SUMARY: It's America's Birthday and everybody had the swing, except for Russia, so Alfred offered to teach. Nobody said it was going to be easy.
American Spin
"My birthday is coming", said suddenly the American. Across the table, a pair of violet eyes raised their attention from the ravioli and looked at his companion, with inquisitive eyes. It was just the fourth day of may. So for Russia, forever utilitarian, announcing the festivity with such anticipation had no sense. But it was America who he was facing, the nation who, even it he was kind of utilitarian and functional, lived for entertainment and parties.
"I assume you have plans", said the Slavic and the other nation noded. "And those plans include me?"
"Duh... yeah", America made it sound like it was so obvious that the sole question was stupid, but Russia had reasons to ask, it had been only a few months since they started being... friendly?, and only a few years since they stopped the Cold War bitterness and started to talk in good terms.
At the beginning it was forced. The UN accorded that they needed to start talking and understanding each other in order to, quoting Germany, avoid a World War III. America was reluctant and he even protested, but Russia just shrugged like it wasn't a big deal and he, being a hero, couldn't be less. He couldn't let Russia be the better person in this. In anything.
They started arranging formal reunions with their bosses present. Putin wasn't so nasty with Obama, and Obama of course was polite as ever with everyone, so it went smoothly even if the nations stayed silent glaring at each other. Then, their mandataries suggested they should try to get along.
(But I don't wanna anything to do with that commie scum. He is not a communist anymore, Alfred, we have to try... and you have more in common than you think).
And they, indeed, had a lot in common. They could discuss about astronomy and informatics for hours, they had a similar sense of humor, even if Russia's was darker, but Hey!, America was raised by England. He could be pretty dark too.
Nowadays they could call each other without being forced to it, they would meet to talk, to trade, to eat, to bicker and to laugh at the silly memes America showed to his new... friend?. It was refreshing to the younger nation having a friend who didn't lied to him or tiptoed around him just for interest, and it was great to the Russian having a friend who wasn't afraid of him, who stood his ground against him when needed.
"And what you need me for?"
"Nothing, I'm just telling you so you prepare to assist to a big ass party, dude"
"I don't need to prepare myself so much to party"
"Oh, for my parties you do...", and America proceeded to blabber about how he wanted a historical party with music of his favorites decades and costumes and a lot of "bad ass dances".
Russia didn't took that seriously, he just waited for the invitation, bought a present and prepared one of his gala suits. Putin, before he went, asked him if he read the invitation and Russia assured him he did. But clearly he didn't put much attention. When he arrived to the hotel and found all the nations with old suits. Japan wearing something from the 80's, the Italian brothers had large suits like some 1930 gangsters, Germany wore a more modern one, from 1990, Belgium looked lovely dressed as a flapper, and so on. Only Russia felt out of place, or more likely, out of time.
On the sly, Russia looked again to the invitation. The title of the party was "Dancing across the ages" and indicated a dress code that he didn't pay much attention to, because he didn't care about such frivolities. He felt silly,and overall, a bad friend.
Even remembering he didn't have much experience being someone else's friend.
Luckily, Alfred didn't care about that, he noticed his new friend had arrived and went to greet him with a big smile. "I'm so glad to see you, Ivan". Some nations flinched at the notice that the American just addressed at the Slavic country with his human name. France smiled and whispered something to Prussia's ear.
"I hope you brought your best dance shoes", grinned Alfred and then grabbed him from his sleeve to direct him to greet his closest friends: England, Canada and, surprisingly, South Italy who was laughing at something the Englishman said. Probably some bitter remark, Ivan couldn't imagine what else could cheer up those bitter nations. "Well let's sit at the table, dinner will be served and then we will shake our booties". Arthur wanted to correct the informality of his former colony, but it was his birthday so he let it pass.
The dinner wasn't so bad. The same nations that always were in the meetings, sitting at a table as usual, discousing nonsense and even there was Germany trying to control and put order, so Russia felt in familiar ground until they had to head into the dancing room.
