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The absolute first time JJ drags you onto the dance floor, you’ve been on the team a month. You’re aware she’s flirty, but you don’t quite understand why she’s like that with you. “C’mon. Dance with me,” JJ insists, dragging you off the bar stool where you’ve been silently observing the team’s interactions and the bar environment. You dig your heels in and immediately explain that you don’t dance. You can’t dance. “Can’t hear you,” she teases, her fingers interlace with yours. “It’s loud.” She heard every word, but it doesn’t seem to change her intention, as she pulls you towards the open space where people are dancing.
“JJ,” you whine.
“It’s fun, I promise.” You don’t believe her. It’s a lot of people all smushed together. It’s very close contact which makes you nervous. You don’t know how to dance or how to be this close to someone else. You don’t know why she’s this close to you to begin with. She takes pity on your anxiety and puts your hands on her hips. “Follow me,” she explains. It’s impressively hard to focus on anything besides her body moving against yours. The hem of her shirt shifts as she dances, and it puts the bare skin of her stomach against your hands. You don’t know what you are. You’ve never been in a scenario where focusing on your sexuality was necessary, but you can assume you’re not strictly straight if you’re distracted by literal inches of her skin. The heat twisting in your belly certainly emphasizes that. “Loosen up,” she teases, her lips ghosting against your ear. Then she turns you around. “It’s supposed to be fun.” JJ holds your hips, keeping your back flush against her front. You can’t help the deep blush coloring your cheeks.
“You’ve tortured her enough,” Emily declares when two more songs have past, and your body feels like a live wire. You don’t know if you’re grateful that she saved you or nervous because you were dancing with her girlfriend. “Pick on someone your own size,” Emily teases. “Garcia got you a fresh drink,” she whispers to you, swatting your ass as you rush off the dance floor. “Jennifer,” you hear Emily scold, but everything after that blends into the bar’s music. It becomes an almost regular occurrence when you’re out with the team, and each time you’re equally as awkward and turned on as the first.
The first time JJ makes you dance with her once you’ve slept together, you blush for different reasons. She’s bolder than she was the first few times she made you dance, mostly because this time she knows your body. She is responsible for a number of your orgasms in their bedroom, bar closets, and hotels. Her hands wander into the pockets of your jeans, over your ass, up your sides to graze your breasts, and beneath the hem of your shirt. She holds you closer than before, her thigh shifting between yours and pressing purposefully. This time, JJ spins herself, and she rubs her ass against the front of your pelvis. It feels like sex, despite the clothes, and your body runs hot. She wraps her arm behind her and holds your hip as she dances against you. You sigh her name, stuttering your consent when she drags you off the dance floor towards the bathroom to soothe a different kind of urge. Dancing with her is like foreplay, and she makes it a regular thing to drag you onto any dance floor she can find. Each time, you blush profusely at the intimate nature of the way JJ dances with you in public. Each time, your body thrums with arousal because now you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you’re gay and very attracted to the blonde woman who keeps insisting that dancing is fun.
By the time you’re dating, you’re more used to her antics. You wouldn’t say you’re more comfortable on the dance floor, but you’re certainly more comfortable with her and her body. You can follow her lead and mimic her movements. You’ve got practice doing that in bed and out of it, which helps. JJ likes to lock her fingers behind your neck and hold your forehead against hers while she ruts her body to the thrumming beat of the music. Sometimes it still leads to a semi-public bar fuck. More often though, it builds anticipation for the night ahead when you’re splayed out nakedly on their bed, doing what they tell you to do.
One of the first things you do when you move into the house you all finally agree on is pull her off the wooden floor to dance with you in the empty living room. It’s slower, and your body isn’t vibrating with the sound of a bar’s stereo. Instead you’ve got happiness, love, and belonging alight in your veins. “What’s this for, baby?” JJ nuzzles her nose against the length of yours, as you sway side to side. “You don’t like dancing.”
“Mmm,” you agree. “But I love you.” Dancing in the kitchen or the living room seems to replace bar dancing because it’s harder for you to handle such loud music. You still go and enjoy, but it’s not the frequency it was when you first started sleeping together. And that’s okay. You’ve all found different ways to exist and enjoy as you’ve grown together as a three.
Then you get married. At least that’s what you’re calling it, whether it’s legally binding or not. It’s permanence for the three of you, so that’s what matters. There’s a party, outside at a local vineyard. It’s small as far as weddings are concerned, but it’s perfect for the three of you. Some friends, some family, and most importantly, your chosen family. When JJ pulls you to the dance floor looking like an ethereal vision in her floor-length, off-the-shoulder white dress, you’re happy to follow. You’d follow her anywhere. You haven’t been able to wipe the smile off your face in hours. JJ cradles your cheek and offers a knowing wink. “You willing to dance with me forever, baby,” JJ asks in your ear, your bodies close and swaying to the band’s music.
“Forever sounds good to me,” you agree. “I love you, Jen.” You feel her smile when you kiss her. It’s soft, sweet, and tender because you definitely have an audience. JJ dances all night, pulling you and Emily with her in alternating patterns. Neither of you even considers telling her no. Not tonight. Probably not ever because dancing is something she loves, and she loves both of you.
When your son is born, he’s a few months old when you’re holding him to your chest, flipping pancakes, when one of JJ’s favorite songs comes on. “Listen, buddy! It’s one of your Mommy’s favorites. You want to dance with me?” You shift your weight side to side as you cook, kissing his forehead while you sing along softly to the song. When you turn to grab more butter from the fridge, JJ is leaning against the wall with the brightest smile on her face, happy tears in her blue eyes. “Hey, I didn’t know you were up.”
“Smell of pancakes,” she explains. “Can I?” At your nod, JJ snuggles Henry into her arms. She nuzzles his nose with hers. “You’ve got the best mama, you know that, H?” She dances as she cuddles him, and you go back to flipping pancakes.
By the time Henry is 2.5, living room dance parties are all the rage. He and JJ flail around, making Emily endlessly nervous that he’ll trip and knock his head on the coffee table or the corner of a wall. More often than not, Henry drags his Imma and Mama into the mix too, so that he’s happily bouncing to some kids’ song with all of his grown ups. His laughter is contagious, and it’s easy to enjoy the moment because you’re giving him childhood memories you only dreamed of.
At some point, you think back and realize how you’ve danced your way through the best times of your life, and you decide maybe, just maybe, you like dancing after all.