Prompt: Slow dancing with brother

Requested by: Anon on tumblr

It is an extremely rare event for my brother Ivan to fret; he takes after our Papa, so he is almost always calm—a state that our mother teasingly refers to as 'zen'. But today… today, for some reason, he was in what Granny Janine would call a 'tizzy'. His anxiety was so strong it woke me from a catnap, circling round and round in my head and drawing me out of my bed to hunt him down. I finally found him pacing in the woods near Uncle Ree's studio; he was muttering under his breath, looking completely grim.

"Detenysh… what's wrong?" Immediately I hurried over, pulling him into my arms—hoping to ease his mind.

"Nothing. It's stupid—don't worry about it Anka." He ducked his head down, his cheeks flushing bright red.

"Vanya… don't be like that. Not with me." I frowned, brushing a strand of his hair back, tucking it behind his ear. "There's something troubling you—I can feel it. If whatever it is upsets you, then it's not stupid. Talk to me—let me help."

"It's… the stupid dance." He scowled, scoffing his foot against the leaves that littered the forest floor. "Jess wants to go."

"So? It will be fun—that's nothing to fret over, silly. My fingers dropped down, tickling along his ribs—trying to earn a smile.

"You don't get it Anka—it's a formal dance." His cheeks reddened even more as he tried to pull away from me. "She's going to expect me to know how to—"

"Dance," I finished for him, suddenly understanding his embarrassment. It wasn't a problem for me—two years before, as soon as I turned thirteen, Dede had insisted on teaching me. I'd balked, but when Abe Mazur is determined you're going to do something… you end up doing it in the end. Ivan had been spared the hassle—he'd even gloated about it when I complained—but I was willing to bet that he was now wishing he'd been forced to learn too. "Okay… no big deal. I'll teach you."

"You?" He sounded horrified. "No way! I'm not dancing with my own sister!"

"Oh shut up—it's either that or you disappoint Jessica. Take your pick. Besides… I can't really teach you the boys part—but I know who can. Come on!" I grabbed his arm, tugging him after me as I scurried down the path.

He tried to pull free, but it was a halfhearted effort at best; I inherited Dede's determination—that's something Ivan knows far too well. "Anka—"

"Just trust me cub—we'll have you dancing in no time flat." I practically towed him out of the trees to the small building our Uncle used for a studio—throwing open the door and shoving him inside. "Uncle Ree?"

"Little bud." He didn't look up from his canvas.

"I need help please. Right now."

"Hmmmm?"

Giving my brother a look that warned him he better not run, I pointed to one of the paint spattered wooden chairs, then let go of him. He scowled at me, but obeyed, sinking down in the chair and crossing his arms defiantly. Walking over to my godfather, I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, resting my chin on his shoulder. "Pay attention! This is very important!"

"I'm sure it is, sweetheart—you wouldn't be disturbing me if it wasn't." He made a miniscule adjustment with his brush, still studying the painting. "What do you think? Did I nail it?"

I examined the painting, vaguely recognizing the style he'd been trying to mimic. My godfather is something of an artistic chameleon—he is able to flip between modern, impressionism, and the classics with an ease that leaves me full of awe. The painting before me was his version of 'the birth of Venus', but the goddess looked completely different that she did in the famous painting. It was his muse—my Aunt—standing on the sea shell with a serene smile on her face.

"It is beautiful. Who are we recreating? Michelangelo?"

"Heathen—it's Botticelli. Hopefully this one will go over better with your parents than the last one did."

I bit my lip to hold in a giggle; a few weeks before he'd painted Medusa, a mythological creature who could turn men to stone with a single glance—only he'd given her my mother's face. "I don't think Mama appreciated the fact you made her a monster."

"It was symbolic… you know… snakes for hair… Zmey's daughter." He shrugged, swiping his brush along the waves, giving them an amazingly lifelike sense of movement. "I thought it was appropriate."

I watched as he made a few more adjustments to the painting, then scowled. His focus had completely shifted back to his art—he'd forgotten I was standing there. "Uncle Ree… you are not validating my existence. I feel very unloved right now."

That got his attention. He laughed, turning his face towards me—his scratchy whiskers tickling my cheek. "Where in the hell do you come up with this stuff, bud? You sound like a psych textbook."

I pouted, tugging at the small beard he'd taken to wearing as soon as the weather turned cold. "Do you know how harmful it is for a girl my age to feel ignored? You could be giving me all kinds of complexes that will haunt me for the rest of my life."

"Save the flirting for my son, sweetheart—" he teased, "—I've been inoculated against the Hathaway charm."