It was a large space, a black shiny floor reflecting the light of various crystal chandeliers, some chairs and small tables where to put the drinks, an elegant and large bar with a huge display of bottles and glasses of multiple colors and shapes. The waiters were dressed inspired in the fifties and a big band with twenty musicians played a soft jazz song. Then, they started to build a quick and jolly rhythm and some countries went to the dance floor to jump and clap doing some playful moves that Russia had never seen before. Belgium looked especially lovely with her shiny short dress and her pearl collar swirling at the beat. Then, the song transformed into another and someone shoot: "The Tranky doo!" and lots of countries, with the exception of Skavics and some Asians, ordered in lines and started a sequence of steps, they kicked, spun, clapped and laughed in a way that made Russia felt gloomy.
He never had the chance to learn to be so carefree. While everybody was floating so lightly in the 20's, he was being teared apart by the Civil War, Bolsheviks and White Army driving him mad and the Blood of the Romanovs running through his skin. He never learnt to dance for fun, for him dancing was either a serious form of art or a way to preserve his culture and folklore.
Alfred jumped in the center with everyone, clapping, swaying and raising his hands. Every song that came from that moment was new to Ivan and almost everyone just knew how to dance, even Sweden was exceptionally good, spinning Finland fast, bringing him closer and then sending him away rhythmically. Russia looked impressed, unaware that Alfred had sat beside him to drink a soda.
"That move is called swing out, pretty neat, huh?"
"Never thought Sweden knew your popular dances"
"He organises the biggest swing festival every year in his house, lots of people of every corner of the world go to it to learn and compete, is awesome!" (1)
Russia nodded and stood silence. How is that everyone knew this things? Maybe some of his people knew this dances, but surely were such a small number that he never felt the itch to learn. "Wanna dance with me, buddy?", Alfred asked reaching his hand towards him. "I don't dance", Ivan said calmly. "I can ask for a slow one and teach you some moves", Alfred grinned shaking his shoulders illustrating a dance move, but the Slavic just denied with his head and responded: "Nyet, I rather not to". The American tried not to show his disappointment and just shrugged with a sheepish smile. "Well, maybe later", added the younger nation and walked towards another table. Ivan knew he was being a shitty friend, but he couldn't help it, the more happy and talented everyone seemed, the more depressed he felt, so he drank the whole glass of vodka he had in his table and decided to sit by the bar, where the night would be more bearable.
The barman started to look worried about him when he downed the first bottle of vodka, but he also looked very scared when Ivan sent a deadly glare for denying him a second bottle, so the poor man finally handed it to the Slavic and tried to ignore him. It was near one am when the music stopped for a while and then France walked to the center of the stage and announced:
"Like is tradition in this kind of parties, we are going to do a jam circle for the birthday boy, so everyone to the center and Joyeux anniversarire Amerique"
In the same instant France walked down the stage, the tremor of drums flooded the room and then a choir of trumpets initiated a fast melody (2). Belgium dragged Alfred to the center and everyone surrounded the couple in a circle clapping, Alfred spun the girl around, doing the said "Swing outs" in multiple variations and really fast, then the song made a kind of pause and Germany took Alfred's hand and guided him, making him spin adding kicks to the bouncing motion; the next was England, who looked embarrassed but full of determination, at the beginning he was leading but Alfred flipped the equation, making him turn and then leading him into a sequence in which they kicked to opposites sides while pushing each other with their hands, they got out of that loop with a gracious spin and then North Italy took Alfred's free hand and made him face him. They positioned side by side bouncing and kicking in way their steps mirrored, then Alfred made Feliciano turn several times and Spain stole him again, guiding him into a serious of stomps and slides, their shoes making musical sounds. Spain had experience with that, due his experience with flamenco. Then, everyone growled enthusiastically, Sweden came to the current couple and Spain got out of the way to let the nordic take control. Sweden took Alfred right hand and they spun in circles like two clock hands, then made a few steps and they were kicking very widely changing the direction constantly and ,with their free arms stretched outside like plane wings.
Russia thought he had seen everything when suddenly, South Italy stole America from the nordic and the audience growled even louder. The blond looked thrilled, he led the brunett, grabbing him by the waist, side by side, both spinning really fast until America made him turn so they stood one in front to another. In that position America took both hands of his partner swaying them in opposite directions and made him kick so when one was kicking back the other was kicking forward. It was insane how fast they moved without kicking each other, after that they both spun to the same side and stood very close, Lovino was send out again and attracted to the American, but turning his back to him, so they both started to bounce and kick in tandem and in that position they spun together, sending kicks to the sides, impossibly high kicks, sometimes Alfred made only his follower spin and he kept kicking in his place until suddenly, Alfred made them spin in way they switched sides, so now Lovino was behind him.
