To Better Suit Your Moves -- part 2
part 1
Manner’s School of Dance
Three days later
Kim sighed and ordered his group of beginners, “Okay, line up. Guys on the right, ladies on the left. Sam,” he gestured to Samantha, who smiled and stepped forward to take control of the ladies. Kim nodded at the men. “Spread out, find your dance space, and follow me. Okay? Foxtrot.”
Jeff cued the CD player, and Ella Fitzgerald blared out with a nice steady tempo. Kim nodded for two measures, feeling the beat, then started dancing. “Keep it basic; let yourself feel the steps, memorize it, so you don’t have to think about it.” The guys shuffled behind him, a little unsure, then followed his lead. “Good, good. Now forward with a promenade . . . watch your feet, Gabriel. Jensen, quit lurking back there. Step with confidence.”
Sam looked to be having a bit of better luck with the girls. “Ladies, it’s our job to follow the men’s lead and make them look good. Feel the music, let yourself move in time. Slow, slow, quick quick. Basic foxtrot. Looking good. Alona, watch your posture. Keep away from the chest. Jessica, you don’t need to sway your hips that much, this is not Latin. Joints loose, but straight body posture. Better.”
Kim smiled when both groups were moving in sync. “One, two, three, four. All right, pair up.” He watched as they all found their partners and started trying to move together, then grasped Sam’s hands and pulled her into the dance. Dropping his voice, he muttered, “How’s it going?”
She smiled at him. “Good. They should be fine. He spent nearly three hours on the phone with her last night, I’m sure they’ll be making up at any time.”
Kim sighed with relief. “That would be nice. I can’t have my star dancer without his partner, not with only four weeks until the Nationals.”
“Obviously. I just . . . don’t know what got into him.”
“Frustration, probably.” Sam frowned with confusion, but Kim waved it off. “He and I talked about this before, but I think he’s really got the point this time. He needs Adrianne if he wants to win Nationals.”
“Do they still have a chance?” Sam asked softly, following as he twisted into a promenade. “Fredric Lehne and Dawn O. were not very happy with Jared or the studio after the festival.”
“Don’t worry about that. I spent a long time in a conference with Fred and Dawn, smoothed it over with them. Gave my assurances that it would never happen again, and they believed me. Now it’s up to Jared not to make a liar out of me.”
“He won’t,” Sam assured him with a smile. “He respects you too much.”
Kim scoffed. “And who was it who put the fake dog shit in my shoes last week? Spinning the girl off,” he announced to the class and let actions suit words.
Sam looked over at the couple nearest them. “Jessica, quit watching your feet. They’re still at the end of your legs. And follow your partner’s lead. Jensen, don’t be afraid to lead her.”
Jessica gave a quick but insincere smile, not moving an inch closer to her partner than she had to. Well, Sam really couldn’t blame her. The girl was lovely (and knew it), and her partner . . . well, between the thick glasses, longish hair and baggy clothes, Jensen didn’t exactly meet Jessica’s usual standards. No doubt she wasn’t thrilled to be stuck with Jensen when her preferred partner had stopped coming.
“Grand roulette in,” Kim directed, leading Sam back into his dance space, watching as Jensen did the same but Jessica stopped a bit far out from his embrace. Jensen sighed, then purposely stepped closer, tightening his frame to make sure she couldn’t pull back again. Jessica scowled but let him.
Sam and Kim rolled their eyes and danced away.
Meanwhile in the back room . . .
“What did you think about the steps?”
Adrianne crossed her arms over her chest. “Why? It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does,” Jared insisted. “What did you think of them?”
She sighed loudly, exasperated. “Jared! I don’t care about the steps. We. Lost. That’s what matters, not some silly steps you decided to try out without even telling me! Oh, and by the way, thanks for abandoning me out there. Did you forget the samba is a partner dance?”
Jared ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He hated it when she used that stern voice. It’d be better if she shouted at him. “Okay, yeah, I’m sorry about that. I got a little carried away. But still, the way we danced together was good.”
“Yeah, before you went on your little trip to fantasy land. Why the hell did you have to do that? And what’s your problem with the steps?”
“I don’t want us to end up like that drunk Tom Welling. Forever dancing someone else’s steps - like a puppet. Or a trained monkey.”
Appalled, Adrianne dropped her arms and got right up in his face, blue eyes flashing. “Tom Welling is a ballroom king. He’s won more trophies than you and I can hope for at this point. And more importantly, the judges love him because he actually dances the right steps! I’d be honored to dance with him.”
Jared turned away, blowing out a hard breath as he fought to control himself. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
“I think you’re the one who’s not getting it,” Adrianne stepped back, reaching for her purse. “Jared, I can’t keep doing this.”
“What?”
“Dance partners are supposed to be a team, to work together. You’re obviously not interested in that anymore. I gotta think of myself and my career, and I can’t trust you with that any longer. I need a partner I can trust.” She strode through the swinging doors separating the back room from the studio proper. Jared just watched her go.
The slam of the doors caught everyone’s attention, and they stopped dancing to watch this latest drama. Adrianne marched right up to Sam. “Ms. Ferris, I’m sorry. I’ve tried, but this just isn’t going to work out.” She threw a quick glance over her shoulder. “I’m not even sure if he’s still interested in winning at Nationals. From now on, Jared and I are no longer partners.”
She gave them a tight smile then turned to leave. Unfortunately, she chose a direction that had someone standing there already, and promptly barreled into him. Jensen let out an “oof!” as they both went down, Adrianne twisting to try and keep her balance, but only succeeding in breaking the heel of her shoe and landing directly on Jensen.
“Oh shit, my new shoes!” Adrianne pushed back her long blonde curls and looked down at the broken heel in dismay, then rolled off her unfortunate landing pad. “Sorry, sorry. You all right?” Jensen was too winded to speak, just waved her off as Sophia came over to help Adrianne up.
“C’mon, we can fix that in the back,” Sophia let Adrianne lean on her as she limped away to the back, muttering about being late. Jensen groaned softly as he pulled himself up, gingerly rubbing at his stomach where Adrianne’s elbow had slammed into him.
Kim sighed, shaking his head. “Tango, please,” he called over to Jeff, hoping just to keep the others occupied. This was a disaster. And now Sam was freaking out. Sam was one of the most level-headed people Kim had the pleasure of knowing, but it looked like the last few days were finally taking their toll.
“What are we going to do?” she whispered frantically as Kim led her in the shadow position through the basics, watching the students for mistakes to fix.
“Just stay calm, for one. Panicking doesn’t help.”
A slam of the doors signaled Jared emerging, a nearly-visible black cloud over his head. He looked over and nodded once at Sam and Kim, averting his eyes quickly and disappearing into the bathroom/locker room adjacent to the front door. Chad was in there, doing push-ups in front of his own locker. He glanced up, finished his reps then clambered back to his feet. “Hey, J-Pad.”
Jared nodded at him, fiddling with the padlock on his locker. “Hey Chad,” he licked his lips, “did you like the way I danced over the weekend?”
Chad shrugged, opening his locker to pull out a bottle of Gatorade, checking out his stubble growth in the mirror. “I dunno. You didn’t win.”
“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” Jared frowned, watching his fingers playing with the lock. “Just . . . did you like it?”
Chad only shrugged again, so Jared punched his shoulder lightly. “C’mon, tell me what you thought of the steps.”
Chad made a face. “Do you really want to know, Jay?” Apparently the determined puppy-eyes were enough of an answer, because he sighed heavily. “What do I really think? I think you looked like a giraffe in a blender. On frappe, even.”
Jared suppressed his wince, but Chad must’ve caught it. “Hey, you asked, man. So as your friend, I’m telling you that I’ve seen two year olds on a sugar high with more coordination, and about as much energy. Just . . . if you’re gonna do something like that, not that you should, but if you do . . . bring it down a bit, okay? I think some of the judges feared for their lives.”
With a manly clap on the shoulder, Chad walked out to go find Sophia. Jared watched him leave then banged his head on the locker door, appreciating the loud clang it made and doing it twice more for good measure. Damn it, why did he have to be such a screw up? Why was it such a bad thing to try and be unique?
