are Bones stories, too, because my "intellectual" questioning tends towards science).

At the same time, I don't think that I ever really write only from the heart, because if I did, I probably wouldn't publish anything because it would all (most likely) be a sort of projection.

There's also the "flow" thing. I tend to write... impulsively? As in, I'll start with an idea (or Challenge criteria, or some such), and if it goes, it just goes. From brain to screen without much conscious thought at all.

If I'm trying out a new style, there tends to be much more conscious thought processes involved (like the last Challenge with my 100-word sections; that took actual concentration and word choice, or the Challenge before that in which I used flashbacks and POV changes like I never had before).

But I do feel what I'm writing. Everywhere. Which may not really answer the question directly, but it's the only thing I can say definitively.



...that looks like more than 500 words...

Yes it is. I'll fix it!

Critique: (I'll only be able to do the first chapter now, but I'll do the second chapter next month (or sooner, depending on how quickly I recover from surgery))

Eh, I have to admit, I don't very much like fics about characters going to dance clubs. In my opinion, it either is really good, or really awkward. (Don't know if this would influence my opinion, but I'm listening to Journey and April Wine. Yay, '80s music!)


I had to read it a couple of times to make sure that you hadn't left out a word in the first part. False alarm. (unless it wasn't intended)



I adore this paragraph. While listening to Roller by April Wine, I had the funniest image in my head of Danny dancing. I must admit, I laughed for the rest of the song.



I really shouldn't be reading this after watching Step Up. I swear, I can't get the spastic hip-hop dancing out of my mind, and the fact that Danny's dancing "with such an animalistic energy"... I'm sorry, I swear I'll only post when I find something wrong from now on.



I lied, because I love this paragraph. I love it so much that I'd propose, marry it, write a song about it, then give birth to its babies. I sense sex coming up.



The 'and' in the beginning gives me a fairy tale-ish vibe. Don't get me wrong, it's fine and I'm just looking for something to be nit picky about. Maybe it's the Taylor Swift music.



Again, nit picky, but take out the 'and', put the 'but' there, capitalize 'then', spank it, and call it Shirley.


Wonderful way to end it, I think. =] However *is shot* maybe you can take out the 'and'? *is shot again*

Final verdict: One of the few, rare, good dance club fics I've read - and I've read a lot. Good job! 8D

==========

TQ: Which part of your body do you most use when you write? Yes, I'm serious. Use 500 words or more to explain. Enjoy!

My head. I listen to music when I'm writing and when I'm really into what I'm writing, I'm really into what I'm listening to. Because I have a tendency to bob my head and sing aloud (and really loud). In addition to that, when I'm writing dialogue, I say it out loud to make sure that it sounds normal and not mechanical. I also have to make sure that it's something the character would say, such as "I hate you" would not be something that Hannibal Lecter would ever say, it'd be something that Will Graham is more likely to say.

I don't usually use any other part of my body (besides my fingers, obviously), but when I'm writing something I'm extremely proud of, I start stretching my arms and legs. It keeps me in reality, so that things won't turn out to be extremely AU when I want them to be in canon-verse and I'll still be extremely proud of the way it turns out.

(oh my God, I hate you, I can't put this into words when it makes so much sense in my head!)

If I'm writing something really emotional, I start to over exaggerate the actions in real life I'm writing about. I try on different expressions and see which one fits what they're saying the most. Like if Molly (oh God, I just love the Red Dragon fandom right now) is telling Will that she's leaving him, it's with a pained expression and a small voice, not an angry face and a loud voice.

But most of the [s]crap[/s] fics I write just happen. I just write what comes out of my head/heart, look over it, decide if it's decent, and then send it off to the beta. I never plan fics, so whatever comes out is raw material that I haven't spent any time planning. Sometimes it works out, other times not so much.

This is as close to 500 words as I can get. :B A for effort, right?

I promise I will critique this... It may take a little while, but I promise I'll get it done.

Spank it, and call it Shirley? PLR - I don't know what drugs you're on right now, but I want some of that! Your review made me laugh so hard Thanks for cheering me up, even without intending to! Hope you're recovering OK from surgery.

Anyway, to the matter in hand.

TQ: Which part of your body do you most use when you write? Yes, I'm serious. Use 500 words or more to explain. Enjoy!

Three things occur to me right away: head, heart and hands. And it occurs to me that they usually go on and on in a kind of never-ending circle.

First of all, naturally I use my head – as in brain, mind, and imagination. To begin with, I obviously need to have some kind of an idea for a fic, and then use whatever thought processes I can muster to work on that idea, developing it and augmenting it. There are so many aspects to a story that need thinking about: the characters (as in who’s actually going to appear in the fic, either “real” characters or OCs), the characterisation, the scene, the setting, the flow of the story, the ideas I want to convey in the story, and – probably the bit I find most difficult – the working out of any crime aspect that I’m including. All of these need working in to the story, and it takes some really hard thought sometimes to make it work, to make it all flow together to one cohesive whole, into a fic that makes sense.

Sometimes that’s easier when I’m writing a single chapter fic than when I’m writing a multi-chapter fic, but not always – it still all has to be worked out carefully whatever the fic.

Also, using my head, I often find myself sitting at my desk with my eyes closed thinking my way through a scene, picturing it in my mind, working out how it all works out, trying to see the expressions on people’s faces, the scene around them, everything that’s going on, etc, again, to make sure it all flows and works out properly, and works as I want it to.

Which leads on to the heart, in a possibly weird kind of way. As well as trying to see the scene, I often find myself trying to feel the scene too, which can often be a really difficult thing to do. I try to feel whatever emotions the characters might be feeling, which is sometimes not that hard, but then the difficult bit is trying to convey those feeling in writing, trying to actually express emotions and feelings, to actually put them into words that convey the meaning I want.

Which leads on to my hands. Obviously, in the case of fanfic, the story’s no use to anyone till it’s written down! I love being able to type, and to type really fast, because that way my writing can usually keep up with my brain, so I can get things written down before I forget them. Many years ago I also developed my own way of typing in shorthand, which is completely incomprehensible to anyone but me, but is great when I have a surge of inspiration – I can get it all written down quickly before the thoughts or words disappear into the great abyss of forgetfulness!

I said at the outset that this head-heart-hands thing goes around and around in a never-ending circle, so I’d better explain that. Even when I’ve got everything written down, I’ll usually re-read it over and over, and I find myself sitting there again, eyes closed, thinking my way through the scene all over again, feeling my way through the scene, and often re-writing it because it wasn’t quite right first time, or another thought occurs, or I find better ways of expressing it.

And I forgot one thing - I always have music playing, any music, quietly in the background when I'm writing. I'm not necessarily listening to it, rather letting it just permeate my subconscious; it's just there as I'm writing. Maybe it inspires, maybe not; either way, it's there, and I like it.


Critique: Dance, by Giorgia

Sorry, this is sooooo late! Been working in the office for four days and working away for two, so... sorry! But at least I got to it eventually, which has to count for something!

OK, Giorgia, you know how much I hate slash, but also how much I love your Danny-Martin stories! It’s the only slash I’ll read, and only because you write it so well. And this one was no exception.
I loved your opening paragraph:



It was kind of an “eeeeuuuwww!” moment! It just gave the atmosphere a brilliant air of smut and sleaziness that at the same time felt both not the sort of place the two would usually frequent, and also somewhere so fitting for what was going on – or about to go on!

As usual you conveyed their feelings well, so that the reader could feel right along with them, and although there wasn’t a lot of descriptive writing (the scene, the location, other characters, etc), it wasn’t really necessary because what you did write, and the way you wrote it, helped to form a picture in the mind anyway.

There was one thing that sort of irritated me, but it could just be me being weird! It seemed to be another story about the overtures to Danny and Martin’s first real sexual encounter. I say “another” because I’ve already read at least two that you’ve written, each one seeming to tell how the two finally “get it on”. I just found myself thinking, “Hang on, didn’t they already do this?” and wondering where they were in their relationship. But like I said, it might be just me being weird!