The Italian took the opportunity and started to lead the taller nation, they kicked to opposites sides, intertwined their arms, they got closer and away, closer and away... America took the lead again and made them both bend down to take momentum and then impulsed Lovino to jump higher where he split his legs suspended in the air while Alfred held him still. The audience went mad at the display and with that, the song reached and end.
Ivan was freezed in his sit, his mouth hanging open and his glass of vodka forgotten. How nobody told him this party was going to be like this? Who would? He wasn't exactly friends with his fellow nations, his closest friend at the moment was the American and he couldn't even dance with him in his birthday.
He didn't notice Alfred sitting by his side, panting with his forehead glistening with sweat and a bottle of water in his hand.
"I thought you only drank soda"
"Well, you thought wrong...", the American took a long sip and after that asked shiky. "Are you going to dance with me?"
"I don't think so", Ivan sounded more defeated that he wanted to and he hoped Alfred, being clueless as ever wouldn't notice it.
"But it's my birthday...", the younger nation pleaded.
"I can't dance", he explained poorly, it was a lie to some extent, fortunately, America didn't know him so much to question the statement.
"If I ask for a slow one..."
"You wanna slow dance with me?"
"If is what it takes to make you dance", Alfred sang playfully and Ivan let out a weak laugh. "Would you? Slow dance with me?"
"I wouldn't oppose so violently"
Alfred gapped, clearly surprised - and pleased - and got op. "Well, we are in the fifties section anyway so..."
Some countries, the ones who weren't dying from the previous exertion, were moving at the beat of some Little Richard song. Alfred said something to one of his people and looked intently at his Russian friend. A slow tune started to fill the atmosphere, a girl with a beautiful and soft voice began his singing: Heavenly shades of night are falling, it's twilight time Out of the mist your voice is calling, it's twilight time
Ivan was fixed in his sit, not believing Alfred was seriously coming to him expecting they'd dance that song. He never considered himself a coward or shy, but life doesn't prepare an old and gloomy Russian to face the glance and smile of a gorgeous guy dressed to the nines. Never had he felt so utterly human.
"May I have this dance?", Alfred asked with a low tone that sent shivers through the Russian. Ivan got up, because he didn't want to chicken up. Because he had made a promise.
America led him into the dance floor, not to the center, not in a corner; he wasn't bragging or hiding. Ivan felt self conscious, they moved slowly, just swaying from one side to another in a kind of embrace, this hardly was dancing, it lacked of technique, of class. Surely everyone was looking and speculating about their relationship. Even he didn't know what to think.
Here, in the afterglow of day, we keep our rendezvous beneath the blue
Here in the same and sweet old way, I fall in love again as I did then
What was Alfred playing at? Being so friendly? Inviting him to his party, smiling to him, sitting by his side to talk to him, accidentally touching his hand during meetings, calling him in the night just to talk and wish him sweet dreams. Didn't he know the implications? Haven't he thought that playing this game with him was futile? Ivan knew he was a monster, to bitter, too filled with hate a regret and scars from his dark past, too incapable of feeling something that caused any good to any one.
The song changed.
Oh! Will you never let me be?
Oh! Will you never set me free?
The ties that bound us
Are still around us
There's no escape that I can see
And still those little things remain
That bring me happiness or pain
"This is not bad at all", Alfred said softly making the spin in a really slow motion. "We should do this more often"
"What, this..."
"Dancing"
"You'll get bored of slow dancing so much..."
"I can teach you Lindy, Shag, Boogie..."
"You can dance those with anyone"
"I wanna do it with you", Alfred said looking him at his eyes. He looked full of determination and hopeful. Ivan wanted to slap him for being a foolish child, but he just inhaled a long breath; not agreeing, not denying.
"Stay with me a few days, let me teach you"
"I have things to do"
"Is my birthday"
"It is today, tomorrow will be not", Ivan reminded him, Alfred clicked his tongue childishly.
"Take it as a present"
Russia wanted to point that he already sent him a birthday present, but that would only push another silly retort. So he gave in:
"I could delay my come back for two days"
Alfred grinned and held him closer causing him a heart failure. What had he got into...
