Lovino had immediately rejected the suggestion of dance lessons. It wasn't like he didn't know how to dance. In fact, he was quite good at it; a trait he was convinced was from his fiery, Latin instincts. Besides, he wasn't going to bring a date anyways, so what was the point? But Feli told him that if he didn't go to at least one, he wouldn't be allowed to be in the best man spot at his wedding, and like hell was Lovino going to give that spot up to some other fuck-face.
So there he was, walking into the expensive dance studio on a Saturday afternoon when he had nothing better to do.
He was a couple of minutes late and by the time he got there, everyone had been paired up to an instructor. People shot him angry glares as he walked in, all of which he ignored with ease. It wasn't until the last available instructor turned around, that he felt his throat close up.
"Oh, hello! Are you here for a lesson?" said the instructor smiling. Lovino was now confident his stomach was residing somewhere in his toes.
"Uh, y-yeah. I mean," He cleared his throat in an attempt to sound more confident. "Of course I'm here for a lesson, why the hell else would I be here?" To his even greater dismay, the Spaniard only laughed.
"Of course, silly me." He smiled again and now Lovino's heart joined his stomach in a little puddle in his feet. "Well everyone else already has a partner, would you mind dancing with me?"
"Fine." Lovino snapped and took the hand that was gently extended out to him. The taller man only smiled and turned to face the others.
"Okay everyone, listen to your instructors!" A gentle waltz started playing and he turned back to the Italian. "Okay, put your hands here and he-"
"I know where the fuck to put my hands, you idiot." Lovino huffed and put his hands in their respective spots, convincing himself that the only reason he was letting the instructor lead was because he must know better than him. Besides, the instructor was much taller than him and it would just be awkward otherwise. Not because he wanted to be led by the other. Of course he didn't.
"Of course do." said the instructor. For some reason the man seemed completely unperturbed by his harshness and just smiled sweetly as he lead him in the slow waltz.
"What's your name? I don't think I've ever seen you here before." asked the Instructor.
"You've never seen me because I've never been here." Lovino glared at him, matching his steps perfectly. "My name's Lovino Vargas. Not that it matters. I already know how to dance, I won't be coming again."
"Well I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, the head instructor. I can see you already know how, you're very good! Maybe you can show me how good you are at the next song." He winked and Lovino suddenly couldn't think straight.
The next song came quicker than he'd hoped and soon the two of them were dancing a quick cha-cha. Then a salsa. And a tango. Song after song went by and the two were dancing perfectly in time, like they'd been made to dance together. Around them, Lovino heard the other instructors helping their partners out as they danced, correcting little moves, telling them which direction to go. But none of those words were shared between Lovino and Antonio. He hadn't been overconfident in his skills; he really was quite good. So they held each other's eyes the entire time, hazel on emerald, and danced every move perfectly. When the last song finished and the lesson was officially over, the two just stood there for a moment, Lovino held in a deep dip, both of them panting for breath. Then without warning, he ripped himself from the other's hold, rushing home without another word.
Why he went back the next day, not even he knew. He wasn't even aware he was there until he barged through the door and saw the Spanish instructor.
"Oh, sorry, we're closed on Sunda-" He froze as he saw the Italian and slowly smiled. "Well hey there Lovi! What're you doing back here?"
"I- um. I…" What was he doing here, why had he come? He racked his brain for a response. "I… missed a step in the samba. Was wondering if you could help me fix it." It was a lie and they both knew it. He hadn't missed a single step, least of which in the samba. But Antonio just smiled wider and quickly found a samba song for them to dance to.
The two spent hours there, dancing song after song. He eventually left, again without a word. But he was back the next day, and then the next, and the next, until it was routine. At first they didn't talk much, only dancing. But eventually Antonio managed to pry through his barriers, and they grew more comfortable together. It barely took a week for them to really consider each other friends. A few days later, Lovino allowed himself to smile around the man.
By the next week, they exchanged numbers.
It wasn't until they were walking to dinner together, after a dance lesson that wasn't really a lesson anymore that Lovino finally let the thought cross his mind.
Maybe he'd be bringing a date to the wedding after all.