He walked out of the locker room and headed for the door. Jeff intercepted him. “Jared, wait.”
“Not now, Jeff.” Jared continued for the exit, but Kim stepped in his way and grabbed his arm, a steely look on his face.
“Nope, you’re not going anywhere yet.” He pulled Jared in, who automatically brought up his arms into the proper frame as Kim started to tango, leading him around the dance floor. Jared groaned softly - he hated it when Kim lectured at him. Not only that, but in insisting on dancing while doing it made sure Jared ended up with a crick in his neck from looking down at a partner a solid foot shorter than him.
“We had an agreement,” Kim reminded him, giving him an extra push as if to say that Jared may be taller and younger, but he knew better than to mess with Kim in a bad mood.
“Maybe I changed my mind,” Jared said a bit sulkily. “Maybe I’m sick and tired of always dancing someone else’s steps.”
Kim arched an eyebrow. “Oh, so you think you’re better than all the people who came before you? The people who passed these steps down knew a hell of a lot more about dancing than you do.” He turned to yell, “Watch your arms, Gabriel!” before focusing back on Jared. “There’s a reason they’ve been standardized.”
“Yeah, to give washed-up old fossils a job in telling other people what to do,” Jared snarked at him.
"Oh, so now you think I'm a washed-up old fossil?" Kim's voice got quiet, deadly so, and Jared backpedaled quickly.
"No, not you! It's just--"
"Competitive ballroom is a sport, Jared. Like any other sport, it has rules. You don't follow them, you get in trouble, and you don't win."
“Rules, huh? What about the art, the expression?" Jared demanded. "Besides, the audience seemed to like my steps better.”
“The audience?” Kim snarled, spinning Jared out then back in violently enough that the younger man stumbled, barely keeping his feet. “What the hell do they know? More on the heel, Chad! Flashy choreography, unusual steps, crowd pleasing, sure. But artistic? Bullshit! Where was your floor craft?”
Kim marched him across the floor, Jared scrambling back as his coach stalked him like a wolf. “You got boxed in and panicked. Your energy was directed everywhere but into the floor. Sloppy feet and hands, you could’ve driven a train between your left hand and right hand. Writhing on the floor like a cat in heat, no musicality at all. You basically abandoned your partner. You do really think that’s going to win at Nationals?”
Jared looked away, trying to find an escape route from this irritated little man, and saw Chad and Sophia dancing together nearby. They looked at him with dubious expressions, clearly agreeing with Kim’s not-at-all quiet indictment of his skills, then spun away. Some friends they were.
Kim poked his chest to get his attention back. “More importantly, you won’t win if you don’t have a partner. You think of that, genius?” They glanced over at the door to the back room, where Adrianne still hadn’t emerged. “Go to her, get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness,” Kim insisted. “You’re nothing without her, Jared. Remember, it takes two to tango.”
“All right,” Jared broke away, stepping back quickly from Kim. When his grizzled coach started spouting clichés like that, he knew it was time to just put up and shut up.
Just then Adrianne pushed through the swinging doors, now wearing a new set of heels, stuffing the old pair into her bag. She walked over and hugged Sophia, passed a cool gaze over Jared, then headed for the door, fingers digging for her cell phone.
Jared set his jaw and chased after her, skidding over the hardwood to block her path to the exit. She froze, then backed up as he stepped forward, herding her back to the floor. She narrowed her eyes as he stalked her, clearly following the tango beat, enticing her. Attempting to circle around him failed, as he blocked her every move.
One more step to the center of the room, then she answered, moving up into his dance space. “All right.” She flung her bag onto the table, took his hands, and let him lead. He let himself smile as they tangoed across the floor, moving perfectly in sync as they always did. He spun her out, back into his arms, and then a promenade with a quick head whip.
Adrianne smiled, clearly pleased with his response. “I knew you’d come to your senses.”
Jared froze. Come to his senses? Suddenly he could see where this was leading -- a mindless parade of monotonous steps, never-changing, never questioned. Like lifeless puppets in a music box, directed by lock-stepping dance Nazis. It made his feet itch, his blood race.
He dropped her hands and spun, leaping in the air. The smile dropped off her face instantly. He landed beside her and improvised a quick 3-step rhythm with the music, pulling her against his body to get her to follow. She fought, planting her feet and shoving at his chest. “No! I don’t want this!”
He spun her around to face him. “What do you want?” he demanded, sick and tired of all the games.
Adrianne glared at him. “Right now? Right now I want a partner who can dance!” Abruptly she smiled, full of teeth and not in the least bit friendly. “Did you hear the news? Jamie White was in a car accident last night, broke both her legs. Tom Welling’s looking for a new partner.”
Jared recoiled, surprised at the venom and triumph in her voice. Was this really sweet Adrianne, whom he’d danced with for the last three years? Where was this hellcat coming from?
“And guess what, Jared?” Adrianne poked him in the chest with her finger. “I called him earlier. Said I was in need of a partner too.”
As if on cue, the doors were shoved open, and Tom Welling strode in, heading straight for Adrianne. Dark hair perfectly coiffed and muscles clearly evident in a tight tee shirt, he smiled that gleaming white-toothed (probably capped) charming grin at her. “Adrianne? Glad you called. I believe you and I are about to begin a beautiful partnership.”
Jared stood there dumbly, brain on overload. What the hell was this? He glanced from Tom’s beaming face to Adrianne’s as the scorned hellcat disappeared back into the sweet face he thought he knew almost as well as his own. She grinned back at Tom and held out her hand. He took it, kissed her knuckles, gently tugging her away from Jared and into his arms.
Jared could only watch as they started to dance together, smiling. Blinking, he rubbed a hand across his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, then stumbled away, not caring about the pitying looks the other dancers were giving him. He just needed to get away.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Evening was approaching by the time the noise from the dance studio faded, and Jared felt safe enough to come down off the roof. The building wasn’t that high, but still managed to have a decent view of the sunset over the buildings of downtown San Antonio. If he squinted, he could even see the whitewashed area where the Alamo was. Ever since he’d started coming to this dance studio, he liked to come up here on the rooftop patio to think.
Right now he had a hell of a lot to think about.
Jared listened to them closing up shop downstairs, making out Kim’s sharp barks of direction with Sam’s rough sweetness kicking stragglers out, Jeff’s deep basso mixing throughout. He waited until he could only distantly hear one set of footsteps downstairs then came down. Most of the studio was dark now, only a single light left on over the center of the dance floor.
Kim came out of the back room and nodded at him, faintly resigned but attempting a smile. “Interesting day.” Jared just nodded, looking away into the dark. His coach huffed out a breath. “Look Jared, it’ll be fine. We’ll find you a new partner. I’ll make some calls, get some try-outs scheduled for this week.”
“Thanks,” Jared mumbled, knowing he really didn’t deserve this. But for as stern as Kim could be, he always seemed to know exactly what Jared needed. And right now Jared needed a partner and some hope more than he needed yet another scolding.
“Get some sleep, Jared,” came the final gentle admonishment, then Kim left, leaving Jared to his thoughts in the still darkness.
After a long moment, Jared walked over to the mirrors lining one wall and just looked at himself. Was this him? How did he go from sweetheart of the dance floor to a sudden pariah? Just because of a few non-regulation steps?
There was an easy way to fix this. All he needed to do was fall in line, dance what they’d taught him, and do it well. All he had to do was . . . conform.
Jared made a face at his reflection. Growing up with no parents in the picture and dancing competitively had had a huge impact on his social life. Kids are cruel bastards, and he’d endured relentless teasing throughout high school, putting up with gay slurs and pansy jokes just because he liked to dance. He’d learned the hard way that it was better to be yourself than to try and conform to whatever they wanted you to be.
What was it with the mixed messages? Sam and Jeff had always done their best to replace his parents, encouraging him to be himself and not be afraid to take chances. They knew him, had allowed him to experiment with other dance forms in the past, and seemed to tolerate his enthusiasm for physical expression. Yet now Sam and Kim were all but ordering him to toe the line, follow the rules.
What was so wrong with the way he danced?
To say what was actually wrong with them you’d have to be an experienced professional, like myself.
Right now I want a partner who can dance!