Both chapters were well written, and each told a complete story in itself – which I actually found a bit of a problem! To say this was one story, I could find no link between the two chapters (other than the “dance” theme), and they just felt like two completely isolated incidents. The second just didn’t seem to follow at all. Maybe that’s what you intended – two separate “dancing” incidents involving the two characters. Or maybe you were going to write more chapters? It just didn’t seem to work for me – although, as I said, each chapter made a great fic on its own.

Now I’ll make some comments on grammar etc, in my usual nit-picky way which, as usual, you can take or leave.

In the following three quotes (and maybe others), I think a comma might be better or more accurate, than a semi-colon:





...his chest, his head.
...Martin, the man who... (or possibly: ...Martin - the man who...)
...since he had joined the MPU, and for that...


In the following, a colon maybe would be better than a semi-colon:



...Danny had to turn to see: Jack.

And a comma instead of a semi-colon:


This was new, both for Danny's imagination...


And to me, most irritating (sorry!), the use of dashes to form a sub-clause within a sentence, which I found spoiled the flow of the sentence. Maybe just commas, or nothing at all, would do, as in the following few examples:


...dancing with the probably underage daughter...


Letting his mind wander a little, if only to pass time, he imagined...


...hauling him reluctantly off the seat.


moving gracefully, as usual, on the grass.
or even:
moving, gracefully as usual, on the grass.


...and Danny decided that yes, he could definitely call this sexual.


Finally, just some general spelling mistakes, etc:

I think there may be a word missed out here. Should it read:
...Martin knew he couldn’t see – knew he couldn’t because...


I think it should be a comma, not a full stop:
Then something moved across Danny’s face, decisive and powerful...


...his breathing...?


A superfluous “a”?


Aaah, that “a” belongs here?!


Haha - you turned into Yoda!
Danny nudged him playfully...

“You’re saving grace was probably that you suck at dancing.”
"Your saving grace..."


OK, I'm done now. I hope this critique doesn't come across too negative. Like I said before, I really like your Danny-Martin slash fics, and this one was no exception - nicely written, and very readable.

Jude

Critique:

Okay I'm not going to nitpick all the petty little spelling and grammatical mistakes. Mostly because there weren't all that many of them. Also because it seems that the others have more than picked up on them and it would only be an annoyance if I was to bring them up again. So the only thing I'm going to do is critique your piece for what it is and then be on my way. It'll be a fairly short critique as I pretty much just loved the piece.

Okay so the first thing I want to comment is the subtle repetition you used. Especially in the first chapter. It was a very circular way of thinking on Martin's part. Something which I can not comment in any way on as far as characterization is concerned. But, that's okay. You know why? Because I could tell it was distinctly different from anything else you'd written before. You frequently write from Danny's POV, do you not? I could tell instantly that this wasn't the same character you're always writing. Without any names or anything, I could tell. That really is saying something. Too frequently my Warrick's and Nick's and Greg's get all jumbled. As for the circular thinking, you do employ that sometimes... but it seems distinctively Martin in this piece. It's great.

I wasn't quite as fond of the second chapter. It was good, but I almost think that they should have been two separate pieces. They were individually very good and they were very much a part of each other, that's for sure. But you have a way with tandem, so no worries. But individually each chapter was an incredibly strong piece on its own. Just a thought—in substance that first chapter was nearly flawless.


TQ:

Why am I so evil to everyone? Haha. Okay so this TQ may not be as easy as one might think. Then again I guess this wouldn't be so hard if I just sucked it up and started trying.

Okay so the part of my body that I write with? My heart.

When I first came up with the prompt/TQ I expected everyone to be smart-asses and to say their fingers. I was right, you all said your fingers. You're all brats. Each and every one of you. I also expected that if I prompted you to write more than a few words I'd get some more variation in your answers. Right again! I was surprised, however, at how many of you all said that you write with your head.

Why?

Because my writing so rarely comes from any place but my heart... well, and my nervous system, and the hair on my arms... and that place on the back of my neck where my hair line ends.

I find my way around my pieces, each of them, with feel before I ever even begin to find my way around them with thought. It all comes out of me in a rush of feeling. Sometimes the emotional sort of course--but frequently my writing is very tactile. I'm not sure if it shows while reading the pieces I write or not but I feel them crawling across my arms and down my finger tips until they're on the screen. The words, I mean. It's always been that way for me. Ever since I could remember writing it all came down to the texture of the words, the way they made different parts of me feel when I was writing or reading.

So, I guess I've made myself out to be a liar. Because through all of that I still haven't given any explanation of writing with my heart and I've used pretty much every other element of my body. Nicely done on my part, I think. :-p The truth is that most of the ideas that actually become fiction (or fanfiction) start out in my heart and nag me until I put them into words. It's the simple stories, glimpses in my head of the most minute interactions that end up bugging me until I write them.

Notably, I can remember the nagging feeling I got from my piece “Frozen.” The way I kept picturing Danny inhaling and exhaling the frosty air. The way I felt it bite at my lungs and his. The whole feeling started deep within me someplace—I'm blaming it on my heart. And it swelled until I couldn't resist any longer. And so the piece was born.

My head comes into it much later. When I'm trying to make it good. The funny thing is that I'm always much more satisfied with the pieces I don't over-correct. The ones I don't apply too much logic to.


So there you go. I believe this makes it more than 500 words.

I don’t ever really pay much attention to my body as I write. Haha, I know, that’s a lie.

I don’t know what I use most, though. The most obvious would be my hands, as I type as well as handwrite, but that doesn’t even really begin to describe it. Fingers, wrists, arms. All these physically manifest into what I’m thinking and what I want to say.

But I think the parts I truly use the most are all above my shoulders.

It starts with my eyes or ears. Most of my best inspirations come from songs I’ve heard, things I’ve read or seen, or even specific episodes of shows. From there, my brain processes these ideas and develops them. I start putting together thoughts and words into sentences and chapters.

Again, this isn’t the whole picture, though.

I also come up with ideas depending on my own emotions. My heart has a lot to do with what I write. If I’m having a bad day, it can be reflected in my writing. If I’m irrationally happy, that too can manifest itself into my writing, if I can sit still long enough to actually write. For the most part, though, I take my feelings and write them down.

Granted, I write a lot of angsty stories, and I’m not an angsty person. I’m actually quite a happy person. But I enjoy writing more emotional pieces, for reasons I can’t exactly explain. I find more emotional pieces to be fun to write.

Emotional pieces really give me the chance to explore my use of language, which I love to do. I love to play around with words and descriptors, and I find that I can’t do that as well with more lighthearted stories. Although, I’m working on that.

I take my ideas and my emotions, ball them all together, and work my butt off to make the story the best I can. I squeeze out as much of myself into each piece as I can, and then I work with it to make it up to my standards.

If I have a reaction to it either while I’m writing it or reading it, then I know it’s a good story. If I can feel the emotions of the characters as I’m writing it, then I know I’ve done a damn good job. And I don’t always reread it once I finish. I tend to move onto the next, and then reread it just before I go to publish it. That way there, it’s almost like looking at it with a fresh set of eyes.

I also find that when I’m writing, I tend to act out the character’s actions as I’m writing. If Tony shrugs, I might shrug. Or furrow my brow. Or arch my eyebrows. Or bite my lip. Or… well, you get the point. It seems funny, but it helps me figure out what the character’s doing.

I also like to put myself in the character’s shoes or mindset. If I’m writing an angsty Tony (which I pretty much am right now, hence why it’s on my brain), I tend to sigh, or exhale, or get upset with him. I can put it down when I want to walk away, but getting into their mind frame helps.

I think that’s about it!


Critique:

I had this pretty critique all written out, and then FCG logged me out before I finished posting.

This story was absolutely, completely amazing.

I love the way you write Martin and Danny. Even though I don't know them that well, I still feel like I do. I can see them acting as you've written them. I can feel their emotions, their hesitations, their UST... it's so amazing and great.

I think you have a very amazing writing style. There's a certain flow and poetic-ness to it, even when there are quicker moments to it. I think you're just so great at it. You can feel what they're feeling.

There were a few errors, but not too many- mostly a word or a letter missing here or there.

All in all, amazing job.

