A/N: So, I'm trying out a modern AU where Dmitry and Anya are roommates! Enjoy!

Updated A/N: so I actually may have formed a book idea from this...

Dmitry looked up as the front door opened. "How was class?"

Anya, his roommate walked in. "It was good, but I'm definitely tired. I'm glad I don't have to work tonight. What about you?"

He shrugged. "My classes were good, too. As good as business and finance classes can get."

"What about theater?" Anya asked, hanging up her purse on a hook beside the door. "Weren't auditions today?"

"They're tomorrow. I'm kind of nervous for it," he admitted, blushing a bit.

"I'm sure you'll do great." Anya walked past where he was sitting on the couch in their small living room and down the hall to the bathroom.
Dmitry looked at the paused TV, not ready to resume it quite yet. Anya had moved in only three weeks ago, but he was already getting to know so much about her. She was adopted, her real family unknown to her, and because of that, she felt inspired to pursue a career in geneaology. She had a mug collection--some for aesthetic purposes and other for nerdy sayings. She drank Hisbiscus tea out of them. That was her favorite. She never drank coffee. She also had the voice of an angel.

Dmitry shook his head. His friends already playfully accused him of liking her just because she was a female roommate. He slowly began to realize that yes, he was beginning to like her, but not because she was a roommate. She was caring, talented, artsy, and she could revive a wilted plant left unwatered too long at the Walmart garden section. Was there really anything she couldn't do?

Rising from his seat on the couch, the boy grabbed an empty plate and cup and brought them into the kitchen. Glancing at a mug left out on the counter, he decided to make Anya some of her favorite tea. She drank it almost every evening, so he knew how to make it by now. He opened the cabinet closest to the stove and removed a tea bag from its box. Moving to the sink, the brown-haired boy filled up the kettle with some water, then set it on the stove to boil.

"Hey...who are you auditioning for, again?" Anya yelled from down the hall.

"Rolf from The Sound of Music," Dmitry replied, leaning against the counter.

"Ohmygosh, really!?" Anya squealed. She ran down the hallway, gliding to a stop in the kitchen in her socks. "I loved that musical as a teenager! I practically have the 'Sixteen Going on Seventeen' scene memorized! I could totally help you practice it later tonight!"

Dmitry smiled. "Why aren't you in theater? You have an amazing voice."

Anya blushed, turning her head until her chin touched her shoulder. "And how do you know that?"

It was Dmitry's turn to blush. "It's a small apartment. I can hear you singing every time you shower."

She pat his head like a dog, stretching on her toes a bit to reach. "You're a good singer, too." Anya glanced at the stove behind him. The kettle started to whistle. "Are you making tea? I didn't think you liked it."

"Um...I was actually making it f-for you. You said you were tired, so I thought it would help." He rubbed the back of his neck. He tended to do that when he was nervous.

Anya tried to reach past him for the kettle, but he gently grabbed her wrist. He removed the pot from the stove and poured some of the water into the mug with the tea bag, its fragrance rising with the steam.

"Aw, thank you," Anya said sweetly. They gazed at each other for a long moment, until she broke the silence. "You know what? If you're going to audition tomorrow, you'll need to get a haircut! It's getting shaggy." Anya grinned playfully.

Dmitry glanced at the stove clock. "It's almost seven. I doubt any nearby salons will be open--"

"I'll cut it, silly! I need to wait for my tea to cool anyway!"

The boy grinned. "Is there anything you can't do?"

Five minutes later, Dmitry was perched on a dining room chair in the middle of the kitchen since it would be easier to sweep up the hair.

"Now, elbows in and sit up straight!" Anya exclaimed after he gradually started slouching. "How short do you want it?"

"Just...follow my natural hairline, I guess? If you trim my bangs, keep them right above my eyebrows. I usually comb them back and gel them."

"Okay." Anya fell silent again as she started trimming the back of his head. Her fingers tickled his neck as she gathered hair for trimming.

Dmitry shivered and took a deep breath, trying to calm the swarm butterflies in his stomach from her light touches. "How do you know how to cut hair?" he asked, taking advantage of the opportunity to ditract himself and to get to know her better.

"My mom--my adopted mom, that is--would trim my dad's hair and my brothers'. She said it was a good skill to have because it saves a lot of money."

"Can you cut your own hair?" He was intrigued by that idea. It would seem harder if you were a girl, especially with hair past the shoulders.

"It's a bit more difficult, but yes. Luckily, my mom fixed any mistakes I made when she first showed me how."