"You won't regret this, I promise"
The song finished and the time of blowing the candles was announced. After that everything passed in a blur. The guests sang that capitalistic tune, Alfred blowed the candles (they were just two of them, very symbolic) and then came the lasts dances, music from the 70's, 80's and 90's. The later was more familiar to Ivan, but he didn't have the same enthusiasm everyone showed to those songs. He felt heavy and old.
América had a big house in washington, so he could have being picky, but he chose a simple old room, one he used once in the imperial times when he an Alfred were friends, the cold war was unimaginable and the future seemed bright. Life was easy. Sometimes Russia wanted to go back to the past even if that meant to live those wars again, because once a being like him has seen the worst of humanity and the worst of himself, he started to fear the future and cling to the bright past in which the Tzar was friendly with the US president and Alfred and he could waltz in a gala without rising weirded glances.
The mornings of July are bright and hot in America, Ivan felt trapped in his scarf from the moment he attempted to wear ir above his light shirt. If América wanted to make him dance he was going to suffer, but there's was no way he was displaying his hideous scars in front of him. He never did, not even back then.
"Good morning, big fella", greeted Alfred opening the door of his guest's bedroom.
"Good morning, Fredya"
"Ready for today? I hope you are, but that scarf has to go for now because you will roast or tangle yourself while doing an American spin"
"A what?"
"An American spin, a step in which I'll make you turn suddenly and... you'll see"
"I won't take off the scarf", Ivan said calmly, but in the same menacing tone he used in the Cold War, so Alfred just nodded and offered.
"And what if I lend you a nice bandana that covers you enough but doesn't make you trip"
Ivan tried to maintain his composure. "What makes you think that any piece of cloth will do? I'm really fond of my scarf"
"I know, I just don't want you to roast and trip"
The American seemed sincere so Ivan let his guard down and said: "A big bandana will do for now"
Alfred handed him a long kerchief, it was red and Ivan almost laughed at that, seeing that the american still hadn't leave the room he coughed and said: "I have not finished getting dressed.
"Ok, I mean, of course... privacy...", he became all flustered and got out. Ivan carefully removed his beloved scarf and looked his multiple scars in the mirror, there was a large one, a remind of the Bolsheviks, sometimes still acked and the scarf not only covered it, but also provided a kind of confort. He rapidly started to arrange the bandana in his neck to cover the damage skin. The fabric felt nice, light and soft with a sweet smell, like fruits and summer.
They had breakfast calmly, Alfred talking nonstop about the "awesome stuff" he was going to teach his friend while stuffing himself with eggs, bacon and a worrying amount of coffee. Ivan didn't understand a thing he said, he just nodded and ate in silence a bit nervous about the next events.
The room chosen for the practice was one that used to be destined for social gatherings, small balls in a time where there was nothing to worry, no big wars and everyone could float at the sound of a waltz, even Russia. The room in the present was almost empty, except from a divan, a little coffee table with bottles of water and some towels and the stereo in a corner. Alfred stepped at the middle of the room, were the light was more vivid glistening in the tiled floor.
"Come here, big guy", he invited with enthusiasm and Ivan obliged. "The first thing you need to know is the bouncing, the swing music has a rhythm with a syncope, like this...", Alfred pressed a button in his small remote control and a soft melody filled the atmosphere. "It's Ella Fitzgerald, hear the rhythm, it's like one and two, and three and four, and five and six, and seven and eight... the bouncing must follow that syncope like this...", Alfred flected his knees, bended his back a little and started to actually bounce in his place, without jumping.
"Your posture is horrible"
"You'll see, that's the thing, this dance has African roots so actually my posture is correct to follow the rhythm, come on try it"
Ivan started to bounce in his place, awkwardly, his back to straight and his legs too stiff, Alfred shaked his head and went to him, his hands over the Russians back to bend his posture. Ivan stopped and looked defensive. "Come on, don't be like that... I just want to correct your posture, I know you are all martial and stuff, but this is an afro dance, you are supposed to bend a bit..."
"Can we move to the next subject?", the Slavic asked annoyed, and Alfred obliged, not too convinced.
"Ok, ok... so, this songs have a structure, four phrases of eight tempos each and then a break before going to the next phrase, hear...", Alfred rewinded the song and then started to count each beat to demonstrate, Ivan followed, this was easy. A clear musical structure, like the ones of his classical composers. "And then comes an instrumental bridge, the same, four phrases of eight beats".
