To Better Suit Your Moves -- part 7
part 6
Jared woke at dawn, feeling supremely content . . . and really hot. He shifted to kick the blankets off, but found his legs entangled and something pinning his left arm. That was the source of the heat, like cuddling next to a hot water bottle. Blinking, still not fully awake, he craned his head to see.
Make that a hard, muscular water bottle . . . oh. Grinning stupidly to himself, Jared ran his hand down Jensen’s bare back, loving the soft sleep-snuffled as Jensen plastered himself against Jared. For several minutes Jared just watched him sleep, the way the new-dawned light played over his hair and softened his features, already peacefully relaxed, making him look impossibly young, a far cry from the sex god of last night.
Jared would’ve been content to lay there all morning, but he really had to use the bathroom. Reluctantly he began to extricate himself from the entirely too-comfortable embrace. Jensen wasn’t having it, though, and with a soft protesting murmur wrapped his arms around Jared and clung.
Despite his urgent bladder, Jared found that endearing. Shifting a little, he leaned in and kissed those pliant rosy lips carefully, ignoring sour sleep-stale breath in favor of kissing Jensen awake. He could tell the instant Jensen woke up, a little inhale and tensed, then relaxed and started kissing back lazily.
He hummed as they separated, a little smile tugging at his mouth. “Morning,” he muttered, a gravely rumble Jared could feel in his chest.
Jared smiled back, brushing another kiss to his lips. “Good morning.” It was a good morning, and double points for how not-awkward it felt. Completely the opposite, in fact. He could imagine waking up like this every single day for the rest of his life.
Jensen settled back with a yawn. “What time’s it?”
Jared squinted at the clock. “’bout six.”
Jensen groaned, burying his face in the pillow. “Why th’ hell you awake? ‘s too early.”
“Gotta piss.”
“And ya had to wake me up for that?” was the grumpy demand. Jared tried not to find that adorable, he really did, but failed.
“Only because you were cuddling me too tight for me to get up,” he teased, and was rewarded with a faint blush across freckled cheeks as Jensen, with some reluctance, rolled off him and stretched. Jared was equally reluctant to leave the warm bed and snuggly partner, but his bladder was insistent. Snatching his boxers from the floor, he awkwardly pulled them on as he stumbled out to the bathroom across the hall.
He was washing his hands when the door opened and Steve stumbled in, hair a wild mane around bleary eyes, half-asleep and operating on autopilot. Jared froze, caught off guard with the first stirrings of embarrassment twisting his stomach. Steve blinked in surprise at seeing him, then his eyes widened as his brain started to process Jared’s appearance in the bathroom this early. Jared flushed as Steve slowly took in the mouth-shaped bruises, the fingerprints peeking over the top of his boxers, his still kiss-swollen lips.
Steve just shook his head and smirked, shoving past him towards the toilet. “Remind Jen we’ve got people coming over at nine.” He started to fish himself out of his boxers as Jared backed out, feeling like he’d just dodged a bullet, but paused when Steve spoke again. “Oh, and good job.”
His soft chuckle followed Jared as he fled back to the bedroom, face flaming. So much for the non-awkward morning after. If that was a harbinger for the rest of his day, Jared was going to crawl back in bed with Jensen and never come out.
Of course, it didn’t work quite that way, despite his best efforts. Still, it was much later when Jared cautiously unlocked his front door and crept in quietly - to no avail. Samantha sat on the couch facing the front door, staring at him, and he had the sneaking suspicion she’d been waiting there for him for a while.
He barely hid a wince and purposely straightened to his full height, shoulders squared. He had nothing to be ashamed of, and he wasn’t going to let his aunt change that. Sam stood up, marching towards the kitchen and grabbing a coffee mug, keeping her back to him as if needing the minute to contain herself. With a silent sigh he followed her, propping a hip against the counter as she sipped at her mug.
“You hungry? There’s leftovers in the fridge,” she said, deadly calm.
Jared shook his head. “I’m good.”
She nodded, draining the mug and placing it with exaggerated care in the sink. “You were gone all night.”
“I was with Jensen.”
Her knuckles were white where she held on to the counter’s edge, head bowed as she took two deep breaths. Then she whirled on him, all semblance of calm gone. “How could you?! How could you do that to us, to Erica?! She’s a U.S. National Ballroom Amateur Open Five-Dance Latin American champion, for chrissakes!” Sam poked a finger into his chest, hard. “Get on the phone and apologize. Now.”
“No,” Jared stood firm. “I’m not going to apologize, because I’m not dancing with her.”
“What?” Sam gaped at him.
“I’m not going to dance with her,” Jared repeated. “She didn’t really want to dance with me in the first place!”
Sam snorted. “No wonder! What the hell is up with you lately? What’s wrong with you?!”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out for the last month!” Jared yelled. “What’s so wrong with me? What’s wrong with the way I dance?!”
“Why can’t you just dance like you’re supposed to?” Sam yelled right back.
“Maybe I’m bored with it! I’m sick of it!”
“Bored? Bored?! You’re throwing away a lifetime of work, of dreams, the time, the money, the energy we’ve all sacrificed, because you’re bored?” Sam’s eyes blazed. “You don’t think I get bored with this life? Of course I do! But you stick to your goals, and quit being childish!”
“Oh, so I’m being childish for thinking there’s more to life than winning?” Jared stood his ground.
“What, your stupid steps? That’s not going to win at Nationals, and you know it!”
“Maybe I don’t give a shit about winning Nationals!” Jared bellowed right in her face.
That stopped Sam mid-rant, looking like he’d just slapped her. Jared stormed upstairs, leaving his aunt shocked speechless behind him.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“What do you mean, he doesn’t care about winning Nationals?” Kim sputtered. Alona shook her head in disbelief while Chad and Sophia exchanged baffled looks.
Sam agitatedly paced around the floor of the dance studio. “That’s what he said! He just wants to dance his silly steps with Jensen!”
Kim looked physically pained. “So he’s turning his back on all of us, the years of training and hard work, for a little experimentation?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know what’s going on in that head of his.”
“Whatever it is,” Fredric Lehne spoke up, “he’d better figure it out fast. Nationals are only a week away.” He gave both Kim and Sam a hard look. “You have to know that Jared’s antics have been causing the ABDF some problems. His little stunt at Regionals has the rumor mill working overtime, and my offices have been fielding a lot of calls about speculation of new approved steps.” He shook his head. “This is not the kind of publicity your studio needs.”
“I know, I know,” Kim said. “I don’t know how to get through to him.”
“We’ve tried,” Chad spoke up. “He’s not listening to any of us. Blew off a lesson the other day, and he won’t answer his cell when we call.”
Just then the front door clicked open, and Jeff stepped in, fiddling with the bag over his shoulder. He glanced up to see everyone staring at him, and frowned, eyes narrowing at the sight of Fredric. “What?”
They exchanged glances, and Fredric gave a slight nod. Kim said quietly, “It’s Jared. He turned down Erica.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jeff’s frown didn’t budge. “Is that all? From the look on your face, I thought someone’d died.”
Sam bristled and marched up to him. “You don’t get it. This is a disaster! He’s only interested in his goddamn silly steps! He doesn’t even care about winning Nationals anymore! You know as well as I do what’s at stake here. If Jared doesn’t win, doesn’t even compete-“
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jeff interrupted. “You’ve only been reminding me every day for the last six months.”
“So what are we going to do about it?” Kim broke in to divert the burgeoning fight.
“What do you think, Fred?” Jeff asked pointedly. “Since you seem to have all the answers.”
Sam smacked his shoulder. “Quit it! You haven’t exactly helped the situation.”
“Yes, I was wondering. Why haven’t you reigned in your nephew?” Fredric said, poisonously silky. “Given your past history and all.”
Jeff flashed him a humorless smile full of teeth. “You and I have a different version of history, Fred.”
“Oh really, JD?” Fredric glanced significantly over at the trophy case. “It would seem history is written by the winners after all.”
Jeff opened his mouth to retort, but suddenly the front door banged open and Adrianne came storming in, high heels clicking sharply on hardwood. Upon seeing the fresh tear tracks on her cheeks, Sam exclaimed, “Adrianne dear, what’s wrong?”
Adrianne sniffed, clearly trying to hold back more tears and keep some composure, and managed, “Tom dropped me. For Erica Durance.”
Sam gathered her up into a hug, which Adrianne fell gratefully into, rubbing her back soothingly. Alona and Sophia were there in an instant, enfolding the blonde in a protective circle as they crooned comforting words.
Fredric narrowed his eyes in thought, which Kim noticed. “What?” he asked warily.
“This could be a good thing,” Fredric mused. “A blessing in disguise.”
