Work Text:
“You any good at dancing?”
The two are curled up on Piko’s couch, Fukase pressed into his side to see the video of Len’s latest performance on Piko’s phone screen. Fukase’s a little cool to the touch, not designed to emulate the warmth of a human being like other models, but Piko’d long gotten used to it. It’s familiar to him now, if he’s being honest. Like everything else about Fukase, he’s become fond of it.
“Not really.” Piko replies, hardly bothering to look at Fukase, attention instead on the video. On screen, Len does a flip. Impressive . “Are you?”
Fukase makes a non-committal ‘eh’ sound. “Not really designed for that type of thing.”
“Yeah, Len probably has springs in his joints or something.” The video ends, and Piko scrolls through the recommendations for another. “You always beat me at Just Dance, though.”
“Designed to move better than you, probably.” Fukase sits up off of Piko and grabs his wrist. He shakes it up and down, the creaking of Piko’s doll-like elbow joint audible.
Piko yanks his arm out of Fukase’s grasp, scowling. “Yeah, well.” He pauses. “Oh, actually, I remember back before Miki got her V4 upgrade, we went to this ballroom dance workshop thing together. I don’t think either of us were very good at it, though.”
“Oh, no shit?” Fukase looks genuinely interested. “You did the like—“ He holds out his arms, swaying his body to pantomime a waltz. “— kinda thing? Twirls and stuff?”
Piko snorts. “In theory. Mostly we just stepped on each other’s feet.”
Fukase chuckles at that, before donning a thoughtful look. “When’d she get her upgrade again?”
“2015.” Piko pauses. “Oh, you weren’t even around yet then, huh? That’s weird to think about.”
“Old man,” Fukase teases, grinning when Piko smacks his arm. “Hey, I wanna try it.”
“Try what? Dancing?”
“Yeah, dude.” Fukase swings his legs off the couch and gets to his feet. He’s wearing his one owned outfit, a simple shirt and long skirt over his usual tights. “Twirls and stuff. Show me what you learned with Miki. I promise I won’t step on your feet.” He doesn’t sound very genuine about that, but that’s just how Fukase is.
Piko just looks at him incredulously. “You want me to try and teach you things I learned from before you even existed?”
“Ya.”
“....”
With a sigh, Piko puts his phone down and gets to his feet, shuffling out from behind the coffee table. “Okay, well, let’s see what I remember… Um, I was the lead, and she was the follower. You basically just, uh, go in a box. Box step. That thing. Here, just….”
Piko holds out his arms and beckons Fukase to come closer. He clasps Fukase’s right hand in his left, placing the other on Fukase’s shoulder. His partner mirrors him, his warped hand on Piko’s shoulder. “Now what?”
“So it’s like….” Piko scrunches his face up trying to recall half a decade back. “One, two, three, one, two, three. So I think on one, I step forward with my—“ he glances down. “... Left, and you step back with your right. Ready, and—“
Piko steps forward, and Fukase steps back. “Then we both go to the side—“ Piko steps to the right, and Fukase follows. “— then I go back, and you go forward.”
On this step, Fukase kicks him in the shin.
“Oop. Sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry, though he never does, Piko supposes.
Piko just huffs a laugh. “I think you go forward with your, uh-“
“Left?”
“Yeah, that. Okay, so—“
Fukase steps forward, unexpectedly, and the two collide with an unceremonious “weaugh” from both sides. Once they regain their stance, Piko sighs, though not truly exasperated. “Let’s try syncing up better, okay? Ready, and one, two, three—“
“One, two, three,” Fukase joins in, and the two slowly work their way into a rhythm, chanting in unison, the smallest of waltzes in the corner of Piko’s little apartment.
After a few cycles without any foot bumping, Piko squeezes Fukase’s hand. “Okay, now follow my lead.” Fukase grunts an affirmative.
Casting a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure they wouldn’t bump into anything, Piko starts to slowly guide them into a little circle rotation around the apartment. Fukase follows faithfully, wordlessly.
Finally looking up from their feet, Piko takes in the expression on Fukase’s face. Brows slightly furrowed, eyes focused, still mumbling a “one, two, three” under his breath. As laid back and blasé as he seemed, Fukase cared a lot more about things than he let on- Piko saw it in the way his eyes shone talking about something he was interested in even when his tone stayed casual, in the little things and details he remembered from conversations he’d seemed disinterested in, in the way he’d perk up when something caught his interest, so subtle that no one usually noticed.
Briefly, Piko wonders if that applied to him, too.
