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Shall We Dance?

ao3 // masterlist

*Summary: Strahm needed a breather. Perez was so kind as to pay for her co-worker's dance class. Never in a million years would he imagine that Hoffman would be there too.

*Rating: 18+ for Explicit Mature Content

*Content/Tags: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Smut, Shameless Smut, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Dance Class, Slight Canon Divergence

*Status: Oneshot/Complete

Author's Note: Woo male Hoffstrahm? After so much WLW content? It's more likely than you think! I got kind of possessed by a creative daemon for this one... so I hope you'll enjoy this!

“Go to therapy… but knowing you, it’d be easier to get you into a dance class than it would be a therapist’s office.”

Perez’s words run in the back of Agent Strahm’s head. She was right of course. He hated her because she was so right. That’s why he was outside of dance studio with five minutes before the class started, heels digging into the pavement. He wanted to turn back around, get in the car and pick up some shit food on his way back to his hotel. Nothing was stopping him other than the crushing sense of Perez’s disappointment the next day for him dipping on a class she had paid for. He swallowed his pride and entered the studio, hauling his body up the stairs to the second floor. His hand hovered over the second door for a second before finally stepping in.

“Hello!” A voice rang out from across the room. Everyone turned to stare at him as he entered, he could’ve died in that moment from the embarrassment. There were at least 5 couples in the room, probably men dragged to a class before their wedding this summer. Strahm didn’t envy them. “What might your name be?”

“Peter Strahm.” He coughed his name out

“Ah yes, one of my new students. Well welcome, we’ll be starting class in a couple of minutes. In the meantime you’re welcome to a water bottle over on the table if you’d like.” The instructor offered to him, motioning to the table across the dance floor. He nodded and walked over to the table. Suddenly, he felt a cold sweep of air raise the hairs on the back of his neck. No. It couldn’t be. Why would he be here of all places? Sure enough, his trepidation was answered by a low voice.

“Agent Strahm.”

He turned around and stood face to face with his recent workplace rival. Mark Hoffman. He hated the other man for his smug face and know it all attitude. He’d been stonewalling Lindsey and Strahm for a week now on info about the damn Jigsaw Killer. So to see his stupid, self-righteous ass in a classroom when Strahm was supposed to be ‘relaxing’ under his partner’s orders. It made his blood boil. “What are you doing here this evening?”

“I was trying to learn how to dance.” Strahm scoffed. As if it was ridiculous for him to want to spend his free time doing something besides sitting in a shitty motel.

“For anyone in particular?” Hoffman raised an eyebrow

“For myself, jackass. Why would I need to tell you?” Strahm mouthed off, “Funny seeing you here. Don’t you have some puppies to shoot or children’s lollipops to steal?”

“Mark!” The instructor’s cheery voiced joined the two embittered men as she hugged the detective, “I haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?”

“Oh I’m fine.” Hoffman turned around, completely ignoring Strahm. Strahm took a sip from his water bottle as the two of them rehashed some old times they had together. Something about high school, something something Mark’s sister. Sister? Oh well.

“I hope this isn’t too awkward an ask, but it appears I’m down on women tonight. It seems like you know our newcomer, would you be his partner tonight?”

“Sorry what?” Strahm finally tuned back into the conversation

“No, that’s no problem with me.” Hoffman shrugged before glancing over his shoulder at Strahm, who was trying to get his jaw back up from off the floor.

“Thank you.” She smiled at him, “I hope you two enjoy the class.”

“We will.” Hoffman returned her smile with a contentious smirk. She walked out of earshot before Strahm said,

“I’m leaving.”

“Oh no you’re not.” Hoffman held him back by the collar of his shirt. “If you leave now you’ll have leverage on me and that’s something I don’t want.”

“Leverage, what kind of fucking leverage would I get?”

“Imagine if Perez found out I take dance classes and spread that through out my precinct.”

“The horror.” Strahm rolled his eyes

“Stay here and we can pretend like you didn’t see me here. Tell her you hooked up with some broad you met here instead.” Hoffman’s grip was still ironclad around the fabric, “Do we have a deal, agent?”

“Fine.” Strahm scoffed before Hoffman let go. Strahm turned to face his partner before asking, “How long do these classes normally go for?”

“Two hours. Didn’t you read anything about this class before you signed up?” Hoffman scoffed back at him

“Perez signed me up.”

