Chapter Text
“Lets have a listen to what you’re going to be dancing your Rumba to next week!” Claudia spoke during the results show, as Isabelle and Anton sat next to her, Isabelle still shaking from the results announcement. The song ‘Shallow’ played over the speakers as Anton took Isabelle’s hand. He knew how nervous she’d been for the Rumba, for apparently no reason, and he wanted to put it off for as long as possible, but he couldn’t anymore. They had to get the dance out of the way before they had to learn two dances in a week, so this week was perfect. Anton had never gotten that far with a dance partner, so at this point, every week they stayed in was a blessing.
On the Sunday morning, Isabelle walked into the dance studio, her backpack, containing the lunch she’d made for herself and Anton and some cheeky treats that she felt they deserved, on her back. She was not looking forward to this week, especially because of the sensuality of the song and how odd that would feel for her. She was not a ‘sexy’ person, at least in her opinion, and the whole point of the Rumba was to have that romantic and sexual connection with your partner, which she did not have with Anton. Isabelle was scared, more than anything, that her naivety when it came to that kind of thing would make the whole dance feel awkward and stilted.
“Morning,” Anton spoke, looking twenty times as energetic as Isabelle, dressed in his perfect suit, like he tended to on the first day of rehearsal. Not one hair on his head was out of place, making him look like he’d just stepped off of a magazine cover. He’d always said that he enjoyed dancing in a suit, but without fail, by Monday every week, he would crumble and put on plain clothes because he couldn’t be bothered to iron his shirts. “Ready for a new dance, love?”
“I suppose so...” Isabelle replied, placing her bag down and taking her dance shoes out. “Can’t we just do last week’s Quickstep again?”
“That’s not really how the competition works, I’m afraid. I would have won ten times by now if we could just do the same dance every week!”
“I just don’t want to do the Rumba! It was the one dance that I didn’t want to do, and, to be honest, I didn’t think I would get far enough to have to dance it.”
“Did we not have this exact conversation about the Argentine Tango, and then you went out there and scored 35? You said that you didn’t do intense things, and that you would look like a fool, so what’s the problem now?” Anton asked, standing up from where he’d been sitting on the floor, scrolling through his phone.
“I don’t do sexy,” Isabelle mumbled, fiddling with her hands as if she thought that Anton could see right through her. The one thing she hated about herself was that she wasn’t particularly experienced in that domain, because she’d never had a partner that she felt comfortable bearing all to, so to speak. Or, more specifically, it had never gotten that far before either one of them could break it off. How was she meant to portray ‘sexy’ when she had never done it in real life?
“Come on! You’ve got to have a bit of spice deep down somewhere!” Anton laughed, taking Isabelle’s hands into his own and looking into her eyes. “Look, it doesn’t have to be sexy – we just have to look like we love one another. Its more sensual than it is sexy, like we’re trying to entice one another. But trust me, if your previous Latin dances are anything to go by, most of the people in the country, both men and women, think that you can do ‘sexy’. I’ve seen the comments on Twitter.”
“You’re making that up,” she rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep the small smile and cute spatter of red across her cheeks as she thought about it. “Anyway, let's just get started.”
On the first day, Anton took Isabelle through each step of the dance, not teaching her them in detail, but just setting out the basic movements of the dance before he would add in the little flourishes and embellishments that would make the dance worthy of a 40. Isabelle had always learned quickly, ever since week one, and she tended to have most of the dance memorised in the first two days, meaning that they could focus the rest of their time on perfecting each little bit, and getting the mood for the dance completely right. In their break, as well, after the cameramen had left the studio, they would always talk in detail about the story behind the dance, making up an entire backstory between them, because Isabelle had found that it would help her really get into the dance.
“What’s the story this week, then?” Isabelle asked, as she took a sip from the cup of tea that Anton had just made her.
“Well, the song’s about two people who long for a life better than the one they have at that point, but they don’t both realise that the key to making their life better is the other person, right?”
“So our characters should be two friends, who knew each other for a while, before going their different ways. However, when they’re apart, their lives go downhill, until they meet up again and realise that, after all, they were actually in love!”
“Your character could be a struggling actress who is never recognised as talented and is losing faith in the world.”
“Your character could be... a single dad who works so hard to care for his son, but its never good enough?”
“That’s... surprisingly sweet! And the pair finally realise that the way to regain their faith in the world is to realise their love for each other!”
“There’s a reason you write romance novels, you know?” Isabelle giggled. “You’re very fluffy and cute when it comes to love. Its endearing.”
