THE SHIELD ⇾ one shots and preferences

preference | dancing with you

Seth

Seth wasn't much of a dancer - formally, that is. Around the house and in the car, he's always busting a move or two. While he usually lacks grace and style, he can always make you laugh, which is why you love his awkward little dance sessions.

However, one night at a friend's wedding reception, he surprised you when he asked you to slow dance with him.

"You? Dance?" You couldn't help but laugh at the thought.

"Yeah, I've been...practicing," Seth admitted sheepishly, his face flushing pink with the embarrassment of admitting it. He tugged at his shirt collar and let out a little chuckle.

You felt bad for laughing and took his hand in yours, leading him to the dance floor. He placed his hands softly on your waist, and you placed your hands on his shoulders, tracing designs on the back of his neck with your fingertips. The song was slow and sweet, but you were focused on Seth. His dancing, although a tad clumsy, was cute and sincere. He stepped on your feet a few times and apologized profusely for it, but you laughed and assured him it was okay. When the song ended, he placed a tender kiss on your forehead and escorted you back to your table.

"Wow, Seth," you exclaimed, and he looked at you with a hopeful expression. "You should audition for Dancing with the Stars next," you teased him, causing him to roll his eyes at you.

"Ah, shut-up, Y/N."

Dean

You were having an awful day. To start out, you almost ran a red light and had to slam on your breaks to avoid running it, which lead to you spilling your hot coffee all over your pants. Wet and reeling of mojo, you were late for your meeting, which your boss was not pleased to hear. You left your wallet at home, which meant no lunch, and when you tried to call Dean to see if he could drop something off, you discovered your phone was ruined due to the coffee. To top it all off, you arrived home to see you forgot to press start on the dinner that was supposed to be cooking all day.

So, to say it was an awful day was to say the least. You were sitting on the couch, brooding over all the misfortunes of the day, when Dean came sauntering into the room. He looked at you, noted your attitude, and crossed over to the vinyl player. He fingered through some of the records and plucked one from the ranks, pulling it out of its sleeve and dropping the needle methodically. You just watched him the whole time, slightly irritated by his presence.

Suddenly, a burst of jazz music was heard throughout the room. It was the old-timey stuff - like Louis Armstrong and the likes. It was loud and obnoxious, and you found yourself glaring at your beloved Lunatic.

Not to be deterred by your mood, he began to dance...badly. His moves were poorly timed and poorly executed, and he ended up looking like a child without and rhythm. You couldn't help but laugh at him.

"C'mon, Y/N, come cut a rug," he invited you as he stuck out his tongue.

You couldn't resist the chance to unwind, so you found yourself dancing with Dean in the middle of the living room, both of you smiling and joking and teasing each other about your dance moves. The stress of the day seemed to melt away, and you found yourself ordering Chinese takeout to erase the last mistake of the day.

Roman

It was finally date night! You and Roman had been planning this day for weeks. You found someone to babysit, and you were finally able to cook a nice meal and have an adult evening.

You were cooking a pasta dish that both you and Roman adored. He was normally strict about what he ate, but since it was date night, all bets were off. You were stirring in some of the ingredients for the sauce when you felt Roman wrap his arms around your waist. He placed his chin on your shoulder and looked at what you where making.

"Looks good, honey," he approved enthusiastically, smiling at the food you created.

"Should be done shortly," you estimated, turning around in his arms and wrapping your arms around his neck. There was silence as you both stared lovingly at each other for a moment, and then Roman perked up as if he had gotten an idea.

"Dance with me," he invited you.

"We don't have any music," you chuckled, twirling his hair on your fingertips.

To counter that, Roman began to hum an old lullaby his mother would sing to him. He gently pulled you by the waist out into the middle of the kitchen, and the two of you danced to the tune of Roman's humming. You placed your forehead against his and closed your eyes, letting the rhythm of his song take you out of that kitchen. You weren't sure how long you were dancing, but you know you could've kept doing it for hours.

Could have...

Suddenly, the fire alarm began to beep as the scent of smoke filled the air.

"The garlic bread!" You exclaimed, grabbing your oven mitts from the counter and throwing the oven door open. Smoke trickled out and you let out a few coughs as you set the blackened bread on the counter. You looked over your shoulder and saw Roman cracking up. You couldn't help but laugh either.

After dinner, you danced again, and this time, there was no burnt garlic bread to make you stop.