“Figures. Couldn’t figure out a computer without Nancy Drew to assist?”

“Couldn’t figure out the keys. They’re all too big for a human’s hand, but just the right size for pigs hooves.” Strahm snapped back, “Keep Perez out of your mouth or I’ll personally tell everyone in your department.”

“Fine. That was a low blow on my part.” Hoffman shrugged and took Strahm’s hand, guiding him over to where the other pairs were waiting for the lesson to start. Their teacher started talking, but Strahm wasn’t listening. Who was going to take lead? It had to be him right?

“And break!”

“You get any of that?” Hoffman asked Strahm

“Um… no.”

“Then let me lead.” Hoffman took his right hand and put his free hand on Strahm’s hip. “Step back.”

“Okay.” Strahm stepped back

“Side.”

“Forward. And side one more time. Like that. Now do that while we spin.” Hoffman rotated the two of them before grinning, “You don’t dance like you look.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Strahm sucked in a breath, trying to keep his rage at the other man under control.

“You look like you’d have two left, horribly uncoordinated feet. I’m surprised you don’t.”

“Thanks.” Strahm smiled through the back handed compliment. The teacher stopped by the couple and corrected Strahm’s arm angle before complimenting Hoffman’s form.

“Want to trade now?” Hoffman asked

“Yes.”

“Think you can keep me in check?”

“I know I can.” Strahm cut into the detective

“Then get to it.” Strahm re-positioned their hands so now it was his hand on Hoffman’s hip. Hoffman offered his hand to the FBI agent and Strahm took a hold of it.

“Back.” Strahm said, using his weight to get Hoffman to go backwards. Then side. Then Hoffman put his weight into guiding Strahm into a backwards step. “I thought it was my job to be in charge.”

“It is. Doesn’t mean I can’t help.” Hoffman forced Strahm’s body to go to the other side. Strahm took his hands off Hoffman and stood before him. “Would you quit making a big deal of it? Otherwise Nikki’s going to come over here.”

“Fine.” He placed his hands back on Hoffman’s hips. With more force this time he pushed Hoffman back a step, moved him to the side. Hoffman fought back with the forward step and the second slid. “Think we can get to a fast enough pace where we can spin, detective?”

“I don’t know. I think your second left foot is showing.” Hoffman replied with a tangible malice to his words. Strahm finally let his temper get the best of him and stepped onto Hoffman’s toes. He feigned innocence before shrugging and said, “Sorry.” Hoffman was visibly fuming as his other toes ‘accidentally’ kicked the center of Peter’s shin. Strahm grumbled a curse under his breath only to have Hoffman respond with the same disingenuous, “Sorry.” Strahm stepped away from his partner and snatched a water bottle off the table. There were plenty extras so he didn’t feel too bad about taking another. He drank from the bottle like it was a shot glass and loudly crumpled the plastic, enough where others in the class stopped their footwork to look at him.

“Sorry.” His tone weakened, “Must’ve been more dehydrated than I realized.” They shook their heads and went back into their own little words. Meanwhile he still had to go back to a pissed off detective, who if it were legal, would’ve probably shot Strahm without a second of remorse. He turned around to face his partner and saw that he was closer into Strahm’s space than Strahm would have liked. He grabbed Strahm by the collar and pulled him towards the door. With a quick, “Sorry Nikki.” Hoffman pulled Strahm out into the hallway. He practically threw the man against the wall, just narrowly missing a full send down the stairs. Hoffman looked behind himself to make sure that the instructor didn’t interrupt her class for their little lover’s spat.

“I know you have a fucking problem with me at work, but what the hell is your deal tonight, huh?” While Strahm slunked into the floor, Hoffman titled the other man’s head up by his chin to face him. He took a step closer to the agent on the floor, setting his foot in the space between Strahm’s thighs. “You don’t need to answer that question, but you do need to answer this one. If we go back in there, do you promise to fucking behave?”

“Yeah.” Strahm sheepishly looked away. Hoffman’s hand clamp down hard on Strahm’s jaw and forced him to look back up at him before saying,

“‘Yeah’ what?”

