Chapter Summary
Who is he to deny her a dance, when she asks so sweetly? Canon-Divergent/AU
Notes
Shout out to fortune-fool02 on tumblr for essentially inspiring this idea, with a post about how Fairytale by Alexander Rybak suits Brahms's desire for love. It's what prompted me to add it to my playlist, and this idea came from it. I wanted to make sure to give credit where it's due. Sorry this one's a shorter one. I generally try and hit at least 1K with my fics, but this one had a short and sweet vibe to it and I didn't want to force it to be longer.
There was something about skirts that made Ruby want to dance.
Perhaps it was the way they would move, swishing around her legs and arching up when she felt inclined to kick the air dramatically...Or perhaps it was a side effect of consuming so many romance novels, a deeply ingrained desire to be held and spun as music plays, wrapping her and a lover in a little cocoon of their own.
Brahms's music was the sort she'd expect for dancing with someone, slow and sensual. But it wasn't what she wanted tonight. It wasn't what was urging her to her room, before digging in the storage bin she used for odds and ends in hopes of finding her Bluetooth speaker.
She knew he wouldn't mind if she played music while making their lunch- perhaps he'd come to enjoy it.
Only one way to truly find out.
Brahms hears her voice first.
She's always been good at projecting it, but it would seem she's even better than usual today.
Years ago, when I was younger
I kinda liked a girl I knew
She was mine and we were sweethearts
That was then, but then it's true
Slowly, he heads downstairs, the music gradually melding with her voice, alongside that of someone else.
I'm in love with a fairytale
Even though it hurts
'Cause I don't care if I lose my mind
I'm already cursed
Her eyes are closed as she spins around the kitchen table, arms held above her head and her skirt flaring out in a perfect circle. For a moment, it reminds him of the dancers he saw as a child, parents on either side of him as he watched the performers move across the stage.
He can't think further on it before Ruby's opened her eyes- a violin the only accompaniment as her smile softens at the sight of him, her hand held out in clear invitation.
"Dance with me, my darling?"
He doesn't hesitate, moving forward to take her hand and pull her close. His hand rests on her waist, hers on his chest, their fingers interlacing together.
Brahms doesn't need to wonder if she knows how much this means to him, to be able to replicate what he'd seen his parents doing when they thought he'd gone to bed.
Without words, his Ruby knows. She always does, reading him well even with his mask.
Soon, she won't need to. He's almost ready to let her stop hiding that part of himself from her.
She lets him lead, now that he's joined her. The hand on her hip warms through the thin fabric of her dress.
It seems right that he knows how to dance, though his style is more subdued- a slow dance to contrast perfectly with Ruby's energetic spins and kicks.
She wouldn't trade it for a thing in the world.
Every day, we started fighting
Every night, we fell in love
No one else could make me sadder
But no one else could lift me high above
I don't know what I was doing
When suddenly, we fell apart
Nowadays, I cannot find her
But when I do, we'll get a brand-new start
He smiles a little as she continues to sing, guiding the two of them out into the entryway where they'll have more space. Ruby's music sounds a little fainter now, fading into the background.
Even so, this time he joins her in the chorus.
I'm in love with a fairytale
Even though it hurts
'Cause I don't care if I lose my mind
I'm already cursed
As the song begins to come to a close, Brahms spins them both, stopping only to dip Ruby gently. His hand on her hip is all that's keeping her from falling to the ground.
She's a fairytale, yeah
Even though it hurts
'Cause I don't care if I lose my mind
I'm already cursed
It's a moment that would have swept her off her feet, if it had been done sooner.
Alas, she's already smitten, and there's no wooing left to do.
She's his, forever.