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It was perhaps America’s best kept secret that Alfred Jones, the spitting image of the stereotypical lazy American, greatly enjoyed a clean house, which meant house chores. However, it was very public information that the firebrand loved music. Of this Ivan was well aware, especially since their home was now bursting with it.
It was a rare day off for the both of them and they couldn’t think of anything else better to do but clean the space. Well, Ivan could certainly think of some other activities, but he had been surprised at Alfred’s steeled opinion to mop up. And usually the blond worked with headphones in, but not today. Oh, not today, not that Ivan was particularly bothered. The towering Russian would never admit that he loved Alfred’s playlists, especially not the “rockabilly one,” or whatever it was that Alfred called it. Coincidentally that was the playlist currently blasting through their home with Alfred’s fancy speakers.
”Para bailar La Bamba…se necesita una poca de gracia!”
Ivan looked up from his wipe-down of the kitchen counter to watch his boyfriend in their living room, vacuuming and paying no iota of attention to the rest of the world, singing and shaking his ass like no one was watching. Laughter threatened to break the dam that was Ivan’s lips. Alfred was actually a very good dancer when he wanted to be. Right now was decidedly not one of those times.
The Russian was content to watch this spectacle. Alfred, back turned, had completely abandoned the vacuum—which was still running—and was doing the hand jive along to its song by the same name, which had started playing. The spirited American was turning a circle and moving his arms with all purpose. As he turned in Ivan’s direction those baby blue eyes opened to see violet ones watching him like a television. Alfred’s movements ceased and his face lit up like a warning light. His hands grasped for the vacuum once more and he tried to pretend he hadn’t just been caught red-handed.
The chores continued until an Elvis song flowed through the halls, and Ivan knew that his boyfriend couldn’t resist the King. Once more Ivan abandoned his kitchen dusting to watch what Alfred would do. He could practically see Alfred’s body trying to revolt and dance while he mouthed along to “Hard Headed Woman.” His fancy feet won out before the end and twirled the vacuum before turning it off and frantically pushing it out to the hall, his next target. But instead he returned to the living room and moved the coffee table.
The bouncing intro to “Baby, Let’s Play House” sounded and Alfred had turned to face Ivan unabashedly, his dance floor cleared and ready. One hand was held near his mouth as if he had a microphone and the other was used to beckon Ivan forward, legs moving in the style of Elvis himself. Ivan shook his head vigorously, now more interested in watching his silly lover than anything. It was hard to resist with those smooth moves and his exaggerated lips as he sang along, but still he resisted and shook his head once more.
Alfred twirled one hand above his head as if spinning a lasso and threw it. He was trying to rope the Russian into his antics. Ivan rolled his soft eyes with a big smile gracing his features. But his beloved American drove a hard bargain and resorted to twerking at him, lips pouting as he threw it perfectly in sync to the new song playing. And that finally made Ivan break. The man could feel the blush heating his face as he covered it with his hands and guffawed in laughter, the kind that he’d learned only Alfred could draw from him.
Ivan relented and walked into the living room where he was greeted with a triumphant grin. “So babydoll, may I have the next dance with you?”
”Hmmm depends Fredka…are you planning to shake your ass at me again?”
”Only if that’s what your heart desires, pumpkin.” Alfred was laying down the pet names thick today and Ivan was helpless against them, nodding. Quick fingers unlocked Alfred’s phone and searched with unmatched precision for the one song he knew Ivan was familiar with. For some reason the Russian really liked this one and had once been brave enough to ask what the steps for it were. “You ready?” Ivan nodded again.
Swinging saxophone of Bill Haley’s “Rock-A-Beatin’ Boogie” blared and the two took their positions, toeing the carpet and standing side by side. The words started immediately and the two began to dance along, kicking low in unison to each side before the arms became involved. Ivan didn’t trust himself as much with those, but he followed Alfred’s energy and soon found his hands taken in his boyfriend’s smaller ones. In just a moment Ivan felt himself spun and twirled to the other side of the living room in one fluid, controlled motion. He caught Alfred’s eyes and the shorter man gave Ivan cheesy jazz hands, encouraging him to dance on his own.
Ivan obliged and, while he wasn’t as confident as his partner, he still tried his best knowing there would for once be no judgement or even playful banter. Ivan clipped his way back to being shouldered with Alfred and they continued to dance. The platinum blond felt so clunky and large next to the swift, lithe form to his left, but he felt supported and his heart soared. The taller man continued to dance and didn’t even notice when Alfred stopped to watch him off to the side, tapping his foot and clapping along.
The song ended way too soon and Ivan finally realized he’d been abandoned on the floor. Ivan’s long arms immediately crumbled to his sides and his flush from earlier returned, embarrassed that he’d been dancing all by himself. And yet, Alfred clapped for him and crushed him in one of his trademark bear hugs.
”I knew you weren’t made of ice and stone, teddy! You gotta dance with me more often, you’re beautiful when you move.” The words were half-drowned by the shorter blond crushing his face against Ivan’s broad chest. Alfred’s flattery only made the Russian flush deeper and he dismissed it with a playful scoff. “Oh, don’t huff at me. You’re gorgeous and awesome and got the moves, babe! Total schmooves! Total bad-itude!”
Ivan shook his head hopelessly at Alfred’s made-up words and could only wish he had the other man’s energy sometimes. “Maybe later. But luchik, we still have chores to do.” He didn’t mean to sound rude, but that had been their original quest before getting distracted. A spark lit in the shorter man’s wild blue eyes as he craned to look up at Ivan. The spark of challenge, he thought.
”Oh yeah, and maybe later I can show you how else I can ‘dance,’ too.” Like a loveable asshole, that challenging spark showed itself when Alfred suggestively rolled his hips into Ivan’s before releasing his hug hold and running into the hallway for the vacuum before the Russian could grab him. They yelled at each other in threatening banter and resolved to finish their cleaning as quickly as possible.