“How?” Chad demanded. “Tom and Erica together’ll be nearly impossible to beat, and who knows if Jared will even dance.”
“Then it’s in everyone’s best interest to persuade him to,” Fredric said.
Kim shook his head. “We’ve tried everything we can to convince him.”
“Except the truth.” Fredric looked over at Jeff, who just scowled at him.
“What d’you mean?” he asked.
Fredric smirked and turned his full attention to Kim. “We’ve known each other too long to beat around the bush. I think we need to impress some home truths on Jared, let him know where this kind of thing leads, and just how much is at stake here.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jared paused outside the dance studio, slightly apprehensive. He’d agreed to help with the class, but this was the first time he’d be in the same room as Sam since their fight. No doubt Kim and Jeff and Chad and probably the entire studio knew about it too, and for the first time he was unsure of his welcome in the place that was his second home.
He’d spent the last couple of days with Jensen, ignoring the whole mess in favor of hanging out, dancing and having sex. As much fun as that was, though, he just couldn’t put off his responsibilities any longer. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and went inside.
Something was wrong; the place was empty. Jared frowned in confusion, glancing at his watch and the calendar. Nope, he was in the right place, right time. So where was everyone else?
A throat cleared behind him, and Jared jumped in surprise. Whirling, he blinked at Fredric Lehne waiting for him by the trophy case. “Howdy Jared,” he said genially.
“Where’s the class?” Jared asked.
“Rescheduled. We decided that this . . . intervention, was more important.”
“Intervention.” Jared gave him a dirty look. “Look, I don’t care what you say. I’m not dancing your way, and I’m not dancing with Erica.”
“That’s right, you’re not,” Fredric agreed. “She’s already registered as Tom Welling’s partner.”
“Well, good for them. Hope she enjoys dancing in a brewery. I’m leaving now.” Jared made for the door, but Fredric kept talking.
“You know they were the best damn couple I’ve ever seen? Absolutely brilliant. Could’ve been the greatest champions of them all.”
“Huh?” Jared’s brows furrowed. “Tom and Erica?”
“No, not them. They’re good, make no mistake, but he’s only got a year, maybe two at the most, before the liquor steals away what’s left of his talent.”
“Then who are you taking about?”
Fredric picked up a framed photo, one Jared had admired all his life. “I’m talking about Jeffery Dean Morgan and Samantha Ferris. A match made in ballroom heaven. Unbeatable, almost. They were an inspiration to all of us.”
“What’re you trying to pull?” Jared scoffed. “Jeff and Sam never competed together. That’s Kim in that photo. He was Sam’s partner.”
“Later on, yes. But early in their career, Jeff and Sam were the sweethearts of the dance floor. They were just one dance away from sweeping the National championships like no one had ever seen. Just magnificent . . .” Fredric trailed off, keen eyes pinning Jared in place. “They never told you, did they?”
“Told me what?”
“How Jeff torpedoed his career, and nearly took his wife down with him. Why they divorced.” He stepped closer, voice lowering to a confidential murmur. “Why they’re so focused on you competing, on you being your best. About how much they’ve staked on you, and how much they stand to lose if you don’t play ball.”
Jared wanted to move, to leave, but his feet felt fixed in place while his gaze was caught like a mouse under a cobra’s stare. Fredric grinned. “I think it’s time you had a little history lesson.” He gestured towards a chair. “Sit a spell, Jared, and listen. Like all the best morality tales, this one starts with, once upon a time.”
Jared sat cautiously, not taking his eyes off Fredric as the man started to slowly pace in front of him. “Back in the day, we all used to compete, Jeff, Kim, and myself. Like all aspiring dancers, we dreamed of winning big. The US National Ballroom Amateur Open Five-Dance Latin American championship was the ultimate goal, that coveted Holy Grail of ballroom dance. Those who won that were held in awe by others. You know how it is. Win a festival here, a competition there, but that is the only one that really matters.”
He idly ran a finger over the glass front of the trophy case, staring at the ribbons, cups, and medals inside. “We were competitors, but also friends. Used to cheer each other on, practiced together, helped each other. Kim, he was always the better choreographer. But Jeff, by God he could dance. Just the sheer talent, the grace he commanded, he was magnificent. Then he met Samantha.”
He shook his head, looking nostalgic. “The first time I ever saw them dance together, I knew they were something special. Alone, they were great, but together? Amazing. The chemistry between them . . . they had that unique spark, you couldn’t take your eyes off them. Wowed the audiences and charmed the judges alike. Any competition they entered, they won. Practically unbeatable.
“They had it all before them; a perfect winning streak, the beginnings of a very successful career. They planned to open their own dance studio together after they won Nationals.” He glanced over at Jared. “In many ways, you remind me of Jeff back then. The talent, the drive. Before . . .”
“What happened?” Jared didn’t want to ask, wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he felt compelled.
“A damn tragedy.” Fredric sighed. “Jeff became, I don’t know, self-obsessed. All the attention and praise went to his head, I guess. He started throwing new moves, new steps into their routines. Wild, flashy, crowd-pleasing - anything that would get the audience to love him more. A lot like you, Jared, but always strictly ballroom, always kept to the letter of the law if not the spirit.
“Sam went along with it at first, but when a particularly difficult lift nearly cracked her skull and their judges’ scores took a big hit, she tried to put the brakes on. But Jeff wouldn’t listen. He convinced her to create a whole new routine for Nationals, because he was positive they would win dancing his own steps.” Fredric flashed a small smile. “Needless to say, they lost. I was lucky enough to win that year.”
He turned his full gaze back on Jared, intent. “They had some of the lowest judges’ scores ever seen in the finals. But what really did them in was the reprimand they got from the judges, criticizing their ‘creative choices’. It humiliated them, and once word got around about the reprimand, they were shunned, made pariahs in their dance circles. The backing they needed for the studio dried up, along with their dreams, and apparently their marriage. They divorced, and next anybody heard Sam was dancing with Kim, and Jeff has never competed since.”
Jared swallowed against a dry mouth, trying to fit this information in with what he thought he knew. “But what does that have to do with me?”
“It was Kim who opened this studio, who had the clout and the backing to make it successful, almost despite your aunt and uncle. If it hadn’t been for him, they wouldn’t have made it through. You wouldn’t be here.” Fredric leaned in. “Tell me, Jared, how many national champions has this studio trained?”
Jared shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“None. You are the only dancer from this studio to even have a snowball’s chance in hell of placing in a national competition. People notice that, Jared, when they’re looking where to train. They don’t spend their money on has-beens who’ve never produced.”
“Wait, so this is about money?” Jared blurted.
“Yes. The studio is struggling to make ends meet, to keep attracting new talent. For Kim and Sam, this place, it’s their livelihood, their dream. They’ll fight for it. And your shenanigans over the past couple months, the bad publicity you’ve created, have hurt their reputation right when they needed support the most.”
Fredric tapped his finger against Jared’s chest. “That’s why they’ve pushed you so hard. They want you to be your best, and they want to keep their dream alive. Do you really want to repay them for everything they’ve done by destroying what they’ve worked so hard for?”
Jared stood abruptly, knocking Fredric’s hand away. “Why should I believe you?”
“Why would I lie to you?” Fredric spread his hands in an innocent gesture. “But if you really don’t believe me, go find out for yourself. See how much they’ve hidden from you, for your own good. Then you decide what’s best to do.”
Jared turned and ran into the back office, where Sam and Kim kept the books. The desk was messy as usual, piled high with mail and papers and CDs, but he bypassed that for the filing cabinets standing against the wall. Slamming the drawers open, he quickly shuffled through several nearly marked files, skimming until he found what he needed. Shoving stacks to the floor in a cascade of debris, he opened the files and started to read.
Ten minutes later he looked up and rubbed his eyes wearily. It was as bad as Fredric said it was. Kim and Sam were good teachers, no question, but without a star dancer to inspire confidence in them, their business was threatening to crumble beneath them. Financial support had been quietly drying up, there were fewer new students and therefore less income, and unless something changed drastically and soon, Manner’s School of Dance would close.
Carefully shutting the folders, Jared ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Why hadn’t they just told him? He didn’t regret his actions, but if he’d known, he might have done a few things differently.
A gleam of metal caught his eye, from the edge of a padlock on the lower desk drawer. That drawer had been locked for as long as he knew, and Sam had refused to talk about it the few times he’d asked. Seized by a fit of curiosity, he scrounged around for the key. Failing at that, it took a few minutes work with a screwdriver and hammer to pop the lock and wiggle the drawer open.
Three bound albums lay there, and Jared picked up the top one to start flipping through. His breath caught in his throat. This was proof.
