A/N: Here it is, the follow-up I've been wanting to do for "Defrosting" - a set of one-shots focusing on the everyday life of a CEO and his android girlfriend. Warning for dangerous amounts of fluff ahead.

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Dancing Is Not Science

Deep in the bowels of what was once a salt mine in what was once Upper Michigan, stillness reigned over the metal-and-concrete skeletons of a sprawling scientific necropolis—the remains of the Aperture Science Enrichment Center. The once-bustling facility was empty now, cleaned of its former inhabitants, showing no signs of life save the artificial hum of machinery. It lay beneath the earth like an empty coffin, forgotten and silent.

Well…

Almost forgotten, and not quite silent.

"Mr. Johnson—"

"C'mon, kid, you used to love this. Give it a try."

"Sir, I really don't think—"

"Come on, please?"

She looked at him dubiously. The coaxing, puppyish expression in his eyes was hard to resist, but… "Dancing is not science."

She turned away, but he followed, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "You remember how we used to lock the door and crank up the radio and—"

"I remember how you once stood up an important client for it."

"Oh, we musta done that more than once," he chuckled. "Some days I'd rather cut a rug with a pretty girl than kiss ass for cash, y'know?"

"Not exactly good business practice, sir."

"Yeah, but it was fun, wasn't it?" She didn't answer, but he felt her hips start to sway with his as he rocked her back and forth. "And you were damn good, too. Best partner I could ask for."

She flushed pink with a synthetic blush. "I'm a little… rusty, Mr. Johnson. It's been a long time."

"Hey, I've been dead for a million years! Let's give it a try, huh?" She stayed silent. Nuzzling her ear, he tried the trick he knew she couldn't resist: "Just to see if we still can. Do dead men remember how to dance, or something. Make it an experiment."

And that was the magic word. He felt her posture soften against him as she acquiesced, "…Okay."

"Great!" He grinned triumphantly. Never, in all the decades he'd known her, had his girl ever resisted an experiment.

Turning her to face him, he took her hands in his and started a simple foxtrot. She picked it up almost instantly. The movements felt familiar, but mechanical—it had been lifetimes since she'd done this last. She felt stiff and formal against his more natural form, and trying to relax only made her nervous of slipping up.

He noticed her tension and gave her a gentle nudge. "Loosen up a little." She felt him ease her closer until their bodies touched.

"Loosen up?" A spark of challenge appeared in her eye. She might be made of metal, but she could still have fun. "Hold on."

Slipping out of his grasp, she went to the chamber wall and opened up a panel, revealing one of the ports that allowed access to the Enrichment Center's main system. From here, she could have the entire facility quite literally in the palm of her hand. She pressed her left hand onto the port, sliding its metal rod into the corresponding hole at the base of her palm, and she was plugged in—she flicked through a few dozen security protocols in half a second, and a blissful tingle of connectedness flooded her sensors as the system opened to her. She wasn't going to stay long, though. Accessing the art appreciation databanks, she flipped to the music section and skimmed through its millions of songs until one in particular jumped out at her. An old favorite. She wondered if he'd remember.

"How's this?"

His face lit up with recognition as the first mellow notes echoed through the room. "Sounds great to me, kid." She matched his playful grin.

He took her hand and they fell into a moderate-tempo Lindy Hop as a familiar baritone resonated over the speakers: "Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars, let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars…" Guided by his momentum and enlivened by the song, she felt herself relax into the moves. "In other words, hold my hand… In other words, baby, kiss me…" He spun her in close and stole a kiss before spinning her out again. She giggled. Something in her chest felt warm and light.

They twirled around each other, feet keeping perfect time, moving smoothly in steps they knew like breathing. She responded to his guiding touch without a thought as he whirled her in and out and under his arm, letting him pull her close and spin her away as they glided across the floor. Suddenly her feet were off the ground—balanced between natural grace and mechanical precision, they executed the lift without a hitch. It felt effortless.

"Fill my heart with song and let me sing forevermore; you are all I long for, all I worship and adore… In other words, please be true…" One more whirl, in and out, and then his arm was around her, holding her tight."In other words—I love you." On the final beat he dipped her into a kiss.

Letting her up only as the last echoes faded away, he grinned and chuckled, "Not bad for a calculator."

"Not bad yourself, ape-man," she shot back, golden eyes sparkling. She felt breathless from exertion, and her artificial glands were pumping out a chemical cocktail that made her giddy. This was fun!

Before she could shut off the sound system, it flared to life again with big-band sound, brass and drums playing a livelier tune. Mr. Johnson's eyebrows bounced suggestively—and she'd barely caught her breath when they were off again, Sinatra crooning in the background, "Hey there, cutes, put on your dancin' boots and come dance with me…"

And in their concrete labyrinth miles below the surface, the two old ghosts cut a rug.