"You seem to be quite talented."

"Oh, I don't know about that!" Anya blushed, fussing over the compliment. "I'm sure anyone can cut hair!" She defended feebly.

"But not everyone can cut it well." Dmitry smirked as he heard her huff, her breath moving his hair slightly. She stepped to his right to trim the hair on that side. A sweet, flowery fragrance drifted over him. Must be her perfume. He almost said something about it, but figured it would be weird to tell her she smelled good. The butterflies in his stomach increased. She was so close to him. He could see her shirt moving with each breath she took and feel the warmth coming off of her skin as she moved her hands around his head. He closed his eyes, concentrating on a random tune she was humming.

"You didn't answer my question earlier." He said after a minute of silence.

"Hmm?"

"Why aren't you in theater?"

Anya was quiet for a moment. "I guess I never had the confidence for it. I did a lot of set design for our high school productions, but to put myself out there and sing, why, there's so much vulnerability to that! I would probably get stage fright the moment I walked out!"

"Have you ever tried?" He asked calmly.

"Well, no..."

"Then how do you know what would happen? Not trying at all is automatically letting your fear win."

She sighed. "I guess you're right about that. My fear has a big imagination." She moved to his left side. "What do you do to help soothe your nerves? Don't tell me you imagine everyone in their underwear."

Dema chuckled. "No, I don't do that. I mainly imagine the audience as all of my non judgemental friends and family who I know will support me no matter what. I imagine I'm performing for them in my living room. If I need even more motivation, I pretend I'm performing alone in my room with none of my family at home to hear me. That seems to help."

"That's interesting. I haven't heard of that method before, but it makes sense."

"I was wondering"--as in, Dmitry thought of it just then--"if you wanted to come watch me audition tomorrow? That way I won't have to pretend someone is there to support me."

Anya stopped cutting for a moment, a grin spreading across her face. "I'd love to!" She took a break to sip some of her tea, which was now drinking temperature.

He smiled, her answer making him tingle with warmth and pleasure. She was willing to set aside her time to support him!

"What are you doing?" Dmitry asked ten minutes later, watching Anya push the dining room table and chairs up against the wall.

She turned and put her hands on his hips, giving him a look that said "seriously?". "We have to make room for choreography!"

He laughed. "I may not be that good. I probably haven't watched the movie as much as you."

The blonde girl waved a hand. "Just dance and try to be a flirtatious, seventeen-year-old, boy who later joined the Nazis!" She hooked up her laptop to the TV, YouTube appearing on the flatscreen. Karaoke popped up for the song. Clicking on a video, she pranced over and took her place in front of her roommate.

The music started. "You wait, little girl, on an empty stage, for fate to turn the light on!" Dmitry sang, waving a finger at his partner. "Your life, little girl, is an empty page that men will want to write on!"

"To...write...on!" Anya replied, leaning toward him. Dmitry leaned back, although her beautiful voice pulled him in like a siren did to a sailor.

"You are sixteen going on seventeen, Baby, it's time to think," he sang. "Better beware, be canny and careful. Baby, you're on the brink! You are sixteen going on seventeen, fellows will fall in line. Eager young lads and breways and cads will offer you food and wine!" Dmitry continued to sing about telling a girl she may not be ready for a relationship unless a mature, seventeen-year-old was helping her along.

Anya grabbed his hands and started dancing. "I am sixteen going on seventeen. I know that I'm naive. Fellows I meet may tell me I'm sweet and willingly, I believe!" She continued dancing, singing a few more lines before finally ending with: "You are seventeen, going on eighteen. I'll depend on you!"

The outro music played as they twirled around the room together, smiles on both of their faces. They came to a stop, gazing into each other's eyes, as the music faded. And in that moment, Dmitry couldn't resist leaning down and quickly kissing Anya.

He blushed instantly. "Um...stage kisses! Amiright?" He chuckled awkwardly, nerves shooting through him as his roommate looked up at him. At least he had the excuse of it actually happening in the movie.

Anya grinned and grabbed his face, going in for a more proper kiss this time. Her hands locked behind his neck as Dema lightly rested his on her sides. They broke away when an ad started playing. Anya forgot to turn her autoplay off.

She smiled up at him before breaking away to intercept the ad. "Good rehearsal."

Dmitry stumbled back into a nearby chair, trying to process what just happened. "Uh...y-yeah. Good rehearsal." He grinned to himself. It couldn't have been any better.