I think you looked like a giraffe in a blender. On frappe.
Drawing in a deep breath, Jared closed his eyes, listened for his heartbeat. The steady rhythm moved down to his feet, setting the beat, and he started to dance.
The movement lulled his churning thoughts even as it sped his blood, energy pulsing through him. He did a couple spins and a hitch kick, loving the way his legs tightened and released, following the rhythm as he stretched back, arms arching high for the ceiling before he snapped back for a double twist that turned into an elbow drop. He held the handstand for a moment, then flopped back and rolled onto his knees.
Flinging himself away from the mirror, he let his body move at will, hearing the beat in his head, his heart, his muscles singing with the workout. This was the kind of thrill dancing used to give him, the adrenaline heightening his senses, letting him own the space. The floor was his, the whole studio was his to play in, to stretch out and move and own.
He slid his body over the counter separating the kitchenette area from the dance floor, twisting at the last second to avoid knocking over the coffeepot, stretching in a lunge before throwing himself back over the counter, landing on his hands and turning a somersault back to his feet. His bangs flopped into his eyes, then swung away with a jerk of his head, plastering to the sweat beading at his temples.
Moving back to the center of the floor, Jared closed his eyes and just let his feet move, playing with the different steps he’d been taught, mixing them together into something that felt unique, felt like his. It was like this that he felt he could finally breathe, no restrictions tying his feet, no regulations stifling in his chest.
Opening his eyes as he went into a pirouette, he automatically found a reference point to spot . . . a pair of wide green eyes watching him.
Startled, Jared lost his balance and crashed out of the spin, slamming into the mirror, his hands barely keeping his face from acquainting itself with the hard surface. Gasping for breath, he let himself calm down for a second before he looked back over to the doorway.
“Sorry! Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Green Eyes said sheepishly, emerging from the doorway. Those eyes were behind a pair of black-framed glasses, half-hidden by dirty blond bangs. He shuffled his feet for a second then commented, “Well, that’s looking pretty good.”
Jared frowned, confused and a bit piqued at being spied on. “What are you doing here?”
“I . . . I was just . . . looking for someone,” his spy said, blushing slightly.
“Everyone’s gone home,” Jared pointed out, stepping away from the mirror, a faint twinge of embarrassment at being caught tinting his cheeks.
“You haven’t,” the guy pointed out. He looked down, took a deep breath and seemed to steel himself. “All right, I was waiting for you. I have . . . well, I had an idea, and I think I have a mutually beneficial proposition for you.”
Jared’s eyebrows raised, pique fading as intrigue replaced it. “Really? Well, first things first. Who are you?”
“Oh, sorry. I’m Jensen.” Jensen stepped closer and held out his hand. Warily Jared shook it, noting the firm grip and elegant fingers, feeling assurance warring with shaky nerves.
“Jared. You already knew that, but it’s only polite.” He smiled, and Jensen gave him a crooked smile back. “So what was this about a proposition?”
Jensen blushed slightly. “Well, I had an idea. You’re currently without a partner, right?”
“Yeah, as everyone at the studio today witnessed,” Jared’s bad mood returned briefly.
“Yeah, that sucked. But you need a partner to dance with, someone who can dance your way, your steps. And I need a partner too.”
Jared stared at him a long moment. Was this guy off his meds? “Wait . . . are you suggesting I dance with you?”
“Not in competitions or anything,” Jensen hurriedly assured him. “It’s just . . . okay, I know it’s kinda weird. But I need someone to teach me, help me practice, since Kim and Sam . . . well, they're great, they just . . . they don't really notice me." He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, then took a deep breath to center himself for the next part. "And you need to work on your steps. What you danced was amazing, but it could be even better. I really think we can help each other out here.”
“How could you help me?” Jared frowned at him.
“With your steps. I like them, I really do. I like to dance my own steps too.” Jensen looked down at this admission, biting his lip. “Look, Jared, I saw you dance at the festival. The basics are good, real good. But you’re overdoing it. I think you could be a lot better if you kept it a bit simpler, danced more from the heart, and worked on your musicality . . .”
Jared half-turned, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly. Another critic. God, could this day get any worse? “How long have you been here?”
“At the studio? About 15 months. Why?”
Great. That’s all he needed, a star-struck beginner trying to capitalize on a weak moment. Jared started to walk away, hands shoved in his pockets. “Listen, you’re a beginner. I don’t have time for this. Why don’t you just go home?”
“Hey!” Jensen grabbed his elbow, swinging him around. “Don’t you brush me off like that.”
Jared shot him a dark look. “A beginner has no right to approach an open amateur with the intention of dancing non-federation steps, with only four weeks until Nationals, and especially since we can’t dance together as partners. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Yeah, and an open amateur has no right to dance non-federation steps in the first place, but you did anyway. Jesus Christ, no one warned me you could be such a prick.” Jensen crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “Do you want to dance your own steps or not?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Jared snapped, so very tired all of a sudden.
“It’s my business because I think we can help each other, and right now I’m the only one on your side,” Jensen retorted. “Everyone else thinks you’re a joke.”
Jared stared at him for a second, getting a good look at the fire in his eyes and set of his jaw. “Geez, you’re blunt,” he muttered.
“Only when dealing with self-important jerks,” Jensen shot back. “Clearly I wasted my time here.” He turned on his heel, and Jared watched him stalk towards the door, seeing the power in his stride, the slight swagger from bow-legs, the confident grace in his body posture. He walked like a dancer.
Jared sighed. “Wait a sec.” Jensen paused but didn’t turn. Jared swallowed; this had been bothering him all day. “When I danced . . . did I look like a giraffe in a blender?”
Jensen did turn at that, an eyebrow quirked up. “A giraffe in a blender? No.” He paused a beat, then smirked, “More like an octopus on a ceiling fan.”
Despite himself, Jared snorted out a laugh. He looked down at his shoes, then back up to meet Jensen’s assessing gaze. “What makes you think you can help me? I thought you wanted me to teach you?”
“Ballroom, yes.” Jensen shoved his hands through his hair, looking irritated for a second, but not at Jared. “I’ve had some dance training in the past, not a lot, but enough. And I’ve been dancing freestyle for years, y'know, for fun. But if I want to compete, I have to learn how to dance IDS ballroom. That’s why I’m here, but around this studio, I’m a non-entity. The instructors like to focus their attention on their favorites. I should be up in the intermediate class, but you need a partner for that, which I don’t have.”
“What about . . . what’s her name, the brunette who looks like she ran lip-first into a beehive?”
“Jessica?” Jensen snorted. “She can barely stand me. I think she’s still angry about her former partner leaving, and I was the only unpaired guy she could dance with. We don’t really suit each other. Sam likes her well enough, but when we’re together they kind of ignore us.”
Jared nodded, sympathizing. He knew dance studio politics, and he knew Kim. The man tried to be as fair as possible in most situations, but he definitely had his favorites he liked to spend the most time and effort on, like Jared. He cocked his head. “You really think you can help me?”
Jensen just looked at him for a long moment. “Yes,” he said finally. “I do. I think we can help each other.”
Jared nodded, mind made up and heart just a bit lighter. “Okay then. Let’s start with you. Cha cha.”
Startled, Jensen put up his hands as Jared approached, which he grabbed into position. Pulling the other man close, Jared shook his head at his stiff posture. “Loosen up a bit. I’m not gonna bite.” Jensen let out a weak chuckle but his shoulders relaxed marginally. Jared counted off then stepped forward. Jensen fumbled a bit, nearly stepped on Jared’s toes, and Jared groaned. “C’mon, you can’t even do a basic!”
“Excuse me for not being used to dancing the girl’s part!” Jensen snapped back. He huffed out a breath then got into position again. Jared counted off again, slower, then tried again. This time Jensen moved with him, biting his lip in concentration as they moved through a series of basics and a turn.
Jared admitted to himself that this was kind of nice. Jensen picked up his cues easily, moving gracefully with Jared’s body, and Jared didn’t have to arch his neck to watch a partner’s eyes, as Jensen was nearly as tall as he was. Adrianne was fairly tall, and in her dance heels she was as tall as Jensen, so his body posture felt familiar, not uncomfortable at all. He eased them into some of the more complicated steps, which Jensen watched, scrutinizing, before imitating.
