"Why, thank you,” she leaned over the center console, gave his cheek a kiss. “But that still doesn’t tell me where we’re going.”
“C'mon, Maksy,” she cajoled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Tell me."
"Are you trying to seduce me, or get me to talk?” he asked, smiling.
“Ehhhh - a little bit of both,” she answered, running her nose down his neck. He was always doing it her, she supposed, turnabout was fair play.
“Well, Miss Davis,” he pulled into a space, put the car in park. “I’d ask you to do your worst…but we’re here."
She looked out the window, intrigued.
He kissed her nose, pulling open his door. He went around to open hers.
She stepped out of the car, looked around. The area looked unfamiliar to her, but as L.A. wasn’t her hometown, a lot of the places that Maks took her to were.
"Where are we?”
He smiled, amused at her endless curiosity. “I wanted to show you something."
He secured the car, began walking with her. “Dance is just one way of expressing love of one’s culture. With the Latin dances, you see it especially. The history of dance, the culture of it - it’s almost as interesting to me as the act of doing it."
They rounded a corner, Meryl seeming to hang on his every word.
He continued. "I became a Latin dance champion, and I’d like to think I deserved it. But I think what set me apart from some other ballroom dancers is that I respect where the dance came from. I respect it’s origins, and it's metamorphosis from what it was then to what it is now. On this show, it’s great that I can do whatever I can to further my craft - but, some of the elements, the foundations of a style gets lost. The subtlety of particular dances gets lost for ratings, or what looks good on tv. That’s what happened with our salsa tonight - it was a salsa, but it was filled with tricks and things that aren’t necessarily true to its original art form. But here,” he stopped as they reached their destination. “they will.”
They had stopped at what appeared to be a bar. Maks opened the door…and they stepped into a new world.
It was hot, and dark. The music blasted out of the speakers, and it was a happy, festive rhythm. There was a smattering of tables, a small bar.
And a dance floor.
The place was full, but not packed. People were scattered around, small groups sitting at the tables, but the majority on the floor.
She stood still, awed by the movement.
This was not the salsa that Maks taught her - oh no. This was better, hotter. The women weren’t dirty whores, like Maks had wanted her character to be - they were confident women completely in tune with their sexuality. The men twisted and turned them, showcasing their remarkable skill.
Meryl didn’t see one flip.
She was awestruck.
“This,” he whispered in her ear, “this is salsa."
He began to lead her onto the floor, and Meryl protested. “Maks! i can’t dance salsa here - they’d laugh me out this place! I can’t -”
“believe that you show so little trust in me,” he interrupted. “You know I do do this for a living, yes?"
"But-what if people - ”
“Recognize us? They won’t. Val, Tony, & I have come here plenty of times, and we’ve never had a problem. C'mon, I want to show you how salsa is really done."
Her protests died on her lips as a fresh question came into her mind.
"Have you ever brought any of your partners here?"
"From the show? No."
"From…” she paused. She didn’t want him to think she was some jealous harpy, but…the question had to be asked. “…anywhere else?"
She’s frickin adorable, he thought.
"No, honey. You’re the first woman I brought here. I thought you would like it."
She looked up at him, incredibly happy, and a bit embarrassed, that she was so transparent.
She looked towards the floor.
He pulled her towards him, hands cupping her face.
"C'mon, baby,” he said, looking into her eyes. “Dance with me."
She nodded - yes, yes, yes.
She was, quite simply, having the time of her life.
She shouldn’t have worried that her salsa skills weren’t up to par. Like usual, Maks made her completely comfortable. With the show, it was a bit strange for her - to dance for the simple sake of dancing. The people around her weren’t competing for some silly trophy - they were dancing for the simple joy of it.
She loved it.
True to his word, no one bothered them. There were no cameras around, no photographers in hiding waiting for that one shot.
They were in a crowded club, with plenty of people, and yet they were in complete privacy.
At first, she was shy to dance - from what she saw, a lot of the people here could be on the show, they were so good. But as she began to dance, she began to lose that fear. Maks had a way of making her feel like the place was empty, and they were the only two there. They danced closer than ever, Maks sometimes kissing her nose before he turned her, ending some dips with a scorching kiss.
They were just like everyone else.
