Topic: A Rare Night Out

Anthony De Luca

Date: 2019-09-03 19:27 EST
The heady beat of salsa thrummed through the little cabaret club, urging the dancers on the public floor to move with the rhythm. Anya laughed as she shimmied with Tony, totally at sea with the appropriate steps, but having the time of her life. It had been such a lovely surprise to have her husband come home and ask her out on a date; a little embarrassment over fumbling dance steps could be easily overlooked.

"Perhaps we should have taken a class in this before jumping straight in, milaya," she giggled.

"What fun would that be?" Tony countered, unable to wipe the grin from his face. With two young children and a ballet company to run, the couple rarely had time to go on "dates", but he had taken his sister's advice to heart and found his mother was more than willing to watch her grandchildren as much or as little as they needed. "It has been too long since we have done anything like this, cara," he told her.

To be fair, no one around them seemed to mind that they didn't really know the steps, nor had anyone yet seemed to realise that the pair on the dance floor stumbling through and laughing were, in fact, professional dancers.

"Much too long," she agreed. "We should do it more often. I miss my husband sometimes, you know?"

That smile on his face twitched a little into a playful smirk, as if he knew something she didn't. "But you have no regrets, da?" he asked, teasing her a little with the hint at her native language. While the steps were complicated, both Tony and Anya were quick studies, especially when it came to dance, which was quickly proven as he dipped her back, holding her there a moment before pulling her back onto her feet, making it look as effortless as breathing.

Laughing as he swept her back up onto her feet, she shared her smile with him in a swift kiss before taking her space again, this time managing to keep her feet moving to the rhythm without issue. "How could I ever regret my life with you?"

"I have few regrets, cara," Tony continued, pulling her close and pressing her hand to his heart as they spun together on the dance floor. "I only wish we had done this sooner, but better late than never," he said. Despite having parted ways for a few years, that time had not truly been wasted, as they had both been busy honing their craft before they had unexpected been reunited.

"That is my only regret, too," she admitted quietly. "But I think we would not be so happy now as we are if we had not spent that time apart, nyet" I grew up a lot in my loneliness without you."

"Perhaps we had to be alone to realize how much we missed each other," Tony suggested. He'd been crushed when Anya had made the decision to leave New York for Europe, but he had understood her reasons and had made no move to stop her. He still wasn't sure if he'd done the right thing then, but here she was in his arms, right where she belonged.

"Perhaps," she mused. "But that is all in the past, milaya. We have two beautiful babies now. Who would have predicted that?" She laughed, knowing perfectly well that his mother would have Sofia so ramped up on sugar when she delivered them back tomorrow that the next evening would be sheer hell on their nerves.

"It is, and now that I have you back, I have no intentions to ever let you go again," he warned her, blue eyes glittering with adoration.

He dipped her once more, before bringing her back up and spinning her out, and then back into his arms as the music came to a close. He had not realized that they had drawn a small group of admirers who'd recognized them from the ballet, and even though they were nowhere near experts at the salsa, there was some light applause their way.

Hair and skirt flying, Anya was always happy to be in Tony's capable hands, trusting him to guide her exactly where she needed to be without the need for words of warning. Perhaps that was what had caught the attention of those few who were watching them; that palpable trust between the dancers that made each movement graceful and seamless. Whatever it was, she was smiling again as the music wound down, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

"Maybe our dessert is ready now."

Or maybe she was dessert, but Tony was too much of a gentleman to say so, especially in public. "We should definitely do this more often," he said, a hand at the small of her back as they headed back toward their table. He nodded his head to acknowledge the smattering of applause, knowing how striking they were as a couple, even if they weren't experts at this style of dancing.

"Regularly, perhaps?" Anya suggested, unaware that this had been one of the points his sister had made to him to get this date to happen in the first place. Slipping down into her chair at their table, she beamed at Tony. "I am truly enjoying myself, cara."

He didn't seat himself until she was seated, making sure to pull out her chair for her before taking his seat. "What would you think about once a week?" he asked. He'd already broached the subject with his mother and had received her blessing, so there was no chance it would fall through, so long as they made a point to make time for each other.

