The Red Shoes: for Ladysunrope

[semyaza]

Title: The Red Shoes
Author: blackbird_song
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: R (Language, sexual references, adult subject matter)
Challenge: You Wear It Well
Word Count: 8368 (although MS Word makes mistakes)
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my husband for the beta. My recipient left me lots of latitude, for which I am eternally grateful. I hope very much that this fills your brief, even though I've pushed the envelope on a couple of issues. The title of the story is used more as a tribute to what the fairy tale (and especially the very famous movie) has to say about being driven than as a literal item of clothing. In fact, the actual article of clothing appears only in the backstory that I wrote for the piece.

"Can I help you?" Deb's acidic sulk pervaded the lobby and pushed into Billy's already dispirited ear.

"Yes, I'm here about the advert in the paper." The voice was male, with a sharp tang and low huskiness that, along with the Northern English accent, perked up said ears.

"You'll have to come back on Thursday night," said Deb, brusquely. "That's when the introductory classes are. Like the ad said."

Billy winced. "That's another customer lost," he muttered under his breath, thanking his penny-pinching habits for the noisy drawer from which he pulled the day's files. Deb's hearing was formidable.

"Erm, I'm not here for lessons. I'm here about the job."

"You're late," said Deb, woodenly.

"I beg your pardon?" The man-Billy couldn't quite guess on hearing alone how old he was-had a tone in his voice that lifted Billy just the tiniest bit more from his workaday stupor. Pity Deb was about to shoo him out the door.

Deb sighed her warning, and Billy could hear her eyes rolling up at the hapless applicant. "The telemarketers session was this morning. Like the ad said. You can fill out an application, if you want, but we won't be hiring again for another couple of weeks."

"Oh, I see!" All of a sudden, the man's voice sounded higher, younger in its enthusiasm. "I'm here about the instructor's position."

"Oh?" Deb's voice shifted subtly, and Billy could picture her looking the man up and down. "Just wait there, a moment," she said at last, with the warmth of a turtle.

With a sigh, Billy straightened the folders in his arms, and his face into careful neutrality as Deb approached.

"There's a guy here about the teaching job. Sounds like one of your sort."

Billy rolled his eyes. "Can he dance?"

"I dunno," said Deb, coolly.

"Does he have any experience dealing with customers?"

"I've no idea."

"Just walked in off the street, eh?"

Deb rolled her eyes, in turn. "Just like everyone else we've hired in the last two years."

"Is he legal, at least?"

"Look, are you going to see him, or not, Mister I-run-the-dancing-not-you?"

"It wouldn't hurt you to check these things, Missus I-run-all-business-matters-cause-you're-too-bloody-incompetent-to-do-it," Billy shot back.

"Fine, whatever. I'll tell him to leave." Deb turned on her heel.

"I'll see him, Deb," said Billy, almost an apology.

She nodded sharply and turned for the back room.

Billy sighed as she left without a word, and then made his way toward the lobby.

On the burgundy-carpeted floor of the lobby, a young man was stretched out in a boneless over split with one foot resting three steps up the grand stairway.

Billy paused in the doorway of the downstairs studio and watched, silently, as the man switched legs in a fluid movement that looked rather a lot like a Hollywood special effect. The sheer bonelessness of it was impressive enough, but the discipline in every inch of extension imparted a definition and beauty of form that made Billy blink.

And just as Billy thought he could no longer stand it, the man straightened, and then began to bend backwards, a flop of soft, blonde fringe falling back to reveal the most piercing eyes Billy had ever seen.

"Had some dance experience, have you?" Billy would never quite know how he managed that, or how he kept his smile cordial and professional.

The man blinked up at him, looking about as floored as Billy felt. He blinked again. "A bit, yeah."

"Might want to watch your hips, then. They're not quite square."

The man's expression turned sour. "Always had trouble with that," he said, as he gathered himself back together and stood, brushing off his trousers before holding out his hand. "Dominic Monaghan."

"Billy Boyd."

The handshake was firm, which was just as well since Billy was tempted to snatch his hand back at the electricity of it. He held it for as long as the situation required, but found his hand retained for the smallest fraction of a second, like the perfect delay in an underarm spin in American rumba-perfect if one's partner had equally impeccable timing.

"Never heard of you," said Dominic, with a grin.

Billy produced a small smile, utterly devoid of humour. "Then you must've grown up without a television." He moved past Dominic and mounted the stairs. "Come on up to the office. You can tell me about what you've done and why you're here."

"All right, so I did hear of you, then. I just didn't expect you to be running a ballroom dance school in Massachusetts."

"Nobody here pays any attention to what goes on in Glasgow," said Billy, leading the way into the office. "Now," he continued, waving Dominic to a chair, "what brings you to the McKinnon dance school?"