“Yeah I’ll fucking behave.” Strahm looked into the other man’s eyes, wishing he could spit in them. Considering his head was just inches from the edge of the stairs, he decided against it and got up when Hoffman’s hand no longer connected the two. The two quietly slipped back into the room and Strahm was surprisingly compliant when Hoffman put his hand on his waist to lead him during the dance. He figured they had a good thing going before he insisted on taking the lead, why ruin the class when there was still over an hour left? Their chemistry was smooth. Their feet working in tandem with each other. Hoffman kept his mouth shut and in turn Strahm kept his snide comments about the music to himself, though it nearly killed him. Finally the instructor turned the music off, thanking everyone for a fun class and hoped to see everyone again, Hoffman slipped away from his partner. He continued his conversation he was having with her earlier. Strahm eyed the door, wondering if he could get away in time before Hoffman tried to say goodbye to him. He turned his back, only to feel the other man’s hand on his shoulder. Should’ve left sooner.

“Where do you think you’re going, Agent?”

“Back to my shitty hotel.” Strahm muttered

“Surely your hotel can wait for a minute.”

“Wait for what?”

“I don’t know, but I’m fucking starving. Let’s go get dinner.”

“That an invite or an order?” Strahm scoffed

“Take it how you’d like, Agent.” Strahm stumbled forward with Hoffman’s release of his collar. They left the studio and went out to their respective cars. Conveniently parked next to each other, Strahm looked over the newer model that Hoffman owned. Same crappy car, same crappy interior probably, but it had to have some bells and whistles that the ‘99 Crown Vic didn’t. “Where do you want to eat?”

“I don’t care. You’re the one that insisted on this…” Hoffman raised an eyebrow as Strahm was about to finish his sentence. He sucked the word ‘date’ back in before it could be expelled out and just rolled his eyes. “I could go for a burger, I guess.”

“Good. I know a place.”

“Who’s to say I’m going to follow you?” Strahm asked him. He was going to follow the man, but curiosity kills the cat and all that went through his mind anyway.

“I don’t know. I could mention to your partner the way I emasculated you…” He started

“Alright fine, fine. Let’s go get some fucking food.”

“Follow me.” Hoffman leads yet again and drives them to a diner. Really greasy spoon place, Strahm noticed at first glance. Mark slid into a booth and Strahm slid into the seat across from him. The waitress stopped by, handing menus off without exchanging a word. “What are you thinking?”

“Why do you care what I think?” Strahm’s eyes couldn’t focus on one area that seemed particularly good. On one hand country ham, hash browns and sunny-side eggs sounded so good. On the other hand, Hoffman had brought him here for a burger. “I haven’t decided. You know what you want?”

“Of course.”

“Then why even bother with a menu?” Strahm asked

“Just to be sure.” Hoffman laughed to himself. The low timber of his laughter was… soothing. Rhythmic even. Strahm kept the menu high over his face, praying Hoffman didn’t see the soft pink flush growing across it.

“Need another minute?” The waitress came up, pulling her pad out from her apron

“I’m good.” Hoffman replied. Strahm could feel the air shift from him putting the menu down on the table. “Just 3 eggs, over-easy, and two slices of sourdough.”

“Any jam?”

“Just butter. And a black coffee.”

“Sounds good.” She nodded and switched her attention to Strahm. Strahm put his menu down and said to her,

“I’ll do a double cheeseburger, medium. No tomatoes.”

“And for the side?”

“Fries is fine.”

“Anything to drink?”

“Coke.” He replied, “Actually make it a diet.”

“Wonderful. I’ll get that in for you two.” She pulled the menus away from the two of them. Hoffman’s gaze landed squarely on Strahm while Strahm darted his eyes away. Literally anywhere else he could look was a welcome sit.

“Hey. There’s a jukebox. You think it works?” Strahm noticed the antique on the other side of the restaurant

“Why? You going to play something for me?”

“No. Just curious.” Strahm slid back out of his seat and shuffled over to the machine. Sure enough the pages flipped when he pressed the button. He checked his pocket for change before dumping it into the jukebox and picking a good mix of songs he liked when he was a younger man. The first song that creaked from the speakers as he stepped away was a J. Geils Band song.

“Feels like yesterday I was listening to this in college.” Hoffman laughed as Strahm came back to the table

“Looking at your face, it probably was yesterday” Strahm huffed. The waitress came back with their drinks before leaving the two in an awkward silence once more.

“It was a bit longer than yesterday, Agent.”

“Huh?”

