time for word vomit // @countlessmuses
“C’mon now, don’t sell yourself short. You’re fine- I’m not expectin’ you to be perfect your first time. Please, just humor me?”
Nimble fingers wound calmly around Linc’s hips, settling there in stark contrast to the seemingly frenzied hands clasping around his belt.
“Nick, no- I can barely handle the waltz, I step on your feet all the time!”
“And do I complain ‘bout it? C’mon, swing’s fun, I promise. It’s just rhythm, that’s all. Don’t worry ‘bout it, your feet ain’t gonna crush mine, we’re both barefoot and you weigh like two pounds. I’ll lead, just follow me.”
There were more disgruntled noises from the other; Nick had figured he would be nervous about trying a new type of dance. He practically had to get on his knees and beg Linc to try to waltz with him, but he was stubborn, and he wasn’t going to let Linc get away from him without taking at least five seconds to swing.
“Just trust me. It’s not difficult, if it was difficult I’d leave you alone ‘bout it. Please?”
“… Fine, but only if you help me decorate the cookies tomorrow. And no, you can’t sneak frosting.”
“I’ll smack you with a rat tail if you do.”
A huff before those hands finally relaxed, at least a little bit. “Where do we start?”
“At the beginnin’, of course. Put your hands here…”
Before the night was over, he was able to get Linc to laugh. His feet were stepped on, as predicted; but also as predicted, it didn’t hurt, and the accidents happened less the more Linc got used to it. Even if it had hurt, he would’ve let Linc step on his feet all night long in order to produce the same breathless laugh he’d so grown to love. He wanted to say I told you so, but settled for a smile and a kiss instead.