Dominic shrugged. "I need a job."

"D'you have a work permit?"

"No, but-"

"Then I'd say this interview is over," said Billy, before he reached the other side of the desk.

"I have dual citizenship," said Dominic, in much the same tone he'd used when he'd first got past Deb.

Billy winced inwardly. "Ah. Well then, how about a resumé?"

"Thanks. Don't mind if I do," grinned Dominic.

"Sense of humour. Very good. Now, would you mind telling me about your dance experience?"

"Well, I danced with a little dance company in Connecticut for the last five years," said Dominic, drawing his knees up against his chest. "I also taught a bit at Bebe Cournoyer in Hartford, and before that, I studied with Alain Benoit in New York."

"What sort of dance did you teach at Bebe's?"

"Bit of everything, really. Jazz, tap, modern. Ballet, of course." Dominic fidgeted.

"Didn't like the ballet?"

"Not so much. It's a good foundation, and all, but it gets taken a bit too seriously. Bebe's great, though. Doesn't allow any anorexia or size competition. It's the only reason she got me to teach there."

"She's fussy. How'd she find you?"

"At a performance in New York," said Dominic, evasively.

Billy peered at Dominic. "Want to tell me a bit more about that 'little dance company in Connecticut?'"

"Oh, you know, just one of those innovative little groups that catches people's attention with their cool moves and sexy costumes."

"One that goes around the world, from time to time, perhaps?" asked Billy, as a smile worked its way onto his face.

"Could be," said Dominic, nonchalantly.

"Begins with a 'P', does it?"

"'P' for 'perhaps,' yeah."

"Ends with an 's?'"

Dominic sighed and pulled his legs up, pointing both feet straight towards the ceiling. "And it just might have an 'ilobolus' in the middle," he said, through his stretch.

"You danced for Pilobolus?"

Dominic nodded.

"Why on earth did you leave?"

Dominic shrugged and let his legs fall back into a more relaxed sitting position, one draped over the arm of his chair, the other folded at a questionable angle across the seat. "It was time to move on," he said at last.

"You won't mind if we give them a ring if we decide we're interested in you?"

"No, though they'll laugh at you. Well, me, really," amended Dominic with a small smile.

Billy looked up from his note-taking to look at Dominic. "Hmm. Any ballroom experience?"

"Not really, I'm afraid. Not since I was young."

"Your mum made you take it in school?" asked Billy, with a knowing smile. "Made you dance with a sticky little girl?"

"The nuns, actually. And they made me dance with a boy, most of the time."

"Interesting school, that."

"It got really interesting when we went to Blackpool. Sister Mary caught me and my mate trying some of the sexier lifts backstage when we were waiting to meet the stars."

"Really?" Billy perked up a lot more than he'd thought possible when his alarm had gone off that morning.

"Oh, yeah! Some of the pros started giving us tips. We had quite a crowd gathered when she found us. Must have been quite a shock to her to find him holding me upside down with my head in his crotch."

Billy burst out laughing for the first time in well over a month. "So, did they send you to Borstal or the Royal Academy of Dance?" he wheezed.

"Erm…" Dominic shifted just as his foot started tapping against the seat.

Billy feigned shock. "They sent you to Borstal? No wonder you ran away to America!"

Dominic snorted. "If I call you a wanker now, does that mean I get the job?"

"Only if you tell me what you scored on your dance A-levels," joked Billy.

"A's, all around," said Dominic, quietly, not meeting Billy's eyes. "My teacher told me I would've had A-stars if they'd been available."

Billy took this in as he appraised the man before him. He'd known lots of people in the business, of course, and most of the young prodigies tended to trumpet their achievements very loudly. Of course, none of them had danced with a troupe like Pilobolus, either. "What made you decide to apply here?" he asked, after a long moment.

"I sort of … needed a change." There was a guarded, sad look in Dominic's eyes that Billy thought he might recognize, a little.

"But you didn't want to leave dance, altogether?" Billy stifled the urge to curse at the knowing, wistful gentleness in his own voice.

Dominic looked up at him then, and smiled, showing something of himself that he hadn't yet allowed out. "Thought you might understand."

Billy went cold at the thought.

"I didn't mean it like that," said Dominic, immediately. "I haven't gone through anything remotely like what you have. And you can run a background check on me, if you like. I won't be offended."

Billy stiffened, in spite of himself.

"I didn't mean to suggest that … fuck. I'd best quit while I’m behind, as Bebe would say." He smirked and then let his eyes drop. "I'd best be going, hadn't I?"

Billy pulled himself together far more quickly than he normally thought he could, soothed by something in Dominic's vulnerability. He rose and stepped around the huge, gaudy desk. "Let's dance," he said, holding out his hand to Dominic.