“I said it feels like yesterday and you said ‘it probably was’. It was a little bit longer than yesterday. Even by your generous estimate of my age. We’re probably closer than you think.”

“Bullshit.” Strahm laughed himself, biting on his bottom lip as he realized what he was doing. Was he actually enjoying spending time with the detective? He slicked his hair back with his hand while Hoffman shifted in his seat, perching his head against his knuckles on the table. Strahm’s eyes darted towards the expo window and palmed along the table, reaching for the ketchup bottle to fidget in hand as they waited for their food. Centerfold slowly faded out and Head Over Heels started playing softly in the background. It was just the two of them in the diner at the moment. Them and the staff that was. It’s not like Strahm could deflect and say that the song must be for the couple sitting across from them at the bar.

“Huh.” Was all Hoffman had to say, still looking smug while he eyed up Strahm

“Huh what, smart-ass?”

“Huh as in ‘huh, didn’t know this is how you felt about me’.”

“Oh shut up I don’t. I was just looking for songs that I liked.”

“Uh huh.” Hoffman ran his tongue under his lip inside of his mouth. “Though if I hear Careless Whisper next, I’ll just assume you want to it right now in the bathroom.”

“Fuck off. As if I’d ever… with you.” Strahm scoffed at the notion, “Be fucking serious.”

“I am.” Hoffman smirked. Stupid little smirk. Stupid cute little smirk that only seemed to grow the more upset Peter got with him. The waitress dropped their plates down in front of them and left them to be after making sure they had everything they needed. Strahm took the ketchup bottle back into his hand and plopped some on his plate next to the fries. Mark dug into his toast, putting an ungodly amount of butter on one slice of toast. The thing was basically gone in two bites. “How’s the burger?”

“Let’s find out.” Strahm took a bite. It wasn’t anything to write home about, but it was exactly what he needed. “Not bad. Thanks for the recommendation.”

“You’re welcome.” Hoffman dug his fork into the yolk of his egg and used his one spare piece of bread to sop it up. He ordered a second plate of toast exactly the same way so he could finish his other two eggs. Strahm picked at his fries, and while Hoffman waited for the toast stole a fry, taking all of Strahm’s ketchup with the swipe across the plate. Strahm groaned and guarded his plate with one hand, picking up fries with his dominant hand. The toast finally arrived and the other man finished the yolk. Before he could eat the white of his egg, Strahm swooped in with his fork, fighting away Hoffman’s fork with his hand as he stole the rubbery goodness. “That was hardly fair, Agent.”

“No it was totally fair after you stole that damn fry.” Strahm countered

“Fine.” Mark replied, spinning Strahm’s straw from his coke towards him and taking a sip from his Coke. Strahm responded in kind, stealing the coffee mug from Mark’s side of the table and downing some coffee like it was a shot. They looked at each other for a second before Mark threw a twenty down on the table and they shuffled out to their cars. Strahm wasn’t going to do it. He wanted to hear Hoffman beg first. He wasn’t going to crack as he looked at those juicy lips and think about how plush they’d feel against his significantly smaller. After making sure the staff weren’t acting as voyeurs to the men, rather than kiss the FBI agent, Hoffman hooked his arms around Strahm’s neck and looked at him.

“Bet you’ve been waiting all night for this.” He said, definitely having the same thoughts that Strahm did

“Get the fuck over yourself.” Strahm spat back in his face. He used his weight and shoved Hoffman’s back into the brick wall of the diner behind them

“I could’ve really fucked up my head from that, jackass.”

“You’ll fucking live, dipshit.” Strahm growled. Hoffman didn’t want to budge either. It’s probably why the man was so alluring to Peter Strahm. Just as he was about to admit defeat, Hoffman closed the distance between their lips and initiated a kiss between the two of him. Without hesitation, now that he knew the detective wanted it as much as Peter wanted it, Strahm stuffed his tongue into Hoffman’s mouth. Hoffman let a moan slip past his lips as Strahm went to town inside of him. His hands locked onto the back of Strahm’s jacket, tugging on the leather as he was desperate for there to be one less layer between the two of them. Peter pulled away for air and looked Hoffman up and down. “Your place or mine?”

“Mine.” Hoffman practically growled, “Get in my car.”

“And leave my car here? No thanks.”

“I’m not driving your damn car.”

“Then just let me follow you.”