She found that she liked this style of salsa better than the routine that they had performed earlier that evening. While this style was faster, with more complicated turns - it also brought out that confident femme fatale that he had wanted to showcase earlier in the evening.
Meryl found herself almost preening for him, taking cues from the other women there. He had a way of making her feel like she was the only woman in the world, the only one that mattered. He made her feel sexy, and confident, and powerful. In this journey with him, she had found herself able to entrust the innermost parts of herself without fear.
He made her feel weightless.
She loved him so much.
It was approaching two in the morning when they finally left. She felt like she was high, she was so happy. Her body was exhausted, but inside, she felt like she could run a marathon.
Love was miraculous.
They were laughing as they made their way back to his car. She needed to get this out, needed him to know.
She leaned against his car, looked up at him.
“I need to -,” All of a sudden flustered, she did what came naturally.
She jumped up into his arms, and kissed him.
He trapped her against the car as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She wanted this to kiss to say something - wanted him to know her feelings without the words. She wanted to tell him that he made her feel beautiful. That every moment spent in his company was a gift. That he was one of the most inspirational people she had ever met, that he inspired her. That he made her feel confident, and sexy. That she never wanted to sleep without him again.
She wanted this kiss to say that.
And thousands of other things.
When they finally came up for air, they were both gasping.
“What,” he panted. “What was that for? Tell me, so I can do it again for the rest of my life.”
She smiled, looked deep into his eyes.
She wanted to see his reaction in there first.
“I just…,” Come on, Davis, she admonished herself. “I love you."
The smile he gave her lit up her entire universe.
She looked at his lips, then back up to his eyes.
“Yeah,” she whispered.
He kissed her, laughing against her lips. She knew she probably should be insulted, but his giddiness was contagious.
“You think me falling in love with you is funny?” she asked, smiling.
“No, no, no,” he admonished her, pecked her lips. “It’s just,” he closed his eyes, breathed her in. “You said it. You actually fucking said it."
He opened his eyes, the look on his face breaking her heart. "You mean it?"
She nodded, her heart near to bursting with emotion. This wasn’t supposed to happen, she knew. She wasn’t supposed to do the show and find the man that lit her up inside. She wasn’t supposed to fall so hard for a man that she essentially just met.
I noticed you had a deserumed steve tag and I remember this really good fic i read. Steve gets deserumed during battle and Bucky swoops in and saves him, and that's how he gets his memories back. it's called This Ain't no Fairytale by KonKon38
So I have been working on this story. It’s a multi-chapter AU tayvin fic. I know it seems like a lot of AUs are out there just now which is weird timing now that I’m ready to post this but also cool…. if you hang with me, i think you’ll like the story line. As always I appreciate feedback (positive or constructive); it’s kind of what helps writers stay motivated.
“Honey, please don’t bring your phone to the dinner table,”
Andrea said, looking at Taylor. “I thought your father and I had raised you
with better manners than that. What could possibly be so important as to
interrupt our family dinner?”
Taylor immediately stuffed her iphone into the back pocket
of her jeans. “I’m sorry mom. You’re right.” Taylor blushed with embarrassment
and quickly blinked away the tears that were threatening to spring from her
eyes. She wanted nothing more than to please her parents and hated to
disappoint them, especially her mother. They were, after all, her world. Her
rocks. The only people she could count always on. And what she was
looking at on her phone was not worth her time anyway, especially in front of
her parents at dinner. A bunch of her classmates were making fun of her curly
hair in an Instagram post, comparing her to a cartoon character.
“Is everything alright honey?” her mom questioned in a soft
voice, as she of course noticed the glistening tears in her daughter’s ocean
Taylor glanced to the left at her father, who sat at the
other end of the ornate cherrywood dining room table, and then back towards her
mom. “Yes, Mom. Everything is fine.” She paused and thought to change the
conversation. “How was work today, Dad?”
The hallway was sterile and bright. The walls were white, the floors were white, the lights were white and the doctors’ coats were white. It was blinding. Every sense was numb. She felt like she couldn’t see, feel, smell, or hear anything. Her next steps could have taken her face-first into the wall, and she probably wouldn’t have noticed it. A woman led her by the arm to an empty waiting area, which was a medium sized room with a single TV, chairs and couches. Taylor sat on one of the vinyl seats, tall and rigid, as if she were in training to be a statue. The nurse sat next to her.