Pairings/Characters: Mel/Johnny, Homer Van Meter, Red Hamilton, cameos by Clark Gable, Myrna Loy and William Powell. ;)
Fandom: Public Enemies
Genres: AU, Crackfic, Captivefic (Of A Sort), Fluff, Humor, Romance
Spoilers: Probably not. This is crackfic! :)
Summary: John Dillinger needs improvement in a certain area of his life. Melvin Purvis can help him.
Date Of Completion: August 14, 2009
Date Of Posting: August 27, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1261
Author’s Note: Yep, this is crackfic! ;) The movie itself has some pretty serious themes but also had genuine moments of humor and witty dialogue, and I wanted to go light ‘n’ fluffy for this one! Hey, and if you ever saw Christian Bale in Newsies, this works! ;) Please enjoy! Oh, and don’t take this too seriously. ;)
Johnny Dillinger wasn’t a man afraid of acknowledging his shortcomings or working on self-improvement. He hadn’t become the most successful bank robber in America by kidding a kidder.
He was on the lam, flush with cash, and the darling of America.
Well, okay, some of America. He smirked as he thought that ol’ J. Edgar wasn’t a fan.
He wished that Billie was with him, but it was too dangerous. And thinking of Billie had made him think of a shortcoming.
Oh, not that. He and Prince Albert were doing real well, thank you very much!
No, he needed improvement in another area.
The man in a dark-blue suit, greatcoat, and fedora sputtered as he was dragged into the living room of the small cottage that Johnny and Red were staying in, the rest of the gang in nearby cottages.
“Pretty talkative for a G-Man,” Homer said, Red right behind him.
Red called, “We’re back, John!”
Johnny appeared, wearing an expensively-tailored blue suit and a lopsided grin. He crossed his arms and rested a shoulder against the doorjamb.
“Welcome, Agent Purvis.”
“Suh, this is kidnapping!” Mel’s Southern accent was thick from agitation.
“Just for a short time, Agent Purvis.” Johnny pushed away from the doorjamb. “I need your help.”
“My help? What are you talking about?”
“You are a champion ballroom dancer, correct?”
Mel blinked. “Back in college.”
“Good. You see, Agent Purvis, I need someone to teach me how to dance.”
Melvin Purvis often thought that life bordered on the absurd, but this was ridiculous!
Public Enemy No. 1 wanted to learn the foxtrot and wanted him to teach it to him.
Director Hoover would never believe this!
Mel found himself having lunch with Johnny and Red, deli sandwiches with salami, ham, cheese, pickles, and mustard. Johnny asked him, “Your sandwich okay, Mel?”
“I’ll get some potatoes and make some of my famous potato salad.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Mel.”
Mel rolled his eyes and took another bite of his sandwich.
Mel was handcuffed to the bed but the length of chain was long enough for him to sleep comfortably. In the morning after a light breakfast of toast and strawberry jam, Johnny escorted him to the living room. Both men were in their shirtsleeves, Mel wearing his vest. Johnny’s vest was unbuttoned, and he rolled up his sleeves.
“Let’s get to work.” Johnny smirked. “Let’s trip the light fantastic!”
Mel crossed his arms. “Really, Mr. Dillinger, I am a law enforcement officer, not a dance instructor.”
“You’re feisty, Mel. I like that.”
“Why can’t you get Miss Billie to teach you?”
“She’s somewhere safe. No, I need you, Mel.”
Mel stared stubbornly for a minute, then sighed and uncrossed his arms.
“Are we using the radio or a Victrola?”
“I got some records here.” Johnny crossed over to the Victrola and put on a foxtrot. Mel noticed how graceful the gangster’s movements were. Well, at least he had something to work with.
Mel held out his hands. “I’ll be Miss Billie.”
Johnny grinned. “Well, you are dark and beautiful.”
Mel felt a tingle at the words and said, “Put a hand on my hip and take this hand.” Johnny obeyed, his hazel eyes sparkling. “Okay, this is a two-step.”
After some initial stumbling, Johnny got the hang of it, Mel encouraging him with words of praise. Johnny grinned and pulled him close.
Mel could smell the scent of Johnny’s cologne, light and aromatic. He could also smell strawberry-scented shampoo. Their bodies were close, Johnny’s hand slipping from his hip to the small of his back.
The music turned slow and their dancing matched, Mel resting his head on Johnny’s shoulder.
It felt right.
Mel stiffened as Johnny’s hand wandered down to his ass, cupping him firmly. The agent lifted his head and looked at a smirking Johnny.
“What are you doing, suh?”
“You smell nice, Mel.” Johnny nuzzled his ear.
Mel could feel Johnny’s hardness up against his own. So he wanted to play that game? Okay. Mel ground into Johnny, the gangster gasping. Mel smirked, his gaze smoldering as he encircled Johnny’s back with his arm.
Johnny kissed him and Mel tightened his hold. Their graceful dancing turned to stumbling, and they managed to reach the bedroom, tumbling onto the bed.
They exchanged passionate kisses, rolling around on the bed.
It was the best dance of their lives.
Mel taught Johnny all sorts of dances with their clothes on, and both took turns teaching each other dances with their clothes off.
Mel suggested the waltz for the next clothing-on lesson. Johnny was amused but agreed, and soon they were whirling around the room, Red watching for awhile and shaking his head in fond exasperation. He left the cottage.
Mel loved the sensation of gliding around, Johnny’s smile filling his heart, the sense of power and strength exciting.
This time they didn’t stumble to the bedroom.
Johnny introduced Mel to more kinds of Italian food than just spaghetti, asking Red to get take-out orders from Rossetti’s in town, and there was candlelight and Italian bread and every kind of pasta imaginable, in rich red tomato sauce with onions and peppers and seafood, and the best vintage wine. Johnny smirked as Mel avidly developed a taste for Italian, and luckily for Johnny, for Midwestern flavors as well.
Johnny kept Mel with him as he learned all the dances he wanted to know, and kept him a little longer than necessary, because he loved the feel of the slender man in his arms as they whirled around the room. He loved the clean, fresh scent of his pretty agent, and he couldn’t get enough of the taste of his smooth skin.
Red would snort and call him lovesick, and mutter about ‘dancing fools’ but kept bringing sandwiches from the deli and take-out Italian food from Rossetti’s. Johnny made his famous potato salad and Mel loved it, which pleased Johnny greatly.
And when it was time to let Mel go, the agent whispered, “Save the last dance for me,” and Johnny did, the two of them dancing under the stars on a cool and crisp night.
Well, after returning to the Bureau, Mel got tired of guns and violence (and being chased around his desk by Hoover), and he was demoted since he never did find John Dillinger (or put out), because no one but him ever thought of looking in the Roseland Ballroom.
He left the FBI in 1935 and opened a dance studio, eventually owning a famous chain of trippin' the light fantastic, giving Arthur Murray and Vernon and Irene Castle a run for their dancing shoes.
He was fueled by such happy memories dancing with Johnny that he danced his way to Broadway, and had a silent partner financing his shows and when Hollywood came a’callin’, he gave Fred Astaire a run for his money. He was the toast of Tinseltown, and met Clark Gable, especially fitting since he’d been called the Clark Gable of the Bureau, Myrna Loy jabbing an elbow into William Powell and whispering that Mel was prettier.
And one day the silent partner showed up at his door with a smirk and a loaf of Italian bread, and Mel smiled, dancing away with the man who had danced into his heart.
free invisible web counter