“Fine.” Hoffman shoved his hand into his pocket and grabbed his keys, sliding over the hood of Strahm’s car to get to his car.

“Show off.” Peter muttered under his breath, making an equally desperate dash to the driver’s seat. He got in and followed behind Hoffman’s stupid car to his stupid house. When he pulled into the driveway he got out of the car and practically rushed the detective, pinning him to the front door. His lips lingered lower this time, traveling to Hoffman’s neck as the man turned around and unlocked the door for the two of them. Hoffman spun back around and pulled Strahm into his house, locking the door behind him. He pressed Strahm’s back into the wooden thing as they made out like two teenagers on prom night. Never in his life had Strahm felt so much for someone. Yes there was layer of hatred, and below that a layer of loathing, but somewhere deep inside of Peter was a respect for Hoffman that seemingly manifest itself as lust. He hated Hoffman with everything that he was, and that turned him on all that much more. He wanted to rip every hair out of Hoffman’s head while shoving his dick in between the giant orbs that Hoffman called an ass, wanted to draw blood as he marked up Hoffman’s neck for his personal use. Maybe slap him around while he was at it. The urge to top the other man got the better of him, and despite not knowing the layout of Hoffman’s living room shoved the other man into the dark. Hoffman stumbled, falling ass backwards onto the couch and shoving a lamp off a table in his desperate attempt to keep himself from falling. Peter used Mark as a guide for where the couch was, circling around the other man like a vulture stalking its prey. Peter leaned in and worked off Hoffman’s belt and undid his pants. He shoved two fingers into Mark’s mouth, who was more than happy to suck on the digits if it meant getting his pleasure from Strahm. Strahm awkwardly worked his belt free with one hand and shook his hips to get his pants down to around his ankles. He pulled his fingers out from Mark’s mouth and Hoffman released them with a wet pop of his lips. The detective’s saliva trailed off the digits as Strahm slowly shoved a finger into the man. After waiting for a second, he inserted the second finger into his ass. He used his fingers to stretch out Hoffman’s hole enough so that the other man could take him.

“I’ll be fine.” Hoffman responded, as if he had read Strahm’s thought. That or Strahm was lost in thought for a lot longer than he had realized. Strahm’s voice came out almost scratchy as he asked the detective if he had any lube near. Hoffman gave him instructions up to his room and Strahm stormed off to grab the tube. He came back and with a couple of quick pumps thrusted into Hoffman. His asshole tightened around Strahm’s cock. Strahm used one hand to support himself, and used his free hand to rest against the curve of Hoffman’s cheek. He almost looked vulnerable underneath the FBI agent. He began slowly thrusting into Hoffman, letting his arm rest lazily over Hoffman’s shoulder rather than keep his hand glued to Hoffman’s face. He made a grunt as he picked his pace up, trying to get up as far as he could in Hoffman’s ass. When he hit his prostate, Hoffman’s hips jerked up into Strahm.

“I’m not going to last…” Hoffman whined

“Then cum.” Peter growled over top him, chasing his own release. Hoffman came onto Strahm’s stomach, getting mixed in with the other man’s body hair. Strahm pulled out and used his hand to jerk himself off, returning the favor by covering Hoffman in his load. Rather than his stomach however, he covered Mark’s chest. When he was spent, Peter laid next to Hoffman on the couch. The two of them didn’t talk for a moment before Hoffman got up to clean himself. He came back with a clean rag for Strahm who thanked him quietly. “Promise me something.”

“Yeah?” Hoffman raised an eyebrow

“Perez can never know about us.”

“And her I thought she’d be your groomsman.” Hoffman tisked. Peter punched his arm before Mark pressed his lips onto Peter’s cheek, “So you coming to dance class next week?”

“Yeah. Only if we can do this.”

“We can do whatever the hell this was anytime.” Hoffman held onto Strahm

“Well look who’s just a fucking teddy bear when he’s not impeding my investigation.” Strahm grumbled, but returned the contact. He kissed Hoffman’s cheek before Hoffman curled around him like a boa constrictor. He pulled a blanket that rest over the couch and covered them up with it.

“Good night, Agent.”

“Good night… Hoffman.”

#saw #mark hoffman #saw franchise #peter strahm #coffinshipping #hoffstrahm #saw movies #saw fanfiction #saw fanfic #saw smut #smut

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