Don't Write Me Notes || Levi x Reader

5. it doesn't count if it's dance practice

"Pros to fake dating Levi Ackerman," you murmur, smiling. "He has a motorcycle."

"Cons to fake dating Angel," Levi returns, "she'll steal it."

You smile, then let your head fall back on Levi's shoulder. Tease as you might, you're happy to pass the rest of the day in this beautiful, warm mansion while avoiding Levi's stepfather. You know what? You've had worse Christmases.

The rest of the day passes by in moderate ease, with a dinner that's significantly less tense than the one last night (with some really good cake that Levi thanks his mother for) and before you know it, you and Levi are back in his room, getting ready for bed. First full day down: two more to go.

But before you go to bed, Levi asks you something.

"Was that okay today?" he asks, and when you don't clue in right away, he scoffs and looks away. "At the piano."

And now's your chance to tell him. To maybe tell him to avoid the forehead kisses, just because that made your stomach churn a bit too much, made your heart beat just a bit too fast. And you should: you should tell him that. But...

"It was fine," you say instead, and that's that.

He nods, and soon enough, the two of you are curled up in his bed under the heated blankets. You feel good today, better than you did last night. You think you're getting more comfortable with him and he with you, hopefully. 

"Happy birthday, Levi," you murmur before you close your eyes.

He doesn't reply. But you know he's heard you.

You and Levi fall asleep, side by side but with five feet of space between you.

.

The next day, after the best sleep you've ever had, Levi starts asking you about the gala.

"It's tomorrow," he's telling you as he moves around his room, carrying folded clothes and finding new homes for them. It looks like he's reorganizing. "Do you have a dress? Shoes? You should wear the necklace from yesterday. Can you dance?"

You yawn, burying yourself just a little bit deeper into Levi's heated blankets. "Yes, but I didn't realize how fancy this would be, so it might be too plain," you confess, thinking of the simple black dress you'd tossed into your suitcase. You've had that old thing for years, and you don't think it covers your knees- if this is as fancy as you expect it to be, that dress won't cut it. "Yes, I have shoes. Okay, I'll wear the necklace, and no, I can't dance."

Levi moves from his dresser to his walk-in closet. "What do you mean, you can't dance?" he calls.

"I mean I can't dance."

"Anyone can dance."

"I can't. I have two left feet." Levi's head pops out of the closet, frowning at you quizzically, and you sigh. "Not biologically. Metaphorically."

He rolls his eyes, vanishing back into his closet. "You'll be fine."

"You could've mentioned this," you mutter, flipping onto your other side. "You know. How rich you are, dancing, a nicer dress."

"You would've prepared better?"

"Yes!" you insist, sitting up. "I could've- I could've gone shopping for a better dress! And I could've looked up how to dance! And I could've packed better clothes- I've got this nice sweater that would've been perfect for here."

He comes back into the room. "A tragedy."

"It really is. I look good in that thing."

"Never danced before?"