Photos of a younger Sam and Jeff dancing together graced every page, faces beaming for the camera, fitting perfectly in each other’s arms. Ribbons were pinned alongside some of them, others had posed shots atop the winner’s podium with Jeff and Sam holding trophies together. Jared slowly made his way through the collection, amazed. Then there, at the back, was a competition photo, Jeff in a tux with “100” pinned to the back, Sam radiant in his embrace, with the heading, JEFFREY DEAN AND SAMANTHA MORGAN, U.S. NATIONAL BALLROOM CHAMPIONSHIPS 1989.
“I see he told you,” came Sam’s weary voice, and Jared whipped his head up to see his aunt standing in the office doorway, arms wrapped around herself.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he managed to ask.
“What was the point in dredging up ancient history? What’s done is done.”
“I meant about the studio. Why didn’t I know things were this bad?”
She shrugged, coming in to perch on the corner of the desk. “We didn’t want to put that pressure on you. We just wanted you to dance your best, because you wanted to, not because you felt obligated to. You win through passion and perseverance, not duty, and you have plenty of those. Besides, until a few days ago, we didn’t think it was an issue.”
“Still . . .” Jared looked at the files before him, at the photos in his lap.
“It’s business, not personal. You dance because you love it, not because you get rich doing it.” She smiled sadly at him. “But money sure makes a difference.”
Jared chewed on the edge of his thumb, not looking up at Sam as he thought. “The prize money from Nationals . . . that will help?”
“It would take care of the most pressing problems. But the good PR would help even more.” Sam laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Jared, I know I’ve been hard on you lately. And you’re right, we probably should’ve told you. But believe me when I say it was with the best intentions, and I honestly believe that you could still win Nationals. You’re a great dancer, Jared, and you’ve worked so hard for this. You have a chance. Take it.”
Jared sighed softly, feeling his chest tighten like he was wrapped in a straightjacket. “Where’s Adrianne’s number?”
“Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the US National Ballroom Championships!”
Classical music blared over the loudspeakers as Jared twirled Adrianne around, following the line of dancers across the hardwood floor in the compulsory waltz. Adrianne smiled at him, and he managed to return it, comforted by how familiar she felt dancing with him even while his stomach was in knots.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Tom and Erica dancing together on the opposite side of the dance floor, Chad and Sophia a little ways beyond them. He caught himself looking into the crowd and wrenched his attention back to his partner and the dance. If he wanted even a chance at winning here, he had to keep his mind in the game.
The waltz came to an end, and after their bows they paraded off the floor to thunderous applause. Kim and Sam were waiting for them with Alona and Gabe, all smiles. “Excellent, absolutely beautiful,” Sam gushed, exchanging quick hugs with Adrianne and Jared. “I’m so proud of you.”
Kim clasped Jared’s hand quickly. “Thank you, Jared. I know it’s been hard, but this means a lot to us.”
Jared nodded and smiled at his coach, wishing that he actually felt as happy as he made himself seem, that he didn’t feel like he was suffocating out on that dance floor. Adrianne touched his arm to get his attention. “I’m gonna take Sam to get changed for the Latin. Meet you backstage?” At his nod the girls bustled off, a flurry of satin and sequins.
“You better go get changed as well. You too, Chad,” Kim told them.
As Jared pushed his way through the crowd towards the backstage area, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face. Jensen sat at the edge of the balcony seats away from the majority of the crowd, watching him. When he saw Jared looking up at him, he smiled slightly and waved. The smile Jared managed that time was real, as his chest loosened just a bit at the sight of those warm green eyes. Fighting the temptation to go join him up there, he ducked backstage.
Jared had just located his stuff in the green room when Jeff suddenly appeared out of nowhere, face dark with anger, and grabbed his arm. “We need to talk. Now.”
“Wait, but-“ Jared spluttered as Jeff dragged him out of the crowded room through a couple utility corridors into a quiet area. He tugged half-heartedly on the arm Jeff held captive, but the already tight grip became vice-like and he quit. “Jeff, c’mon . . .”
Jeff shoved him through a doorway and against the wall, then held a finger up to his lips. “Don’t talk. Just listen.”
Jared frowned at his uncle, but did as he was told, and immediately heard voices echoing from around the next corner. “ . . . I can’t, Fred. I jus’ can’t, not anymore.”
A sharp slap made him flinch, then Fredric Lehne snapped, “Pull yourself together, Welling, and for God’s sake put some actual coffee in that thermos.”
“You sure this’ll work?” Erica Durance asked doubtfully. “He’s pretty tanked today.”
Fredric sighed. “Listen sweetie, just take him out there and go through the motions. As long as he doesn’t fall flat on his face, you’re golden. I’ve already fixed it with the rest of the judges. When Padalecki loses, his credibility will be shot, Manners will be shut down, and that’s one less studio out there to compete with.” He chuckled. “I’ll just go polish up your next trophy.”
Footsteps thumped down concrete walls, then Erica grumbled, “C’mon you big lush. Let’s see if we can sober you up enough to walk straight.”
Jared’s wide eyes met Jeff’s determined gaze, and with a nod they backed through the doorway and walked a couple corridors away in silence. Jared’s thoughts were whirling, confusion and anger mixing equally.
Once they were safe out of earshot, Jared exploded. “What the hell was that all about?! Why? Why would he do that? He convinced me to come out here and dance, just to what, humiliate me?! What did I do?!”
“You tried to be different,” Jeff said lowly. “And being different and good threatens his business.”
“So what, he’s making me lose on purpose to make his studios look better? That’s fucking ridiculous!”
“He’s done it before.”
“What?” Jared goggled.
“Sam told me Fred told you about the past. About how she and I used to dance together.”
“Yeah, until you danced your own steps at Nationals and lost.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered how I danced. We would’ve lost no matter what we did.” Jeff ran a hand over his mouth. “Listen, you know that steps weren’t always standardized? I mean, there were always a few characteristic steps you had to do to make it a specific dance, but there used to be a lot more creative leeway. Now everything is ratified and analyzed and broken down until there’s almost no soul left in dancing anymore.”
Jared sighed in relief. “Exactly!”
“Fredric Lehne was the one who proposed the idea of standardizing ballroom dance steps, to ‘more accurately judge the dance and assess the dancers’ skill level’,” Jeff said derisively. “He’s always had a lot of influence in the Federation, and I’m positive he engineered his win with the judges that year. I challenged the scorecard, and that’s how I earned that reprimand. Because they didn’t want it coming out that the competition was fixed.”
“I still don’t get why,” Jared shook his head in confusion.
“He’s got no creativity,” Jeff said. “He can dance a step just fine, but actually choreographing a dance? No imagination, no musicality, no fluidity. He only thinks he’s the best. But he’s one hell of a businessman. He’d already opened his own dance studio, brining in other dancers to help teach, but when he learned Sam and I were planning on opening our own, he felt threatened. Our steps weren’t against the rules then, but he knew that if you can’t dance a step, you can’t teach it. And if you can’t teach it, then your business goes under.”
“Are you sure he isn’t Mafia, or something?” Jared asked half-jokingly.
“With all this connections, he might as well be,” Jeff’s lips quirked. “’It’s not personal, it’s just business.’ That’s what he said to Sam when he told her the loss was my fault. She didn’t trust me when I told her I thought it’d been rigged. That’s why we split up,” he confided quietly. “Because without trust, there is no love.”
Jared snorted, running his hands through his disheveled hair, completely overwhelmed. “Fine. All this stupidity is just business. So now what? Looks like damned if I do, damned if I don’t. And what about the studio?”
“Don’t worry about the studio. I’ve got it covered.” Jeff smiled at Jared’s mounting confusion. “That’s why I’ve been disappearing for weeks. I’ve been starting up a side business, one that Fredric and them can’t touch but will be profitable enough to keep the dance studio open.” He brandished his camera bag, the one that Jared suddenly realized he’d seen his uncle carrying around constantly for months. Digging into the front pocket, he extracted a glossy brochure proclaiming Morgan Photography and handed it over.
“Photography? You’ve set up your own studio?” Jared glanced at the posed shot of two dancers briefly before staring at Jeff.
“Yep. Already got clients, a handful of commissions, and a show coming up next month. Might theme that one around you, come to think of it,” Jeff mused, then shook his head. “Never mind. The question is, what are you going to do?”
Taking a deep breath, Jared forced himself to think calmly about everything. He could go out there and dance with Adrianne, but if they lost no matter what they did, that just seemed like a futile attempt to play by the rules. He could not dance, but that felt like giving in. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got.
“Screw ‘em,” he finally growled, looking Jeff straight in the eye. “I’m not dancing their fucking steps if they’re not going to play by the rules. If I’m gonna lose, I’d rather it be for something spectacular.”