By the time they called it quits for the night, Jared figured it hadn’t been such an awful day after all.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Given that the first lessons weren’t until 9am, Jared had no problem meeting Jensen at the studio at 6am. Jensen had a slight problem with it, given the way he was grumbling into his coffee mug as he walked upstairs to the smaller practice room. Jared quirked a smile. “Not a morning person?”
“Not by a long shot,” Jensen growled, chugging from the steaming mug as if hoping to pour the caffeine directly into his bloodstream. He watched as Jared bounded around the room, messing with the CD player, changing his shoes, stretching, with a slightly pained and disbelieving expression. “How the hell are you this energetic at such a god-awful time in the morning?”
Jared shrugged. “I’ve always been a morning person. Besides, when I was in high school, I had dance lessons every morning at 5:30 before classes.”
“Good thing I didn’t get into it until after school then. So I could wait until a sane hour of the day.”
Jared laughed, continuing his morning stretches with a set of sit ups. Jensen shook his head and started his own stretching routine. They worked in silence for a few minutes, then once they were properly warmed up, Jensen crossed to the center of the floor with Jared. “Okay, Energizer Bunny, your turn today.”
Jared bounced on his toes. Jensen put a hand on his shoulder, physically holding him down. “That’s your first problem. You’ve got energy to spare, but nowhere to put it. Tell me, where do you dance?”
“What? Here? Um . . . on the floor?”
“Yeah, on the floor. Not in the air, not on the ceiling. The occasional jump or leap can look really cool, but too many and you just resemble a Mexican jumping bean.” Jensen eyed him up and down, which caused Jared to flush lightly. “Jesus, how freakin’ tall are you?”
“About 6 foot 4. Always been a problem trying to find a partner that could work with my height.”
“Yeah, I can see why. And that’s another problem with your dancing. Long limbs. You gotta keep them more under control, make your movements more graceful, less spastic. When you were dancing regulation, you were graceful, in control, powerful. Once you started dancing your own, you still had that power, but you looked like . . .”
“An octopus in a ceiling fan, I know.”
“Don’t pout. It makes you look like a toddler who’s just lost his shoe.”
“And here everyone keeps telling me I look like a sad puppy.”
Jensen rolled his eyes but chuckled. “All right, I’m going to turn on some music. Go with what you were doing yesterday, but keep it simple and under control.” He cued up the player, and a techno beat poured out of the speakers, vibrating through the air. Jared closed his eyes, feeling the beat, nodding his head. He started to move, first his feet, then his hips, doing a simple salsa step that he added upon, throwing in a couple spins.
Opening his eyes, he saw Jensen watching him, moving slightly to the beat, keeping the pulse in his hips and shoulders. Abruptly his movements turned more fluid, sensual, still moving to the beat but clearly feeling something more. Jared stuttered, missed a step and nearly hooked his own ankle, staggering sideways. He blushed fiercely as Jensen cocked his head curiously at him, pushing his glasses back up his nose.
“That’s the second time you’ve tripped. Are you always this clumsy, or is it just me?”
“I think it’s you,” Jared returned, narrowing his eyes playfully.
“Nah, I think it’s those big feet of yours, Sasquatch.”
“Well, you know what they say about guys with big feet,” Jared said without thinking.
The next instant he blushed so hard his whole head must have caught fire. Oh God, why the hell did he have to go open his big mouth? Jensen smirked, clearly keeping a laugh in even as his own cheeks went pink. “No, what do they say?” He quirked an eyebrow as he let Jared simmer and sputter for a few moments longer, then cracked up laughing.
Jared shook his head, feeling his cheeks burn. “I have big feet to fit in my big mouth,” he muttered. “Chronic foot in mouth syndrome.”
Jensen calmed, smiling widely at him. “Alright, moving on. That was looking better. You looked focused, in control. Before you tripped, anyway.”
Jared made a face at him. “Well, why don’t you come off the wall and show me how it’s done, then.”
“Oooh, calling me out?” Jensen hesitated for a long moment. "Okay." He hit a button and the song restarted, techno beat blaring out.
“Why techno?” Jared asked. He’d never danced to such a synthesized beat before. Kim and Sam mostly stuck to the classics for their lessons, and dance-approved Latin for competitions. Even when he learned a bit of break-dancing in high school, that was to old school hip-hop and rap.
Jensen shrugged. “It’s got a good strong beat, simple to dance to. I like to use this to warm up. Haven’t you ever gone clubbing?”
“Uh, not really. Not my kinda scene, you know.” Jared rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. What was it about this guy that made him feel like such a kid sometimes? Jared was the champion dancer; this was his domain, his forte.
“S’okay, not really mine either.” Jensen half-closed his eyes, listening to the music as he walked to the center of the floor near Jared. Jared watched him approach, saw how his whole body moved to the beat, and slowly backed away to give him more room. Jensen’s cheeks were pink, and he was avoiding Jared’s eyes, but he moved with confidence.
Jensen’s movements were simple to start with, just feeling out the music and the dance space, and gradually he opened up, steps becoming more energetic and intricate, arms getting involved, nothing too flowery. And then it happened again - what had been simple suddenly became sensual, body flowing with the music, still keeping the beat but it changed the entire feeling of the dance.
Jared swallowed hard, belatedly realizing that the music had changed feel as well. Jensen danced, letting the music move him, not just the beat. His dance became part of the music, emphasizing it, playing with it, and Jared couldn’t look away, mesmerized.
When the music stopped, Jensen looked over at Jared and flushed. “What?” he asked, slightly defensive.
Jared shook his head, realizing he was still staring, and probably gaping like a fish. “Nothing. It’s just . . . I dunno. But um, yeah, that was . . . that was good.”
“Well, you wanted me to show you.” Jensen seemed slightly flustered, walking quickly off the dance floor to the CD player. “You wanna work on something else now?”
Something else. Yes, that sounded very good. “How ‘bout salsa?”
“Hmmm, dunno if we have the chips and beer to go with it.”
Jensen winked as Jared chuckled. “Smartass. Put in Kim’s Latin mix, track 3.”
Sunlight drenched the wood floors of the studio as Jared and Jensen danced, working through techniques. To Jared’s surprise, Jensen knew how to salsa fairly well. “Spent some time down in Mexico, and it’s easy to pick up,” Jensen shrugged. “The ladies love to dance. Vertically or horizontally,” he added with a wicked grin.
Just for that, Jared dipped him.
They called it quits shortly before the first class showed up at 9am. Jared was in the locker room changing his shirt when he heard Sam walk in. “Oh Jensen, you’re already here. Good. Could you make some coffee for us? Thanks.” Her footsteps reverberated across the hardwood. “Jared, you here?”
“In here, Sam!” he called, frowning slightly. Since when did Sam have one of the beginners make the coffee? Before he could ponder it further, his aunt poked her head in, smiling.
“There you are. You ran out so early this morning, I didn’t get a chance to tell you. Kim’s been making some calls, and he’s got three girls lined up for try-outs tomorrow.”
“Anybody I know?”
Sam shook her head. “Not so far. But don’t worry about that, I’m sure that you’ll find someone compatible in time.”
“Is Kim instituting a height limit this time?” Jared asked with a crooked smile, and Sam slapped his arm. “What? Sam, you know better than anyone how ridiculous it looks when you’re trying to dance with a partner who only comes up to your belly button.”
“Yes, I know.” She shook her head with a mock sigh. “Damn kid, what the hell did we feed you? You and Sandy used to dance so well together, until you had to go and shoot up almost a foot.”
“And she moved to LA, Sam. Either way, we wouldn’t have ended up dancing together.” Jared shut his locker with a clang. “I’m just glad Gabriel joined the studio, to give Alona someone to dance with.”
“Yeah, ‘cause she sure as hell wasn’t going to dance with you again,” Sam said archly. “I believe the word she used to describe that was ‘looming’.”
