Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You want me to dance? With Avon?!”

“It was a suggestion, Vila, not an order!” Cally said. “You are a couple.”

“Yes, but have you seen Avon – have you seen him run, I mean? All of his dexterity went into his brain and hands, I’m telling you. No coordination.”

“I’ve seen him be very precise, in combat training,” she argued. “Precision hardly matters during running. In dancing…”

Vila climbed to his feet, taking her gently to the side. “Look, Cally, don’t take this the wrong way. I love him dearly – don’t tell him I said that – but I don’t think Avon is a ballroom dancer. It would embarrass both of us – and then we’d never hear the end of it from Dayna and Tarrant.”

She conceded his point with a slight nod. “Perhaps you are correct. I just…” She glanced across the room, past the dancing couples, to where Avon stood sequestered in the shadows. “A feeling I had. I though that perhaps he might want to.”

Vila didn’t ask whether she was serious. Cally rarely wasn’t, and never about her feelings.

“Fine,” he agreed. “I’ll ask. But if he bites my head off, put me back together again, would you?”

“Oh, Vila!” was all the reply he heard as he made his way around the room to reach Avon’s position.

Avon greeted him with a nod. Cally had been right about one thing, at least – Avon had a fancy drink, but its ice was melting away in the glass, Avon’s gaze fixed on the dancers.

“Wanna have a twirl?” Vila asked, nodding towards them.

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you want to go dance?”

Avon glared at him, but his eyes flickered away again before he replied: “No.”

“See, that’s what I said to Cally,” Vila carried on lightly, “Wouldn’t want to make a show for Dayna and Tarrant.”

“I’m surprised you even can dance,” Avon snapped.

Vila let him vent his frustration without protest. None of Avon’s barbs hurt if you knew how to read them. “We could, you know. Not out there, obviously – just us. Teleport up, put on some nice music. Liberator all to ourselves. Just have fun.”

Avon took a large swallow from his drink. “You are getting to know me too well.”

“Actually, Cally put me up to it.”

“Even worse.”

“Said she had a feeling you wanted to dance.”

“Not with her.”

“Not with her, obviously. Far too pretty a woman to tread of the toes of, eh?”

“Vila…”

Vila grinned. “I’ll call for teleport.”

Avon didn’t protest being teleported up, but the sudden silence – well, as silent as the Liberator ever was – killed the mood.

“Oof,” Vila said. “Have to find some music – actually, Orac, pick up the music from down there and relay it through the speakers up here, will you?”

Orac, still sulking from being ordered to do teleport duty, obeyed without protest, for once, and the music rose again. It sounded different up here, crisper, more intimate.

“You’re serious about this,” Avon remarked, slotting away his bracelet.

Vila shrugged. “If you want to. If you just wanted an excuse to get away from there, we can also do something else.”

“No. I haven’t danced for many years, Vila.”

“That’s all right. Neither have I. No one here to see.”

“Just you,” Avon replied, with a smile.

Vila stepped close to Avon’s back, swaying with the music. “Just me. And I don’t need any fancy steps.” He put his arms around Avon, his head onto his shoulder, and felt Avon moving gently along with him.

They remained close, wrapped up in each other even as Avon turned around in the embrace. Nobody trod on anyone’s toes. It was nice, it was quiet, it was just them. It was exactly how Vila liked it.