Dominic gazed up at him, his face lightening as though a shadow passed from it. "This is a bit sudden, isn't it?" He fluttered his eyelashes. "I mean, we've only just met…."

"C'mon and show me what you know, you daft bugger. And don't pick me up and turn me upside down, or I'll puke all over your shoes!"

Of course Billy had hired Dominic; he'd have been stupid not to. The man was a natural, even if his American Smooth style was sloppy and the other instructors had to keep at him about it. What Deb couldn't understand was why Billy didn't advertise that he'd scored an instructor whose face and form had been plastered in the best places all over the world, albeit often upside down or in arrangements of limb that were barely recognizable. For Christ's sake, the man had danced with Pilobolus! Why not take advantage to boost flagging enrolments? The pay would be better for all of them, and perhaps Billy wouldn't spend so much time worrying about money and the leaks in the ceiling.

Deb shook her head and shoved the file drawer closed, gasping as the force of doing so sent a bolt of pain down her spine. For about the twelfth time that day, she cursed Billy and his penny-pinching under her breath.

"Are you all right?"

Deb swung around, wincing at a second round of pain. "Oh, yeah, just great," she said, in too much pain for all the sarcasm she wanted to reach her voice.

"I think I could help with that," said Dominic, directing his gaze exactly to where Deb hurt.

"No, thanks," said Deb, her brain fogging in pain at the thought. "Got three compressed discs from a car accident."

"I thought it might be something like that," said Dominic with a nod.

"Are you a psychic prodigy, too?" she asked, with a rueful smile.

"Nah, just had a boyfriend who was a chiropractor, once."

"Taught you everything he knew?" Deb eased herself into the chair behind the office desk, unable to stifle another wince.

"Not exactly," said Dominic, coyly. "More like his girlfriend had a similar problem after she fell off a horse."

"Ouch!"

"Was that for the injury, or the girlfriend/boyfriend thing?"

Deb rolled her eyes. "Whatever." Then her back stabbed her. "Can you really do anything about this?"

"I think so," said Dominic, "at least a bit."

"I can't believe I'm going to do this again," muttered Deb. "Where do you want me?"

"A chiropractic table would be good, but we can't have everything. I'll get my exercise mat. Be back in half a tick." Dominic winked and shot out of the office.

Deb groaned in frustration and set about reconciling the books. She heard the others greeting Dominic and wondered at how easily he had won them over. Even snobbish Jasmine, who never took to people right away, had started inviting him to the clubs two days after they'd met. Of course, that was probably because he'd been famous (or almost famous) for a few years, and could help Jasmine's career, Deb reasoned. But then there was arch-conservative Daisy, who took an instant liking to him despite his ultra-liberal views. And, of course, the very married Steve, who'd taken him bowling his first weekend.

Suddenly, a wave of sadness overwhelmed her as she remembered being that popular, that charming, that eager to do things with people. The accident had laid her out flat for more than a year. Being unable to participate in group activities during her senior year in high school had cut off her social life just when she'd been starting to believe that she was well and truly liked. She realized now that she wasn't sure she'd ever recovered from that. And then, once she'd managed to get her accounting degree, she'd met Billy.

Billy had been lovely. Billy had been so patient with her as she'd learned her way round the books and the dance business, and she'd shown him around, shown him off to her friends and business acquaintances and drummed up a good influx of business for the studio. She'd revelled in the confidence she'd found anew in having the handsome Scot on her arm, and he'd sought her company more and more until one day, she managed to get his story from him. They'd fallen into each other's arms when she'd told him she understood, and when he'd proposed three months later, she'd thought she was the luckiest person in the world. But then, the honeymoon had ended, the fighting had started, the weight had piled on, and over the years, the constant pain from the disc compression wore steadily away at her psyche, her temper and her ability to be pleasant to people. Now, in the limbo between court date and final decree, her world had turned dull and hazy, and it almost hurt to have Dominic injecting colour into it.

Dominic darted back into the office and unrolled the mat onto the floor in front of the desk. "Sorry about the delay. I got a bit waylaid by the others." He gave her arm a friendly squeeze. "Can you lie on the mat, face down?"

"Yeah, but you might have to help me up, and I'm heavy," said Deb, more grumpily than she'd meant to.

Dominic snorted. "If I can lift three people in a dance routine and still look gorgeous doing it, a good-looking doll like you shouldn't be any problem, at all." He peered at her, suspiciously. "Unless you're some sort of alien who's a lot heavier than you look, of course. You aren't made of iron, are you?"

Deb laughed, in spite of herself. "No," she said, giving him a mocking smile.

"Right, then. No problem." Dominic grinned at her and gestured to the mat. "Your very careful massage awaits."

Deb shook her head, feeling a weight lifting from her shoulders as she descended carefully to the mat with Dominic's help. "Just don't put any pressure on the discs," she warned.