Jared laughed as they walked back into the main room, eyes automatically surveying the room and landing on Jensen filling the coffee carafe. He frowned again, but then Kim called everyone to attention and music echoed across the room.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
part 3
Manner’s School of Dance
Three days later
Kim sighed and ordered his group of beginners, “Okay, line up. Guys on the right, ladies on the left. Sam,” he gestured to Samantha, who smiled and stepped forward to take control of the ladies. Kim nodded at the men. “Spread out, find your dance space, and follow me. Okay? Foxtrot.”
Jeff cued the CD player, and Ella Fitzgerald blared out with a nice steady tempo. Kim nodded for two measures, feeling the beat, then started dancing. “Keep it basic; let yourself feel the steps, memorize it, so you don’t have to think about it.” The guys shuffled behind him, a little unsure, then followed his lead. “Good, good. Now forward with a promenade . . . watch your feet, Gabriel. Jensen, quit lurking back there. Step with confidence.”
Sam looked to be having a bit of better luck with the girls. “Ladies, it’s our job to follow the men’s lead and make them look good. Feel the music, let yourself move in time. Slow, slow, quick quick. Basic foxtrot. Looking good. Alona, watch your posture. Keep away from the chest. Jessica, you don’t need to sway your hips that much, this is not Latin. Joints loose, but straight body posture. Better.”
Kim smiled when both groups were moving in sync. “One, two, three, four. All right, pair up.” He watched as they all found their partners and started trying to move together, then grasped Sam’s hands and pulled her into the dance. Dropping his voice, he muttered, “How’s it going?”
She smiled at him. “Good. They should be fine. He spent nearly three hours on the phone with her last night, I’m sure they’ll be making up at any time.”
Kim sighed with relief. “That would be nice. I can’t have my star dancer without his partner, not with only four weeks until the Nationals.”
“Obviously. I just . . . don’t know what got into him.”
“Frustration, probably.” Sam frowned with confusion, but Kim waved it off. “He and I talked about this before, but I think he’s really got the point this time. He needs Adrianne if he wants to win Nationals.”
“Do they still have a chance?” Sam asked softly, following as he twisted into a promenade. “Fredric Lehne and Dawn O. were not very happy with Jared or the studio after the festival.”
“Don’t worry about that. I spent a long time in a conference with Fred and Dawn, smoothed it over with them. Gave my assurances that it would never happen again, and they believed me. Now it’s up to Jared not to make a liar out of me.”
“He won’t,” Sam assured him with a smile. “He respects you too much.”
Kim scoffed. “And who was it who put the fake dog shit in my shoes last week? Spinning the girl off,” he announced to the class and let actions suit words.
Sam looked over at the couple nearest them. “Jessica, quit watching your feet. They’re still at the end of your legs. And follow your partner’s lead. Jensen, don’t be afraid to lead her.”
Jessica gave a quick but insincere smile, not moving an inch closer to her partner than she had to. Well, Sam really couldn’t blame her. The girl was lovely (and knew it), and her partner . . . well, between the thick glasses, longish hair and baggy clothes, Jensen didn’t exactly meet Jessica’s usual standards. No doubt she wasn’t thrilled to be stuck with Jensen when her preferred partner had stopped coming.
“Grand roulette in,” Kim directed, leading Sam back into his dance space, watching as Jensen did the same but Jessica stopped a bit far out from his embrace. Jensen sighed, then purposely stepped closer, tightening his frame to make sure she couldn’t pull back again. Jessica scowled but let him.
Sam and Kim rolled their eyes and danced away.
Meanwhile in the back room . . .
“What did you think about the steps?”
Adrianne crossed her arms over her chest. “Why? It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does,” Jared insisted. “What did you think of them?”
She sighed loudly, exasperated. “Jared! I don’t care about the steps. We. Lost. That’s what matters, not some silly steps you decided to try out without even telling me! Oh, and by the way, thanks for abandoning me out there. Did you forget the samba is a partner dance?”
Jared ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He hated it when she used that stern voice. It’d be better if she shouted at him. “Okay, yeah, I’m sorry about that. I got a little carried away. But still, the way we danced together was good.”
“Yeah, before you went on your little trip to fantasy land. Why the hell did you have to do that? And what’s your problem with the steps?”
“I don’t want us to end up like that drunk Tom Welling. Forever dancing someone else’s steps - like a puppet. Or a trained monkey.”
Appalled, Adrianne dropped her arms and got right up in his face, blue eyes flashing. “Tom Welling is a ballroom king. He’s won more trophies than you and I can hope for at this point. And more importantly, the judges love him because he actually dances the right steps! I’d be honored to dance with him.”
Jared turned away, blowing out a hard breath as he fought to control himself. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
“I think you’re the one who’s not getting it,” Adrianne stepped back, reaching for her purse. “Jared, I can’t keep doing this.”
“What?”
“Dance partners are supposed to be a team, to work together. You’re obviously not interested in that anymore. I gotta think of myself and my career, and I can’t trust you with that any longer. I need a partner I can trust.” She strode through the swinging doors separating the back room from the studio proper. Jared just watched her go.
The slam of the doors caught everyone’s attention, and they stopped dancing to watch this latest drama. Adrianne marched right up to Sam. “Ms. Ferris, I’m sorry. I’ve tried, but this just isn’t going to work out.” She threw a quick glance over her shoulder. “I’m not even sure if he’s still interested in winning at Nationals. From now on, Jared and I are no longer partners.”
She gave them a tight smile then turned to leave. Unfortunately, she chose a direction that had someone standing there already, and promptly barreled into him. Jensen let out an “oof!” as they both went down, Adrianne twisting to try and keep her balance, but only succeeding in breaking the heel of her shoe and landing directly on Jensen.
“Oh shit, my new shoes!” Adrianne pushed back her long blonde curls and looked down at the broken heel in dismay, then rolled off her unfortunate landing pad. “Sorry, sorry. You all right?” Jensen was too winded to speak, just waved her off as Sophia came over to help Adrianne up.
“C’mon, we can fix that in the back,” Sophia let Adrianne lean on her as she limped away to the back, muttering about being late. Jensen groaned softly as he pulled himself up, gingerly rubbing at his stomach where Adrianne’s elbow had slammed into him.
Kim sighed, shaking his head. “Tango, please,” he called over to Jeff, hoping just to keep the others occupied. This was a disaster. And now Sam was freaking out. Sam was one of the most level-headed people Kim had the pleasure of knowing, but it looked like the last few days were finally taking their toll.
“What are we going to do?” she whispered frantically as Kim led her in the shadow position through the basics, watching the students for mistakes to fix.
“Just stay calm, for one. Panicking doesn’t help.”
A slam of the doors signaled Jared emerging, a nearly-visible black cloud over his head. He looked over and nodded once at Sam and Kim, averting his eyes quickly and disappearing into the bathroom/locker room adjacent to the front door. Chad was in there, doing push-ups in front of his own locker. He glanced up, finished his reps then clambered back to his feet. “Hey, J-Pad.”
Jared nodded at him, fiddling with the padlock on his locker. “Hey Chad,” he licked his lips, “did you like the way I danced over the weekend?”
Chad shrugged, opening his locker to pull out a bottle of Gatorade, checking out his stubble growth in the mirror. “I dunno. You didn’t win.”
“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” Jared frowned, watching his fingers playing with the lock. “Just . . . did you like it?”
Chad only shrugged again, so Jared punched his shoulder lightly. “C’mon, tell me what you thought of the steps.”
Chad made a face. “Do you really want to know, Jay?” Apparently the determined puppy-eyes were enough of an answer, because he sighed heavily. “What do I really think? I think you looked like a giraffe in a blender. On frappe, even.”
Jared suppressed his wince, but Chad must’ve caught it. “Hey, you asked, man. So as your friend, I’m telling you that I’ve seen two year olds on a sugar high with more coordination, and about as much energy. Just . . . if you’re gonna do something like that, not that you should, but if you do . . . bring it down a bit, okay? I think some of the judges feared for their lives.”
With a manly clap on the shoulder, Chad walked out to go find Sophia. Jared watched him leave then banged his head on the locker door, appreciating the loud clang it made and doing it twice more for good measure. Damn it, why did he have to be such a screw up? Why was it such a bad thing to try and be unique?
