Rainy day Traditions
A/N: Heya Grumpy, I know youre not have the best day, and honestly, this was super quick so i really hope you like it. I hope your day gets better, dalring. You deserve it. @grumpyoutlaw
Word count- 914
Pairing- VIktor x reader
Silence washes over the apartment as droplets splatter against the recently fractured panes. Ashen clouds flicker with energy as lightning dances across the heavens. The clamor of ceramic cups skittering across the countertops mixes with the rhythmic rumbles of the fading thunder echoing through the city. With nothing more than the soft thump of his cane to announce his presence, Viktor slides in next to you, chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he sets your cup in front of you on the table.
“Something… on your mind?” he asks softly, voice barely above a whisper as his arm winds around your middle comfortably. Tearing your eyes from the sky, you shake your head, humming in thanks as you lift the cup to your lips only to have him place his hand over top of it quickly. You look at him confused, lips gently pressed to the back of his hand.
“It's hot.” he muses, gently.
“Ah, thank you.” slowly, you relax back into him, humming in contentment as he all but curls around you into a ball, nuzzling his nose into your neck, breathing deeply.
“You never told me what you were thinking about.” he states quietly, against your skin a few minutes later. You laugh softly.
“I told you, it was nothing.” turning to you, his eyebrow arches slightly, lips tilting a bit.
“I don't believe you.” gapping at him, you huff before smiling.
“It was nothing, really.” he doesn't move, if anything the look deepens as he waits. Sighing, you fight the smile threatening to cross your features. “My parents.” you answer softly. He nods, softening. It is only natural to miss them. You have been in the city for over a year now, and have had little contact with them since.
“What about?” he asks slowly, allowing you to turn in his arms, leaning back slightly to give you more room. You
You don't fight the smile this time.
“My dad… he started this tradition when they got married.” leaning back against the couch, you take a sip of your tea carefully, blowing on it out of habit. Viktor stays silent, waiting for you to continue. “Whenever it rained, he would put on music and dance with my mom” you grin at the memory, the thought bringing a smile to his face as well.
“It sounds nice.” he whispers, leaning his head against the couch, flopping it to look towards you more. But you aren't looking at him. You're looking at your lap, reminiscing.
“It was. As the years went on, after they had me, we turned it into a full dance party. They would take turns dancing with me until I was passed out on the floor” you laugh quietly at the memory, smile slowly sliding from your face. “I miss them.” nodding slowly, viktor reaches for your hand, squeezing in understanding.
“It is a wonderful memory.” silently, he watches as you slip back into your memories, eyes to the sky, wide and glassy- as if he could almost see the images playing in your mind. Frowning, he waits. Once he's sure you're not paying attention, he stands slowly, making quick work of the living room.
Before long, he is standing before you again, gently stroking your cheek with his knuckles, watching in amusement as you blink slowly, coming back to him, a lazy smile gracing your features.
“Hello,” he whispers, amusement lacing his tone.
“Hi,” you hum back, taking his hand when he offers it, letting him tug you to your feet. Once standing, he takes a step back, opening the rest of the room up to your view once more. The coffee table is off to the side, pressed up against the other sofa and side table, opening up the space dramatically since neither of you really cared for much in the way of decorations. On top of the coffee table is his old record player, a half dozen or so records sprawled out beside it. Blinking, you watch as he makes his way over to the player, dropping the arm.
“What is all of this?” you ask slowly, hand immediately rushing out for him as he leaves his cane on the table, walking back over to you slowly, nervously, music filling the space around you.
“May I have this dance?” he asks slowly, soft smile melting your confusion, the low lights making his golden eyes flicker closer to bronze.
“Of course,” unable to hide your giddiness, you allow yourself to be swept up into his arms, allowing him to use you as his crutch, spinning in slow circles around the living room, arms wrapped around his neck, chin resting on his chest. Neither of you speak until the first song ends, Viktor showing no inclination to let you go any time soon.
“What brought this on, Vik?” he just smiles.
“I may not be able to dance around quite like you did with your parents,” he begins, humming softly along with the music, the sound rumbling through his chest. Your eyes close at the sensation, humming happily, realization hitting you as he finishes. “But perhaps, I can give you a taste of home?”
Leaning up, you press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips before settling back against his chest, resting your ear against his heart, listening to the steady rhythm matching that of the music, fingers lacing in the hair on the back of his neck comfortably, sighing blissfully.
“I am home.��