Very, very late critique to be up tonight. Blame this stupid virus I have, I've been in hospital for a few days hehe be thankful I can't pass it through the computer.
This fic was awesome though, and I'm not much of a slash fan...but saving things for my critique

[align=center]Dance
By Giorgia[/align]

Pre-Comments: First, please allow me to say that I know little to nothing about this fandom. In fact, I've never actually even heard of this show before. Please forgive any ignorance on this matter. Also, due to the length of this fiction, I won't be correcting every paragraph. Only two or three at a time.

Like always, Giorgia's story is italicized.

Martin breathed in deeply, loving and hating the smell all at the same time. Sweat, alcohol, perfume, and just the faintest undertone of sex. It was the kind of place he’d raided dozens of over in White Collar; he was well aware of what went on in the toilets, in the alley out back. Hell, on the dance floor.

But for some inexplicable reason – one he preferred to keep inexplicable – he’d let himself be dragged here. By Danny, no less. Martin would have thought Danny to be the last person to frequent such places. He knew the behind-the-scenes goings on as well as Martin did; and then there was the alcohol. That in itself was inexplicable.

But then, most things with Danny were.

Thoughts: I like the introduction. At the risk of sounding completely and utterly nuts, it gave me something to look at. I find that already, this seems kind of different from what you've written before. I don't know whether this is a good or bad thing. Only that it is different. Either way, the starting paragraph engages the senses successfully.
Critiques: The very last use of the word "explicable" seems repetitive. Consider rewording?

The way he could be here - in the crowd, on the floor, head back, without caring – amazed Martin. The vibe that oozed about him in the most captivating of ways, setting half the floor’s sights to him and him alone, didn’t fail to captivate Martin in the same way. But the fact that the man emanated sex made Martin uncomfortable. In the strangest of ways, he could swear Danny was doing this all for him.

And that, more than anything, was what kept Martin off the floor.

The music was thrumming. Its continuous bass resounded in Martin’s limbs, in his chest; his head.

Thoughts: I think I do like this style. It's very expressive without being graphic. (However, I must admit. The use of the word "sex" twice had me giggling and pointing like a grammar school student. I think it's because of how sterile I perceive FFG to be.) Anyway, I must admit this paragraph made me uncomfortable, but only because Martin seems so uncomfortable. To that end, this paragraph succeeded in it's purpose, I think.
Critiques: Reading it out loud, it sounded okay, however this sentence: "The vibe that oozed about him in the most captivating of ways, setting half the floor’s sights to him and him alone, didn’t fail to captivate Martin in the same way." Runs into a hitch in between the words "ways and setting." Consider revising?

As he realized that he was allowing himself to get swept up, Martin shook his head, only to notice a woman standing in front of him. Her expression told Martin everything he needed to know and he shook his head again, darkness and flashing lights hiding his blush. She smiled apologetically then, biting her bottom lip and running a hand up Martin’s thigh as she moved back to the dance floor.

Martin watched her retreating, eyes avoiding her too-bare legs as the music seemed to get louder. As she disappeared into the crowd, Martin’s eyes caught a flash of someone else, watching him, grinning.

Danny; motionless now.

Thoughts: Heeeee. I like this part. I like this part a lot. I know I've said it above, but this is very descriptive without being wordy. When I read aloud, I can see everything in vivid detail. This is very much appreciated. Specifically, my favorite part starts when the lady *ahem* gets Martin's attention, and ends when he spots Danny, suddenly still. All very effective.
Critiques: Nothing, actually. Moving on.

Martin didn’t – couldn’t - look away as Danny started moving again, eyes still holding the telltale traces of a smirk before sliding closed only momentarily. They opened to Martin’s again as the music calmed; the only thing heard for a few seconds was bass before the rest of the music seemed to catch up.

Danny’s eyes now held more than a smirk, more than amusement over Martin’s refusal to dance. God, what they held now, Martin couldn’t even name. Something so terrifyingly akin to lust that it made Martin’s cheeks redden; but something Martin could only perceive as affection that made him blush for an entirely different reason.

And even though Martin knew he couldn’t – knew he couldn’t because the lights were so dim, the air so thick – Danny smiled as if he knew.

As if he knew that Martin blushed; just for him.

Thoughts: Ugh. I hate to keep doing the gushing-on-your-writing thing because it starts to seem sarcastic. It isn't. I don't even normally read this sort of thing, but these few paragraphs just made it particularly fun to read. Out loud. In, for some reason, a southern accent. Moving on, Martin's exasperation and blushing are very fun to see. They make him real.
Critiques: Okay, this is a nit pick, but still. ...but something Martin could only perceive as affection that made him blush for an entirely different reason. This gets a bit long winded, I think. Consider a comma?

And all Martin could do was look away, because it was either look away or stare. And staring was just too much. Too much to compartmentalize the way Martin needed to. Danny’s reactions to him and his own reactions to Danny were too much, and Martin couldn’t handle that.

The way Danny stared at him with such an animalistic energy as he moved, even the way he moved… Martin was sure he’d never seen anything so personal, so intimate.

Martin’s eyes moved unconsciously back to Danny as the word pressed itself into his consciousness, mixing with the bass beat of the music and making him light-headed, as if he weren’t truly there. At least not physically.

Thoughts: Ahhh ha ha ha. I really almost feel badly for Martin. Again, not sure of his relationship to Danny, but...well, he doesn't really seem too sure either, honestly. So from this I gather that Martin is the logical one?
Anyway, as per always, your writing is solid. I don't feel the need to saying anything that hasn't already been said. Nice job.
Critiques: Martin could do was look away, because it was either look away or stare. This sentence caught me as awkward, but only because it seemed repetitive. Consider revising?

Martin was sure he’d never lost so much self-control in his life. Even as a child he was more disciplined than this; better at blocking, repressing and storing memories with utter detachment. But now. Now he was beyond attached; he was involved. In what, he didn’t know; didn’t have the faintest clue because nothing had ever been like this before.

Keeping himself grounded had never been so hard.

And still, Danny was watching him; Martin could feel it. For the life of him, Martin couldn’t figure out why. What he saw in Danny’s eyes – or what he thought he saw – didn’t add up to anything Martin had ever known. The strange mix of desire and something else – something more - was foreign to him, which scared him more than he cared to admit.
Thoughts: So I finally called one! Martin was the logical one! Okay, so now I'm running out of comments and compliments for this space, however, I will goo ahead and simply say that this, to me, is writing that has remained solid and consistent throughout. Nice job.
Critiques: "...with utter detachment. But now. Now he..." The middle here. "But now..." Seems like it should be separated by something other than a period.

But Danny’s eyes were holding Martin’s with such clarity, such confidence. Martin swallowed deliberately, as if trying to swallow the music, the thrumming of bass and bodies, of sweat and of sex.

Then something moved across Danny’s face. Decisive and powerful, and Martin took a step back as Danny took a step forward. Danny’s face showed only a hint of surprise, though his eyes – still holding Martin’s – smoldered more than ever. Without provocation this time, Martin took a step back, turning to the door. He kept moving, despite knowing that Danny would follow.

The music still hummed through his head, intoxicating, but now it was only grating at his patience. Incessant and too loud, and everything that would be bound to give him a headache, and he wondered suddenly how he had gotten to be so angry. His shoulders tensed and his jaw clenched, so that when he felt a hand on his arm, he almost swung. Almost, until turning and finding Danny’s eyes, still staring at him with the same expression.

Thoughts: Tee hee! You said it again! *Ahem* I was actually surprised that Martin left. I'm enjoying the steady progression of emotions as time goes on. I could see someone like Martin finally losing his temper in a place like that. However, it may be because of something else. Anyway, nice job here. On with the show.
Critiques: Okay, I've read over this a few times. I've got nothing. Moving on.

“Martin.”

And it was the most decisive thing Martin had ever heard.

The music seemed to slow again, quieter somehow, and Martin was sure it was just his imagination. But then Danny’s hand slid down his arm and grasped Martin’s hand. Without hesitation, Martin was being pulled onto the dance floor, and the music became louder again, the bass hitting him full force as Danny smiled at him.

Martin felt light-headed again, closing his eyes and just letting Danny lead him to wherever it was he was being taken.