"I won't go anywhere near them," said Dominic, his voice as warm and soothing as the hands that started working gently at Deb's shoulders.

The last thing Billy expected to find when he walked into the office at half past twelve was his soon-to-be-ex-wife groaning in exquisite pleasure under the hands of his newest instructor. He really wasn't quite sure whether to laugh or take umbrage. Perhaps a bit of both… He drew himself up and put on his best brogue. "Just what do you think you're doing to my wife?"

"Giving her a massage, you heartless git," said Dominic, paying studious attention to Deb's back.

Deb burst into a peal of laughter. "What does his face look like?" she asked Dominic.

"Hang on, let me check," he replied, looking up at Billy.

Billy quickly hid any hurt that might have crept onto his face and glared at Dominic. He didn't think that he'd hidden it quickly enough, though, as he caught a flash of understanding in the pierce of Dominic's eyes.

"Ohh, I think we're in trouble, now," said Dominic. "At least I am. Not a good idea to call the boss a git."

"Or to manhandle the boss's wife," said Billy, taking advantage of the space Dominic had given him.

"I'm your ex-wife," said Deb, happily. "Almost."

"And her back's giving her a spot of trouble," said Dominic.

"And you're naked from the waist up," said Billy.

"What? And I missed it? Lemme see!" Deb started to crane her neck.

Dominic put a hand on Deb's neck. "Don't do that," he said, seriously. "You'll hurt yourself."

Deb relaxed immediately. "Sorry," she mumbled into the mat.

The image of Dominic's hand on Deb's neck-quiet, gentle, invincible-sent shivers through Billy's spine.

"That's better," said Dominic, soothing the muscles that had tensed. "I'm finished for this round. Let me know when you feel like getting up, and I'll help you."

"I can-"

"No disrespect, Billy, but let me? I promise I've no designs on her."

"Hey!" protested Deb, half-heartedly.

"Gay," countered Dominic.

"Bi," corrected Billy, "and shirt off?" He looked pointedly at Dominic's chest.

"Only so's I wouldn't sweat into it. Wouldn't want to scare the students off with me pong."

Deb groaned.

"Fair point," conceded Billy.

"Oh! Your one o'clock cancelled half an hour ago, Billy," said Deb.

"Again? Bloody hell! I suppose I should fire her as a student."

"I'll charge her for it, of course," said Deb.

"Och, I can't take her money if she didn't have a lesson-"

"It's company policy," said Deb, predictably. "Minimum cancellation notice of eight hours, or you get charged."

"I know that's what we said, but-"

"She's right, you know," said Dominic, thoughtfully. "It's not like you can rebook the lesson at such short notice, or she was in a fatal car crash."

"Yes, but she didn't actually get value for the money she paid," said Billy.

"Maybe, but then, if she actually gets charged this time, she might start taking her booking seriously."

"I've been trying to tell him that for years," said Deb.

"Quiet, you," said Dominic, with a grin. "Don't want to ruin it just when I have him on the hook, do you?"

Deb growled.

Dominic looked up at Billy, then. "Really, Bill, all the schools charge like that, and you can always make a special case for someone who actually needs it. Nobody else needs to know."

"In this place?" Billy snorted. "The gossip spreads so fast, all the students probably know you're massaging Deb half-naked, now."

"You think it spreads that fast?" Dominic eyed Billy, curiously.

"Well, of course it does!"

"Then how come I didn't know you and Deb were married until two weeks ago?"

"Oh that!" Billy blushed. "Well, we've always tried to-"

"Keep that private," finished Deb. "It really isn't-"

"Anyone else's business, after all, is it?" supplied Billy.

Dominic rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable!" He shook his head in apparent defeat. "Deb, you ready to stand up yet?"

"Yeah," sighed Deb, clearly not meaning it at all.

"All right, but I'll have to be out of here in fifteen, or Billy here'll sack me for being late filling in his cancellation slot."

"Interesting way to put it," said Billy. "Deb… You going to be all right?"

"Yeah, I think so. If I can get up." There was warmth in her voice. Warmth that Billy hadn't heard in more than two years.

He swallowed around a lump in his throat. "Good. I'll be in the main studio, Dominic." He fled before anyone could see or say anything.

Twenty minutes later, Dominic rushed across the length of the studio and hopped up onto the small, converted stage where Billy was standing by the sound booth, tapping his watch. "Sorry about that," he murmured. "Deb's back's pretty bad, and I didn't want to rush her."

"Is she feeling any better?"

"Yeah, she says she is. But I can't cure those discs. How long's she been living with that?"

Billy sighed. "Since she was in high school. Ten years ago, now. The doctors are telling her she should have surgery, but they're not sure whether it'll make it better or worse."