Jeff grinned, a feral tinge of joy to it that matched Jared’s. “Jensen?”
Jared nodded, a fresh surge of determination burning off the last of the confusion to clear his head. “C’mon, we don’t have a lot of time. And find Chad.”
When they got back to the green room, they found Sam, who looked appalled at the sight of Jared still in his formal wear. “Jared! Why aren’t you changed?! They’re already calling the couples!” She grabbed his arm and tried to drag him towards the changing area, but Jared dug his heels in and refused to move. “Jared!”
“No,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to play along anymore.”
Sam looked close to furious tears. “We talked about this already! You need to win! Jared, please! Just win this one for me!”
“He can’t, Sam,” Jeff spoke up, removing her hand from Jared’s arm. “They won’t let him. Because history always repeats itself.”
“What are you talking about?” she whirled on him. “Why are you encouraging this? Do you want to see us ruined?”
“Does it matter?” he asked. “We’ve already sold out. But no matter what we do, Fredric wants us gone.”
She scoffed. “Oh come on, you can’t still believe-“
“I do. And I have proof that he’s trying to do to Jared what he did to us all those years ago.” Jeff took her hands. “Sam, you’re not happy, and you know why.”
She shook her head frantically. “I did what I had to do. My career was on the line; Fredric told me that I’d never be able to teach. I couldn’t throw all that away on a dream. We had to survive.”
“You still lost, and now you’re on the verge of losing everything,” Jeff pointed out. “You should’ve stuck by me, trusted me, for better or for worse. It was the dancing that matter, not the politics. Instead you walked away, and we’ve been living our lives in fear.”
Jared sucked in a sharp breath at those words, chest squeezing painfully. Fear. That’s what that feeling was. Vivir con miedo es como vivir a medias.
He was tired of this half-lived life.
Leaving Sam and Jeff arguing behind him, Jared stormed out the stage door and plunged into the crowd, shoving his way towards the balcony stairs. He was bounding up them when he heard the presenter call, “Couple 100, Jared Padalecki and Adrianne Palicki.” Throwing a quick glance towards the stage, he caught a glimpse of Adrianne fidgeting just inside the curtain, clearly anxious at his absence.
Jensen was standing in the aisle, brow furrowed as he scanned the crowd below, looking for Jared. Jared couldn’t help the warm feeling that rose and loosened his chest again. This was something he’d never have to fear. “Hey.”
Jensen startled, eyes comically wide as he gaped at Jared. “What the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to-“
Jared swooped in and kissed him, brief but hard, feeling like he could breathe for the first time all week. “You wanna dance with me?”
“W-what?” Jensen sputtered, totally off-balance. “You . . . but . . . Jared, what the fuck is going on?”
“It’s rigged. No matter what I go and dance out there, Fredric and Dawn will make me lose. So if I’m going down, I’m gonna go out with a bang.”
Jensen blinked at him owlishly, then slowly smiled. “Tango?” he suggested, eyebrow arched.
Jared shook his head. “Paso doble.” Because he was mad as hell, and that dance would be the perfect way to show it. Besides, he had the perfectly inappropriate song to dance to. He jerked his head towards the stairs. “C’mon, we need to get costumes.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ten minutes later, the twangy Spanish guitar reverberating over the loudspeakers as dancers twirled and shimmied out on the dance floor, Jared straightened his black jacket and nodded at Chad, who rolled his eyes once again at Jared’s ‘overdramatics’, but shoved the mp3 player in his pocket and obediently followed Sophia towards the control booth.
Sam stood with Adrianne, both looking unsure and rather upset, but neither making a move to stop him. For that Jared was grateful. He only had the energy for one more dramatic act tonight. With a rueful grin, Kim clapped him and Jensen on the shoulder. “Kick it in the ass, boys.”
With a smirk, Jensen nodded and disappeared out into the crowd, making his way to the other side of the dance floor. Jared took a deep breath, wholly aware of the likely consequences of this plan, but not really concerned. This was about more than winning. This was proving a point.
Squaring his shoulders, Jared let his fears and worries fall away as he pushed through the curtains to center stage. At first nobody noticed him, as the dancers currently giving their all in the Latin Open freestyle captivated their audience. Tom and Erica in particular were drawing lots of attention, as she danced like she was born to while he gamely kept up.
With a crackle-boom over the speakers, the music died mid-note. The abrupt silence jarred everyone, as the dancers ground to a disjointed halt, looking around in confusion. The judges half-rose from their table, peering up at the control booth with tight-lipped frowns. Fredric spotted Jared first, eyes narrowing as his mouth twisted in an ugly scowl.
A spotlight snapped on and pinned Jared in its beam, instantly focusing all attention on him. The blood-red pants he wore looked liquid in the light, pouring down his legs from the black shirt and plain matador jacket emphasizing his broad shoulders. He stood straight and tall, shoulders back and chest forward, a proud hunter on display.
An electronic beat started to play over the speakers, courtesy of Chad, and Jared brought his arms up to stretch high above his head, then snapped them down as he did a quick flamenco heel stomp and stalked forward. Another spotlight suddenly illuminated a figure on the opposite side of the floor, and the dancers backed away as Jensen prowled forward, crimson shirt and black pants complementing Jared’s costume, ying to his yang.
A heavy beat pounded out as they approached and circled each other, predatory, eyes locked as they spiraled in. They leaned in, forehead to forehead, then spun together, hands anchored on necks with the other held high. Jensen shot him a grin full of teeth, which Jared returned as he grabbed Jensen’s hands to take the lead in an open promenade. Jensen molded himself to Jared and followed, sharp marching steps perfectly in sync, before Jensen twisted their hands and stole back the lead with an open counter promenade, whirling them in a huit past a flabbergasted Erica.
The music shifted and they dropped their hands, spinning away from each other and backing away, arms wide. Jensen paused, stamping his foot in an apel, and Jared approached on the attack, feeling the music thundering in his blood to drive his anger outwards through his movements. This was why he wanted the paso doble, the bullfight. He needed to channel his fury, and this dance, huge movements full of arrogance, dignity and passion suited that perfectly.
Not to mention Jensen was smoldering hot like this; whether playing the predator or prey, his entire being was focused on Jared, body responding to each move perfectly as they separated and came together, owning the dance floor through sheer presence. When Jensen led him into another promenade, he added a quick and dirty grind of his hips that had Jared achingly hard and wanting more. Jared grinned at him, changing his body posture as he slid in a bit of tango on the next promenade, kicking his leg up to wrap it in a gancho around Jensen’s waist, swiveling his hips in a way that made Jensen’s eyes darken with lust.
Jared forgot about the audience, the judges, the spotlights. It was just the two of them and the music, all working together to create something better and more beautiful. The proper steps went right out of his head; he didn’t need them, and he really didn’t care. All he had to do was follow the music and Jensen, and let it play out in all its passionate and powerful glory.
Dancing side by side for the flamenco steps, they threw themselves in a paired leap, and Jared spun, dropping to his knees and step-sliding forward as Jensen backed away in perfect time, arms wide and proud. He couldn’t take his eyes off his partner, watching the sweat gleam on his forehead and neck, muscles sliding effortlessly in time with the music.
Dancing had never been like this before, so fun and passionate and enticing. It had never been about the steps themselves, but the attitude, the freedom in letting the music guide you. This was what they wanted to stifle, to stomp out, to regulate the hell out of just because someone couldn’t make money off it. This was - they were - everything Fredric and Dawn and the others hated.
Well, screw them. Because Jared loved dancing, and now that he knew the difference, he’d fight tooth and nail to keep this.
The music was drawing to a close, so he closed the space between them, loving the feel of that hard body against his as they danced. Marching to the dead center of the floor, Jensen spun twice and back into Jared’s arms, plastered back to chest as he tucked his face in Jared’s neck, arms wrapped around each other.
But I can’t and I won’t live a lie, no not this time.
The music ended with a crash, and instantly the audience exploded, cheers and hollers and applause deafening them as they stood there catching their breath. Oh yeah, they weren’t alone. Jared could feel Jensen smile against his skin, and no doubt he had a stupid grin of his own. He couldn’t help it.
Slowly they separated just enough to bow to their audience, eliciting another wave of cheers, and graced the mostly-scowling judges with a short bow as well. Jared smirked at Fredric, loving the sight of Jeff and Kim and Sam cheering wildly right behind him.
Jensen leaned in so he could be heard. “So was it everything you dreamed?”
Jared shook his head. “Better,” he declared. Turning, he cupped Jensen’s face in his hands and whispered, “I love you,” right before he kissed him.