Anya's eyes lit up with hopeful joy. "Could we do that?" she asked, excitement plain in her voice. "We would have to find someone to take the children for that night; it may be difficult."

Tony chuckled, unable to contain his amusement. "Would it?" he asked, a hint of teasing lighting up his eyes again, knowing what she as yet did not. He motioned to the waiter to refill their coffee and bring dessert, as they were done dancing for the moment.

She raised a brow, her smile deepening as she recognized the look in his eyes. "You have already arranged it, haven't you?" she accused him fondly. Then the light bulb pinged on in her head. "With your mother! Of course! Oh, Rosita will love having the children once a week."

"We will pay for it the day after," he admitted with a wry grin, but it would be worth it to have Anya all to himself one night a week. "Do you think it's selfish?" he asked, though he didn't think the children would suffer for it, as their grandmother would enjoy spoiling them rotten.

"Only if you consider selfishness to be a purely negative thing," Anya said gently. "I think everyone should be a little selfish - how can you care for yourself, if you are not' And we need this, Tony. I meant it - I have missed you, having you to myself for a little while. I do not regret our family, not at all. But I miss waking up with only you, and not a four year old monster bouncing on my bladder as well."

Tony chuckled. He adored their daughter, but she did have a way of interfering with her parents' love life. "I do not think she will be doing that when she is sixteen, cara," he reminded her. He couldn't deny that their daughter was the apple of his eye, but it was her mother he'd loved first.

Anthony De Luca

Date: 2019-09-03 19:30 EST
"That is twelve years away, milaya," she pointed out laughingly, leaning back as the waiter returned to their table with their coffee and dessert. "No, I think we can afford to be a little selfish. We were us before we were parents, after all."

"Were we?" he asked, clearly amused. "I can hardly remember." He quietly thanked the waiter before turning his attention to the coffee and dessert. "Not quite as good as Elena's, but it will have to do," he said, savoring the forkful of tiramisu he'd just put in his mouth. He let the flavor roll around his mouth a moment before nodding his head in approval, declaring it, "Delizioso."

"Ah, well, if the Italian approves, then it must be safe for the lowly Russian to eat," Anya teased, loading up her own fork to taste the melt-in-your-mouth sweet for herself. She sighed happily - her sweet tooth was almost legendary among the family.

"Mataya took me to see the new school yesterday," he told her, washing down the sweet mouthful with a swig of strong, black coffee. "Have you seen it yet?" he asked, unsure how much his sister had already told her.

She shook her head with a smile. "I am dying to get a look at it," his wife admitted in amusement. "But your sister has informed me that I am not allowed to go poking around - as she put it - until after the students have started."

"Ah, well, she is a little over-protective of her creations," Tony said. Not to mention, ambitious. "I am surprised she hasn't run for governor yet," he added with a chuckle, though he knew his sister's aspirations were all purely artistic, not political.

"Oh, goodness." Anya spluttered around her mouthful for a moment, trying not to spit as she laughed. Wiping her mouth, she swallowed, grinning over at him. "Could you imagine Mataya De Luca as Governor" What would she do with herself?"

"She would need to clone herself to keep up with everything," Tony remarked. The thought had occurred to him in the past regarding his own overly-ambitious work schedule. Even though he'd been joking, Mataya had very seriously warned him that cloning was a very bad idea.

"If she did that, even she would forget which one was the real one," Anya pointed out in amusement. "I love your sister, but she does have her dappy moments."

"That is a dangerous road to go down," he said, more to himself than to her.

He'd been burning the candle at both ends lately himself, between the auditions and rehearsals for Apollo. Thankfully, his sister had not asked him to teach, or he'd have had to disappoint her by turning her down. There were only so many hours in a day, after all. He did manage to juggle a few cavalier classes at the studio, but that was about all his busy schedule could handle.

Anya's hand gently slid over his, twining her fingers between his own. "You are not alone in everything you do, milaya," she reminded him, her eyes tender in the low light. "And I do not miss performing so much as I thought I would. I am very happy choreographing, and teaching the toddlers at the studio. And as long as we live, we will always find times to dance together. That is all that truly matters, da?"