He walked out of the locker room and headed for the door. Jeff intercepted him. “Jared, wait.”
“Not now, Jeff.” Jared continued for the exit, but Kim stepped in his way and grabbed his arm, a steely look on his face.
“Nope, you’re not going anywhere yet.” He pulled Jared in, who automatically brought up his arms into the proper frame as Kim started to tango, leading him around the dance floor. Jared groaned softly - he hated it when Kim lectured at him. Not only that, but in insisting on dancing while doing it made sure Jared ended up with a crick in his neck from looking down at a partner a solid foot shorter than him.
“We had an agreement,” Kim reminded him, giving him an extra push as if to say that Jared may be taller and younger, but he knew better than to mess with Kim in a bad mood.
“Maybe I changed my mind,” Jared said a bit sulkily. “Maybe I’m sick and tired of always dancing someone else’s steps.”
Kim arched an eyebrow. “Oh, so you think you’re better than all the people who came before you? The people who passed these steps down knew a hell of a lot more about dancing than you do.” He turned to yell, “Watch your arms, Gabriel!” before focusing back on Jared. “There’s a reason they’ve been standardized.”
“Yeah, to give washed-up old fossils a job in telling other people what to do,” Jared snarked at him.
"Oh, so now you think I'm a washed-up old fossil?" Kim's voice got quiet, deadly so, and Jared backpedaled quickly.
"No, not you! It's just--"
"Competitive ballroom is a sport, Jared. Like any other sport, it has rules. You don't follow them, you get in trouble, and you don't win."
“Rules, huh? What about the art, the expression?" Jared demanded. "Besides, the audience seemed to like my steps better.”
“The audience?” Kim snarled, spinning Jared out then back in violently enough that the younger man stumbled, barely keeping his feet. “What the hell do they know? More on the heel, Chad! Flashy choreography, unusual steps, crowd pleasing, sure. But artistic? Bullshit! Where was your floor craft?”
Kim marched him across the floor, Jared scrambling back as his coach stalked him like a wolf. “You got boxed in and panicked. Your energy was directed everywhere but into the floor. Sloppy feet and hands, you could’ve driven a train between your left hand and right hand. Writhing on the floor like a cat in heat, no musicality at all. You basically abandoned your partner. You do really think that’s going to win at Nationals?”
Jared looked away, trying to find an escape route from this irritated little man, and saw Chad and Sophia dancing together nearby. They looked at him with dubious expressions, clearly agreeing with Kim’s not-at-all quiet indictment of his skills, then spun away. Some friends they were.
Kim poked his chest to get his attention back. “More importantly, you won’t win if you don’t have a partner. You think of that, genius?” They glanced over at the door to the back room, where Adrianne still hadn’t emerged. “Go to her, get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness,” Kim insisted. “You’re nothing without her, Jared. Remember, it takes two to tango.”
“All right,” Jared broke away, stepping back quickly from Kim. When his grizzled coach started spouting clichés like that, he knew it was time to just put up and shut up.
Just then Adrianne pushed through the swinging doors, now wearing a new set of heels, stuffing the old pair into her bag. She walked over and hugged Sophia, passed a cool gaze over Jared, then headed for the door, fingers digging for her cell phone.
Jared set his jaw and chased after her, skidding over the hardwood to block her path to the exit. She froze, then backed up as he stepped forward, herding her back to the floor. She narrowed her eyes as he stalked her, clearly following the tango beat, enticing her. Attempting to circle around him failed, as he blocked her every move.
One more step to the center of the room, then she answered, moving up into his dance space. “All right.” She flung her bag onto the table, took his hands, and let him lead. He let himself smile as they tangoed across the floor, moving perfectly in sync as they always did. He spun her out, back into his arms, and then a promenade with a quick head whip.
Adrianne smiled, clearly pleased with his response. “I knew you’d come to your senses.”
Jared froze. Come to his senses? Suddenly he could see where this was leading -- a mindless parade of monotonous steps, never-changing, never questioned. Like lifeless puppets in a music box, directed by lock-stepping dance Nazis. It made his feet itch, his blood race.
He dropped her hands and spun, leaping in the air. The smile dropped off her face instantly. He landed beside her and improvised a quick 3-step rhythm with the music, pulling her against his body to get her to follow. She fought, planting her feet and shoving at his chest. “No! I don’t want this!”
He spun her around to face him. “What do you want?” he demanded, sick and tired of all the games.
Adrianne glared at him. “Right now? Right now I want a partner who can dance!” Abruptly she smiled, full of teeth and not in the least bit friendly. “Did you hear the news? Jamie White was in a car accident last night, broke both her legs. Tom Welling’s looking for a new partner.”
Jared recoiled, surprised at the venom and triumph in her voice. Was this really sweet Adrianne, whom he’d danced with for the last three years? Where was this hellcat coming from?
“And guess what, Jared?” Adrianne poked him in the chest with her finger. “I called him earlier. Said I was in need of a partner too.”
As if on cue, the doors were shoved open, and Tom Welling strode in, heading straight for Adrianne. Dark hair perfectly coiffed and muscles clearly evident in a tight tee shirt, he smiled that gleaming white-toothed (probably capped) charming grin at her. “Adrianne? Glad you called. I believe you and I are about to begin a beautiful partnership.”
Jared stood there dumbly, brain on overload. What the hell was this? He glanced from Tom’s beaming face to Adrianne’s as the scorned hellcat disappeared back into the sweet face he thought he knew almost as well as his own. She grinned back at Tom and held out her hand. He took it, kissed her knuckles, gently tugging her away from Jared and into his arms.
Jared could only watch as they started to dance together, smiling. Blinking, he rubbed a hand across his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, then stumbled away, not caring about the pitying looks the other dancers were giving him. He just needed to get away.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Evening was approaching by the time the noise from the dance studio faded, and Jared felt safe enough to come down off the roof. The building wasn’t that high, but still managed to have a decent view of the sunset over the buildings of downtown San Antonio. If he squinted, he could even see the whitewashed area where the Alamo was. Ever since he’d started coming to this dance studio, he liked to come up here on the rooftop patio to think.
Right now he had a hell of a lot to think about.
Jared listened to them closing up shop downstairs, making out Kim’s sharp barks of direction with Sam’s rough sweetness kicking stragglers out, Jeff’s deep basso mixing throughout. He waited until he could only distantly hear one set of footsteps downstairs then came down. Most of the studio was dark now, only a single light left on over the center of the dance floor.
Kim came out of the back room and nodded at him, faintly resigned but attempting a smile. “Interesting day.” Jared just nodded, looking away into the dark. His coach huffed out a breath. “Look Jared, it’ll be fine. We’ll find you a new partner. I’ll make some calls, get some try-outs scheduled for this week.”
“Thanks,” Jared mumbled, knowing he really didn’t deserve this. But for as stern as Kim could be, he always seemed to know exactly what Jared needed. And right now Jared needed a partner and some hope more than he needed yet another scolding.
“Get some sleep, Jared,” came the final gentle admonishment, then Kim left, leaving Jared to his thoughts in the still darkness.
After a long moment, Jared walked over to the mirrors lining one wall and just looked at himself. Was this him? How did he go from sweetheart of the dance floor to a sudden pariah? Just because of a few non-regulation steps?
There was an easy way to fix this. All he needed to do was fall in line, dance what they’d taught him, and do it well. All he had to do was . . . conform.
Jared made a face at his reflection. Growing up with no parents in the picture and dancing competitively had had a huge impact on his social life. Kids are cruel bastards, and he’d endured relentless teasing throughout high school, putting up with gay slurs and pansy jokes just because he liked to dance. He’d learned the hard way that it was better to be yourself than to try and conform to whatever they wanted you to be.
What was it with the mixed messages? Sam and Jeff had always done their best to replace his parents, encouraging him to be himself and not be afraid to take chances. They knew him, had allowed him to experiment with other dance forms in the past, and seemed to tolerate his enthusiasm for physical expression. Yet now Sam and Kim were all but ordering him to toe the line, follow the rules.
What was so wrong with the way he danced?
To say what was actually wrong with them you’d have to be an experienced professional, like myself.
Right now I want a partner who can dance!