His eyes opened again when he felt Danny stop. As the floor vibrated to the rhythm of the music, Danny took a step closer to Martin, eyes still aflame, though a small smirk kicked the corners of his mouth. Martin felt his hand being moved, but couldn’t look to where; couldn’t look away from Danny’s face, his mouth, his eyes. God, those eyes: they would kill Martin if he were sure he wasn’t already dead.

Thoughts: Aaaaand this time I was wrong. However, once again, I will say that your use of facial expressions here is well done, and spot on. I'm liking that these characters aren't abruptly mercurial, but rather, more like water, flowing from one scene to the next.
Critiques: Reading aloud? Nothing.

Martin felt his hand being placed firmly against Danny’s hip, felt Danny move to the beat again; a beat elusive to Martin. He felt a weight against his shoulder as Danny’s hand gripped it, still moving far too smoothly against Martin as Danny pulled himself closer. Martin was sure Danny realized the position they were in: the parody of a romantic dance.

Martin closed his eyes as all his senses both faltered and heightened at the same time, creating the strangest sensation Martin had ever felt. The music and Danny were wholly synchronized and Martin had trouble distinguishing the two, his head still spinning just enough.

Martin remained motionless as Danny’s hand moved from his shoulder to his neck, fingers caressing in time with the music. Martin’s head fell back, eyes still closed, breathing heavier than it had ever been.

Breathing that stopped when Martin felt slight, warm pressure against his throat. He moaned as Danny’s lips lingered, and Danny must have liked that reaction because he laughed against Martin’s throat, breath whispering across his skin. And Danny’s body still moved against Martin’s in a way Martin had never even considered possible; never dared to.

Thoughts: I am enjoying seeing the way Martin is the stiff emotionless brick, and Danny the music itself. Once again, all of this is spot on, and very enjoyable to read. Giorgia, this is very important, because I am mostly against Yaoi, and will avoid it with the plague. While this does not mean I will take up reading it recreationally, but you've made something good here. I like it, I like it a lot.
Critiques: Moving on.

With the first voluntary movement Martin had made since Danny first touched him, he straightened, his eyes meeting Danny’s. Eyes that were still full of such naked passion that Martin had to concentrate on breathing. Martin brought his free hand up to Danny’s other hip, barely registering that his grip on Danny’s hips tightened. Barely registering that he started – however shyly – to move with Danny, against Danny.

Danny’s free hand moved to join the other, his fingers linking behind Martin’s neck.

All Martin felt was the melodic drone of the bass and Danny’s hands; everywhere, although he was sure they weren’t moving. As Martin’s eyes met Danny’s again, he knew that the passion he could see in Danny’s eyes was reflected in his own, and it scared him much less than it should have; much less than it would have in the past.


Martin’s eyes drifted shut as Danny’s forehead touched his own; he could feel – taste - Danny’s breath, heavy as his own.

“Danny.”

And it was the most decisive thing Martin had ever said.

Thoughts: Very, very, very nicely done. As I said before. This sort of thing I do not read, but this was readable, and enjoyable. I've never read anything like this before, so I thank you for the experience of something new and well written. Well done, Giorgia.
Critiques: Nope.
[align=center]Dance
By Giorgia[/align]

Pre-Comments: First, please allow me to say that I know little to nothing about this fandom. In fact, I've never actually even heard of this show before. Please forgive any ignorance on this matter. Also, due to the length of this fiction, I won't be correcting every paragraph. Only two or three at a time.

Like always, Giorgia's story is italicized.

Martin breathed in deeply, loving and hating the smell all at the same time. Sweat, alcohol, perfume, and just the faintest undertone of sex. It was the kind of place he’d raided dozens of over in White Collar; he was well aware of what went on in the toilets, in the alley out back. Hell, on the dance floor.

But for some inexplicable reason – one he preferred to keep inexplicable – he’d let himself be dragged here. By Danny, no less. Martin would have thought Danny to be the last person to frequent such places. He knew the behind-the-scenes goings on as well as Martin did; and then there was the alcohol. That in itself was inexplicable.

But then, most things with Danny were.

Thoughts: I like the introduction. At the risk of sounding completely and utterly nuts, it gave me something to look at. I find that already, this seems kind of different from what you've written before. I don't know whether this is a good or bad thing. Only that it is different. Either way, the starting paragraph engages the senses successfully.
Critiques: The very last use of the word "explicable" seems repetitive. Consider rewording?

The way he could be here - in the crowd, on the floor, head back, without caring – amazed Martin. The vibe that oozed about him in the most captivating of ways, setting half the floor’s sights to him and him alone, didn’t fail to captivate Martin in the same way. But the fact that the man emanated sex made Martin uncomfortable. In the strangest of ways, he could swear Danny was doing this all for him.

And that, more than anything, was what kept Martin off the floor.

The music was thrumming. Its continuous bass resounded in Martin’s limbs, in his chest; his head.

Thoughts: I think I do like this style. It's very expressive without being graphic. (However, I must admit. The use of the word "sex" twice had me giggling and pointing like a grammar school student. I think it's because of how sterile I perceive FFG to be.) Anyway, I must admit this paragraph made me uncomfortable, but only because Martin seems so uncomfortable. To that end, this paragraph succeeded in it's purpose, I think.
Critiques: Reading it out loud, it sounded okay, however this sentence: "The vibe that oozed about him in the most captivating of ways, setting half the floor’s sights to him and him alone, didn’t fail to captivate Martin in the same way." Runs into a hitch in between the words "ways and setting." Consider revising?

As he realized that he was allowing himself to get swept up, Martin shook his head, only to notice a woman standing in front of him. Her expression told Martin everything he needed to know and he shook his head again, darkness and flashing lights hiding his blush. She smiled apologetically then, biting her bottom lip and running a hand up Martin’s thigh as she moved back to the dance floor.

Martin watched her retreating, eyes avoiding her too-bare legs as the music seemed to get louder. As she disappeared into the crowd, Martin’s eyes caught a flash of someone else, watching him, grinning.

Danny; motionless now.

Thoughts: Heeeee. I like this part. I like this part a lot. I know I've said it above, but this is very descriptive without being wordy. When I read aloud, I can see everything in vivid detail. This is very much appreciated. Specifically, my favorite part starts when the lady *ahem* gets Martin's attention, and ends when he spots Danny, suddenly still. All very effective.
Critiques: Nothing, actually. Moving on.

Martin didn’t – couldn’t - look away as Danny started moving again, eyes still holding the telltale traces of a smirk before sliding closed only momentarily. They opened to Martin’s again as the music calmed; the only thing heard for a few seconds was bass before the rest of the music seemed to catch up.

Danny’s eyes now held more than a smirk, more than amusement over Martin’s refusal to dance. God, what they held now, Martin couldn’t even name. Something so terrifyingly akin to lust that it made Martin’s cheeks redden; but something Martin could only perceive as affection that made him blush for an entirely different reason.

And even though Martin knew he couldn’t – knew he couldn’t because the lights were so dim, the air so thick – Danny smiled as if he knew.

As if he knew that Martin blushed; just for him.

Thoughts: Ugh. I hate to keep doing the gushing-on-your-writing thing because it starts to seem sarcastic. It isn't. I don't even normally read this sort of thing, but these few paragraphs just made it particularly fun to read. Out loud. In, for some reason, a southern accent. Moving on, Martin's exasperation and blushing are very fun to see. They make him real.
Critiques: Okay, this is a nit pick, but still. ...but something Martin could only perceive as affection that made him blush for an entirely different reason. This gets a bit long winded, I think. Consider a comma?

And all Martin could do was look away, because it was either look away or stare. And staring was just too much. Too much to compartmentalize the way Martin needed to. Danny’s reactions to him and his own reactions to Danny were too much, and Martin couldn’t handle that.

The way Danny stared at him with such an animalistic energy as he moved, even the way he moved… Martin was sure he’d never seen anything so personal, so intimate.

Martin’s eyes moved unconsciously back to Danny as the word pressed itself into his consciousness, mixing with the bass beat of the music and making him light-headed, as if he weren’t truly there. At least not physically.

