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Five’s not sure what he expected when Vanya asked him out for dinner.
“Just for a catch up, Five,” she had claimed over the phone, “not every get together involves the sharing of tragic, life altering news,” Vanya had laughed at his worried tone. Light and airy. Genuinely amused.
They hadn’t seen each other in a while, in truth. They’d been busy, unsurprisingly, between Five’s attempt to calculate if this was the correct timeline, Vanya’s attempts to figure out her life, and their shared pains over dealing with their families dramas, there hadn’t been a lot of time to share solely with one another.
And god did he miss her.
It was a unique, exclusive form of pain. To love someone, to long for them for forty five years. To suffer through an uncaring wasteland with them as one of your sole motivations to place one foot ahead of the other. To coldly assassinate innocent and guilty people alike, just for the opportunity to see your love again, and for them to not reciprocate those feelings in the least.
He’s a logical man, and even when he first realised there was a slim, almost non-existent possibility of getting back to his family and to her, he knew that Vanya wouldn’t have waited for him.
Five expected it. Yet the reality that Vanya had lived her life, become a successful musician and music teacher, dated other people, had her own friend, her own apartment, still weighed heavy on his shoulders. Alongside that had crept in a sense of doubt he had never felt in himself before. Five found himself questioning what they had.
They were thirteen for gods sake, and Five’s had a lifetime to build it up in his head. To over interpret and over indulge in his fantasies, with no one there to challenge his notions. Vanya was neglected all through their childhood as well, so the fact anyone paid attention to her must have been overwhelming. She didn’t feel any semblance of what Five felt for her, then, or now.
But Vanya did invite him to dinner.
Only him.
It would be just the two of them.
Five sat on the upcoming event all week, while he lay in bed, when he brushed his teeth and showered. On the tram to university. When he drank his coffee.
He let himself think of Vanya. Of her hair. Her smile. The way she’d gently touch his hand with her beautiful, delicate hands, and giggle at the few jokes he made. The way Vanya would step forward and look at him, as if for the first time, love written clear in her eyes. The way he’d lean forward, hesitant and excited, and kiss her gently. She’d smile into it, and kiss him back.
Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself.
So, of course, when dinner finally arrived, and Vanya did none of these things, he felt like an idiot.
He’d gotten his hopes up when he knew, he knew, she didn’t feel that way. Fantastic. He always does this shit. He’ll always be the smartest person in the room, but Five’s afraid he’ll never catch his peers when it comes to romance and relationships.
His expectations met for the night, Five wondered how this would end. Hoped Vanya hadn’t seen his utter dejection shine through his facial expression, and that they’d share a hug, and she’d be warm, and Five would resist the urge to burst into tears like a child.
Then she had invited him back to her apartment.
Her apartment is warm, and somehow both he and Vanya have found themselves on her couch, a singular light on in the kitchen as they watch some detective show on Vanya’s small tv. Empty mugs abandoned on the coffee tables. Vanya’s head rests heavily on his shoulder.
A song begins to play from the tv. Soft, it vaguely reminds Five of the type of dance music you’d hear in a ballroom. He thinks nothing of it.
Vanya however, clearly does, as she sits up suddenly.
“We should dance!” She annonces, standing hastily from her spot of the couch, leaving Five’s arm cold. Vanya grabs the remote and switches off the tv before she dashes to her bedroom. Five stands, bringing their two cups to the sink while he waits for further explanation for her actions.
Vanya comes out from the hallway, holding a small black speaker. Scrolling through her phone in search of something. She makes a thoughtful noise, before the same music he heard from the tv pours through her speaker.
She smiles delightedly at Five.
“I hate this song so much,” she chuckles. Hand outstretched.
Her hands would be so soft against his. Delicate and warm. Five could touch them. She’d let him, and she’d let him place his hand on her hip, feeling the warmth under her shirt-
Getting ahead of himself. Five takes a deep breath. Considers her outstretched hand instead. Keeping his mind focused on his own confusion.
“Dance?”
“Didn’t you just hear that song?” She asked, pausing the speaker. Five frowns. Five furrows his eyebrows, and realisation crosses Vanya’s face. “Oh,” she says, worried.
Five raises an eyebrow.
“Guess you weren’t around for ballroom dancing 101,” Vanya comments.
“Ballroom dancing? Dad made you learn to ballroom dance,”
“Yeah, it was funny actually,” a smile plays on her lips.
Five scoffs “Let me guess, Allison and Luther acted as awkwardly as possible,”
“And Klaus ignored all of dads instruction,” Vanya adds “me and Ben danced together,” she half mumbles, smile dropping
“I don’t see the point in learning to dance,” Five attempts to distract Vanya, she shakes her head
“Dad thought it was an great idea,” Vanya says, eyes meeting his. “But you don’t-“
“I do. Want to dance.” Five interrupts, and Vanya nods. She starts the music again. Her hands find his.
Her hands are just as soft and warm as he thought, as pulls him to the open space between her kitchen and living room, the wood under his feet cold, even through his socks. She pulls him to her, and his breath catches as he’s met with more warmth from her chest and arms where they press against one another.
Vanya lightly sways them. A half formed rhythm building as she does so. Five clumsily following her, watching her feet carefully in an attempt to not step on her. Music half forgotten as the first song finishes, and another, unfamiliar, yet similar sounding song begins.
There’s no rush to Vanya’s movement as she pulls and pushes Five’s willing body back and forth
She’s so warm.
He doesn’t quite know where to look when she is so close to him. At her soft, brown hair, or the pale skin of her face.
Being this close to the real thing makes him unsure.
Maybe that’s why this isn’t working.
Five begins to move with her a little as they dance. Getting lost in both the rhythm of the movement Vanya’s created and his own thoughts.
He loves Vanya.
More than anything.
He just can’t anticipate her.
There are decades between them. In time they could’ve had together that was lost. In time Five walked aimlessly throughout a burned out wasteland. In the years Vanya was off living her own life.
He doubts himself. For the first time in his whole life, he doesn’t trust his own judgement.
“You’re tense,” Vanya comments, pulling him closer to her so they’re half hugging each other. Five doesn’t say anything for a moment.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind,”
Vanya sighs, shakes her head “you always talk yourself out of everything.” she says, absent minded. Five considers this a moment.
“Can’t you just let this take its course and not worry,” Vanya adds quietly. Five does pause there. She- she has to be talking about more than this dance, correct? There’s no way she- “I’m serious,” she interrupts his thoughts.
“I am letting our dance take its course,” Five goes for instead.
Vanya takes a step back. Hand coming up to his face. “Enjoy it then. Don’t worry about the details,”
Five scoffs “it isn’t very technical,” and hopes Vanya understands that he understands.
“But I’m sure you're imagining how incredible it could be,” Five swallows hard. Guilty as charged he supposes, he can’t seem to stop the ideas and fantasies of Vanya from flowing through his brain.
“Yeah,” he admits
“I do too, Five,” she says, and his breath vanishes “but I’ve waited a long time, and I don’t want our dance to be rushed,”
The confirmation is overwhelming. His mind escapes to a million different places all at once. For what he could do. For what Vanya could do, but as he pulls back to see the look in her eyes, he knows he agrees with her.
Forty five years was a long time to wait, and they were making progress, there was no rush. No need to immediately begin.
“It’ll be good,” he says, voice wavering slightly.
“Exactly,” she says with finality. The conversation dropping as they continue this slow movements.
Five leaves Vanya’s place more hopeful for his future than he’s felt in a while.