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keep-calm-and-drink-caf · 11 months

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“He was a Punk, She did Ballet Bharatanatyam”

A Hobie oneshot

The idea for this oneshot was based almost completely off of @hobiebrownismygod ‘s post here! <3

Pairing: Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk) x Indian!Reader who does Bharatanatyam

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Uses of Y/N, reader pushes herself past her limits a little bit?, reader’s just a teensy bit rude to Hobie at first, my ✨interesting✨ attempts at writing Hobie’s accent and slang

A/N: I wrote the reader to be Gayatri’s cousin because I thought it might be interesting to look through the perspective of someone who knows Pavitr from Gayatri’s side! And partly because I used to be in a similar situation - my younger cousin would always randomly call me and spill all the tea of whatever had happened in school :) (she still does haha. mwah i love you my little butterfly xx 🫶)

Originally intended for it to be romantic but it I think it could also be interpreted as platonic!

(he’s so gorgeous akdjsbcjdbcjcnd i love him sm <333)

——————

It was late.

Late enough that you should’ve been packing up and heading home, not inside an empty dance studio practising your steps till your feet ached and your legs felt like they were liquefying slowly.

You were trying to perfect the fast-paced jumps and footwork, pushing yourself ruthlessly despite being on the brink of exhaustion, and now your heels hurt from the force with which you were slamming them into the ground. The ghungroo bells that were strapped around your ankles jingled almost tauntingly as you kept going off-beat.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you sat down on one of the benches placed on the side, sliding your ghungroo bells off your ankles and stuffing them into the side pocket of your bag. You were about to gather the strength to get up and go home when you heard the door swinging open and your gaze darted toward the sudden creak.

“Oh, hey Y/N. What are you doing here?”

Pavitr stood in the doorway, looking completely soaked to the bone and struggling to open an umbrella.

Gayatri was your slightly younger cousin, so naturally you knew Pavitr quite well since she would call you and gush about every little thing he did that she found absolutely adorable. Initially you had been frosty and skeptical towards him and he found you downright terrifying, but over time he had managed to charm you with his sunshiny personality and deep affection and respect for Gayatri.

“Hi, Pav. I was trying to practise my bharatanatyam but I think I should call it a day,” You responded, stretching your sore legs out and squinting through the glass panels of the door. “Is it raining?”

“Yep, we got caught in it while-” He cut himself off with a yelp as the umbrella opened suddenly in his face and he instinctively moved it behind his shoulder. You heard a soft ‘mmph’ come from someone right behind him who he had accidentally hit with the sharp spikes of the opened umbrella edge.

You tilted your head to look behind Pav as the person who had been hit stepped forward into the light, his hands out to prevent any further attacks from the umbrella. He flashed a charming smile at you, the studio’s warm light glinting off his piercings.

There was something slightly… odd about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It wasn’t his large wicks that were, somehow, completely dry though he had clearly been with Pavitr in the rain, some drops still sliding off of his spiked vest. It wasn’t the small, silver-spiked red fabric sticking out of his pocket either that he tucked out of sight the moment he saw your eyes drift toward it.

His outline - if you could even call it that - appeared to be in constant motion, seemingly shifting and changing colours every few minutes. You blinked a few times, simply chalking it up to your tired brain playing tricks on you.

“Oi, watch where you’re pointin’ that thing, mate. Y’might jus’ take someone’s eye out.”

You raised your eyebrows as you heard the sharp cockney British accent.

“Yeh aadhmi British hai. Vah yahaan Mumbattan mein kya kar raha hai?” (This man is British. What’s he doing here in Mumbattan?) You asked in Hindi. You realised, the moment the words left your mouth in your mother-tongue, that you were being quite rude by talking in a language he probably didn’t know. His eyes darted toward you, studying you intently as if trying to understand what you were saying.

“Vah itna bura nahin hai, mujh par bharosa karte hain. Aur vah sirph… yaatra kar rahe hain.” (He’s not that bad, trust me. And he’s just… visiting.) Pavitr gave a sheepish chuckle, bringing a hand up to run his fingers through his rain-soaked hair. [I know that yaatra technically means travelling, but I can’t remember the Hindi word for ‘visit’ so if anyone could tell me how to say visiting instead I’d be very grateful!]

“‘Ello to you too,” He laughed it off, the smooth, rich sound filling the air. “My name’s ‘Obie. ‘Obie Brown. Nice to meet you.”

You assumed he was saying Hobie and gave him small smile, getting up to go over to them and shake his hand. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Hobie.”

Pavitr leaned forward to whisper quietly to you, his tone lightly teasing. “Hamne aapko kaanch ke darvaaze ke maadhyam se naachte hue dekha. Vah ghoorana bandh nahin kar saka.” (We saw you dancing through the glass door. He couldn’t stop staring.)

You felt your cheeks heat up slightly at his words and you scoffed, suppressing a smile tugging at your mouth. “Aur vah bilkul bhee daraavna nahin hai.” (And that’s not creepy at all.)

“Well, I was just about to head out,” You would’ve liked to properly get to know Hobie, but your vision was starting to swim in front of your eyes and his subtle flickering didn’t help.

“Careful. There’s a ‘ell of a lot o’ pleasure and pain out there.”

You blinked in surprise and glanced at Pavitr for an explanation, trying to understand what Hobie had just said but also not wanting to come off as rude.

“It’s raining cats and dogs out there,” Pavitr translated, snickering slightly at your confusion before your unamused eyebrow-raise shut him up.

“I have an umbrella. I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Besides, it’s just rain.” You took out your umbrella, looking through the glass into the rain. It was pouring quite heavily, but you’d just have to manage.

