working the greenhouse has kept her fit. but she still feels a little self-conscious as she stands after clearing the plates. feels exposed. because her legs and her arms and her face are all slim, but there's that pouch on her stomach she hasn't been able to lose since roman. and she doesn't know why she's thinking about it now, with the sweater over her and high-waisted jeans, but she's thinking about what people do on dates nowadays and gods, it's been a long damn time since - 

she clears her throat to derail her own train of thought, covers it up as a cough of sorts by taking a sip of water. she reaches over above the sink and turns on her dad's old cassette player. 

"you'll have to bear with me. dad always did the dishes to his music. feels weird if i don't." she grins sideways at him, unashamed. 

"do you dance at all?"

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

music plays, and he finds himself easing into the rhythm of it. he steps beside her, carrying plates over to the sink.

"it's been a while, but i do."

he learned how to for his first date with his wife. he still remembers the moment with fondness, remembers how nervous he had been to ask her out in the first place. the song that played that night is similar to what plays now.

"your dad has great taste in music."

willow atkins

☉

her hips sway gently to the music and she hums while lance brings the plates over to her. "yeah, he really did," she says. they didn't make much of a mess, but she takes her time, because the music really is nice and some background noise to fill the gaps isn't all that bad. 

"he wrote some music himself. taught me a thing or two on the guitar." 

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

"yeah?"

lance wishes he could play an instrument. he's good with his hands, but for whatever reason, they just refuse to cooperate on any instruments. he's tried guitar, piano, and harmonica (more of a drunken adventure than a genuine attempt, really).

as he settles by her side, he starts swaying to the rhythm of the music as well, matching her.

"i hope to hear you play someday."

willow atkins

☉

"oh, you can count on it," she says. she's never had the natural talent her father always had, but years of work have certainly paid off. his patience helped too. so one day, and hopefully in the near future, she'll sit down with lance, maybe touch their knees together, and she'll strum him a little tune. 

she laughs blissfully, grows a little bold and bumps her hip into lance's. "come on. this song has too much umph to stand around like this."

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

her hip bumps into his and he understands her intention, recognizes her boldness, and appreciates it. he laughs, wiping his hands against the towel before taking a step back.

"it really does."

he turns towards her, offering her his hand.

willow atkins

☉

and she takes it, grinning all the while, chasing this feeling that's new and exciting and a little bit rusty/rough around the edges. her fingers are still a little soapy, but the song demands their attention, and so she steps towards him, and then away, laughing, giggling as she does. 

"you're not so bad at this," she says. the kitchen is a little cramped, too much so for them to really move, but she doesn't mind. she doesn't mind the way it brings them a little closer together. 

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

fingers intertwine briefly as they start dancing. it's easy to fall into the rhythm of the song, into the joy of the moment. one step brings them closer, bodies brushing as his hand reaches out for her waist.

for a few moments, he holds her against him.

"you're not so bad either, willow."

after a smile, he's pulling away again.

willow atkins

☉

she falls into the movement/moment/step. the kitchen is cozy; it still smells like blackberries and sugar. and she's at ease here, even though her skin is tingling where he's touching her and she feels magnetized almost, drawing closer when he allows. their hips brush, chest to chest, and it steals her breath. 

and then he releases her. one hand twirls back, the laced fingers of their other stretch. she comes back to him with a smile on her face, still a little breathless, as the song peters off and leaves them in the scant seconds of silence before the next one begins. 

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

even as the next song begins, he remains still, almost breathless as he peers into her eyes. that close, he can see the littlest details that make a world of a difference — how the hazel of her eyes compliments, never distracts, and how her smile is sweet, almost innocent.

his hand reaches up to caress her cheek, still smiling.

willow atkins

☉

she leans her cheek into his hand and tilts her head and she can't stop smiling, really smiling. and it's kind of hard, really, to properly purse her lips because she's beaming like so, but she stands on her tiptoes anyway. her eyes half-close and she chuckles, fingers pressing into lance's side to coax him just a little bit closer. 

she kisses him. softly, sweetly, and the heat from her lips blushes her cheeks. when she withdraws, she rolls on the balls of her feet, and looks a little sheepish when she says, "this is nice. you're nice."

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

he kisses her. softly, sweetly, and when she pulls away, it leaves him with a sense of longing, guiding him to get lost in the moment and in their little bubble. the warmth lingers as he continues to caress her cheek, smile gentle as ever.

"you're nice. we should...do this again."

a pause.

"if you want to, of course."

willow atkins

☉

her nose scrunches at the pause. the music drones on and all she can think is how silly the statement is - how silly and how wonderful. no pressure. 

"i do," she says enthusiastically. but she drops her arms now, for the moment, because she's sorely tempted to kiss him again and she's rather afraid that's too much for now. no, she'll show him the greenhouse and the tauros and she'll open her home (her heart) to him, piece by piece. 

"come. i'll show you the rest of the greenhouse. we'll actually do the whole date thing." and then maybe share a kiss good-bye. 

LANCE VOLLANS

☉