THE END
Notes & acknowledgments
Jared woke at dawn, feeling supremely content . . . and really hot. He shifted to kick the blankets off, but found his legs entangled and something pinning his left arm. That was the source of the heat, like cuddling next to a hot water bottle. Blinking, still not fully awake, he craned his head to see.
Make that a hard, muscular water bottle . . . oh. Grinning stupidly to himself, Jared ran his hand down Jensen’s bare back, loving the soft sleep-snuffled as Jensen plastered himself against Jared. For several minutes Jared just watched him sleep, the way the new-dawned light played over his hair and softened his features, already peacefully relaxed, making him look impossibly young, a far cry from the sex god of last night.
Jared would’ve been content to lay there all morning, but he really had to use the bathroom. Reluctantly he began to extricate himself from the entirely too-comfortable embrace. Jensen wasn’t having it, though, and with a soft protesting murmur wrapped his arms around Jared and clung.
Despite his urgent bladder, Jared found that endearing. Shifting a little, he leaned in and kissed those pliant rosy lips carefully, ignoring sour sleep-stale breath in favor of kissing Jensen awake. He could tell the instant Jensen woke up, a little inhale and tensed, then relaxed and started kissing back lazily.
He hummed as they separated, a little smile tugging at his mouth. “Morning,” he muttered, a gravely rumble Jared could feel in his chest.
Jared smiled back, brushing another kiss to his lips. “Good morning.” It was a good morning, and double points for how not-awkward it felt. Completely the opposite, in fact. He could imagine waking up like this every single day for the rest of his life.
Jensen settled back with a yawn. “What time’s it?”
Jared squinted at the clock. “’bout six.”
Jensen groaned, burying his face in the pillow. “Why th’ hell you awake? ‘s too early.”
“Gotta piss.”
“And ya had to wake me up for that?” was the grumpy demand. Jared tried not to find that adorable, he really did, but failed.
“Only because you were cuddling me too tight for me to get up,” he teased, and was rewarded with a faint blush across freckled cheeks as Jensen, with some reluctance, rolled off him and stretched. Jared was equally reluctant to leave the warm bed and snuggly partner, but his bladder was insistent. Snatching his boxers from the floor, he awkwardly pulled them on as he stumbled out to the bathroom across the hall.
He was washing his hands when the door opened and Steve stumbled in, hair a wild mane around bleary eyes, half-asleep and operating on autopilot. Jared froze, caught off guard with the first stirrings of embarrassment twisting his stomach. Steve blinked in surprise at seeing him, then his eyes widened as his brain started to process Jared’s appearance in the bathroom this early. Jared flushed as Steve slowly took in the mouth-shaped bruises, the fingerprints peeking over the top of his boxers, his still kiss-swollen lips.
Steve just shook his head and smirked, shoving past him towards the toilet. “Remind Jen we’ve got people coming over at nine.” He started to fish himself out of his boxers as Jared backed out, feeling like he’d just dodged a bullet, but paused when Steve spoke again. “Oh, and good job.”
His soft chuckle followed Jared as he fled back to the bedroom, face flaming. So much for the non-awkward morning after. If that was a harbinger for the rest of his day, Jared was going to crawl back in bed with Jensen and never come out.
Of course, it didn’t work quite that way, despite his best efforts. Still, it was much later when Jared cautiously unlocked his front door and crept in quietly - to no avail. Samantha sat on the couch facing the front door, staring at him, and he had the sneaking suspicion she’d been waiting there for him for a while.
He barely hid a wince and purposely straightened to his full height, shoulders squared. He had nothing to be ashamed of, and he wasn’t going to let his aunt change that. Sam stood up, marching towards the kitchen and grabbing a coffee mug, keeping her back to him as if needing the minute to contain herself. With a silent sigh he followed her, propping a hip against the counter as she sipped at her mug.
“You hungry? There’s leftovers in the fridge,” she said, deadly calm.
Jared shook his head. “I’m good.”
She nodded, draining the mug and placing it with exaggerated care in the sink. “You were gone all night.”
“I was with Jensen.”
Her knuckles were white where she held on to the counter’s edge, head bowed as she took two deep breaths. Then she whirled on him, all semblance of calm gone. “How could you?! How could you do that to us, to Erica?! She’s a U.S. National Ballroom Amateur Open Five-Dance Latin American champion, for chrissakes!” Sam poked a finger into his chest, hard. “Get on the phone and apologize. Now.”
“No,” Jared stood firm. “I’m not going to apologize, because I’m not dancing with her.”
“What?” Sam gaped at him.
“I’m not going to dance with her,” Jared repeated. “She didn’t really want to dance with me in the first place!”
Sam snorted. “No wonder! What the hell is up with you lately? What’s wrong with you?!”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out for the last month!” Jared yelled. “What’s so wrong with me? What’s wrong with the way I dance?!”
“Why can’t you just dance like you’re supposed to?” Sam yelled right back.
“Maybe I’m bored with it! I’m sick of it!”
“Bored? Bored?! You’re throwing away a lifetime of work, of dreams, the time, the money, the energy we’ve all sacrificed, because you’re bored?” Sam’s eyes blazed. “You don’t think I get bored with this life? Of course I do! But you stick to your goals, and quit being childish!”
“Oh, so I’m being childish for thinking there’s more to life than winning?” Jared stood his ground.
“What, your stupid steps? That’s not going to win at Nationals, and you know it!”
“Maybe I don’t give a shit about winning Nationals!” Jared bellowed right in her face.
That stopped Sam mid-rant, looking like he’d just slapped her. Jared stormed upstairs, leaving his aunt shocked speechless behind him.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“What do you mean, he doesn’t care about winning Nationals?” Kim sputtered. Alona shook her head in disbelief while Chad and Sophia exchanged baffled looks.
Sam agitatedly paced around the floor of the dance studio. “That’s what he said! He just wants to dance his silly steps with Jensen!”
Kim looked physically pained. “So he’s turning his back on all of us, the years of training and hard work, for a little experimentation?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know what’s going on in that head of his.”
“Whatever it is,” Fredric Lehne spoke up, “he’d better figure it out fast. Nationals are only a week away.” He gave both Kim and Sam a hard look. “You have to know that Jared’s antics have been causing the ABDF some problems. His little stunt at Regionals has the rumor mill working overtime, and my offices have been fielding a lot of calls about speculation of new approved steps.” He shook his head. “This is not the kind of publicity your studio needs.”
“I know, I know,” Kim said. “I don’t know how to get through to him.”
“We’ve tried,” Chad spoke up. “He’s not listening to any of us. Blew off a lesson the other day, and he won’t answer his cell when we call.”
Just then the front door clicked open, and Jeff stepped in, fiddling with the bag over his shoulder. He glanced up to see everyone staring at him, and frowned, eyes narrowing at the sight of Fredric. “What?”
They exchanged glances, and Fredric gave a slight nod. Kim said quietly, “It’s Jared. He turned down Erica.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jeff’s frown didn’t budge. “Is that all? From the look on your face, I thought someone’d died.”
Sam bristled and marched up to him. “You don’t get it. This is a disaster! He’s only interested in his goddamn silly steps! He doesn’t even care about winning Nationals anymore! You know as well as I do what’s at stake here. If Jared doesn’t win, doesn’t even compete-“
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jeff interrupted. “You’ve only been reminding me every day for the last six months.”
“So what are we going to do about it?” Kim broke in to divert the burgeoning fight.
“What do you think, Fred?” Jeff asked pointedly. “Since you seem to have all the answers.”
Sam smacked his shoulder. “Quit it! You haven’t exactly helped the situation.”
“Yes, I was wondering. Why haven’t you reigned in your nephew?” Fredric said, poisonously silky. “Given your past history and all.”
Jeff flashed him a humorless smile full of teeth. “You and I have a different version of history, Fred.”
“Oh really, JD?” Fredric glanced significantly over at the trophy case. “It would seem history is written by the winners after all.”
Jeff opened his mouth to retort, but suddenly the front door banged open and Adrianne came storming in, high heels clicking sharply on hardwood. Upon seeing the fresh tear tracks on her cheeks, Sam exclaimed, “Adrianne dear, what’s wrong?”
Adrianne sniffed, clearly trying to hold back more tears and keep some composure, and managed, “Tom dropped me. For Erica Durance.”
Sam gathered her up into a hug, which Adrianne fell gratefully into, rubbing her back soothingly. Alona and Sophia were there in an instant, enfolding the blonde in a protective circle as they crooned comforting words.
Fredric narrowed his eyes in thought, which Kim noticed. “What?” he asked warily.
“This could be a good thing,” Fredric mused. “A blessing in disguise.”