"I am a Belikova, Uncle Ree… are you immune to that charm too?" I asked innocently, widening my eyes.

"Nope—but I've got my hands full with the Belikova I married." He narrowed his eyes, examining my face for a moment, then smiled. "You're trying to work me, aren't you? You've been watching Vika and Rose… how they act when they're trying to get me to do something."

I shrugged. It was true—but I wasn't about to admit it. I was fascinated with my mother and Aunt's mannerisms and strived to imitate them. "I don't know what you mean."

"I'll tell you a secret, little bud… " he lowered his voice to a whisper. "You had me wrapped around your finger the first time you opened your eyes and smiled at me."

I grinned so big that my cheeks hurt, squeezing him tightly, but then Ivan's chair squeaked—warning me of his impending flight. It snapped me out of my happy fuzzy moment. "Don't you dare move Ivan Belikov! Not a muscle!"

"Alright Miss Bossy Pants—what's so important?" My uncle set down his brush and picked up a rag, wiping the paint off his hands—his green eyes flicking form me to Ivan and then back again. "Ivan… you can move. You have my permission."

"No he can't! He'll run and he has to be here." I frowned. "His girlfriend wants him to take her to the Royal ball next week—" I lowered my voice to a whisper, not wanting to embarrass my brother any more than I had to, "—only he can't dance. I was hoping you could help me teach him."

"I see… and what do I get out of this educational endeavor?"

I smiled sweetly, kissing his cheek.

"As nice as that is… I was thinking of something a little more tangible, Miss Belikova—like say you trying just a teensy bit harder to remember the rule about knocking."

My face grew hot as I blushed bright red with embarrassment, my eyes dropping to the ground. A few weeks before I'd barged in the same way I always did, with my nose buried in an Art History book—anxious to know my Uncle's opinion on something that I'd read. I didn't realize he wasn't painting or that he wasn't alone—not until I heard my Aunt's soft moan of pleasure. Immediately, I'd closed my eyes, not wanting to see anything—hearing it was bad enough— trying to retrace my steps…only I tripped over their discarded clothing and ended up sprawled on the ground. "I knew it was safe—Aunt Vik is in the kitchen making cookies."

"She moves fast, sweetheart. Better safe than sorry—we don't want a repeat of last time, right?"

"Yes sir… I'll try and remember."

"Good girl." He kissed my forehead, then stood up and stretched, glancing over at Ivan. "Here's hoping he doesn't have two left feet like your giant father."

"Papa is a very elegant dancer—it is like a type of fighting. And he happens to be the best fighter in the world." I chastised primly, giving him a disapproving look.

"Years of practice on both counts," he muttered, walking over to the small stereo that was next to the cabinet where he stored his art supplies. He scanned through the cd s for a moment before settling on a song that was slow, with a steady beat. "Okay junior, watch and learn. When it comes to this… I'm an expert. There's only one dance you need to learn to impress any girl in the world."

"There is?" Ivan perked up, a look of interest replacing his sullen frown.

"Trust me." Uncle Ree approached me; I held out my hands, prepared to launch into one of the formal dances I'd learned—but he rolled his eyes and scoffed. "No little bud—we're teaching him to dance, not parade around like a Royal on display."

I frowned. "But… this is how you're supposed to dance."

"No." Uncle Ree stepped closer, his hands sliding around my waist. "Put your hands up around my neck, sweetheart. He's not going to be dancing with your grandmother—he's not going to want to hold his partner at arm's length."

I complied, still confused—I was beginning to think that maybe I should have enlisted Dede to help instead. "Are you sure about this?"

"Of course I am." He glanced over at Ivan. "If you were to do the kind of stuffed shirt dancing your darling sister wants… your lady would be very disappointed—"

"She would?" Ivan was perched on the edge of his chair, his dark eyes wide as he watched.

"Oh yeah. Dancing is just an excuse to put your arms around a girl and hold her tight, kiddo. Now I can't show you exactly what I mean—it wouldn't be appropriate since I'm dancing with your sister—but the closer you hold her… the better."

My eyes flicked between them as I stored away every word my Uncle said. Getting a sneak peek at the way the male brain worked was an educational experience—one I knew would come in handy at some point in the future. "Are you just going to stand there gabbing all day or are we going to dance?"

"Patience, little bud—I'm imparting important wisdom here." He began shifting slowly from one foot to the other, swaying with the music. "See? Piece of cake."

I scowled. "This isn't dancing! It's shifting in place!"

"Which one of us has the reputation for being a ladies man, little bud?"

"You're a ladies man? Ivan looked taken aback. "Does Aunt Vik know about this?"

