Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.

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When he was very young, his parents taught him to ballroom dance. "No respectable English gentleman has an empty arsenal of moves to show on the dance floor," his father told him, waltzing across the living room with his mother as Lyserg stared, transfixed. "It may not be practical, but it is definitely necessary."

After the house burned down, he hadn't had much use for the skills, and he spent much more time running than gliding across the room. His feet had brought him far from home – to new friends and old enemies, to America and Japan, to hell and back. Now he sat, alone in the room, thinking about how they were going to confront Hao and it had really been a while since he put on dancing shoes.

The sliding door opened abruptly, pulling him momentarily out of his thoughts. Chocolove rushed in, out of breath, and sighed in relief as he pulled the door closed behind him before cocking his head, sniffing the air. "Sorry, thought this room was empty," he said apologetically, throwing the door open and looking out before stepping back in, deciding the room was a better choice. "Actually, sorry for intruding, but Horohoro put bugs in Ren's futon as a joke and we're waiting for him to calm down before going back to our room."

"Oh," Lyserg said, just as a piece of furniture hit the wall somewhere downstairs. There was the sound of Anna screaming and Chocolove shuffled away from the door over to the wall Lyserg was sitting against.

"So why aren't you joining the party?" Chocolove asked, gesturing down to the floor where there were food and festivities below. This did not seem to be sarcasm; Lyserg had slipped out early before the chaos started and had holed himself in his room for the past half hour. "You alright?"

"I was tired," Lyserg lied.

"You're not sleeping now."

"I was distracted."

"Hmm." Chocolove stroked his chin. "Would you like me to tell you a joke?"

"Not really."

"Come on, it's really funny, I swear, I've been coming up with it for ages…"

"Will you dance with me?"

Chocolove, the natural comedian, did a dramatic, over-the-top double take. "What's this about?" he asked, his old Brooklyn accent creeping into his voice. With Lyserg, he could revert to English without worry, but he could never be sure where any conversation could be heading. He couldn't see, but he could definitely feel Lyserg lean toward him.

"It's not…it's just something I want to do, just for a moment…please?" Without his eyes, Chocolove had honed his interpretation of verbal cues, and he could hear hesitation and sincerity in Lyserg's voice and – well, hell, they were going to a match to the death tomorrow, so there wasn't really anything to be ashamed about.

"Alright then, no dancing around the subject with you." He chuckled as he got to his feet. "See, that was a pun…" They stood together for a moment, having an awkward shuffle in the placement of their hands. It did not help one bit that Chocolove did not know the type of dancing Lyserg had in mind and Lyserg was too modest to say anything about it.

"I haven't done this in a while," Lyserg admitted, sheepishly, close to frantically wringing his hands.

"I haven't done this in ever," Chocolove answered. So Lyserg led, guiding Chocolove's hand to his shoulder and after a moment's hesitation, put a hand tentatively on Chocolove's waist. It made the American laugh. "Go on; you know what you're doing."

Lyserg began a simple box step, whispering instructions and where to put one's feet. Chocolove had his face turned down to his feet, despite not being able to actually see them. Lyserg taught him slowly, and just as they fell into the slow, lulling rhythm, they looked up at the exact same time.

"Well," Chocolove said, feeling Lyserg's breath on his face. "This is pleasant and all, but what's the occasion?"

"My parents taught me before everything happened," Lyserg explained, changing directions and nearly making Chocolove trip over his own feet. "I was thinking about it. I was thinking about a lot of things."

"Better than the alternative," Chocolove joked weakly. He couldn't see, but he could feel – Lyserg biting his lip as they turned, the slight shift in balance with every footfall. Perhaps it was a side effect of being blind (or he never really had a shame sensor to begin with), but the idea of anyone catching them at this point did not bother him in the slightest. Someone was playing blues downstairs; Yoh, probably, listening to all his records before he lost the chance. They fell right in step and Chocolove couldn't tell who was leading anymore.

"I was thinking," Lyserg said suddenly, his voice low, "that after this is done, I'd be a spirit detective. You know; solving mysteries that involved spirits, since people don't normally see them."

"That's a sweet gig," Chocolove agreed, improvising and twirling them around, hearing Lyserg make a soft, startled sound. "There's not a lot of places that'll hire a convict like me, though."

There was a pause, and suddenly Lyserg gripped his hand tighter. "You can come with me! I'll need someone to help me anyway, and you won't have to go through anything." They turned again and Lyserg reined himself in. "I mean, only if you want to. It's weird, isn't it, you don't even know me that well…"

"No," Chocolove said, chuckling. "I think I'd like that."

There was another crash and the record suddenly stopped. They stopped and stepped away from each other, Chocolove clearing his throat. "Thank you," Lyserg said, after a moment. "That was nice."

"No problem." The silence was stretching and complicated. "I should probably go check on Ren, shouldn't I?"

"At least to make sure Horo isn't dead yet."

There was silence down the hallway, though with the sound of Yoh talking downstairs, no one had passed yet. It appeared safe to venture out. Chocolove stepped out tentatively of the room and paused, glancing back. "After tomorrow," he began clumsily, unsure of how to continue.

He could hear the gentle smile in Lyserg's voice. "I'll be waiting."

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Note: Umm, I swear I haven't written such an awkward fic in my entire life. I almost wanted to cringe in awkwardness as I wrote this. I haven't done this in forever. The prompt was eau d'bedroom dancing. Probably, subliminally, I was thinking about the dancing scene in the first part of HP 7. Ugh. Thanks for reading.