“How?” Chad demanded. “Tom and Erica together’ll be nearly impossible to beat, and who knows if Jared will even dance.”
“Then it’s in everyone’s best interest to persuade him to,” Fredric said.
Kim shook his head. “We’ve tried everything we can to convince him.”
“Except the truth.” Fredric looked over at Jeff, who just scowled at him.
“What d’you mean?” he asked.
Fredric smirked and turned his full attention to Kim. “We’ve known each other too long to beat around the bush. I think we need to impress some home truths on Jared, let him know where this kind of thing leads, and just how much is at stake here.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jared paused outside the dance studio, slightly apprehensive. He’d agreed to help with the class, but this was the first time he’d be in the same room as Sam since their fight. No doubt Kim and Jeff and Chad and probably the entire studio knew about it too, and for the first time he was unsure of his welcome in the place that was his second home.
He’d spent the last couple of days with Jensen, ignoring the whole mess in favor of hanging out, dancing and having sex. As much fun as that was, though, he just couldn’t put off his responsibilities any longer. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and went inside.
Something was wrong; the place was empty. Jared frowned in confusion, glancing at his watch and the calendar. Nope, he was in the right place, right time. So where was everyone else?
A throat cleared behind him, and Jared jumped in surprise. Whirling, he blinked at Fredric Lehne waiting for him by the trophy case. “Howdy Jared,” he said genially.
“Where’s the class?” Jared asked.
“Rescheduled. We decided that this . . . intervention, was more important.”
“Intervention.” Jared gave him a dirty look. “Look, I don’t care what you say. I’m not dancing your way, and I’m not dancing with Erica.”
“That’s right, you’re not,” Fredric agreed. “She’s already registered as Tom Welling’s partner.”
“Well, good for them. Hope she enjoys dancing in a brewery. I’m leaving now.” Jared made for the door, but Fredric kept talking.
“You know they were the best damn couple I’ve ever seen? Absolutely brilliant. Could’ve been the greatest champions of them all.”
“Huh?” Jared’s brows furrowed. “Tom and Erica?”
“No, not them. They’re good, make no mistake, but he’s only got a year, maybe two at the most, before the liquor steals away what’s left of his talent.”
“Then who are you taking about?”
Fredric picked up a framed photo, one Jared had admired all his life. “I’m talking about Jeffery Dean Morgan and Samantha Ferris. A match made in ballroom heaven. Unbeatable, almost. They were an inspiration to all of us.”
“What’re you trying to pull?” Jared scoffed. “Jeff and Sam never competed together. That’s Kim in that photo. He was Sam’s partner.”
“Later on, yes. But early in their career, Jeff and Sam were the sweethearts of the dance floor. They were just one dance away from sweeping the National championships like no one had ever seen. Just magnificent . . .” Fredric trailed off, keen eyes pinning Jared in place. “They never told you, did they?”
“Told me what?”
“How Jeff torpedoed his career, and nearly took his wife down with him. Why they divorced.” He stepped closer, voice lowering to a confidential murmur. “Why they’re so focused on you competing, on you being your best. About how much they’ve staked on you, and how much they stand to lose if you don’t play ball.”
Jared wanted to move, to leave, but his feet felt fixed in place while his gaze was caught like a mouse under a cobra’s stare. Fredric grinned. “I think it’s time you had a little history lesson.” He gestured towards a chair. “Sit a spell, Jared, and listen. Like all the best morality tales, this one starts with, once upon a time.”
Jared sat cautiously, not taking his eyes off Fredric as the man started to slowly pace in front of him. “Back in the day, we all used to compete, Jeff, Kim, and myself. Like all aspiring dancers, we dreamed of winning big. The US National Ballroom Amateur Open Five-Dance Latin American championship was the ultimate goal, that coveted Holy Grail of ballroom dance. Those who won that were held in awe by others. You know how it is. Win a festival here, a competition there, but that is the only one that really matters.”
He idly ran a finger over the glass front of the trophy case, staring at the ribbons, cups, and medals inside. “We were competitors, but also friends. Used to cheer each other on, practiced together, helped each other. Kim, he was always the better choreographer. But Jeff, by God he could dance. Just the sheer talent, the grace he commanded, he was magnificent. Then he met Samantha.”
He shook his head, looking nostalgic. “The first time I ever saw them dance together, I knew they were something special. Alone, they were great, but together? Amazing. The chemistry between them . . . they had that unique spark, you couldn’t take your eyes off them. Wowed the audiences and charmed the judges alike. Any competition they entered, they won. Practically unbeatable.
“They had it all before them; a perfect winning streak, the beginnings of a very successful career. They planned to open their own dance studio together after they won Nationals.” He glanced over at Jared. “In many ways, you remind me of Jeff back then. The talent, the drive. Before . . .”
“What happened?” Jared didn’t want to ask, wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he felt compelled.
“A damn tragedy.” Fredric sighed. “Jeff became, I don’t know, self-obsessed. All the attention and praise went to his head, I guess. He started throwing new moves, new steps into their routines. Wild, flashy, crowd-pleasing - anything that would get the audience to love him more. A lot like you, Jared, but always strictly ballroom, always kept to the letter of the law if not the spirit.
“Sam went along with it at first, but when a particularly difficult lift nearly cracked her skull and their judges’ scores took a big hit, she tried to put the brakes on. But Jeff wouldn’t listen. He convinced her to create a whole new routine for Nationals, because he was positive they would win dancing his own steps.” Fredric flashed a small smile. “Needless to say, they lost. I was lucky enough to win that year.”
He turned his full gaze back on Jared, intent. “They had some of the lowest judges’ scores ever seen in the finals. But what really did them in was the reprimand they got from the judges, criticizing their ‘creative choices’. It humiliated them, and once word got around about the reprimand, they were shunned, made pariahs in their dance circles. The backing they needed for the studio dried up, along with their dreams, and apparently their marriage. They divorced, and next anybody heard Sam was dancing with Kim, and Jeff has never competed since.”
Jared swallowed against a dry mouth, trying to fit this information in with what he thought he knew. “But what does that have to do with me?”
“It was Kim who opened this studio, who had the clout and the backing to make it successful, almost despite your aunt and uncle. If it hadn’t been for him, they wouldn’t have made it through. You wouldn’t be here.” Fredric leaned in. “Tell me, Jared, how many national champions has this studio trained?”
Jared shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“None. You are the only dancer from this studio to even have a snowball’s chance in hell of placing in a national competition. People notice that, Jared, when they’re looking where to train. They don’t spend their money on has-beens who’ve never produced.”
“Wait, so this is about money?” Jared blurted.
“Yes. The studio is struggling to make ends meet, to keep attracting new talent. For Kim and Sam, this place, it’s their livelihood, their dream. They’ll fight for it. And your shenanigans over the past couple months, the bad publicity you’ve created, have hurt their reputation right when they needed support the most.”
Fredric tapped his finger against Jared’s chest. “That’s why they’ve pushed you so hard. They want you to be your best, and they want to keep their dream alive. Do you really want to repay them for everything they’ve done by destroying what they’ve worked so hard for?”
Jared stood abruptly, knocking Fredric’s hand away. “Why should I believe you?”
“Why would I lie to you?” Fredric spread his hands in an innocent gesture. “But if you really don’t believe me, go find out for yourself. See how much they’ve hidden from you, for your own good. Then you decide what’s best to do.”
Jared turned and ran into the back office, where Sam and Kim kept the books. The desk was messy as usual, piled high with mail and papers and CDs, but he bypassed that for the filing cabinets standing against the wall. Slamming the drawers open, he quickly shuffled through several nearly marked files, skimming until he found what he needed. Shoving stacks to the floor in a cascade of debris, he opened the files and started to read.
Ten minutes later he looked up and rubbed his eyes wearily. It was as bad as Fredric said it was. Kim and Sam were good teachers, no question, but without a star dancer to inspire confidence in them, their business was threatening to crumble beneath them. Financial support had been quietly drying up, there were fewer new students and therefore less income, and unless something changed drastically and soon, Manner’s School of Dance would close.
Carefully shutting the folders, Jared ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Why hadn’t they just told him? He didn’t regret his actions, but if he’d known, he might have done a few things differently.
A gleam of metal caught his eye, from the edge of a padlock on the lower desk drawer. That drawer had been locked for as long as he knew, and Sam had refused to talk about it the few times he’d asked. Seized by a fit of curiosity, he scrounged around for the key. Failing at that, it took a few minutes work with a screwdriver and hammer to pop the lock and wiggle the drawer open.
Three bound albums lay there, and Jared picked up the top one to start flipping through. His breath caught in his throat. This was proof.