By Wednesday, Isabelle knew the dance off by heart, and all she had to work on for Saturday was her chemistry with Anton, which she knew could take days to master. This dance was strange for Isabelle, because it had been long since established on the show that her best work was her solo work, but she could get worse once she went into hold, so most of the dances she did tended to have a solo section in the middle. However, because this dance really put a focus on her dynamic and relationship with Anton, there was hardly any solo work. She felt like she was pressed up against Anton far more often than was appropriate, even if it was only for the dance, and it was strange to be held by someone in such a caring way. Each time Anton instructed her to get back into position, placing herself chest-to-chest with him, she had to force herself to breathe, or she would overthink it and forget to. She’d, obviously, been in hold with Anton many times before, but, for some reason, it just felt a lot different this week. She didn’t particularly want to think about why, but she figured that it could be because of the mood and tone of the dance being more romantic than many of the dances they’d done before.
“I need you to be more fluid through the whole dance, more graceful. I’m not going to lie, you look more uncomfortable than anything else, and that’s the opposite of what we want,” Anton smiled, the pair still holding one another.
“Sorry, I’m just not used to this sort of thing.”
“Surely it can’t be that hard to pretend that you fancy me?” Anton laughed self-depreciatingly, resting his head on Isabelle’s shoulder, frozen in the position that they ended the dance in. He’d also been beating himself up about the dance, despite how he seemed to Isabelle on the outside, because he was worried about how it would make him react. Isabelle was a lot younger than him, nearly 25 years younger than him, and he was being expected to dance this highly romantic dance with her. Not only that, but Isabelle was incredibly beautiful, even if she didn’t believe it herself, and it was very awkward for Anton, knowing that she was so much younger than him, and yet had to act as if she loved him. He was old enough to be her dad, for God’s sake, and yet he knew that, given the chance, he would whisk her away in a heartbeat and could so easily envision spending a lifetime with her.
“It's nothing to do with you, I promise,” Isabelle pulled away, but her hands stayed within Anton’s. “I don’t know what its like, to fall so head over heels for someone that you feel pulled towards them. You’re asking me to pretend that I’m in love, but how can I do that if I’ve never been in love before?”
“Have you ever looked at someone, even if you don’t feel anything towards them romantically, and imagined that you could spend every day in their company without ever growing bored? Have you ever wished that you could just spend time with someone without wanting anything from them, or them wanting anything from you?” Anton asked, looking into Isabelle’s eyes, making her blush slightly. Maybe she had felt like that towards someone, but she really wasn’t prepared for what that could mean for both of them. She’d gotten so far in this competition, which had taken a lot out of her, but she’d also gained so much, one of those things being Anton, and the bright and thrilling sunshine that he’d managed to pour into her life, even if he didn’t know how much he’d affected her. Even though, on the outside, Isabelle was a bright and bubbly woman herself, she could get into her head, her confidence dying down until she believed that she wasn’t capable, but Anton knew exactly how to stop that, and how to cultivate her confidence so that she could go out there on Saturday night and blow everyone away. She could envision spending every day with him, never getting bored by his over-the-top personality and infectious joy, so she supposed that was the answer to his question. It wasn’t that it was hard to pretend to fancy him, it was that it was far too easy to pretend that she fancied him, and that might make her realise how much she was relying on him, not only in dancing, but in life in general.
“I don’t suppose I have,” the blush still hadn’t left Isabelle’s cheeks, feeling that strange loop-the-loop in her stomach as she thought about the weird turn that her brain had taken at the question. She really hadn’t thought about Anton in that way before, but she was starting to realise now, how much she really enjoyed Anton’s company, and how close they’d become over the past few months. It really seemed that she’d reached some sort of breakthrough. “Have you?”
“Not in an awful long time,” Anton lied, thinking back to his younger days. Yes, he’d been in love then, and it had been glorious, and yet, at the same time, nothing like now. He wouldn’t say that he loved Isabelle, that would be a bit to pre-emptive, but he was getting that fluttery feeling when he watched her, like he was watching the only person in the world that mattered. “But the point I’m trying to make is that you don’t have to have fallen in love with someone to know what falling in love is like. Falling in love is looking at someone and knowing that you want to spend your life together, and stick by them through everything. Watching someone do the thing they love and knowing that you will always miss the look on their face when you can’t watch it anymore. Knowing that you would give anything to see them happy, even if that means sacrificing something for them.”
On Thursday, Isabelle had renewed passion and excitement for the Rumba, mainly because she felt like she could really give it her all after what Anton had told her. She’d laid in bed the night before, thinking about what he’d told her, about how it felt to be in love, and wondered why that had conjured up images of him. She knew that she was not in love with him. It seemed a bit horrible, to say with such certainty that she wasn’t in love with him, but she knew that she wasn’t there. Yet. There was something about Anton that drew her in, probably his unbelievably positive and optimistic personality or the way that he always knew exactly what to say when she was getting overwhelmed or getting herself worked up about something. And, there was no denying that she was attracted to him, something that she had known as soon as she had been partnered with him, but had pushed down so that it wouldn’t get in the way of their partnership. In fact, she had pushed a whole lot of her feelings down since she’d met Anton, but she was only noticing that now that she’d become hyper aware of how she’d been reacting to his encouragement and kindness over the past months.