Dominic winced. "Yeah, my ex-boyfriend used to tell me about that sort of thing."

"The chiropractor, you mean? Or the race car driver? Or was it the cowboy, perhaps?"

"There hasn't been a cowboy. Yet." Dominic glared at Billy and leaned in, so he could speak without being overheard. "Are you always this much of a wanker when people sympathise with you?"

"Goodness, no!" Billy turned a bright smile on him. "You've only seen my good side."

Dominic groaned. "And just when I thought I'd found a job in a nice, peaceful place…."

Billy jumped off the stage. "Come on," he said. "Jasmine has a Foxtrot on, so let's revise Glenlivet, steps one through five."

"American?" wheedled Dominic.

"American," said Billy, gloating. "And you're the girl."

At nine o'clock that night, as their last student was leaving and he and Jasmine were starting to practice a bit of international rumba, Dominic became aware of a pair of eyes boring into his back.

"I think we have an audience," whispered Jasmine. "Is it time to impress the hell out of him, yet?"

Dominic grinned at her. "Let's make him faint!"

Instantly, Jasmine snapped into competition frame, a fierce light burning in her eyes. For a moment, Dominic flashed back to his time in Pilobolus, to the creative fire that had driven them all, until it had turned toxic between him and his partner. For a moment, he had such a strong urge to run as far and as fast as he could that he had to force himself to pull himself into frame and stand his ground. The very act of doing that brought the fire straight back into his core, and he looked into Jasmine's dark eyes and danced, as he had not in months.

And oh, but Jasmine's timing was perfect, and she was built to move this way, with her curvaceous body and a flexibility that very nearly matched his own, but oh, how much he wished that she could just let go and dance. And then, he led her through an alemana into an underarm spin and a backbend, and she looked up at him with that smouldering, sultry look that said, 'I'm yours' and meant 'for this second, while Billy is watching and wanting us both,' and Dominic felt himself tingle with life and passion and desire as he held the position for just that extra nanosecond, and another, before bringing her up with a snap and a gaze and turning them both. And there was Billy, staring at them-no, not them… him-with a depth of burning and desire that he hadn't seen since he'd been captured by burning, green eyes flickering for the briefest second past a head of curly blonde hair in the last dance he'd watched before he'd gone and got himself in trouble at…

Fuck! Blackpool!

With a supreme effort of will, Dominic dragged his mind back to Jasmine and the dance, and they finished side-on to Billy, with her in a split between Dominic's legs. Dominic had to take a moment before he could turn and look at his boss.

"Well?" said Jasmine, after they broke the pose. She walked seductively over to Billy. "What do you think?"

Billy swallowed, tearing his gaze from Dominic. "I think that I've been going too easy on you both," he said, his voice thick with something that sounded suspiciously like lust.

"What about competition?" Jasmine bounced up and down on her toes.

"Well, I don't know. The studio can't really afford to send you there-"

"If we did pro-am, we could take a bunch of our students with us and have them cover our costs in the entry fees we charge them. I was talking with Jimmy from Fred Astaire, and that’s how they do it, all the time."

"They run their own competitions. We'd have to go to an independent one, and the entry fees are already incredibly expensive-"

"Oklahoma Star's in eight months, and I've got students who are dying to go. That's plenty of time to get a group together, isn't it? And Dominic and I are really, really good." Jasmine batted her eyes at Billy, and Dominic suddenly felt like smacking her.

"You won't have an argument on that from me," said Billy, shifting his gaze from Jasmine to Dominic with a slow smile.

"Well, then, we have to go, right? We can't not go!" Jasmine put both her hands on Billy's crossed arms. "Please, Billy? Pleeeeease?"

"How about you, Dominic? Do you want to do this?"

There was a plea in Billy's question that Dominic wasn't quite able to decipher. Jasmine, on the other hand…

"I… hadn't really thought about doing something like that, to be honest," hedged Dominic. "I'd sort of hoped for a spate of boredom."

"You can't be serious," fumed Jasmine. "Come on! This is the Oklahoma Star Ball! You can be boring for the rest of your life!"

Dominic and Billy both turned a jaundiced eye on Jasmine, and Dominic had to stifle a laugh at the tableau, especially when Jasmine flushed.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said, with a flustered duck of her eyes.

"Who knows? Maybe you should've," shrugged Dominic. "My parents are both really interesting people, but my great-aunt? Boring as an old log. More boring, really, because old logs have things like bugs and moss and fungi on them."

"Ugh!"

"See? Maybe boringness skips a generation."

"Whatever," said Jasmine, rolling her eyes.

"Look, Jasmine," said Dominic, serious now, "I think you're a really good dancer with lots of potential, and you move brilliantly when you're motivated, so if I were going to do any sort of competition with another professional, it'd be with you. Seeing as how I can't dance with Billy, that is." He winked at Billy, who dutifully went crimson.