"What are we supposed to do with this..."
"Well, you'll see, swing dances are a dialog between the leader, the follower and the song, so it's important to know the structure to answer correctly to what the song is proposing..."
"Leader and what?"
"Leader and follower, the roles, the one who decides the steps according to the song and the one who follows what the leader proposes, which doesn't mean is passive, the follower can also propose a different footwork or variations, but the step sequence is mostly planed by the leader"
"I see..."
"Yeah, so now, the footwork, we are going to start with Lindy, and if you like it I can teach you Jive or Shag that is so fast and awesome... so the steps are basically two, there are more, but the basics are the rock step and triple step... so, the rock step is like this..."
Alfred proceeded to explain both step sequences, pretending he could perform them while bouncing and maintaining that awful posture at the same time. Ivan followed, but he was still stiff and heavy, while Alfred bounced like he weighed nothing, not even making a sound while his feets touched the ground. It was infuriating.
"Well, we can start with that... so we are going to make the promenades, walking forward and back making rock step, triple step, front step, triple step...", Alfred went to his side and put his hand in Ivan's back, "So this is is the connection, i put my hand in your lower back and you put your hand in my upper back so when I move, you move with me, see?" he made the point walking forward and making the Russian move with him."Now let's make the steps we practiced, rock step, triple step, front step, triple step...", Alfred repeated the motion a few times before Ivan noticed their steps mirrored and asked:
"Why you are starting the rock step with the left, you told me it was with the right..."
"Oh, that's because I'm the leader and you are the follower"
And with that, something in Russia snapped.
"Nyet, nemnogo Fredka, if someone is going to be the leader, is going to be me"
"But you can't, because you don't know the moves!", Alfred reasoned like it was the most obvious thing.
"That's why you are teaching me"
"But it will be so hard and stupid, I can't instruct you well as a follower, how would you know how to instruct me if you don't know the leader cues". It was a lie. They both knew. Ivan knew because he was taught how to waltz by a woman and she instructed him how to lead. "Look, let me lead a bit and when you get the steps well, you can lead, after all is the same but with reverse feet motion, whatdaya'say?
They glared at each other dangerously for a while and then the Russian said: "I accept, but when I learn the steps, I lead".
"Ok, right... so, there are variations of the promenade". The continue practicing the variations, one in which Alfred stepped in front of him and then made Ivan stand to his side, other in which Ivan was guided to stand in front of him, making some steps and then Alfred stepped to return to his side. It was monotonous and Alfred noticed the boredom in his partner so he announced.
"Well, you got the steps even if you are still stiff, so we are going to continue with the next position... the open one, I'll sent you out so you end up in front of me and then I'll make you pass from one side to another, but first we need to practice spins, because people sometimes get dizzy from turning and spinning so much, so the important thing here is that your head is always looking to one point in particular... Can you show me how would you spin on your place?"
Ivan furrowed his brows, tired of being treated like a newbie with two left feet. So he took distance and jumped high, spinning fast, with his leg raised in a poised posture. He repeated the aerial spin, finishing with a low spin were he was almost kneeling. Alfred gapped. Of course he didn't expected that. Nobody did. It was like everyone forgot where the best ballerinas were from.
"Holly shit! Where that came from?!"
"I train with the Bolshoi, sometimes...", Ivan explained flatly and Alfred clapped like it was the most exciting thing.
"Training? Like you are actually thinking in being the best?"
"Not, training like when you want to be good doing something you love", the Russian explained angrily. These americans, always thinking in a competitive way, like competition was important in higher arts...
"Whatever, man, it means you actually can dance!, but you are more classical, and THAT would explain why you are all straighten up, because that's needed to ballet, so I think it's going to be easy to teach you the spins and turns once you learn how to bounce in the right posture, so we are going back to the basics, Vansky"
"Vansky?"
"Yeah, like those weird pet name you use, like Katya, Natasha, Yurashka, Fredka, right?"
"In my case would be Vania", The Russian said and regretted it instantly when seeing Alfred's childish smile. "But is used only by close and dear people", he snarled and Alfred, instead of fearing, like Ukraine or the baltics would do, added:
"But come ooooon, I'm not close and dear to you by now?"
"What makes you think that?"
"Well, you are dancing with me to please me or not?"