Photos of a younger Sam and Jeff dancing together graced every page, faces beaming for the camera, fitting perfectly in each other’s arms. Ribbons were pinned alongside some of them, others had posed shots atop the winner’s podium with Jeff and Sam holding trophies together. Jared slowly made his way through the collection, amazed. Then there, at the back, was a competition photo, Jeff in a tux with “100” pinned to the back, Sam radiant in his embrace, with the heading, JEFFREY DEAN AND SAMANTHA MORGAN, U.S. NATIONAL BALLROOM CHAMPIONSHIPS 1989.
“I see he told you,” came Sam’s weary voice, and Jared whipped his head up to see his aunt standing in the office doorway, arms wrapped around herself.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he managed to ask.
“What was the point in dredging up ancient history? What’s done is done.”
“I meant about the studio. Why didn’t I know things were this bad?”
She shrugged, coming in to perch on the corner of the desk. “We didn’t want to put that pressure on you. We just wanted you to dance your best, because you wanted to, not because you felt obligated to. You win through passion and perseverance, not duty, and you have plenty of those. Besides, until a few days ago, we didn’t think it was an issue.”
“Still . . .” Jared looked at the files before him, at the photos in his lap.
“It’s business, not personal. You dance because you love it, not because you get rich doing it.” She smiled sadly at him. “But money sure makes a difference.”
Jared chewed on the edge of his thumb, not looking up at Sam as he thought. “The prize money from Nationals . . . that will help?”
“It would take care of the most pressing problems. But the good PR would help even more.” Sam laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Jared, I know I’ve been hard on you lately. And you’re right, we probably should’ve told you. But believe me when I say it was with the best intentions, and I honestly believe that you could still win Nationals. You’re a great dancer, Jared, and you’ve worked so hard for this. You have a chance. Take it.”
Jared sighed softly, feeling his chest tighten like he was wrapped in a straightjacket. “Where’s Adrianne’s number?”
“Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the US National Ballroom Championships!”
Classical music blared over the loudspeakers as Jared twirled Adrianne around, following the line of dancers across the hardwood floor in the compulsory waltz. Adrianne smiled at him, and he managed to return it, comforted by how familiar she felt dancing with him even while his stomach was in knots.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Tom and Erica dancing together on the opposite side of the dance floor, Chad and Sophia a little ways beyond them. He caught himself looking into the crowd and wrenched his attention back to his partner and the dance. If he wanted even a chance at winning here, he had to keep his mind in the game.
The waltz came to an end, and after their bows they paraded off the floor to thunderous applause. Kim and Sam were waiting for them with Alona and Gabe, all smiles. “Excellent, absolutely beautiful,” Sam gushed, exchanging quick hugs with Adrianne and Jared. “I’m so proud of you.”
Kim clasped Jared’s hand quickly. “Thank you, Jared. I know it’s been hard, but this means a lot to us.”
Jared nodded and smiled at his coach, wishing that he actually felt as happy as he made himself seem, that he didn’t feel like he was suffocating out on that dance floor. Adrianne touched his arm to get his attention. “I’m gonna take Sam to get changed for the Latin. Meet you backstage?” At his nod the girls bustled off, a flurry of satin and sequins.
“You better go get changed as well. You too, Chad,” Kim told them.
As Jared pushed his way through the crowd towards the backstage area, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face. Jensen sat at the edge of the balcony seats away from the majority of the crowd, watching him. When he saw Jared looking up at him, he smiled slightly and waved. The smile Jared managed that time was real, as his chest loosened just a bit at the sight of those warm green eyes. Fighting the temptation to go join him up there, he ducked backstage.
Jared had just located his stuff in the green room when Jeff suddenly appeared out of nowhere, face dark with anger, and grabbed his arm. “We need to talk. Now.”
“Wait, but-“ Jared spluttered as Jeff dragged him out of the crowded room through a couple utility corridors into a quiet area. He tugged half-heartedly on the arm Jeff held captive, but the already tight grip became vice-like and he quit. “Jeff, c’mon . . .”
Jeff shoved him through a doorway and against the wall, then held a finger up to his lips. “Don’t talk. Just listen.”
Jared frowned at his uncle, but did as he was told, and immediately heard voices echoing from around the next corner. “ . . . I can’t, Fred. I jus’ can’t, not anymore.”
A sharp slap made him flinch, then Fredric Lehne snapped, “Pull yourself together, Welling, and for God’s sake put some actual coffee in that thermos.”
“You sure this’ll work?” Erica Durance asked doubtfully. “He’s pretty tanked today.”
Fredric sighed. “Listen sweetie, just take him out there and go through the motions. As long as he doesn’t fall flat on his face, you’re golden. I’ve already fixed it with the rest of the judges. When Padalecki loses, his credibility will be shot, Manners will be shut down, and that’s one less studio out there to compete with.” He chuckled. “I’ll just go polish up your next trophy.”
Footsteps thumped down concrete walls, then Erica grumbled, “C’mon you big lush. Let’s see if we can sober you up enough to walk straight.”
Jared’s wide eyes met Jeff’s determined gaze, and with a nod they backed through the doorway and walked a couple corridors away in silence. Jared’s thoughts were whirling, confusion and anger mixing equally.
Once they were safe out of earshot, Jared exploded. “What the hell was that all about?! Why? Why would he do that? He convinced me to come out here and dance, just to what, humiliate me?! What did I do?!”
“You tried to be different,” Jeff said lowly. “And being different and good threatens his business.”
“So what, he’s making me lose on purpose to make his studios look better? That’s fucking ridiculous!”
“He’s done it before.”
“What?” Jared goggled.
“Sam told me Fred told you about the past. About how she and I used to dance together.”
“Yeah, until you danced your own steps at Nationals and lost.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered how I danced. We would’ve lost no matter what we did.” Jeff ran a hand over his mouth. “Listen, you know that steps weren’t always standardized? I mean, there were always a few characteristic steps you had to do to make it a specific dance, but there used to be a lot more creative leeway. Now everything is ratified and analyzed and broken down until there’s almost no soul left in dancing anymore.”
Jared sighed in relief. “Exactly!”
“Fredric Lehne was the one who proposed the idea of standardizing ballroom dance steps, to ‘more accurately judge the dance and assess the dancers’ skill level’,” Jeff said derisively. “He’s always had a lot of influence in the Federation, and I’m positive he engineered his win with the judges that year. I challenged the scorecard, and that’s how I earned that reprimand. Because they didn’t want it coming out that the competition was fixed.”
“I still don’t get why,” Jared shook his head in confusion.
“He’s got no creativity,” Jeff said. “He can dance a step just fine, but actually choreographing a dance? No imagination, no musicality, no fluidity. He only thinks he’s the best. But he’s one hell of a businessman. He’d already opened his own dance studio, brining in other dancers to help teach, but when he learned Sam and I were planning on opening our own, he felt threatened. Our steps weren’t against the rules then, but he knew that if you can’t dance a step, you can’t teach it. And if you can’t teach it, then your business goes under.”
“Are you sure he isn’t Mafia, or something?” Jared asked half-jokingly.
“With all this connections, he might as well be,” Jeff’s lips quirked. “’It’s not personal, it’s just business.’ That’s what he said to Sam when he told her the loss was my fault. She didn’t trust me when I told her I thought it’d been rigged. That’s why we split up,” he confided quietly. “Because without trust, there is no love.”
Jared snorted, running his hands through his disheveled hair, completely overwhelmed. “Fine. All this stupidity is just business. So now what? Looks like damned if I do, damned if I don’t. And what about the studio?”
“Don’t worry about the studio. I’ve got it covered.” Jeff smiled at Jared’s mounting confusion. “That’s why I’ve been disappearing for weeks. I’ve been starting up a side business, one that Fredric and them can’t touch but will be profitable enough to keep the dance studio open.” He brandished his camera bag, the one that Jared suddenly realized he’d seen his uncle carrying around constantly for months. Digging into the front pocket, he extracted a glossy brochure proclaiming Morgan Photography and handed it over.
“Photography? You’ve set up your own studio?” Jared glanced at the posed shot of two dancers briefly before staring at Jeff.
“Yep. Already got clients, a handful of commissions, and a show coming up next month. Might theme that one around you, come to think of it,” Jeff mused, then shook his head. “Never mind. The question is, what are you going to do?”
Taking a deep breath, Jared forced himself to think calmly about everything. He could go out there and dance with Adrianne, but if they lost no matter what they did, that just seemed like a futile attempt to play by the rules. He could not dance, but that felt like giving in. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got.
“Screw ‘em,” he finally growled, looking Jeff straight in the eye. “I’m not dancing their fucking steps if they’re not going to play by the rules. If I’m gonna lose, I’d rather it be for something spectacular.”