"But…?"

"But I really have to think about whether I want to do a competition at all. I just … it's … sort of … look, I just need … oh, fuck…" Dominic bolted from the room and into the gents' before Jasmine could corral him.

He thanked all that was good for a place that actually provided a bench in the men's room, and sat down on the thing, putting his head between his knees and breathing into his hands. Dammit, dammit, damn it! Why am I hyperventilating over a stupid competition? A feeling of utter calm rolled over him as he slipped to the floor and sat on the lino, knees drawn up, staring into space. The door opened, then.

"Dominic?" enquired Billy, gently.

"Over here," said Dominic, woodenly.

"Me and Jas thought you were being sick," offered Billy.

"Disappointed?"

"Hell, no!" Billy sat on the bench. "Want to talk about it?"

"What, about being sick?" Dominic wished his voice had been steadier, funnier.

"No, ya daft numpty! About whatever's got your knickers in a knot about this competition thing Jasmine's on about."

Dominic sighed and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I just … sort of need a break from the competitive stuff. It's why I came here, instead of applying to any of the other dance schools in, oh, the Eastern Seaboard."

"You mean because we're an unknown studio that never does anything or goes anywhere," said Billy, stiffly.

Dominic looked up at Billy to see thinly veiled hurt in his face. "No! Well, the lesser-known aspect did have its appeal, actually, but it was more that, well, you emphasize dance and fun, not 'kill the competition,' like everyone else seems to do." He rubbed his eyes. "Look, can we go down the pub, or something? I don't really want to talk about this sat on the lino in the loo, right?"

"Sure. Just let me check to make sure Jasmine and Deb have actually gone home." He winked and squeezed Dominic's shoulder.

"So," said Billy as he toyed with his beer, "why did you come here?"

"Don't you mean, 'What's a gorgeous talent like you doing in a dump like this?'" said Dominic, batting his eyelashes in a fetching tease.

"Well, it isn't in Glasgow, or Manchester, but I'd hardly call this place a dump."

Dominic laughed.

Billy gazed at him, looking his fill as Dominic focused on his beer.

"I left my last position because of creative differences between me and the group," said Dominic, at last.

"Yes, that's the one they told me when I rang them up that first day," said Billy, fixing Dominic with his gaze.

"But you want the real story, I suppose."

"If you wouldn't mind," said Billy.

"And what if I did?" Dominic took another thoughtful pull on his drink, fixing Billy with those intense eyes … blue … or were they grey?

Billy forced himself to shrug. "Then I'd stop asking, and you'd be fighting with Jasmine over this silly competition and I'd have to fire one of you, and the students would be very annoyed."

Dominic smiled. "Doesn't leave me much choice, does it?"

Billy cringed at the familiar tone in Dominic's voice, and put a hand on his arm. "Yes it does," he said, gently.

Dominic blinked and covered Billy's hand with his own, squeezing it with warmth. "Thanks for that," he said, huskily.

Billy sighed, squeezing Dominic's arm, in turn. "It's all right. I'll find a way to handle Jasmine. It won't be pleasant, but it's my job." He smiled, covering the mounting panic he always felt when he had a personnel problem to handle.

"You're cute when you're uncomfortable," observed Dominic, squeezing Billy's hand a little tighter before letting it go.

Billy laughed, in spite of himself. "So some of my students have told me."

"You also don't drink," said Dominic, looking pointedly at Billy's beer.

"Ah, yes. Well. Bit of a problem on that front. I sort of lost myself in a keg after Ali-well, after the incident."

"I don't know why you'd order a beer under those circumstances," said Dominic quietly, "but if it has anything to do with trying to impress me with your self-control, I'm already well and truly impressed without you having to go through that bit of torture."

"That's a beautiful thing to hear," said Billy, masterfully staving off a flush. "But it's more of a test for myself. Nobody ever told me I was an alcoholic, and I never got any treatment to get over it, or anything. Just one day, after a month of pub-crawling, I stopped. And I've always been afraid of taking a sip ever since, because I don't know what would happen if I did."

"Sounds more like a one-off to me, but I'm not going to push you into taking your first sip," said Dominic. "How often do you come in here?"

"Oh, about once a month, or so."

"Must drive the bartender mad," grinned Dominic.

"He does get a bit annoyed that I don't drink his carefully poured pint, you know. You'd think he brewed it himself, when it's just a pint of Budweiser."

Dominic grimaced and leaned forward. "There's the problem, mate," he said, under his breath. "That's not beer, it's goat piss!"

"Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?" quipped Billy.

Dominic chuckled. "Under other circumstances, that could be quite appealing," he said, gazing warmly at Billy.

"What about these circumstances?"

Dominic sighed. "There's stuff you don't know about me-"

"Which is why we're here," reminded Billy, pointedly.