Ivan stood silent for a few seconds and retorted. "I'm just doing it because you are too annoying", the American wasn't let down by those words, he kept smiling and instructed: "Whatever Vania, we will practice the bouncing until you get it right"
Alfred chose a list of slow songs and they started walking around the room while bouncing, it seemed like a lame exercise but the American was constantly correcting his posture, telling him to bend his back and knees a bit to impulse his next step. Various songs passed until America stopped correcting him at all.
"Hey, just for curiosity, why is sometimes Fredka and sometimes Fredya?"
"Fredya is when you don't annoy me and Fredka is when you do"
"So Fredya is the endearing one, huh?"
"Shut up, Fredka"
"Awww, don't be like that...", Alfred whined, but still smiling. Ivan experimented a confusing mix of feelings, he wanted to wipe that smile from that face with a punch and, at the same time, he was proud for being the one causing it.
"Your posture and bouncing improved a lot, so let's do some promenades with the right posture and then move forward to the track turn..."
They attempted to dance a song just doing promenades and the three variations they learned, it went smoothly and Ivan was about to point he was ready to learn the spins and turns when in the middle of the exercise, a man at the door coughed and announced it was lunch time. Ivan was surprised of how fast time had passed, but he was wise enough not to mention it. Alfred yelled happily: "Thank God, I'm so freaking hungry!" and ran to the dining room. His Washington house was big, old and dark, resembling too much to an English palace, but somehow Alfred managed to infuse some light and cheerfulness to it.
As usual, the American ate fast and with no class or table manners, like he was starving for days; Ivan asked himself if it was just a consequence of how much resources his nation consumed to function.
After that, the younger nation seemed even more energetic, which seemed unhuman, due the tremendous amount of food his body was diggesting. Then again, they weren't exactly humans.
"So, now is time to learn the track turn, this is a basic step to go from the side to side position to the open position and later it will allow to do some other steps, like the plane, or the tandem, you'll see..."
Alfred instructed step by step, Ivan had to pass behind Alfred's arms in a semi turn to be in front of his partner. It wasn't so easy because Ivan was a bit taller, but he bended more his posture and got it, from then they practices more turns, to be switching sides Alfred was thrilled of how fast it was but then announced: "Ok, now we are going to mix all the steps, the idea is that you know what I'm trying to do just by the cues I give you, I won't tell you forehand what step are we going to do, I'll just signal with my body and you'll have to follow, ready?"
Ivan was not ready at all, Alfred made him go from the open position to the side to side, then he lead some promenades, he made a variation in which the leader spun free to reach the follower, then he made a track turn and Ivan almost tripped. Alfred stopped and he started to count again while bouncing and started to lead. It was mentally exhausting trying to figure out what steps was he trying to lead. Ivan remembered how in the party everyone just new what to do, like they were rehearsing for ages and finally understood it was just that they knew the cues to every step.
He could learn that too. The song was slow enough, Alfred corrected him sometimes, pointing the difference between one cue and another until, after some mishaps, Ivan was following, maybe not in a perfect and fluent way, but good enough so they didn't have to stop and count beats again.
"Ok, now lets do some interesting shit", the American said enthusiastically and Ivan worried a little.
"Until now we made some passes so we can switch sides, but there are moves in which the leader makes the follower spin instead of coming forward, that's the American Spin, so we start with a rock step, then triple step, then y raise my hand to stop you from coming and with that cue you have to spin, clear?"
"Let's see..."
The practice was easy, of course, because Ivan knew what was coming, but when they tried to improvise again, It was a nightmare. The worst part was not knowing what Alfred was going to do until he signaled, very subtly, a variation. Sometimes he just sent Ivan forward, sometimes he guided an American spin or a free spin (all of this, while bouncing, maintaining that horrible bent posture and making the triple steps in a fluid sequence that went with the music structure).
They kept practicing until it was dinner time, Alfred suggested they should relax watching a movie and even if Ivan didn't like too much American cinema, he had been contented with just curling up in a sofa, with the vent on refreshing the room watching a silly story. He was just happy sometimes with just doing nothing and not overthinking.
They obviously had overestimated their stamina if they thought they could endure awake for two hours after bouncing and kicking all day. A soft knock at the living room surprised them both leaning against each other. Alfred splattered against Ivan chest and the Russian almost supporting his head in Alfred's. He quickly straightened his posture and Alfred woke up disoriented.