Jeff grinned, a feral tinge of joy to it that matched Jared’s. “Jensen?”
Jared nodded, a fresh surge of determination burning off the last of the confusion to clear his head. “C’mon, we don’t have a lot of time. And find Chad.”
When they got back to the green room, they found Sam, who looked appalled at the sight of Jared still in his formal wear. “Jared! Why aren’t you changed?! They’re already calling the couples!” She grabbed his arm and tried to drag him towards the changing area, but Jared dug his heels in and refused to move. “Jared!”
“No,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to play along anymore.”
Sam looked close to furious tears. “We talked about this already! You need to win! Jared, please! Just win this one for me!”
“He can’t, Sam,” Jeff spoke up, removing her hand from Jared’s arm. “They won’t let him. Because history always repeats itself.”
“What are you talking about?” she whirled on him. “Why are you encouraging this? Do you want to see us ruined?”
“Does it matter?” he asked. “We’ve already sold out. But no matter what we do, Fredric wants us gone.”
She scoffed. “Oh come on, you can’t still believe-“
“I do. And I have proof that he’s trying to do to Jared what he did to us all those years ago.” Jeff took her hands. “Sam, you’re not happy, and you know why.”
She shook her head frantically. “I did what I had to do. My career was on the line; Fredric told me that I’d never be able to teach. I couldn’t throw all that away on a dream. We had to survive.”
“You still lost, and now you’re on the verge of losing everything,” Jeff pointed out. “You should’ve stuck by me, trusted me, for better or for worse. It was the dancing that matter, not the politics. Instead you walked away, and we’ve been living our lives in fear.”
Jared sucked in a sharp breath at those words, chest squeezing painfully. Fear. That’s what that feeling was. Vivir con miedo es como vivir a medias.
He was tired of this half-lived life.
Leaving Sam and Jeff arguing behind him, Jared stormed out the stage door and plunged into the crowd, shoving his way towards the balcony stairs. He was bounding up them when he heard the presenter call, “Couple 100, Jared Padalecki and Adrianne Palicki.” Throwing a quick glance towards the stage, he caught a glimpse of Adrianne fidgeting just inside the curtain, clearly anxious at his absence.
Jensen was standing in the aisle, brow furrowed as he scanned the crowd below, looking for Jared. Jared couldn’t help the warm feeling that rose and loosened his chest again. This was something he’d never have to fear. “Hey.”
Jensen startled, eyes comically wide as he gaped at Jared. “What the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to-“
Jared swooped in and kissed him, brief but hard, feeling like he could breathe for the first time all week. “You wanna dance with me?”
“W-what?” Jensen sputtered, totally off-balance. “You . . . but . . . Jared, what the fuck is going on?”
“It’s rigged. No matter what I go and dance out there, Fredric and Dawn will make me lose. So if I’m going down, I’m gonna go out with a bang.”
Jensen blinked at him owlishly, then slowly smiled. “Tango?” he suggested, eyebrow arched.
Jared shook his head. “Paso doble.” Because he was mad as hell, and that dance would be the perfect way to show it. Besides, he had the perfectly inappropriate song to dance to. He jerked his head towards the stairs. “C’mon, we need to get costumes.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ten minutes later, the twangy Spanish guitar reverberating over the loudspeakers as dancers twirled and shimmied out on the dance floor, Jared straightened his black jacket and nodded at Chad, who rolled his eyes once again at Jared’s ‘overdramatics’, but shoved the mp3 player in his pocket and obediently followed Sophia towards the control booth.
Sam stood with Adrianne, both looking unsure and rather upset, but neither making a move to stop him. For that Jared was grateful. He only had the energy for one more dramatic act tonight. With a rueful grin, Kim clapped him and Jensen on the shoulder. “Kick it in the ass, boys.”
With a smirk, Jensen nodded and disappeared out into the crowd, making his way to the other side of the dance floor. Jared took a deep breath, wholly aware of the likely consequences of this plan, but not really concerned. This was about more than winning. This was proving a point.
Squaring his shoulders, Jared let his fears and worries fall away as he pushed through the curtains to center stage. At first nobody noticed him, as the dancers currently giving their all in the Latin Open freestyle captivated their audience. Tom and Erica in particular were drawing lots of attention, as she danced like she was born to while he gamely kept up.
With a crackle-boom over the speakers, the music died mid-note. The abrupt silence jarred everyone, as the dancers ground to a disjointed halt, looking around in confusion. The judges half-rose from their table, peering up at the control booth with tight-lipped frowns. Fredric spotted Jared first, eyes narrowing as his mouth twisted in an ugly scowl.
A spotlight snapped on and pinned Jared in its beam, instantly focusing all attention on him. The blood-red pants he wore looked liquid in the light, pouring down his legs from the black shirt and plain matador jacket emphasizing his broad shoulders. He stood straight and tall, shoulders back and chest forward, a proud hunter on display.
An electronic beat started to play over the speakers, courtesy of Chad, and Jared brought his arms up to stretch high above his head, then snapped them down as he did a quick flamenco heel stomp and stalked forward. Another spotlight suddenly illuminated a figure on the opposite side of the floor, and the dancers backed away as Jensen prowled forward, crimson shirt and black pants complementing Jared’s costume, ying to his yang.
A heavy beat pounded out as they approached and circled each other, predatory, eyes locked as they spiraled in. They leaned in, forehead to forehead, then spun together, hands anchored on necks with the other held high. Jensen shot him a grin full of teeth, which Jared returned as he grabbed Jensen’s hands to take the lead in an open promenade. Jensen molded himself to Jared and followed, sharp marching steps perfectly in sync, before Jensen twisted their hands and stole back the lead with an open counter promenade, whirling them in a huit past a flabbergasted Erica.
The music shifted and they dropped their hands, spinning away from each other and backing away, arms wide. Jensen paused, stamping his foot in an apel, and Jared approached on the attack, feeling the music thundering in his blood to drive his anger outwards through his movements. This was why he wanted the paso doble, the bullfight. He needed to channel his fury, and this dance, huge movements full of arrogance, dignity and passion suited that perfectly.
Not to mention Jensen was smoldering hot like this; whether playing the predator or prey, his entire being was focused on Jared, body responding to each move perfectly as they separated and came together, owning the dance floor through sheer presence. When Jensen led him into another promenade, he added a quick and dirty grind of his hips that had Jared achingly hard and wanting more. Jared grinned at him, changing his body posture as he slid in a bit of tango on the next promenade, kicking his leg up to wrap it in a gancho around Jensen’s waist, swiveling his hips in a way that made Jensen’s eyes darken with lust.
Jared forgot about the audience, the judges, the spotlights. It was just the two of them and the music, all working together to create something better and more beautiful. The proper steps went right out of his head; he didn’t need them, and he really didn’t care. All he had to do was follow the music and Jensen, and let it play out in all its passionate and powerful glory.
Dancing side by side for the flamenco steps, they threw themselves in a paired leap, and Jared spun, dropping to his knees and step-sliding forward as Jensen backed away in perfect time, arms wide and proud. He couldn’t take his eyes off his partner, watching the sweat gleam on his forehead and neck, muscles sliding effortlessly in time with the music.
Dancing had never been like this before, so fun and passionate and enticing. It had never been about the steps themselves, but the attitude, the freedom in letting the music guide you. This was what they wanted to stifle, to stomp out, to regulate the hell out of just because someone couldn’t make money off it. This was - they were - everything Fredric and Dawn and the others hated.
Well, screw them. Because Jared loved dancing, and now that he knew the difference, he’d fight tooth and nail to keep this.
The music was drawing to a close, so he closed the space between them, loving the feel of that hard body against his as they danced. Marching to the dead center of the floor, Jensen spun twice and back into Jared’s arms, plastered back to chest as he tucked his face in Jared’s neck, arms wrapped around each other.
But I can’t and I won’t live a lie, no not this time.
The music ended with a crash, and instantly the audience exploded, cheers and hollers and applause deafening them as they stood there catching their breath. Oh yeah, they weren’t alone. Jared could feel Jensen smile against his skin, and no doubt he had a stupid grin of his own. He couldn’t help it.
Slowly they separated just enough to bow to their audience, eliciting another wave of cheers, and graced the mostly-scowling judges with a short bow as well. Jared smirked at Fredric, loving the sight of Jeff and Kim and Sam cheering wildly right behind him.
Jensen leaned in so he could be heard. “So was it everything you dreamed?”
Jared shook his head. “Better,” he declared. Turning, he cupped Jensen’s face in his hands and whispered, “I love you,” right before he kissed him.
THE END
Notes & acknowledgments