Tony smiled warmly as his wife, his fingers happily tangling with hers. "You know, I find I do not miss it so much either. I did not think it possible, but it is much more enjoyable to dance with you offstage than on." The realization surprised even him, but there was no pressure to perform to perfection when they were doing it just for fun.

"Then we should definitely do this more often," she said, leaning over to kiss his hand in hers. "Let us face it, Tony. We grew up; we are now responsible adults, shepherding the next generation through bunions and groin strain and weak ankles."

A smirk flickered against Tony's lips. "Are you calling me old, Anya?" he teased. He would never think of her as old, even when she was wrinkled and gray; he would only ever think of her as beautiful.

She laughed. "You will never be old to me," she assured him. "Even when you can no longer fit your scrotum into a jockey sling."

That comment made him break out in audible laughter. "And what makes you think that will ever happen?" he dared ask. "Too much of Elena's cooking?" he ventured. His youngest sister was adequate as an actress, but as a chef, she was stupendous.

Anya's laugh was loud and utterly unrestrained in response. "You really think that is where the weight will show most?" she asked incredulously, not quite able to stop herself from giggling as she spoke.

"Perhaps I will just have to be fitted with a larger belt," he said, grinning. "But I have never known you to complain before," he added, teasing. Then again, she seemed to be teasing him about what might happen to his body as he aged, not now.

Sipping her coffee, she offered him her sweetest smile. "I have no complaints," she promised. "Would you like me to prove that when we get home?"

"Unless you would rather sleep," he countered, a knowing grin on his face. Nights alone were rare, and they both knew they were unlikely to waste it by merely sleeping.

She raised a brow. "I do not believe I said anything about sleeping, milaya. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"You are the one who was complaining about Sofia waking you every morning," he reminded her. That would not be the case tonight. Sasha and Sofia were his mother's responsibility for one night.

She laughed softly. "You know perfectly well what I am talking about, Antonio De Luca," she informed him innocently. "If you do not, you may need a refresher course. It could involve silk scarves again."

He arched a brow, looking a little surprised, as well as amused, by her last remark. "If I am in need of a refresher course, then I truly fail as a husband," he told her, knowing she was only teasing him. "And just who will be wearing these scarves, cara?" he asked, lowering his voice for her ears only as he leaned close.

She leaned into him, tilting her head with a teasing smile. "If I leave it up to you, then it will be me," she pointed out. "And you never agree to let me tie you up unless I somehow manage to surprise you."

Anthony De Luca

Date: 2019-09-03 19:31 EST
"I did not realize you wanted to," he admitted, thankfully secure enough in his masculinity that he didn't blush at the prospect. He scooped up a forkful of his dessert to offer it to his wife, in an almost sensual gesture.

"What did you think I wanted when I got one of your hands tied to the headboard last Christmas?" she asked in amusement, lips parting to close around the offered fork with a low moan of delight. She did like her sweets.

He smiled as she moaned around that sweet treat, determined to make her moan later, but for very different reasons. "I do love you, Anya," he whispered, though she knew that already. He had loved her for decades, and the threat of losing her once had only made him love her more.

Swallowing, she smiled, leaning closer to touch her brow to his. "Ti amo, carino," she murmured, much preferring his tongue to speak those words than her own. Italian was a far more romantic language to speak in.

He smiled as she returned his declaration of love in the language that was second only to his English. He'd learned Russian, too, in good part because of her, but it never failed to please him when she spoke to him in the language of love.

"Per sempre, mia amore," he whispered back, lifting her hand to brush it with a kiss.

Inching up close against his side, Anya smiled, resting her head on his shoulder to watch the dancers on the floor as her fingers toyed with his. For the first time in a long time, there was no pressure on them to get home at a certain time. They had leisure to linger for as long as they wanted.

He smiled as she settled her head against his shoulder, an arm going around her to hold her close, without suffocating her. This was only the first of many enjoyable evenings yet to come in a lifetime spent together. He turned his head to touch a gentle kiss to her forehead, both affectionate and protective.

Even if all they chose to do during these times was to relax at home, they would do it together. They would spend their lives together; they would grow old together. Being together was all that really mattered. He was never going to admit it to her face, but ....Mataya had been right.