Pavitr got a gleam in his eye that told you he was plotting something. You narrowed your eyes with suspicion. “What are you thinking?”

“Ah, nothing, but we were headed that way anyway, for that padoka stall a little further on. We can come with you!” Pavitr gave you a grin and held his umbrella out in front of him, pretending to examine it critically. “The only problem is… my umbrella can only cover one person.”

Your eyes widened slightly as you realised what he was playing at. “Pav. Ab matchmake ka samay nahin hai,” (Now is not the time to matchmake) You hissed under your breath, giving him a death glare.

Pavitr simply ducked his head, giving you and Hobie a little wave as he moved to stand outside in the rain, the umbrella spread over his head. “Well, are you two coming or not?”

Hobie chuckled softly, turning to you. “Let’s go? I can walk in the rain if you want, I really don’t mind getting wet.”

“No, no, you can stay with me. Sorry if I was rude earlier.” You opened the umbrella more skilfully than Pavitr had done, angling it so it could shelter both of you as you stepped outside into the rain and followed Pavitr.

“Nah, you’re good. It’s nice ‘earin’ you and Pav talk Hindi, actually. How long ‘ave you been doin’… what’s it called?”

“Bharatanatyam.” You giggled softly at how Hobie’s eyebrows lifted at the word, his piercings sailing up along with them. “Quite a while. It’s almost like an Indian ballet, if ballet was more about fast-paced movement and quicker beats rather than grace and controlled technique.”

“S’different from what I’ve seen. More chaotic, but beautiful. Do y’always wear those jingly things around your ankles?”

“Ghungroo bells? Yeah, they just serve as something to accentuate the rhythm that we tap out with our feet so that the audience - and the dancers themselves - can hear it better.”

Hobie’s eyes - were they always that shiny…? - were on you as you talked, slightly wide as he took in what you were saying with the utmost attention. “Hey, lovebirds! The rain stopped, in case you didn’t notice. Y/N, you’re here.” Pavitr’s teasing voice cut through your thoughts, which were albeit a little foggy the moment you saw how pretty Hobie’s eyes were.

You put the umbrella down and, sure enough, the rain had almost entirely stopped, reduced to tiny droplets that drizzled pinpricks of water on the pavement. Well, that was Mumbattan weather for you. Pouring one second and sunshiny the next.

“I’m never making gajar ka halwa for you ever again if you don’t stop talking,” You warned as you heard Hobie chuckle slightly awkwardly at the nickname Pav had given you both.

“Nononono please— I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that!”

You rolled your eyes and closed the umbrella, glaring at him.

“Fine, fine, just stop giving me that look. You’ll get your gajar ka halwa.” You softened your expression into a smile as you turned to look at the man you had just met. “Bye, Hobie. It was really lovely meeting you. I’ll see you around?”

Hobie smiled at you, dipping his head in a nod of farewell. “Yep. See y’around.”

You keyed open the door to your house, closing it behind you only to be greeted by Gayatri lying sprawled on the couch. You were used to her visiting unannounced, and your mother absolutely adored her, so you’d often come home to see her waiting for you, with new stories - whether they were scandalous gossip from the modelling agency, a few texts or actions from Pavitr that had made her lose her mind with how adorable he was being, or just random shower-thoughts she’d have (not to be confused with the ‘deep philosophical ponderings’ she had at 3am in the morning that she felt the urgent need to share with you straight away)

You could smell the sharp tang of spices wafting out from under the closed kitchen door as your mother cooked.

“Pav told me everything,” Gayatri giggled before you even had a chance to properly say hi to her. You groaned and flopped down on the couch next to her, moving her legs to rest over your lap so she didn’t take up all the space. “Brilliant. What did he say?”

Gayatri smirked up at you. “You met his friend Hobie? The one who’s visiting?”

You considered reaching for the cushion a few inches away on the floor, wondering if you could take it and throw it at her before she could bat it away. “Yeah, I did.”

Gayatri made her eyebrows jump up and down teasingly. “Do you think he’s cute?”

“Gayatri—”

“Oh, come on! This is totally like a rom-com. He was a punk, she did ballet — but make it Indian!” She mimed clicking a camera, now fully laughing, her eyes scrunched up mischievously. “Wow, and the guy’s British too. Who’d have thought? I think he’s here for a few more days, in case you want me to ask Pav to set up a date—”

You reached for the cushion, snatching it up and holding the fluffy patterned corner as threateningly as you could.

“Chhoti behen?” (Little sister)

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you.”

“Yep.”

“But stop talking.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

——————

Gajar ka halwa is a carrot-based sweet dessert pudding made by placing grated carrots in a pot containing a specific amount of water, milk and sugar, cardamom and then cooking while stirring regularly.

A pakoda/pakora is a fritter originating from the Indian subcontinent. They are sold by street vendors and served in restaurants in South Asia. It consists of items, often vegetables such as potatoes and onions, coated in seasoned gram flour batter and deep fried.

‘Pleasure and pain’ is Cockney rhyming slang for rain. (At least I’m pretty sure it is because I saw another website saying it’s ‘ache and pain’ so I’m not really sure which one it is)

Ghungroo bells are anklets that consist of small metallic bells (going from 50 to more than 200 bells depending on factors like the expertise of the dancer and the desired amplitude of the bells) knotted together. Ghungroo bells are used in many Indian classical dances such as Bharatanatyam, Kuchipudi, Lavani, Odissi, Mohiniyattam, and Kathak.

I don’t do Bharatanatyam, so some of this might be wrong. Please lmk if anything is incorrect! <3

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