The relationship was predictable, but it was in no way of the ordinary.
They were young, two ballet dancers who met by sheer coincidence, though Ivan preferred to call it fate.
"Fate," Yao claimed. "Is a pack of lies. We shape our own paths and there is no script to determine such a thing."
But Ivan's eyes would merely glitter as he pulled Yao into some form of embrace, with the quip that he needed to drink some more baiju and wash the bad thoughts away.
"Do you remember when we first met, Yao-Yao?" he would say, one hand lacing through his partner's mahogany hair and pulling it into the shape of a bun. It was like a bedtime story for the Russian, and although the retelling became less and less expressive as each day passed by, Ivan pretended not to notice.
"Yes. We danced together."
"You were the replacement ballerina, Yao!" Ivan would chime. "They thought that you were a woman. And so did I."
Yao rolled his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. So many times had he been mistaken for a woman in his line of work. Silken long hair, a petite body without an ounce of fat and trained, delicate feet. Ivan swore that a pin drop was one thousand times heavier than Yao's careful steps.
"…They said that the ballerina had severely injured her leg and that one simply couldn't dance with such blood seeping through her tights. They demanded a replacement for the final act, aru." Yao drawled. At first it was sweet when Ivan urged for the story each night, but it had quickly grown tedious.
"They picked you!" Ivan giggled, violet eyes wide with laughter. "And you were more than happy to, because you were so jealous to be a backing dancer! You had learned the steps so perfectly, that even we were surprised…and oh, Yao! You performed so well! Nobody noticed a single difference!" The man continued to gush, lavishing the information upon his lover as though it was fresh news. Although not lacking in truth, the words were rather stale and two years had passed since that night.
"Yes, yes. And after the show you presented me with the roses and said many sweet things in broken Mandarin. After which, you requested sex from me and blamed it on your poor Chinese speaking skills." Yao sighed when he noticed his partner still chuckling as he recalled the memory.
"Da, da! You slapped me across the face, but it was the most romantic face-slap I'd ever had!" Ivan insisted. "It took a long time, but I got you in the end, didn't I? My waiting paid off when I was allowed to kiss you."
"Give me a break!" snapped Yao. "You weren't interested in just kissing, aru! Aiyah, I don't even know why I try to bother with you at times!"
"Because you love me?" Ivan offered hopefully.
With one long sigh, Yao nodded in response. As tedious and childish as Ivan was, as frightening and eerie as he could be, he loved the man with all of his heart.
"Yes, Ivan." he spoke with a light sigh, finally leaning into his touch and shutting his eyes. He was a stubborn man, but even he couldn't deny the way the Russian made him feel.
And with little steps, those feelings were growing stronger by the day.
And there you have it! Depending on response, I may turn this fluffy little oneshot into a real, long story. After all, this was really fun to write and I'd be more than happy to develop it if there is good response.
Please review if you did~!