"Scratch that—former ladies man. Your Aunt reformed my wicked ways"

There was a soft chuckle from the doorway behind us; I turned my head—Aunt Vika was watching us with an amused smile on her face. "Oh I don't know about that, moy Dusha. I think you are still a ladies man… you just focus all your charm on me instead of the masses."

"Right as always, light of my life—" My Uncle's face lit up in the smile he reserved just for her."—I'm now a lady's man. Big difference."

"What are we doing? Having a party that no one invited me to?" Aunt Vik moved over beside Ivan, ruffling his hair.

"We are teaching junior to dance—and your timing is perfect. Come over here and help me show our favorite nephew how to sweep his ladylove off her feet."

"Only if your lovely partner does not mind me cutting in." Vik smiled at me, arching a questioning brow.

"Go for it—this is not the kind of dancing I had in mind anyway," I muttered, stepping away from my Uncle and moving to sit on the chaise lounge that Vika often posed on. I caught myself, just in a nick of time, moving to lean against the wall—that was the one piece of furniture I'd never sit on again, now that I knew what it was used for.

I watched, entranced as she approached him, her eyes and softly smiling lips shooting him teasing messages. It was what I was desperate to learn—how to make a man fall so completely in love with me that his eyes filled with hunger whenever I was near. She and Mama had a way about them—something that made their husbands light up whenever they entered a room. I wanted it too—only I was afraid that I would never figure out how they worked their magic.

She wound her arms around his neck in a way that was almost an embrace; his hands slid down her back, resting at her waist as they began to sway from side to side. The distance between them lasted only for a few moments—he pulled her closer, flush up against his body, whispering something in her ear that made her blush and giggle. When his hands moved, sliding down to grip her rear, it shook me out of my trance—it was time for us to leave. They'd zoned out in the way they often do when they're together, forgetting everyone and everything around them.

I pushed away from the wall, walking over to Ivan. "Come Detenysh. Time to go."

"No—he said this was how I was supposed to dance with Jess, remember?" He whispered back. "I'm learning—"

"You are not dancing like that with Jessica, Ivan. If you do you're liable to end up a father at fourteen!" I whispered fiercely, grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet as I called out loudly, "We're leaving now!"

"Mhmmmm… see you at dinner little bud." Ree's words were muffled—his lips were traveling along my Aunt's throat.

"Anya!" My brother complained as I tugged him out the door. "That's what I need to learn to do! Why did you—"

"Because any minute their clothes might start coming off." I said bluntly. "When you are older that kind of dancing is fine Ivan, but not for a school dance. Do you want to get suspended and have to explain to Mama and Papa you were dry humping a Moroi girl on the dance floor?"

He blushed, looking miserable. "So I'm no better off than I was an hour ago. Great."

"No. I said I was going to make sure you learned and I meant it." I stopped walking, glancing back over my shoulder at the studio. We were far enough away that the only thing we could hear was the faint sound of the music. "Now… Put one hand on my waist and hold out your hand. No—like this…" I demonstrated, then began walking him through the basics.

"Hey… this isn't so hard." He smiled, his eyes darting up from his feet to my face. "I think I'm getting the hang of it!"

"Like I said in there… dancing is a lot like fighting. You're a good fighter, so of course you'll be a good dancer too." I moved my hand from his shoulder to his chin, forcing him to look me in the eye. "You keep her at arm's length at all times, do you hear me? I don't care what Ree said. You're going to behave like a gentleman, Vanya. When you are dancing with Jessica… I want you to pretend you are dancing with me."

He winced, but nodded. "Alright Anka. I will—promise."

"Good. Now, let's try a spin or two, yes?"

We spent the rest of the afternoon practicing, not stopping until Uncle Ree and Aunt Vik emerged from the studio, looking slightly rumpled. As we followed after them, walking towards the house, I couldn't stop my mind from wandering back to everything my Uncle had said about dancing—and I found myself wondering if he had imparted those same words of wisdom to his handsome son.

Did Zachy dance the way Uncle Ree did? Holding a girl so close that she could feel his heart beat in his chest? Did his hands wander, sliding over her curves as his body moved against hers?

It was something I hoped to learn the answer to first hand.

I just prayed it would happen soon.

A/N: Adrian really tried to take over this one. Originally I planned on having Vika pull Ivan to his feet and dance with him, but Adrian wasn't having it—he refuses to share his Angel, even with his nephew. ;o)

There will be six more of these Anya point of view one shots—I reblogged a meme the other day and got quite a few responses. Hope you are enjoying them!

As always, thanks for the reviews. I appreciate every single one of them. *giant hugs*