When they began to practise on Thursday, Anton immediately noticed the difference between how she’d been dancing the day before and now, mainly because she felt so much calmer in his arms. He wasn’t going to assume that she was feeling better because of what he had told her the day before, but he was at least hoping that it had helped her a bit. Anton had never understood why Isabelle seemed to have so little faith in herself, because she was one of the most beautiful and talented people that he’d ever met. He was sure that, if any other woman had been in Isabelle’s position, looking so magnificent each and every week as she stepped out, onto the dancefloor, their confidence would have been through the roof, but Isabelle still seemed to think that she was terrible. When he’d first met Isabelle, before they had even been partnered up, he knew that she had a lot of potential, and that she would be one of the series favourites. Not only that, but he also knew that she was one of the most beautiful people he had ever met. He loved dancing with her each week, and he only wished that she could see in herself, what he could see in her from the moment he met her.
By Saturday, the pair were thrilled by their dance, and they knew that this would be one of their best. Isabelle had worked tirelessly on the dance to make it as good and as convincing as possible, and, for once, she felt confident in what she was doing as she stepped out onto the dance floor, hearing the first notes of the dance. She was wearing a flowing grey dress that seemed to cling to her in all the right places to make her look so much better than she felt she deserved to look, and, similarly, Anton was wearing a shirt in the same colour, and black trousers, the pair opting for a more minimalistic look to reflect the regularity of the story, just two normal people. They seemed to glide so easily across the floor, Isabelle letting herself be led by Anton, pulled into his grasp as they circled one another, feeling that intimacy that she had been terrified of at the start of the week, and enjoying it. The dance seemed to last forever, and yet Isabelle was clinging on to each and every second, wanting to be whisked away into this beautiful world that they were creating rather than be pulled back into the real world, where none of this romance and connection existed. Before either of them were ready to stop, the dance came to an end, the two ending in the familiar position that had always signified that break between their own little world and the real one, the pair holding onto each other for dear life, like they never wanted to let each other go.
The applause broke the pair out of their trance, and they reluctantly let each other go. The dance had been good, there was no denying that, but their fate was down to the judges now.
“I think I liked the Rumba more than I expected to,” Isabelle spoke, looking into Anton’s eyes and taking one of his hands.
“I think I liked it more too, love,” Anton smiled brightly, pulling her into another embrace as the audience continued to clap. They eventually made their way over to the judges, three of them with beaming smiles, but, as usual, Craig looked completely emotionless.
“So, Shirley, what did you think of Isabelle and Anton’s Rumba? Did it meet your high standards?” Tess asked, looking over to where Shirley was leaning over her desk, looking down at the notes she’d written.
“Well, I have to say, you two, I have never seen such an emotional Rumba on Strictly Come Dancing! The way that you looked at one another was positively electric – it was like you’d been pulled into your characters, and you really sold every second of it! I, personally, couldn’t find any fault in your technique, and I can’t wait to see more of this in the future!”
“Motsi, are you on the same page when it comes to their emotion?”
“The way that you danced so fluidly, Isabelle, is off the charts. You let Anton lead you across that floor, and yet you still managed to show how the passion between you was equal. I’ve never seen anyone, other than professionals, look so connected during a Rumba.”
“Now, Bruno. You’ve said for the past Rumbas that you want to see sexy and passion between the dancers, so have Isabelle and Anton delivered that?”
“You were sexy, my love! You swept around that floor and showed how much you wanted Anton! Now, I’m not trying to insinuate anything, but either you are obsessed with that man, or you are an unbelievably good actor!”
“And, Craig, you’ve been very critical of Isabelle’s frame and arms over the past few weeks, so how did that stand up?”
“Your arms, I’m afraid, my darling, were a bit sloppy in some points, but nothing that was too detrimental to your performance. It had passion, it had romance, it was, in all, a rather good Rumba.”
The pair ran to the balcony, where they would be receiving their scores, hand in hand, beaming at one another as the rest of the couples cheered and clapped for them. She could see Ellie and Vito standing to the side of Claudia, both of which were cheering the loudest for them. Isabelle had very quickly become close friends with Ellie as soon as the competition had begun, and they were definitely each other’s biggest fans, even though it hurt that one of them would eventually have to leave the competition.
“That was the most... I don’t know how to describe it! Heated? That’s not really the word. It was a very Rumba-y Rumba!” Claudia laughed as they joined her. “Let’s hear the judges’ scores!”
“Craig Revel Horwood,” the voice announced.
“9.”
“Motsi Mabuse.”
“10!”
“Shirley Ballas.”
“10!”
“Bruno Tonioli.”
“10!”