Fukase finally looks up to meet Piko’s eyes, his focused expression melting back into his usual lazy grin. “Haven’t stepped on your toes yet.” he teases.
“Don’t jinx it, now,” Piko replies, and Fukase laughs- a full one from the stomach, his eyes squeezed closed, really more of a guffaw, completely unlike his usual signature flat ‘hahahahaha’ the others were so used to. The kind Piko only ever saw when he let his guard down, when it was just them. His favorite kind.
It’s really beautiful.
He doesn’t even realise he’s fallen quiet until he takes a step onto something that isn’t floor, and Fukase gives a yelp. The two nearly lose balance, stumbling a little, but they manage to catch themselves before they topple over completely. With another laugh, Fukase looks at him with a smile. “You good?” he asks. “I didn’t expect to surpass you so soon, sensei.”
It’s an easy jab, the kind they exchanged back and forth all the time, but Piko’s unable to come up with a retort, his mind strangely muddled. Fukase’s hand, once on his shoulder, is now on his chest from their collision. It’s weird, but it feels a lot more… personal than before. Intimate? Just the word alone makes Piko’s shoulders tense, feeling a nervous embarrassment well up within him.
“Sorry, I, uh…” I what? Piko doesn’t even know what to say. Fukase looks at him with an eyebrow raised, waiting for his response.
Then he smirks, like he’s thought of a joke. “It’s alright if you got lost in my eyes there for a sec, I’ll understand.”
And-- he can’t help it, really, but he feels a flush come over him, Fukase’s joke hitting a little too close to the truth. “U-Um,” he starts, feeling like a deer in headlights.
Fukase’s eyes widen, surprised at Piko’s reaction. “...Uh, Piko…?” he trails off. He looks just as lost as Piko feels.
“Nothing! It’s nothing, I just, like…” Piko shrugs. “Spaced out. Sorry, let’s… let’s try that again.”
“You sure?” Fukase asks. “We can call it here, if you don’t wanna--”
“No!” Piko interjects, a little louder than he meant for it to be. “No, I mean, I want to. Keep dancing with you, that is.”
Fukase stares, then gives him a small nod. “Alright.” he says. Piko blinks; he thought Fukase would surely poke fun at him for that, but instead, he readjusts his stance, his hand giving Piko’s a light squeeze. “Lead on.”
“R-Right.” With a slight shake of his head to clear his thoughts, he attempts to pick up where they left off. “So...Back with your right, when I step in…”
They fall into the same rhythm they had before, each step in time with each other. Piko’s gaze is fixed firmly on their feet, not wanting a repeat incident of whatever had just happened there, and it’s working pretty well, if he’s being honest.
“Hey, Piko.”
“Mm?” He doesn’t look up.
“You kinda suck at this.”
Piko scoffs. “Well, that’s nice of you.” he laughs.
“No, but it’s a good thing, though.” he adds.
Confused, Piko glances up at him- only to find Fukase looking right back at him.
“I kinda suck too.” Fukase’s smiling. “But we’re sucky together, which makes it fun.”
“...Yeah.” He smiles back, and he holds onto Fukase a little tighter. “It’s fun.”
“Hah.” Fukase chuckles. “Hey, twirl me.”
Piko gives him a skeptical look. “You sure you’re ready for that?”
“Yeah, definitely. I want my skirt to do the thing, like, when you spin.”
With a laugh, Piko does as asked, taking Fukase’s hand and raising it above his head, leading Fukase to do a somewhat clumsy 360 degree twirl. His skirt does ‘the thing’, as Fukase described it, and he looks pleased.
“Woosh.” he says, as he comes back in and rests his hand on Piko’s shoulder once more.
“Woosh.” Piko replies, fond.
For a while, they just dance, in a silence where the only music is their own breaths, and it’s lovely. He doesn’t think he’s ever said it, but he really treasures the time they spend together. Maybe he will someday. He ought to, after everything they’ve been through.
“You know, maybe we can do this again sometime.” says Fukase. “Dancing.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, like. Just being stupid, dancing around together. I dunno, it could be our thing.”
“I thought ‘our thing’ was bickering all the time.”
“We can multitask it.” he suggests. “There’s room for both.”
“You have a point.”
As they slow to an eventual stop, Fukase takes a grand bow, cracking Piko up a little. “I think… that sounds nice.”
Fukase flops back onto the couch, an arm open for Piko to resume his place. Piko does so, happily, the two of them curling back up together, a little brighter than they were before.
“I bet we’ll get so good that we could show off with it.”
“Mhm, maybe in another six years.”
“Pessimistic, much.”