Memories (Explicit)

Dancing King

(aka The One Where Timothée Wants To See Armie Dance)

"C'mon, do it again"

"No"

"Please, just one more time, real quick"

"There's no way I am doing that again"

"Oh c'mooooon, just one more time"

"No, Timothée"

It was past three in the morning now as they made their way inside the apartment complex. We'll shoot the whole night if needed, had said Luca, but neither one of them actually thought things would take this long; but hey, if they had to spend the whole night awake to film a perfect Oliver dancing sequence, then they would.

Now as they made their way down the hallway, Timothée tugged on Armie's shirt, pouting his lips as he tried to convince the man to do all those moves once more.

"I am not dancing; after tonight, I actually might not dance ever again"

"Oh wouldn't that be a bummer," ironically said the younger man as they made their way inside Armie's apartment; they made their way to the bed, Timothée pushing Armie down on it, before straddling his lap, his fingers knotting on his dark blonde hair; "you do know this whole thing is gonna go viral, don't you?"

"I hope not"

Timothée laughed, "that scene was a hundred percent internet material, you will never be able to forget about it"

Armie groaned as he realized Timothée was right; of course back then neither one of them actually knew just how right Timothée was. The younger man smiled at Armie's face before crashing their lips together; he smiled as he felt Armie's arms wrap around his waist. He actually wished they could be like that forever.

"It's late, I should head back to my apartment"

"Or you could stay here," said Armie, his fingers now brushing against Timothée's cheeks.

"Spend the night with you?"

Armie shrugged, "we did worst things than sharing a bed and actually sleeping on it"

Timothée suddenly furrowed his eyebrows, "worst things," he mumbled as Armie shook his head.

"That's not what I meant, Timmy, we haven't done anything bad and you know it"

"Haven't we?"

Armie shook his head, placing another kiss on the younger man's lips, before he could over think what had just happened; "do you wanna stay or not?"

"Fine, I'll stay, if..."

Armie groaned, "if what?"

"If you dance again," said Timothée in between laughs as Armie shook his head, pushing the younger man off of his lap.

"I am not dancing again, Timothée," he said looking up at Timothée, who bit his lip.

"Not even a little bit," he asked, this time reaching our for Armie's hand, "not even for me?"

"No, not...," he sighed and let Timothée pull him up; he tried not to smile, but it was impossible, "...the things I do for you, Chalamet."