I think you looked like a giraffe in a blender. On frappe.
Drawing in a deep breath, Jared closed his eyes, listened for his heartbeat. The steady rhythm moved down to his feet, setting the beat, and he started to dance.
The movement lulled his churning thoughts even as it sped his blood, energy pulsing through him. He did a couple spins and a hitch kick, loving the way his legs tightened and released, following the rhythm as he stretched back, arms arching high for the ceiling before he snapped back for a double twist that turned into an elbow drop. He held the handstand for a moment, then flopped back and rolled onto his knees.
Flinging himself away from the mirror, he let his body move at will, hearing the beat in his head, his heart, his muscles singing with the workout. This was the kind of thrill dancing used to give him, the adrenaline heightening his senses, letting him own the space. The floor was his, the whole studio was his to play in, to stretch out and move and own.
He slid his body over the counter separating the kitchenette area from the dance floor, twisting at the last second to avoid knocking over the coffeepot, stretching in a lunge before throwing himself back over the counter, landing on his hands and turning a somersault back to his feet. His bangs flopped into his eyes, then swung away with a jerk of his head, plastering to the sweat beading at his temples.
Moving back to the center of the floor, Jared closed his eyes and just let his feet move, playing with the different steps he’d been taught, mixing them together into something that felt unique, felt like his. It was like this that he felt he could finally breathe, no restrictions tying his feet, no regulations stifling in his chest.
Opening his eyes as he went into a pirouette, he automatically found a reference point to spot . . . a pair of wide green eyes watching him.
Startled, Jared lost his balance and crashed out of the spin, slamming into the mirror, his hands barely keeping his face from acquainting itself with the hard surface. Gasping for breath, he let himself calm down for a second before he looked back over to the doorway.
“Sorry! Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Green Eyes said sheepishly, emerging from the doorway. Those eyes were behind a pair of black-framed glasses, half-hidden by dirty blond bangs. He shuffled his feet for a second then commented, “Well, that’s looking pretty good.”
Jared frowned, confused and a bit piqued at being spied on. “What are you doing here?”
“I . . . I was just . . . looking for someone,” his spy said, blushing slightly.
“Everyone’s gone home,” Jared pointed out, stepping away from the mirror, a faint twinge of embarrassment at being caught tinting his cheeks.
“You haven’t,” the guy pointed out. He looked down, took a deep breath and seemed to steel himself. “All right, I was waiting for you. I have . . . well, I had an idea, and I think I have a mutually beneficial proposition for you.”
Jared’s eyebrows raised, pique fading as intrigue replaced it. “Really? Well, first things first. Who are you?”
“Oh, sorry. I’m Jensen.” Jensen stepped closer and held out his hand. Warily Jared shook it, noting the firm grip and elegant fingers, feeling assurance warring with shaky nerves.
“Jared. You already knew that, but it’s only polite.” He smiled, and Jensen gave him a crooked smile back. “So what was this about a proposition?”
Jensen blushed slightly. “Well, I had an idea. You’re currently without a partner, right?”
“Yeah, as everyone at the studio today witnessed,” Jared’s bad mood returned briefly.
“Yeah, that sucked. But you need a partner to dance with, someone who can dance your way, your steps. And I need a partner too.”
Jared stared at him a long moment. Was this guy off his meds? “Wait . . . are you suggesting I dance with you?”
“Not in competitions or anything,” Jensen hurriedly assured him. “It’s just . . . okay, I know it’s kinda weird. But I need someone to teach me, help me practice, since Kim and Sam . . . well, they're great, they just . . . they don't really notice me." He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, then took a deep breath to center himself for the next part. "And you need to work on your steps. What you danced was amazing, but it could be even better. I really think we can help each other out here.”
“How could you help me?” Jared frowned at him.
“With your steps. I like them, I really do. I like to dance my own steps too.” Jensen looked down at this admission, biting his lip. “Look, Jared, I saw you dance at the festival. The basics are good, real good. But you’re overdoing it. I think you could be a lot better if you kept it a bit simpler, danced more from the heart, and worked on your musicality . . .”
Jared half-turned, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly. Another critic. God, could this day get any worse? “How long have you been here?”
“At the studio? About 15 months. Why?”
Great. That’s all he needed, a star-struck beginner trying to capitalize on a weak moment. Jared started to walk away, hands shoved in his pockets. “Listen, you’re a beginner. I don’t have time for this. Why don’t you just go home?”
“Hey!” Jensen grabbed his elbow, swinging him around. “Don’t you brush me off like that.”
Jared shot him a dark look. “A beginner has no right to approach an open amateur with the intention of dancing non-federation steps, with only four weeks until Nationals, and especially since we can’t dance together as partners. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Yeah, and an open amateur has no right to dance non-federation steps in the first place, but you did anyway. Jesus Christ, no one warned me you could be such a prick.” Jensen crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “Do you want to dance your own steps or not?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Jared snapped, so very tired all of a sudden.
“It’s my business because I think we can help each other, and right now I’m the only one on your side,” Jensen retorted. “Everyone else thinks you’re a joke.”
Jared stared at him for a second, getting a good look at the fire in his eyes and set of his jaw. “Geez, you’re blunt,” he muttered.
“Only when dealing with self-important jerks,” Jensen shot back. “Clearly I wasted my time here.” He turned on his heel, and Jared watched him stalk towards the door, seeing the power in his stride, the slight swagger from bow-legs, the confident grace in his body posture. He walked like a dancer.
Jared sighed. “Wait a sec.” Jensen paused but didn’t turn. Jared swallowed; this had been bothering him all day. “When I danced . . . did I look like a giraffe in a blender?”
Jensen did turn at that, an eyebrow quirked up. “A giraffe in a blender? No.” He paused a beat, then smirked, “More like an octopus on a ceiling fan.”
Despite himself, Jared snorted out a laugh. He looked down at his shoes, then back up to meet Jensen’s assessing gaze. “What makes you think you can help me? I thought you wanted me to teach you?”
“Ballroom, yes.” Jensen shoved his hands through his hair, looking irritated for a second, but not at Jared. “I’ve had some dance training in the past, not a lot, but enough. And I’ve been dancing freestyle for years, y'know, for fun. But if I want to compete, I have to learn how to dance IDS ballroom. That’s why I’m here, but around this studio, I’m a non-entity. The instructors like to focus their attention on their favorites. I should be up in the intermediate class, but you need a partner for that, which I don’t have.”
“What about . . . what’s her name, the brunette who looks like she ran lip-first into a beehive?”
“Jessica?” Jensen snorted. “She can barely stand me. I think she’s still angry about her former partner leaving, and I was the only unpaired guy she could dance with. We don’t really suit each other. Sam likes her well enough, but when we’re together they kind of ignore us.”
Jared nodded, sympathizing. He knew dance studio politics, and he knew Kim. The man tried to be as fair as possible in most situations, but he definitely had his favorites he liked to spend the most time and effort on, like Jared. He cocked his head. “You really think you can help me?”
Jensen just looked at him for a long moment. “Yes,” he said finally. “I do. I think we can help each other.”
Jared nodded, mind made up and heart just a bit lighter. “Okay then. Let’s start with you. Cha cha.”
Startled, Jensen put up his hands as Jared approached, which he grabbed into position. Pulling the other man close, Jared shook his head at his stiff posture. “Loosen up a bit. I’m not gonna bite.” Jensen let out a weak chuckle but his shoulders relaxed marginally. Jared counted off then stepped forward. Jensen fumbled a bit, nearly stepped on Jared’s toes, and Jared groaned. “C’mon, you can’t even do a basic!”
“Excuse me for not being used to dancing the girl’s part!” Jensen snapped back. He huffed out a breath then got into position again. Jared counted off again, slower, then tried again. This time Jensen moved with him, biting his lip in concentration as they moved through a series of basics and a turn.
Jared admitted to himself that this was kind of nice. Jensen picked up his cues easily, moving gracefully with Jared’s body, and Jared didn’t have to arch his neck to watch a partner’s eyes, as Jensen was nearly as tall as he was. Adrianne was fairly tall, and in her dance heels she was as tall as Jensen, so his body posture felt familiar, not uncomfortable at all. He eased them into some of the more complicated steps, which Jensen watched, scrutinizing, before imitating.