Thoughts: Ahhh ha ha ha. I really almost feel badly for Martin. Again, not sure of his relationship to Danny, but...well, he doesn't really seem too sure either, honestly. So from this I gather that Martin is the logical one?
Anyway, as per always, your writing is solid. I don't feel the need to saying anything that hasn't already been said. Nice job.
Critiques: Martin could do was look away, because it was either look away or stare. This sentence caught me as awkward, but only because it seemed repetitive. Consider revising?

Martin was sure he’d never lost so much self-control in his life. Even as a child he was more disciplined than this; better at blocking, repressing and storing memories with utter detachment. But now. Now he was beyond attached; he was involved. In what, he didn’t know; didn’t have the faintest clue because nothing had ever been like this before.

Keeping himself grounded had never been so hard.

And still, Danny was watching him; Martin could feel it. For the life of him, Martin couldn’t figure out why. What he saw in Danny’s eyes – or what he thought he saw – didn’t add up to anything Martin had ever known. The strange mix of desire and something else – something more - was foreign to him, which scared him more than he cared to admit.
Thoughts: So I finally called one! Martin was the logical one! Okay, so now I'm running out of comments and compliments for this space, however, I will goo ahead and simply say that this, to me, is writing that has remained solid and consistent throughout. Nice job.
Critiques: "...with utter detachment. But now. Now he..." The middle here. "But now..." Seems like it should be separated by something other than a period.

But Danny’s eyes were holding Martin’s with such clarity, such confidence. Martin swallowed deliberately, as if trying to swallow the music, the thrumming of bass and bodies, of sweat and of sex.

Then something moved across Danny’s face. Decisive and powerful, and Martin took a step back as Danny took a step forward. Danny’s face showed only a hint of surprise, though his eyes – still holding Martin’s – smoldered more than ever. Without provocation this time, Martin took a step back, turning to the door. He kept moving, despite knowing that Danny would follow.

The music still hummed through his head, intoxicating, but now it was only grating at his patience. Incessant and too loud, and everything that would be bound to give him a headache, and he wondered suddenly how he had gotten to be so angry. His shoulders tensed and his jaw clenched, so that when he felt a hand on his arm, he almost swung. Almost, until turning and finding Danny’s eyes, still staring at him with the same expression.

Thoughts: Tee hee! You said it again! *Ahem* I was actually surprised that Martin left. I'm enjoying the steady progression of emotions as time goes on. I could see someone like Martin finally losing his temper in a place like that. However, it may be because of something else. Anyway, nice job here. On with the show.
Critiques: Okay, I've read over this a few times. I've got nothing. Moving on.

“Martin.”

And it was the most decisive thing Martin had ever heard.

The music seemed to slow again, quieter somehow, and Martin was sure it was just his imagination. But then Danny’s hand slid down his arm and grasped Martin’s hand. Without hesitation, Martin was being pulled onto the dance floor, and the music became louder again, the bass hitting him full force as Danny smiled at him.

Martin felt light-headed again, closing his eyes and just letting Danny lead him to wherever it was he was being taken.

His eyes opened again when he felt Danny stop. As the floor vibrated to the rhythm of the music, Danny took a step closer to Martin, eyes still aflame, though a small smirk kicked the corners of his mouth. Martin felt his hand being moved, but couldn’t look to where; couldn’t look away from Danny’s face, his mouth, his eyes. God, those eyes: they would kill Martin if he were sure he wasn’t already dead.

Thoughts: Aaaaand this time I was wrong. However, once again, I will say that your use of facial expressions here is well done, and spot on. I'm liking that these characters aren't abruptly mercurial, but rather, more like water, flowing from one scene to the next.
Critiques: Reading aloud? Nothing.

Martin felt his hand being placed firmly against Danny’s hip, felt Danny move to the beat again; a beat elusive to Martin. He felt a weight against his shoulder as Danny’s hand gripped it, still moving far too smoothly against Martin as Danny pulled himself closer. Martin was sure Danny realized the position they were in: the parody of a romantic dance.

Martin closed his eyes as all his senses both faltered and heightened at the same time, creating the strangest sensation Martin had ever felt. The music and Danny were wholly synchronized and Martin had trouble distinguishing the two, his head still spinning just enough.

Martin remained motionless as Danny’s hand moved from his shoulder to his neck, fingers caressing in time with the music. Martin’s head fell back, eyes still closed, breathing heavier than it had ever been.

Breathing that stopped when Martin felt slight, warm pressure against his throat. He moaned as Danny’s lips lingered, and Danny must have liked that reaction because he laughed against Martin’s throat, breath whispering across his skin. And Danny’s body still moved against Martin’s in a way Martin had never even considered possible; never dared to.

Thoughts: I am enjoying seeing the way Martin is the stiff emotionless brick, and Danny the music itself. Once again, all of this is spot on, and very enjoyable to read. Giorgia, this is very important, because I am mostly against Yaoi, and will avoid it with the plague. While this does not mean I will take up reading it recreationally, but you've made something good here. I like it, I like it a lot.
Critiques: Moving on.

With the first voluntary movement Martin had made since Danny first touched him, he straightened, his eyes meeting Danny’s. Eyes that were still full of such naked passion that Martin had to concentrate on breathing. Martin brought his free hand up to Danny’s other hip, barely registering that his grip on Danny’s hips tightened. Barely registering that he started – however shyly – to move with Danny, against Danny.

Danny’s free hand moved to join the other, his fingers linking behind Martin’s neck.

All Martin felt was the melodic drone of the bass and Danny’s hands; everywhere, although he was sure they weren’t moving. As Martin’s eyes met Danny’s again, he knew that the passion he could see in Danny’s eyes was reflected in his own, and it scared him much less than it should have; much less than it would have in the past.


Martin’s eyes drifted shut as Danny’s forehead touched his own; he could feel – taste - Danny’s breath, heavy as his own.

“Danny.”

And it was the most decisive thing Martin had ever said.

Thoughts: Very, very, very nicely done. As I said before. This sort of thing I do not read, but this was readable, and enjoyable. I've never read anything like this before, so I thank you for the experience of something new and well written. Well done, Giorgia.
Critiques: Nope.

[align=center]Chapter 2[/align]

Notice: I mentioned this before, but critiquing this chapter will take much more time due to it's length. I'll be critiquing every five paragraphs. Anything in italics is written by Giorgia.

Danny cast his eyes around the crowded room; suits and dignified amounts of glitter met his eyes. He sighed as he looked at his watch: three more hours until he could leave.

Three long, boring hours.

Public relations were not his thing. He knew he could charm just about anyone with a smile and a few sentences, but, really, most of the people here he didn’t want to charm. The men were standing around in clumps, artfully avoiding sitting at their assigned tables, while the women – who were much fewer in number – were scattered between groups and tables.

He and Vivian were the only two at their own assigned table, while the rest of the team mingled appropriately. Jack stood with a glass of champagne, a few other men, and a dissatisfied scowl; Elena and Samantha were sticking relatively close together, both having been given permission to leave early; and Martin was – not unexpectedly – standing rather uncomfortably within the group occupied by the Men Upstairs.

Every now and then Danny caught Martin’s sarcastic expression whilst talking to the men and had to stifle a laugh. It was a face that Victor and his cohorts would never pick up on. Despite how good most FBI agents were at reading people, Victor lacked a certain something when it came to reading his son.

Thoughts:I enjoyed the intro here, overall, but I find that it doesn't elicit the strong emotional reactions from me that the first chapter did. More on that later, though. Once again, the focus is on Danny, sexual predator extradonaire. Unfortunately, you'll find that because I am not as familiar with the characters, I will not be able to go as in depth as I would like to. Either way, you use the intro paragraphs well for a one shot. You manage to introduce a group of characters, place them each some place unique, and offer enough exposition on Martin's whereabouts and situation that I know where I'll be looking from now on.

Smart use of the intellectual estate, that.
Critiques: Nothing. Read twice and I'm giving this the all clear. Moving on.

Danny was still trying to decide whether Victor’s ignorance stemmed from shame or denial; but for the moment he was quite content to seethe in secret at Victor’s entirely artificial affection for his son.