"-And last I knew, you were straight."

Billy smiled. "Why don't you tell me why you're here, and then we'll discuss how straight I am?"

Dominic grinned and raised his glass towards Billy. "You're on," he said.

Billy touched his glass to Dominic's and took a small sip of his beer. "Ugh! I forgot how bad that shite is!"

Dominic laughed, and then looked down. "I loved Pilobolus," he said, softly. "It was everything I'd always wanted. Innovative, expressive, beautiful choreography combined with gorgeous bodies and scientific thought and exploration. I never worked so hard in my life, but I never felt so free, either."

"You're making me want to join," said Billy. "Except I'm too old and not pretty enough."

"You're not tall enough," quipped Dominic.

"Bastard," grumbled Billy.

Dominic smirked. "You could become a girl and join that way."

Billy gave an exaggerated sigh. "I like my monster too much."

"Monster, is it?" Dominic gave Billy an evil grin. "Care to have a little wager on that?"

"We're already doing 'you show me yours, I'll show you mine', aren't we?" retorted Billy.

"Yeah, so … yeah, I loved Pilobolus."

"I thought you might have, yeah."

"Wanker!"

"No, I mean it, Dominic. You're made for it. Well, I haven't seen you with nothing on but a dance belt, or whatever they don't wear there, but it's definitely the place for you. Right?"

"I thought so for four and a half years."

"But then…?"

"But then, I fell in love."

"With one of the dancers?"

"With all the dancers, at one time or another. That wasn't a problem; we all had sex."

"Sounds cosy," said Billy.

Dominic took another swig of his beer. "Raoul Saint-Pierre."

Billy seriously considered taking another (bigger) taste of his beer. "The choreographer?"

"The choreographer," said Dominic, with a bitterness that Billy hadn't heard before. "At least, he always referred to himself that way."

"Well, he is good," said Billy, "or so I've heard."

"He made sure everyone heard that," snorted Dominic. "And in fairness, he really is brilliant. Knew just how to make art from our bodies; how to enthral the audience. Us, too. We all loved him and wanted his attention, but he only had eyes for me." He smiled. "It was a real thrill, being chosen like that. Knowing I was special enough to catch a guy like him. I tried to be everything he wanted me to be, and for a long while, it worked. I was head over heels." Dominic gazed off for a moment.

"How long were you together?" asked Billy, quietly.

Dominic chuckled. "Depends how you count it. He courted me for a year. Well, more like teased and flirted, really. Watched me fall in and out of bed with the dancers for a bit. For all I know, he asked them how I was in bed, what I liked, that sort of thing."

"Clever chap," said Billy, dryly.

"He certainly thought so. And he thought I was one, too. Which I sort of was. I lost track of what was important and sort of fell into Raoul. Not the best way to be, really."

Billy nodded. "Especially if you lose track of yourself."

Dominic looked at him. "You don't approve?"

"It's not my business, but no, I don't like Raoul's sort of conniving, as a rule."

"Unless you're doing it yourself?"

"No, not even then, especially after what happened to Ali." Billy contemplated his beer.

Dominic winced and reached out, as if to squeeze Billy's arm, but hesitated.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up," said Billy. He forced a smile. "We're meant to be talking about why you're here. I think we were on, 'How long were you and Raoul together?'"

"Talk about conniving," snorted Dominic.

"I'm conniving to change the subject, not to get you in bed with me," said Billy, gracing Dominic with a beatific smile.

"You wound me," said Dominic, his face lightening a little despite the impressive frown.

"I'll be wounding you a little more if you don't get on with it," groused Billy, barely suppressing a smirk.

"Is that a promise?"

"Dominic!"

Dominic laughed. "Courted for a year … oh, yes … then we dated for a few weeks, became exclusive for a year, moved in together happily for six months, and then everything started to turn into something I hated. Only I didn't recognize it right away."

"What happened?" asked Billy, signalling to the bartender.

"He started wanting me to push harder, do more, do better, be better."

The bartender hove into view, eying Billy suspiciously. "Water, or gingerale?"

Billy laughed. "I'll take a half of your home-brewed root beer, plus whatever he's having," he said, jerking his thumb at Dominic.

"Getting adventurous, eh?" chorused Dominic and the bartender. They laughed and high-fived one another.

"Oi!"

The bartender grinned as he poured and served their drinks. "There you go, big spender. That'll be six seventy-five, even."

"Highway robbery," muttered Billy, leaving the bartender an extra dollar. He turned to Dominic. "There's an empty booth over there, if you'd like a bit of privacy."

"Yeah, that might be good." Dominic picked up his fresh drink. "Thanks," he said, hoisting it towards Billy as they moved.

"So Raoul started bullying you," prompted Billy.