By the time they called it quits for the night, Jared figured it hadn’t been such an awful day after all.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Given that the first lessons weren’t until 9am, Jared had no problem meeting Jensen at the studio at 6am. Jensen had a slight problem with it, given the way he was grumbling into his coffee mug as he walked upstairs to the smaller practice room. Jared quirked a smile. “Not a morning person?”
“Not by a long shot,” Jensen growled, chugging from the steaming mug as if hoping to pour the caffeine directly into his bloodstream. He watched as Jared bounded around the room, messing with the CD player, changing his shoes, stretching, with a slightly pained and disbelieving expression. “How the hell are you this energetic at such a god-awful time in the morning?”
Jared shrugged. “I’ve always been a morning person. Besides, when I was in high school, I had dance lessons every morning at 5:30 before classes.”
“Good thing I didn’t get into it until after school then. So I could wait until a sane hour of the day.”
Jared laughed, continuing his morning stretches with a set of sit ups. Jensen shook his head and started his own stretching routine. They worked in silence for a few minutes, then once they were properly warmed up, Jensen crossed to the center of the floor with Jared. “Okay, Energizer Bunny, your turn today.”
Jared bounced on his toes. Jensen put a hand on his shoulder, physically holding him down. “That’s your first problem. You’ve got energy to spare, but nowhere to put it. Tell me, where do you dance?”
“What? Here? Um . . . on the floor?”
“Yeah, on the floor. Not in the air, not on the ceiling. The occasional jump or leap can look really cool, but too many and you just resemble a Mexican jumping bean.” Jensen eyed him up and down, which caused Jared to flush lightly. “Jesus, how freakin’ tall are you?”
“About 6 foot 4. Always been a problem trying to find a partner that could work with my height.”
“Yeah, I can see why. And that’s another problem with your dancing. Long limbs. You gotta keep them more under control, make your movements more graceful, less spastic. When you were dancing regulation, you were graceful, in control, powerful. Once you started dancing your own, you still had that power, but you looked like . . .”
“An octopus in a ceiling fan, I know.”
“Don’t pout. It makes you look like a toddler who’s just lost his shoe.”
“And here everyone keeps telling me I look like a sad puppy.”
Jensen rolled his eyes but chuckled. “All right, I’m going to turn on some music. Go with what you were doing yesterday, but keep it simple and under control.” He cued up the player, and a techno beat poured out of the speakers, vibrating through the air. Jared closed his eyes, feeling the beat, nodding his head. He started to move, first his feet, then his hips, doing a simple salsa step that he added upon, throwing in a couple spins.
Opening his eyes, he saw Jensen watching him, moving slightly to the beat, keeping the pulse in his hips and shoulders. Abruptly his movements turned more fluid, sensual, still moving to the beat but clearly feeling something more. Jared stuttered, missed a step and nearly hooked his own ankle, staggering sideways. He blushed fiercely as Jensen cocked his head curiously at him, pushing his glasses back up his nose.
“That’s the second time you’ve tripped. Are you always this clumsy, or is it just me?”
“I think it’s you,” Jared returned, narrowing his eyes playfully.
“Nah, I think it’s those big feet of yours, Sasquatch.”
“Well, you know what they say about guys with big feet,” Jared said without thinking.
The next instant he blushed so hard his whole head must have caught fire. Oh God, why the hell did he have to go open his big mouth? Jensen smirked, clearly keeping a laugh in even as his own cheeks went pink. “No, what do they say?” He quirked an eyebrow as he let Jared simmer and sputter for a few moments longer, then cracked up laughing.
Jared shook his head, feeling his cheeks burn. “I have big feet to fit in my big mouth,” he muttered. “Chronic foot in mouth syndrome.”
Jensen calmed, smiling widely at him. “Alright, moving on. That was looking better. You looked focused, in control. Before you tripped, anyway.”
Jared made a face at him. “Well, why don’t you come off the wall and show me how it’s done, then.”
“Oooh, calling me out?” Jensen hesitated for a long moment. "Okay." He hit a button and the song restarted, techno beat blaring out.
“Why techno?” Jared asked. He’d never danced to such a synthesized beat before. Kim and Sam mostly stuck to the classics for their lessons, and dance-approved Latin for competitions. Even when he learned a bit of break-dancing in high school, that was to old school hip-hop and rap.
Jensen shrugged. “It’s got a good strong beat, simple to dance to. I like to use this to warm up. Haven’t you ever gone clubbing?”
“Uh, not really. Not my kinda scene, you know.” Jared rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. What was it about this guy that made him feel like such a kid sometimes? Jared was the champion dancer; this was his domain, his forte.
“S’okay, not really mine either.” Jensen half-closed his eyes, listening to the music as he walked to the center of the floor near Jared. Jared watched him approach, saw how his whole body moved to the beat, and slowly backed away to give him more room. Jensen’s cheeks were pink, and he was avoiding Jared’s eyes, but he moved with confidence.
Jensen’s movements were simple to start with, just feeling out the music and the dance space, and gradually he opened up, steps becoming more energetic and intricate, arms getting involved, nothing too flowery. And then it happened again - what had been simple suddenly became sensual, body flowing with the music, still keeping the beat but it changed the entire feeling of the dance.
Jared swallowed hard, belatedly realizing that the music had changed feel as well. Jensen danced, letting the music move him, not just the beat. His dance became part of the music, emphasizing it, playing with it, and Jared couldn’t look away, mesmerized.
When the music stopped, Jensen looked over at Jared and flushed. “What?” he asked, slightly defensive.
Jared shook his head, realizing he was still staring, and probably gaping like a fish. “Nothing. It’s just . . . I dunno. But um, yeah, that was . . . that was good.”
“Well, you wanted me to show you.” Jensen seemed slightly flustered, walking quickly off the dance floor to the CD player. “You wanna work on something else now?”
Something else. Yes, that sounded very good. “How ‘bout salsa?”
“Hmmm, dunno if we have the chips and beer to go with it.”
Jensen winked as Jared chuckled. “Smartass. Put in Kim’s Latin mix, track 3.”
Sunlight drenched the wood floors of the studio as Jared and Jensen danced, working through techniques. To Jared’s surprise, Jensen knew how to salsa fairly well. “Spent some time down in Mexico, and it’s easy to pick up,” Jensen shrugged. “The ladies love to dance. Vertically or horizontally,” he added with a wicked grin.
Just for that, Jared dipped him.
They called it quits shortly before the first class showed up at 9am. Jared was in the locker room changing his shirt when he heard Sam walk in. “Oh Jensen, you’re already here. Good. Could you make some coffee for us? Thanks.” Her footsteps reverberated across the hardwood. “Jared, you here?”
“In here, Sam!” he called, frowning slightly. Since when did Sam have one of the beginners make the coffee? Before he could ponder it further, his aunt poked her head in, smiling.
“There you are. You ran out so early this morning, I didn’t get a chance to tell you. Kim’s been making some calls, and he’s got three girls lined up for try-outs tomorrow.”
“Anybody I know?”
Sam shook her head. “Not so far. But don’t worry about that, I’m sure that you’ll find someone compatible in time.”
“Is Kim instituting a height limit this time?” Jared asked with a crooked smile, and Sam slapped his arm. “What? Sam, you know better than anyone how ridiculous it looks when you’re trying to dance with a partner who only comes up to your belly button.”
“Yes, I know.” She shook her head with a mock sigh. “Damn kid, what the hell did we feed you? You and Sandy used to dance so well together, until you had to go and shoot up almost a foot.”
“And she moved to LA, Sam. Either way, we wouldn’t have ended up dancing together.” Jared shut his locker with a clang. “I’m just glad Gabriel joined the studio, to give Alona someone to dance with.”
“Yeah, ‘cause she sure as hell wasn’t going to dance with you again,” Sam said archly. “I believe the word she used to describe that was ‘looming’.”
Jared laughed as they walked back into the main room, eyes automatically surveying the room and landing on Jensen filling the coffee carafe. He frowned again, but then Kim called everyone to attention and music echoed across the room.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
part 3