Danny watched as Victor clapped a hand to Martin’s shoulder, grinning fittingly as his assembly smiled and nodded. He doubted very much that they were paying any attention to what Victor was saying. This thought gave him a rather unwarranted amount of satisfaction until he saw Martin cringe just a little under his father’s grip. It was the kind of look that an undercover cop might get when hugged by a drug dealer; muted disgust. Danny felt for him.

He wished he was at a high enough level to be able to rescue Martin from this obvious discomfort, but he knew how he’d be received by Victor Fitzgerald. The only thing that could get Martin out of this situation was for Victor to find something else to brag about.

As that thought appeared, Martin cast a helpless glance at Danny. Danny smiled back sympathetically; it turned into a smirk when Martin stifled his own grin and turned back to his father. Danny chuckled, gaining Vivian’s attention. She raised an eyebrow at him and he shook his head, flapping a hand in Martin’s direction.

“I feel like I should go save him,” he said, a resigned frown on his face. Vivian just smiled.

Thoughts: My favorite line of this block is the drug dealer reference. Very powerful visual, that was. The wording you use here, especially in the first two paragraphs is strong, but I think it works, especially considering the way you're building Danny's infatuation for Martin. Also entertaining, was the helpless glance bit. I'm pretty that's happened to all of us in some capacity.
Critiques: "He wished he was at a high enough level to be able to rescue Martin from this obvious discomfort..." The word "level" made me cringe a bit here. I get what is being said, but I suppose it's the gamer in my that thinks something entirely different then what's actually being said. Consider rewording?

Danny very much liked Vivian’s way of communicating. He didn’t have to over-think things; she only second-guessed him when he was wrong; and she never talked when it wasn’t necessary.

Danny continued to watch Martin, too bored to do anything else. People fascinated him; FBI agents did not.

Except, apparently, this one.

Danny suddenly realized that his watching had quickly turned into staring. Which wasn’t a particularly uncommon occurrence, but in his current company, it would probably not be looked upon too favorably.

To ward off potential for such moments, Danny sent a look around the room, studying all the suits and gowns more closely. He scanned the crowd as he would at a club, though a less hopefully; the probability of finding a date here seemed much less likely. He picked up his glass of water deliberately as he realized what he was actually doing. He really must have been bored to be ogling colleagues.

Thoughts: Yes, Danny. You really were ogling the colleagues. You were ogling your partner and I think you were ogling the help. Haaaaa. Sorry, anyway, I am really quite taken with Vivian as well, but this is mostly because I enjoy the company of quiet people. Anyway, I enjoyed this paragraph for the awkwardness it served, is it considered unusual to see Danny off-kilter? I get that vibe.
Critiques: I think it's a nitpick, but watch out for starting off so many paragraphs with a proper noun (Danny.) successively. It looks weird if you squint.

Really, he decided, there were only three people in the room who warranted Danny’s attention. There was Elena, who was looking possibly even more attractive than usual and as graceful as ever. But Danny had learned that that was a path best left untraveled. Flirting was never as fun when it was reciprocated, anyway.

A man who Danny assumed was not an FBI agent, but in fact the husband of one of his colleagues, was another. He managed to look totally comfortable, though, which Danny had to admit was not really his type. Besides the fact that he was married and therefore most likely straight. Not that that usually bothered Danny…

And then there was Martin; the man who was his main reason for wanting to leave, and his only motivation to stay. Danny was at a loss when it came to Martin; he knew they were friends, and good friends at that, but he was still conflicted. And Danny was not used to feeling conflicted.

Even as a teen he’d always known who he was. Perhaps not where he fit in, but as an individual, he was confident. He’d never boxed himself into any categories - society had done that for him. And most of those he’d fought like hell to live down. And with most of them he’d succeeded. The only thing he could recall that ever made him question himself was his alcoholism.

And this thought didn’t help his confusion over Martin.

Thoughts: This block is here out of necessity. It feels like I, as a reader, needs to see that Danny, isn't just some insatiable horn dog, but an out of place and confused human being. That is easily readable here. Good job.
Critiques: This just seemed weird to me. "Really, he decided, there were only three people in the room who warranted Danny’s attention." It seems like his name should be replaced with the word "him", unless he is in the habit of speaking in the third person.

Feeling a nudge, Danny realized that Vivian had noticed his distraction.

“You okay, Danny?” she asked, concern etched on her face.

Danny forced himself to smile, if only for Vivian’s benefit. She had been a kind of mother-figure since he had joined the MPU; and for that he was more than grateful. Vivian, Jack and Samantha had formed a sort of surrogate family for him, whether deliberately or not.

Danny decided that was not going to get out of this one so easily; Vivian was giving him her patented Mother-look. Danny caved expectedly. He’d never been too good at hiding his emotions anyway. Hell, before Martin, he had never had to.

“Yeah, Viv, I’m just bored,” he told her, sighing for effect and fidgeting in his seat. Vivian seemed to buy it, though she stared at him for a few more seconds before turning back to her drink.

Thoughts: This adds a bit more depth to Danny's character, and to me, makes him a little bit more likable. Did Danny have much of a family before joining the team? Or was he a bit more of a loner? Either way, it's good to see more depth to Danny outside of "Danny wants everyone!"
Critiques: None.

An hour and a half later, Danny was sitting up a little straighter in his seat, a small smirk on his face. It was unwarrantedly amusing to see FBI agents dancing, especially considering how little rhythm most of them had.

Danny cast another glance at Martin. He’d been stuck talking to his father for at least a half hour, but just as Danny was preparing himself to go and talk to Martin, a young woman had stepped up to him, having apparently been waiting for an opening.

A young woman who was currently trying to drag Martin onto the dance floor. Danny snorted, figuring she was the daughter of a director.

She was pretty enough, though she was clearly about half Martin’s age, and Martin was clearly uninterested. And had been for the past hour. Martin now just looked torn, and Danny could see why. On the one hand, dancing with the – probably underage - daughter of a director could be severely damaging to his career. On the other hand, refusing a director’s daughter wasn’t much better.

Danny saw Martin’s jaw clench before he finally conceded, being all but dragged onto the floor by the smitten teen. Danny was suddenly jealous. He wished – very fleetingly – that he could move onto the dance floor and grab Martin, spin him gracefully; touch him.

Thoughts: A bit of an aside here? I've never understood why guy's in Martin's situation don't handle it the way most sane guys hand things like that. Either pretend you never heard her ask(Yes, even if she's looking you dead in the face.) Or pretend that someone had called you, and walk away very quickly. Anyway, once again, we see emotion building in Danny. Effective. Moving on.
Critiques: Nothing.

The thought was forced out of his head at that point. Danny had never been a romantic, but Martin seemed intent on inadvertently breaking all his rules. On the other hand, it was probably better than entertaining his usual Martin-related thoughts. In public.

At that moment, Vivian returned – Danny hardly even having registered her leaving – from a very uninterested dance and stood rather accusingly in front of him. Danny looked up, not able to keep the guilty look from his face.

“Yes, Viv?” he asked sweetly. She smiled evilly and held out her hand. Danny groaned; he should have seen this coming.

“No, thanks,” he said, smiling innocently. Vivian tried to stare him down. When it didn’t work, she changed tactic.

“You’re going to subject me to this room full of people by myself?” she asked. Danny was wavering, so she tried again. “Come on, you look miserable,” she added. Danny refrained from making a snide remark and placed his hand in hers.

Thoughts: Vivian to the rescue! Honestly, I think I'm having more fun with this story because I've never seen the show before. Everything is on point here, and I see no glaring issues that require immediate attention. I'm moving on.
Critiques: Nothing.

She smiled victoriously, and Danny made a mental note to get back at her for this. Still, he couldn’t help but smile back; Vivian had an impish way of doing this. His smile wavered, however, when he spotted Martin and his impromptu dance partner over Vivian’s shoulder. He couldn’t stop the smirk that spread in its wake when he saw just how uncomfortable Martin looked. Not only was he quite a terrible dancer, but he was so blatantly trying to keep his hands off the girl as much as possible.

He chuckled at the sight, and Vivian raised her eyebrow at him. Danny just smiled at her and she could hear the wouldn’t you like to know? that that came with it. She shook her head at him but remained silent. He mentally thanked her for that as he continued to stare at Martin, realizing – again – what he was doing all too late as Martin’s eyes met his.

