A belated V-Day fic. This is what I get when I listen to slow, classical music when I go to sleep. More or less, I can blame it on my… melancholic and nostalgic thoughts as well.

I wonder how melancholy and nostalgia leads to sap -.- really.

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On the 14th of February we decided to drop by the Wayner Bar™ after a long day of sightseeing around the city.

Apparently, the staff too shared the idea of joining into the Valentines Day festivities. As instead of the usual spunky techno music that blared from the speakers, threatening to deafen the ears of half the customers, what met us were slow romantic love songs that seemed to dance in the air itself, weaving a cozy atmosphere that seemed to fit perfectly with the scene we were presented with.

The dance floor was smaller than usual, as various loveseats and couches decorated half of the dance floor, while the other half was filled with couples arm-in-arm, swaying slowly to the beat of the music. Although it was obvious that they could not notice anything aside from their spouses, the couples seemed to be well aware of when and where to step to avoid collisions with others, despite the tiny amount of space they were allowed.

Sidling to the bar top where we exchanged cheerful greetings with the bartender and had our drinks ordered, we settled on the chairs where we watched the dance floor with companionable silence. Time seemed to stretch for an eternity as I slowly committed the images of those couples dancing into my memory, only to be interrupted when our drinks were carefully laid on the bar top with a gentle chink.

Sipping the sweet alcoholic drink, I turned to watch the dance floor again. Alas, I was to be broken out of my reverie a second time. However, it was a tug at my arm that did the job. Turning to my companion with a mildly questioning look, I was met with a grinning face, whose owner happened to be the owner of the hand that was latched on my arm. With another tug, he gestured to the dance floor, and turned back to me with a puppy-eyed look.

Yes, ladies and gentleman. This is how I let my lover bully me into dancing with him at the bar. And the problem was, that it never failed.

As always, I caved, and allowed him to drag me through the sea of couples where we found an empty area where we could fit in. Enclosing his slender waist with my arms as his own wrapped around my neck, we slowly began to sway alongside the others. Sway to the rhythm of the music, and to the movements of each other.

As he laid his crimson head on my shoulder, I could feel his heart beat slowly pounding against his chest, just as I was sure he could feel mine. In just that moment, I realized why so many seemed to enjoy this form of dancing. Faintly, I could smell the exotic scent that emitted from his body. A scent that did not belong to any washing agents, but to him and him only. I could feel the light brushes of his silky hair along my cheeks. Almost teasingly, they swept past the thin layer of my skin, leaving a gentle tingling sensation where they had contacted.

With just that moment, I seemed to be able to carry a wordless, but meaningful conversation with him. One that flowed slowly with the music yet was deep in content.

Finally, when both of us got tired of dancing, we hesitantly stopped swaying, and instead of disentangling our limbs, we simply leaned in for the faintest of brushes of our lips before slipping out of the crowd quietly, and returning to our hotel, where we would be able to enjoy our peace and solace in private.

-Ende-