"It's almost 1am, Mr. Jones, Mr. Braginsky, maybe you two should go to bed"
It made it sound like they would lie together, Ivan felt his face go hot and the sudden need to get away from the younger country. "Your buttler is right, I'll go to the guest room, thanks for today, it was not horrible as I thought, good night" and with that he hurried upstairs, trying to ignore the way the servant raised his brows suspiciously.
At the next day, Ivan felt his legs a bit sore, he hadn't elongated before and after the exercise - something he did when practicing ballet - because he thought those American dances weren't something to be prepared for. He did some stretching routines before taking a shower, when he returned to the room to get dressed, there was a new bandana in the bedm a yellow one. It was too bright and shiny, like a sunflower. Russia dismissed the thought that America remembered he liked sunflowers before it could nest in his head. Nobody cared about what he liked or tried to please him with small details.
The Slavic nation went to the dining room where America was waiting for fim. "Morning, how did you sleep? I was so damn tired I didn't even move"
"Good morning, Fredka, I rested well enough"
"Jeez, you are so polite, do you ever curse or anything?"
"I do it in Russian"
"I would love to hear that, dude"
Why though. Ivan was confused, he thought América hated his language and culture, it was hard to actually believe that Alfred didn't hold grudges from the past. They ate entertained with Alfred's non stop rambling and then went to the gardens to wait a bit before the exercise. Alfred was excited to take him to the greenhouse, he showed him the flowers he planted with Lituania, some roses, lilies and, in a corner, a bundle of sunflowers.
"Toris liked these and later he told me you also liked them, I didn't believe back then you could like something so delicate as a flower, but then you told me you liked them..."
"And you still seemed surprised", Ivan reminded him.
"It was hard picturing you liking flowers, you seem so big and macho and stuff"
"It is hard to imagine you like to draw, it's a very quiet activity, however you do it very well", they both were surprised at the compliment. Russia normally didn't compliment the American to avoid to inflate his already bug ego.
"Maybe is hard to imagine this things in your enemy because it adds humanity to them and nobody wants to see their nemesis as a human"
"I am your nemesis now?"
"You were"
"And now"
"Just my rival... and friend?", Alfred looked doubtful and afraid, so Ivan noded to relieve him.
"One could say we are friends now..."
They were friends before... back then, but now it was different, in the 19th century they had been friends without really knowing each other so well. Now they had seen everything, the worst of each other, ruthless, nastiness and if they could be friends even after that, that would be the most sincere relationship they would ever had.
"Are you ready to shake it, Vansky?", Alfred invited with a grin, the Russian knew he was being teased so he retorted.
"Ready as ever, Fredka"
Alfred, was in a better mood that the day before, if that was even possible; he put on a slow song and suggested to practice what they did the previous day; After finishing that song with some dignity the younger nation seemed satisfied so he announced.
"Today I'll teach you the swing out, if you learn this well, you are ready for any party"
"Maybe we should have started with that"
"Nope, because you have to know the triple steps and rock step by heart before attempting a swing out"
"And you think I'm ready?"
"I still think you need to bend a bit more, but you'll correct that now, so let's start with the close position"
Alfred described every part of the eight steps sequence and then made them mimic the motion, without the footwork.
"Now let's try, five, six, seven, eight... rock step, triple step", Alfred stood in front of him grabbing by the waist, their chests almost touching, "step, step, Alfred made him turn, applying a subtle force in his lower back, "triple step...", Alfred took his right hand and sent him away.
"Well, now look, I can start another swing out from this open position, look, you do a rock step, then come to me with a triple step so I can catch you closer", Ivan did and their noses were almost touching"
"Is it right that we are so close", Ivan asked trying to maintain the composure.
"No, we wouldn't be so closet if you'd bend your knees as I told you ages ago..."
The Russian obeyed and created a safe distance between them.
"In the steps 3 and 4, you have to imagine you are sitting in a invisible chair, if you are too straight we will be too close and I can't handle you like that..."
Alfred straight them up again to prove his point and It was understandable. Ivan couldn't even think having the American SO close.
"Handle me...", the Russian said softly and very close to Alfred's ear.
"I mean...send you out... because this is..."
"A swingout"
"Right..."
"Like this", Alfred, turned him to the right and held his hand to send him away. "And again, rock step, triple step..."