For a few seconds, Danny didn’t react, only stared at his partner. Martin’s eyes seemed to soften a little, his hands growing less tense about the girl he was dancing with. And he smiled.

Danny just about choked.

Martin wasn’t smiling at him in his usual manner – an automatic response to Danny smirking. He was smiling shyly, blushing faintly, and looking something like a teenage boy who’d just had his first kiss. The thought made Danny’s mind go blank as he smiled back.

Obviously, Martin had been paying more attention to the music that had been playing than Danny, and stopped moving as the song ended, the girl looking rather disappointed. Smirking at her discomfort, Danny looked deliberately from the girl to Martin, letting him know exactly how he felt about her. Martin looked confused before his eyes widened ever so slightly and he looked at the floor, his cheeks pink.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Danny, though, that Martin extricated himself from the girl completely.

Thoughts: Bawwww, in a way that makes me slightly ashamed of myself, I find the exchange between Martin and Danny here a little adorable. Again, that this has elicited any reaction out of me counts for something. On a side note, I'm pretty sure this confirms Danny's status as a stalker. I also like the mention of Martin paying more attention to the music, which seems to fit his profile.
Critiques: Nothing. Moving on.

One hour. One hour and Danny could leave. He felt the ticking in his head like an anxious school kid, waiting for the final bell. Still, the only thing keeping Danny even remotely interested in anything at the function was Martin. Which, he decided, was incredibly unfortunate.

Elena and Samantha had left already, having child-rearing duties that Danny was almost jealous of. Vivian had been given the all-clear to leave by Jack, but was stuck making small-talk with a little circle of other female agents. Danny could tell she hated it; all she wanted to do was get home. Besides, feminine issues were not really Vivian’s thing.

Danny wasn’t sure whether it was just his mood that was sending up read flags, but no one seemed the slightest bit inclined to talk to him. Which was probably just as well; he wasn’t really in a talkative mood.

Martin had again been dragged onto the dance floor, this time by a slightly older woman, but one whom Danny was pretty certain Martin actually knew. He smiled at things she said, sometimes almost genuinely. Probably the girl’s mother, he thought with a laugh.

Letting his mind wander a little - if only to pass time - he imagined the feel of Martin’s hand in his; Martin’s breath on his neck. Martin’s body against his. And then he was doing it again. Of all the habits in the world…

Martin’s eyes suddenly found Danny’s over his new partner’s head. Again, he smiled, though a little more playfully than last time, as if asking him a question. Like why are you staring at me? Danny just smirked for the fiftieth time that night and flicked his eyebrows, shrugging as if daring Martin to ask.

Martin grinned this time.

And God, why did the man have to look so good in a tux?

Danny squirmed and positioned himself further under the table.

Thoughts: I am enjoying the consistency of seeing the party through Danny's eyes. We find ourselves looking around for a moment, checking on his friends...then it's back to Martin. In this case, it makes loads of sense to use as often as you can.
Critiques: ...Besides, feminine issues were not really Vivian’s thing. This is a personal style nitpick made out of ignorance, but it Danny strikes me as someone who is more casual when he speaks or makes observations, which would me more contractions. But then again, in this case what do I know? Moving on.

Danny all but counted the ten minutes until he could leave. He knew that Jack was a prompt time-keeper, and any time missed now would probably translate into extra paperwork. Tenfold, knowing Jack.

He sighed as he noticed Martin making the rounds to say a false goodbye to everyone with whom he’d talked – or danced – in the past four hours. The girl looked unduly sad by the notion of Martin leaving. Danny could sympathize; Martin was the only thing getting him through this night, too. She pouted a little as Martin grinned and offered her his hand to shake.

Danny laughed as the girl took the offered hand and then stalked away, probably in search of another victim. Martin looked a little guilty before slipping his mask of geniality back in place and moving over to the spot occupied by his father.

Victor didn’t miss a beat and grinned at his son, thrusting his hand into Martin’s and clapping him on the shoulder. Danny was too far away to hear the obligatory well-wishing as Martin shook each man’s hand that he knew was being said. Still, he could tell that a few of the men held a legitimate fondness for Martin, even if his father didn’t. He smiled at the thought, wondering what Victor Fitzgerald thought of this.

As Martin began to approach him, he decided he didn’t care. Martin smiled resignedly and looked at Danny with a frown.

Thoughts: The handshake to the girl was very well placed, and fit his personality just as well. Good job on staying consistent. One thing that I'm really enjoying about this is that you don't make the mistake of rushing to get the characters to their next set piece. Instead, it's a slow dance, shifting from place to place in slow, measured movements. Appropriate, especially in this case. It is in this paragraph that it seems like every loose end mentioned earlier is tied here, and the gentlemen are ready to go. Both technically and physically.
Critiques: Nothing.

“You ready to go?” he asked quietly. Danny nodded, wondering why Martin had bothered to ask; it wasn’t like they’d shared a car. Or anything at all, really.

“I’ve been ready since we got here,” he replied, earning a small smile. Martin cast a glance around the room and nodded to someone Danny had to turn to see; Jack. He nodded back, smiling ever so slightly before turning back to his conversation. Martin smiled at Danny.

“We’ve got the all-clear; I think we should make a run for it,” he said. They moved simultaneously out the doors of the hall. Danny couldn’t resist poking some fun at Martin s they left the building.

“Yeah, before another woman decides you’re fair game,” he said, earning a shocked look from Martin. They smiled at each other before Martin spoke.

“God, she can’t have been older than seventeen…” he complained with a laugh in a rare moment of openness. Danny grinned and nodded.

Thoughts: Yup. Spot on, everything is dealt with, and they decide that it's time to go. I've nothing particularly remarkable to say, so I'll ask you to shift your attention towards the next line.
Critiques: Martin cast a glance around the room and nodded to someone Danny had to turn to see; Jack. This line struck me as very awkward. Specifically, the point when Martin turned to see where Danny was looking. Consider Rewording?
They smiled at each other before Martin spoke. And the point when it is mentioned that Martin spoke seems unnecessary. I say so simply because the only two speaking at this point are Danny and Martin. The paragraph break tells me that someone else is speaking. Although I'm pretty sure that falls under personal taste. Moving on.

“Yeah, judging by who her father probably is, I’d be happy that you’ve got friends in MPU,” he added. Martin’s snort was both in agreement and irony. Danny nudged playfully him as they approached Central Park. “You’re saving grace was probably that you suck at dancing.”

Martin scoffed at him before a blush crept onto his cheeks and he looked down. “Really? That bad?” he asked worriedly, though Danny could hear a hint of amusement in his voice. He knew he was bad. Danny decided to save him a little embarrassment and shrugged.

“I’ve seen worse,” he told Martin as they moved somewhat unconsciously into the park. “Still, it doesn’t hurt to actually touch your partner,” he added; only realizing the double-entendre after he’d said it. Fortunately, Martin didn’t seem to notice for embarrassment.

“I didn’t want to be killed by her father; very probable considering his stance on weapons,” Martin added sardonically. Danny grinned; he should have known Martin knew her father. “I’m fortunate enough not to have met the terror herself until tonight,” he said. Danny looked at him, wondering where this sudden cynicism had come from. Martin was usually the picture of civility - at least on the outside. It suddenly dawned on him why.

“How was your father?” he asked. Martin looked a little lost by the sudden topic change, but took a deep breath. They walked in silence for a few minutes.

Thoughts: Dialogue! (Or is it dialog?) Theres one thing I enjoy better then wild fight scenes, and that would be the clever lines, and the clever lines are here, for sure. My favorite is the one about the girl's father and his stance on weapons. A very timely and appropriate one, for sure.
Critiques: “You’re saving grace was probably that you suck at dancing.” In this case, it was supposed to be "Your".

“He was everything Victor Fitzgerald should be,” he answered finally, a hint of malice in his voice. Danny was slightly shocked to register Martin’s tone as one of resignation. Spotting the nearest bench, Martin made for it, looking as if he wanted to throw himself under it, but instead sitting down with a measured precision.

