Fanfic: Dance With Me
24 March 2025 14:49![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scifirenegadeTitle: Dance With Me
Rating: General
Fandom: Ich und die Kaiserin (1933)
Pairing(s) / Character(s): Didier/Juliette
Warnings: n/a
Spoilers: not really
Note: For![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fic_promptly (prompt: any / any / dance with me).
On AO3
On Squidge
Didier was pottering with the sheet music when Juliette walked into the backstage area, as she always did. Nobody, not even Didier when he was very, very busy — not that he was never very, very busy —, would, or even could, bar her entrance.
Her mother did say she had the most charming smile.
Amongst other charming things.
As the ouverture to Barbe-bleue come to an end — at least, she thought it was Barbe-bleue —, she set her basket on the miniscule, rickety table and retrieved their personalised teacups, ready to pour themselves some milk she borrowed from the Empress' private tearoom. Ready to confront him about when they were finally going to get married. Could anyone believe they've been engaged for 5 years, 5 months and 3 days? Yes, she counted. That was much longer than Cosette and her shrewish husband's engagement.
However, she did keep going to the wrong church every time they were surely having the ceremony.
"Sorry, don't bother pouring some for me," he said. "After the show."
Of course, after the show.
With a huff, she returned the cup with his name to the shelf. The teacups were the first thing they bought together, and that memory left her feeling warm inside. Hot.
She should've borrowed tea, somehow.
To the tune of ruffling paper and Didier's humming, she swayed around the space, sipping her milk, its taste almost tainted by that aged wood smell. She didn't mind.
She came face to face with the famous sign. The one that forbids one from speaking during the performance. She was a good girl, she always followed the rules, if you forgot all the times she didn't. Stricken with a childish mood, she stuck out her tongue at it.
By the time she finished her cold milk, she was sulking in the corner, bunching up her dress in her fists. Waiting. Today, it had to be today.
And then...
The music drifting down from the stage became fun, all of a sudden. Fun as in danceable. And gee, did she want to dance, but to do so alone is never fun. And to appreciate fun music, you need to fun-dance with fun people.
There was this young man who needed to lighten up.
He was close to finishing organising the music sheets when she waltzed up to him, trying to look all honey-sweet with a sugary smile on her face. Tugged him away. He screwed his face up, just about to protest.
"Oh shush! And relax!"
It stunned him immediately.
Didn't even reference the sign.
She loved it when she had that effect on him.
He was so stunned in fact, she had to puppeteer him into position. Hand in hand, the other hand on her hip, he blushed — don't deny it, I saw that.
Off they went, skipping throughout the cramped space, and for the first time that evening, Didier was glowing.
He whistled along with the performers above. Hopefully, when they leave, the moon would be shining brighter.
Rating: General
Fandom: Ich und die Kaiserin (1933)
Pairing(s) / Character(s): Didier/Juliette
Warnings: n/a
Spoilers: not really
Note: For
fic_promptly (prompt: any / any / dance with me).On AO3
On Squidge
Didier was pottering with the sheet music when Juliette walked into the backstage area, as she always did. Nobody, not even Didier when he was very, very busy — not that he was never very, very busy —, would, or even could, bar her entrance.
Her mother did say she had the most charming smile.
Amongst other charming things.
As the ouverture to Barbe-bleue come to an end — at least, she thought it was Barbe-bleue —, she set her basket on the miniscule, rickety table and retrieved their personalised teacups, ready to pour themselves some milk she borrowed from the Empress' private tearoom. Ready to confront him about when they were finally going to get married. Could anyone believe they've been engaged for 5 years, 5 months and 3 days? Yes, she counted. That was much longer than Cosette and her shrewish husband's engagement.
However, she did keep going to the wrong church every time they were surely having the ceremony.
"Sorry, don't bother pouring some for me," he said. "After the show."
Of course, after the show.
With a huff, she returned the cup with his name to the shelf. The teacups were the first thing they bought together, and that memory left her feeling warm inside. Hot.
She should've borrowed tea, somehow.
To the tune of ruffling paper and Didier's humming, she swayed around the space, sipping her milk, its taste almost tainted by that aged wood smell. She didn't mind.
She came face to face with the famous sign. The one that forbids one from speaking during the performance. She was a good girl, she always followed the rules, if you forgot all the times she didn't. Stricken with a childish mood, she stuck out her tongue at it.
By the time she finished her cold milk, she was sulking in the corner, bunching up her dress in her fists. Waiting. Today, it had to be today.
And then...
The music drifting down from the stage became fun, all of a sudden. Fun as in danceable. And gee, did she want to dance, but to do so alone is never fun. And to appreciate fun music, you need to fun-dance with fun people.
There was this young man who needed to lighten up.
He was close to finishing organising the music sheets when she waltzed up to him, trying to look all honey-sweet with a sugary smile on her face. Tugged him away. He screwed his face up, just about to protest.
"Oh shush! And relax!"
It stunned him immediately.
Didn't even reference the sign.
She loved it when she had that effect on him.
He was so stunned in fact, she had to puppeteer him into position. Hand in hand, the other hand on her hip, he blushed — don't deny it, I saw that.
Off they went, skipping throughout the cramped space, and for the first time that evening, Didier was glowing.
He whistled along with the performers above. Hopefully, when they leave, the moon would be shining brighter.