They repeated the sequence a few times in a very slow motion. This time the Russian was very conscious of his posture, trying to maintain the distance between them.
"I think we are ready to put a song and see if you can follow"
It sounded as a challenge. Ivan took it as such, so he stood prepared and full of determination. Alfred led one promenade before switching to a swingout, from there he tried an American spin, a free spin, back to the close position, promenades, track turn... Ivan was very conscious of every step, trying to figure out the cues, counting the beats, planing everymove. He wasn't bad a it, but he wasn't fluent and light either. He wasn't like Alfred with Lovino, or Alfred with Berwald or even Alfred with England... He felt frustrated so he stopped suddenly.
"What's wrong?, we were , making progress here..."
"It doesn't feel right, don't you see?"
Alfred stood in silence, but they both knew what was the Russian talking about.
"Let's do something different", the American proposed, he searched in his phone and a quick happy sing filled the air, it was instrumental, filled with trumpets and a strong beat.
"Let's do some jazz steps, something free, you can follow me and ad you classical style to it if you want to"
Ivan looked suspicious and Alfred encouraged him, "Trust me, this is what you need". Alfred started to make som steps, stomping and kicking, Ivan attempted to follow and the American instructed: "Do it your way, don't try to copy exactly the way I move, try to follow the motion but in your style"
"I don't have a style"
"Yes, you do, your moves are sharp and your spins are fluid and light, let's take advantage of that"
At least three songs passed before passed before Ivan felt comfortable and when the next song started Alfred went to him to initiate the close position, they started with promenades.
"It looked fantastic"
"You are a flatterer"
"I'm not, I was pointing your moves, I didn't say that you look good or... whatever"
The American seemed nervous suddenly, the melody was a good choice, not to fast, not to slow. "Come on, Fredya, lead a turn or something for a change...", Alfred woke up from dreamland and with a grin, started a swing out, followed by three more and then, in on of the breaks of the song, did some of the jazz steps they were practicing, Ivan followed and made something to fill the sequence of eight beats. Alfred marked a rock step, made him turn three times and attracted him to the close position.
Let's fall in love
Why shouldn't we fall in love
Our hearts are made of it
Let's take a chance
Why be afraid of it...
Then it came a track turn, Ivan spun graciously, light and ended with a triple step perfectly in sync with the music.
"You are getting it, big guy!"
Finally Ivan was bouncing with the right posture even if with a slow tune. America made him do some turns, simple promenades and it went so well that Russia even started to enjoy it and let out a liquid laugh, a sound so new and strange to Alfred that made him lose focus of the direction, so didn't see coming the moment when Ivan took the initiative and actually led an American spin. Alfred almost tripped, his feet not prepared to the move twisted and Ivan had to catch him for him not to fall in his ass.
"I think I got it... how you mark the spin", Ivan smiled, with that soft and contained face and Alfred grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to kiss him, so rushed that he just reached the corner of his lips. Ivan looked marveled and surprised, his violet eyes wide open, startled until the determination showed in his features and holded the man in his arms even tighter for a heated kiss, with open mouths, sucking, nipping... Alfred let his hands touch Ivan's hair and broad back and felt him sigh at the caresses and then responding moving his hands to feel his waist and hips. America groaned, wanting to thrust his hips to get some friction but somehow he thought it was too intense, too soon and started to respond softly to the kiss and caresses to reduce the passion, until they were playing really slow with their lips, almost with no tongue, their hands reduced their frantic travel to just feather like caresses and their moans turned into sweet sighs.
Alfred opened his eyes and found Ivan looking at him with eyes foggy, heavy eyelids, lips parted and his silver blond hair turned into a mess and damn, he looked so beautiful...
"Wanna try this again", the American asked finding it was hard to breath and to think, his head dizzy with the sensations.
"The spin?", Ivan asked feeling numb.
"The whole thing... all the steps", and the sentence was ambiguous and flirty. Ivan liked the thrill of it all, he could learn to be flirty.
"I would love to"
Alfred smiled and stood in front of him reaching his hand to his partner.
"Maybe you want to learn to lead me this time?"
(1) The Herräng Dance Camp, a Swing camp in Herräng, a small town in Sweden, it lasts 5 weeks filled with parties, classes, competitions and fun.
(2) I thought in a song like Memphis Exorcism, Hey Pachuco or Sing Sing Sing