Danny noticed Martin’s I-don’t-want-to-talk-but-really-do look and took a seat next to him. It was times like these that Danny would either have to push, or stay silent. Which to employ at any given time was a surprisingly difficult thing to discern. Danny decided this time to push.

“It’s okay to be angry at him, Martin,” he told him softly. Martin looked into the darkness and sighed. When he remained silent, Danny stood up. Martin’s eyes flicked to his, confused. On seeing Danny’s grin, Martin raised a warning eyebrow. This particular expression on Danny meant trouble.

“No, Danny,” he said firmly. “Whatever it is: no.”

Danny just grinned wider and grabbed the lapels of Martin’s jacket, hauling him – reluctantly - off the seat.

Thoughts: The very first line in this block is also my favorite. It sums up everything I need to know about his father succinctly. (He's such a douche. Whats his name so I can punch him?) Anyway, very well done, this block. Moving on.
Critiques: Nothing.

“What are you doing?” Martin asked him with a mixture of boredom, fear, dread and amusement. Try as he may to refuse, Danny’s actions always got the better of him eventually.

“I’m teaching you to dance,” he said happily. Martin stopped. This couldn’t be happening. The last thing he needed right now was a dance tutorial; he really just wanted to go home and sink into his mattress and never come out. With that thought he realized that the previous spite that he had been feeling was gone.

He looked curiously at Danny, who was, disturbingly, smiling like a teenage girl.

“Come on, Fitz, you know you want to,” he all but purred, moving them from the pavement to the grass. Martin was totally confused, and he really didn’t want to dance. Danny indicated to the grass. “In case you fall over,” he teased.

Martin’s eyes narrowed. He knew that Danny was only saying it to get him to agree; to take this as a challenge. And, he noted with a hint of annoyance, it worked. Before he realized what he was doing, he sighed.

[/i]
Thoughts:He looked curiously at Danny, who was, disturbingly, smiling like a teenage girl. Nice comparison but man, if that's not a creepy thought, I don't know what is. I suppose that was your intention though, hm? Anyway, on with show. Nicely written, and I really kinda feel bad for Martin. Getting bullied by someone half his size. (I dont know, is Danny short? He strikes me as short.)
Critiques: Nothing, marching on.

“Fine.”

Danny’s smile was almost worth it. “Okay, bueno,” he agreed. “Hand,” he commanded, holding out his own. Martin stared at it for a minute as though it were a foreign object before reluctantly offering his own. Danny rolled his eyes and grabbed Martin’s hand.

Noting the shock that Martin’s hand in his sent through him, he almost regretted this. But not quite.

“Now, I’ll lead, or else we’ll probably end up needing the grass,” Danny teased a little awkwardly. Martin looked expectedly modest, but his face was soon a mask of concentration. If he was going to learn, he may as well do it properly. He placed his hand on Danny’s shoulder hesitantly and Danny’s hand was on his back almost immediately.

To Martin’s absolute horror, Danny looked perfectly comfortable. “Imagine a rhythm,” Danny told him quietly, suddenly remembering that he was actually supposed to be helping Martin. Martin who was currently staring at him with total helplessness. Danny smiled, more comfortable now that he knew he was, indeed, leading.

Looking at Martin, he started to move. Martin’s eyes briefly kept his, but quickly dropped to Danny’s feet, which were moving gracefully – as usual – on the grass. This was just unfair. And way beyond humiliating.

Thoughts: Right. And this is the part where Martin and Danny get into a huge fist fight. Anyway, descriptively, this is block is written very well, and gives me a very clear visual in my head. Side note, my favorite line was the very delightful "To Martin’s absolute horror, Danny looked perfectly comfortable." Theres just something very amusing about this.
Critiques: Got nothing. Moving on.

“You must really have disliked that girl, huh?” Danny asked suddenly. Martin looked up at him with a frown and Danny motioned to Martin’s hand in his, holding on much tighter than he’d ever bothered with the girl. Martin blushed and loosened his grip, muttering a ‘sorry’, only to have Danny tighten his. Martin’s frown deepened.

“I didn’t like her much, either,” Danny admitted with a mocking smile. Martin smiled and shook his head at Danny; possibly the strangest person Martin had the pleasure of knowing.

“I’m really not as bad at this as you seem to think I am,” Martin told Danny confidently. Raising an eyebrow in challenge, Danny pulled Martin the slightest bit closer, and started moving a little faster.

Martin’s breath caught as Danny’s grip on his back tightened and he looked at him, as if for an answer. Danny just smiled, almost politely, and to Martin’s shock, began to pull away. Martin briefly wondered if the function had driven Danny insane.

Deciding – with impressively little conscious thought - that Danny leaving was not something Martin wanted, he used their still-clasped hands to pull him back. He tugged a little too hard.

Danny grabbed onto Martin to stop himself from falling, and Martin couldn’t help but notice that this was probably the first time he’d ever seen Danny lose balance. But, damn him, he managed to do it gracefully.

Thoughts: Ahh, the age-old falling gag. It's a smart thing to do, using their recent past experiences as a conversation piece and in-joke between them(Martin holding Danny harder then he did the Colonel's daughter. Yes, I know that wasn't his rank. Everyone who likes guns is called the Colonel. Period.) That says something about your attention to detail, I must admit. Good job.
Critiques: I hate the falling gag every one does it and I hate it! Personal taste, and I recognize it as such. Moving on.

As Danny quickly righted himself, he felt Martin’s hand on his back, and suddenly realized that they were dancing again. Only this time they were much closer; and somehow, this felt both more and less awkward than before.

Danny felt Martin’s breath on his lips and tried not to inhale too obviously. He noted that Martin hadn’t been drinking tonight, and this, for some reason, made Danny slightly giddy. And Danny did not do giddy. Except, apparently, where Martin was involved.

As if to prove his point, Danny pulled Martin almost unbearably closer. He watched Martin’s eyes close for just a little too long to be construed as entirely neutral. At this, he smirked, a bit of his control and composure coming back after too long a break.

Leaning forward, he brushed his cheek across Martin’s only slightly to whisper in his ear.

“You’re really not that bad,” Danny conceded. Something in Danny’s tone – or perhaps it was his proximity – told Martin that he wasn’t talking about his dancing. At the thought, Martin blushed just enough for Danny to feel the warmth of Martin’s cheek against his own.

Thoughts:Nice attention to detail, as far as the mention of drinking goes. Gives them both a bit of character, as it offers insight on how they handle stress at parties. (Martin, anyway.) This part offers all of the emotion that I suppose I would come to expect from this point in a love story. I can definitely see these two ending up like this, looking at the progression of the story and such, so very well done.
Critiques: Nuffin.

Smirking again, Danny decided that he may as well convince Martin of some previously elusive facts and turned his head to press his lips to Martin’s jaw.

Martin reacted just as Danny had thought he would: tensing despite his now closed eyes. Martin had now stopped moving entirely, and Danny was almost panicked by it, but then Martin’s eyes opened.

And all Danny could see was flashes something wonderfully akin to desire, laced - more often than not - with flashes of panic. Danny smirked at him again, letting Martin know exactly what he was about to do, before moving his hand from Martin’s shoulder to the back of his neck; both panic and desire intensified.

Danny noticed only a brief flicker of what he could have sworn was determination in Martin’s eyes before he pulled him closer, sweeping his lips across Martin’s with much more self-control than Danny had previously thought he possessed. Martin still didn’t move.

Despite how many times Danny had thought of doing this, this scenario had never crossed his mind. He’d expected an explosion of passion. Or of Martin’s sexual repression – whichever came first.

This, though…

This was new; both for Danny’s imagination and his experience. It all suddenly seemed so facile, so pathetically romantic. And – ironically - that made it the most confronting sexual encounter of his life. If he could call this sexual.

Then Martin pulled him closer, turning a caress into something more, and Danny decided that – yes – he could definitely call this sexual.

Thoughts: Again, I don't read yaoi...or slash...(I dont know what slash means. Why is it called that?) But regardless, and I've said this before, you made it readable. Couple in my lack of...um....feelings, and it becomes doubly astounding that I found that despite everything, I did enjoy the read.
Anyway, this last bit is written v