Dominic looked up, startled. "That's not how I really thought of it, but yeah, that's what it was. First time anyone else has called it that, though."

Billy peered at him, noticing the hurt in his eyes.

"It's kind of weird," continued Dominic. "Hurts, a bit. I thought I'd dealt with it, but maybe I hadn't."

"You're welcome to talk to me about that, of course, but I should warn you that I'm not any kind of psychologist," said Billy, not quite noticing that his foot had started to fidget.

Dominic snorted. "Of course you are! You're a teacher-a bloody good one, I might add-and all the good teachers are at least part psychologist, especially if they have to teach any sort of art or sport one-on-one. And guess what dancing is."

Billy rolled his eyes to try to prevent a blush. "I take your point! But this isn't teaching, yeah? I just don't want to-I just don't want any harm coming to you, is all." His heel was hammering the floor.

This time, Dominic's hand connected with Billy's arm, and it felt warm through Billy's shirtsleeve. Warm, and comforting and intrusive and as necessary as the air Billy tried to breathe.

"Shh…," soothed Dominic. "You'll wear a hole in the floor." He looked through the table to where Billy's right knee was bouncing up and down.

Billy focused on Dominic's hand and quieted his restless leg.

"You didn't make Ali do what she did," said Dominic, softly. "Nobody could have done that but her."

"That's what the counsellor said," murmured Billy. "She was right, of course, but I still don't quite believe it, not really."

Dominic nodded. "It's hard to let go of control."

Billy looked up, sharply, biting back all the angry words he wanted to say. "It does hurt."

Dominic gave him a quizzical look.

"When someone else actually says what you know to be true. Especially when you don't want to know it."

"Raoul made dancing miserable for me," said Dominic, quietly. "I wanted to do everything he asked, because I loved and respected him, and he seemed to think I could conquer worlds. But then, he started shouting at me. Differently than he usually did, I mean. Not the sort of yelling that coaches do, but more personal. I thought I deserved it, because I knew I could do better."

"I wanted Ali to be happy, in both our partnerships," said Billy. "She was always so hard on herself, and pushing to do more with her life. Wanted me to get better at Latin, cause she loved it so and wanted so much to dance it. We got into such rows because of it, but she always tried to be kind about it. It drove a wedge between us, though."

"I loved Raoul so much that I ate up everything he told me, good and bad. I even relished the fights because I thought they made me more competitive, more like what he wanted me to be. He entered me in a modern dance competition. I was so tired and hurt, I lost it by a squeak to another guy."

"In the end, she left me when Ewan came along and seduced her away after we lost the Latin championship at Blackpool. The Standard had gone so well, but Orlando and Liv tore the place up with their Latin, and Ali was humiliated. She blamed me. Couldn't stand the sight of me, after that. I never did go back to Blackpool, or competition, for that matter. And then there was the baby, and the train-" Billy broke off, shakily.

Dominic reached across to take Billy's hand. He folded it in both his own and brought it to his lips, just pressing them against Billy's knuckles. Not quite a kiss, but Billy had never experienced anything quite so heartfelt in his life.

"Dominic…"

"Dom. Please." He pressed Billy's hand and guided it to the table, still encased between his own.

"What happened after the competition?" asked Billy, covering Dominic's hands with his free one.

"Raoul hit me on the face for the first time when we got back home, that night. Said he never wanted to look at me again. I left that night and quit Pilobolus the next day."

"You know I'll kill him if I ever meet him, right?" Billy peered into Dominic's suspiciously bright eyes. "And what do you mean, 'for the first time?'"

"He'd never hit me in the face before," Dominic hedged.

"But he had hit you elsewhere?"

Dominic tensed. "Not hit, exactly. Well, sort of."

"You don't 'sort of' hit someone," said Billy, his suspicions and ire rising.

"You could say he forced his attentions on me the night before the competition, and the sex got a bit … violent."

"You mean he raped you," stated Billy, flatly.

Dominic breathed in sharply, refusing to meet Billy's eyes. He nodded. "He raped me," he whispered.

"You've never told anyone, have you?"

"Not till now, no."

Billy noticed the tear as it splashed into Dominic's beer, making a dent in the untouched foam. "I was joking before about killing him. Now, I'm not so sure."

"Don't say that," said Dominic, brokenly. "You've had enough death, and I've had enough violence."

"I'm sorry, Dom," said Billy, reaching over the table to capture Dominic's head in an awkward embrace. For all the physical contact they'd had in the school, he realised, this was the most intimate touch they'd ever shared, and it was more like a head-lock than a caress. He couldn't help a small laugh.

"What?" said Dominic, pulling away.

"We've danced body-to-body more times than I can count, and now when I'm meant to comfort you, it's more like something from Wrestlemania."

"Budge over," said Dominic, scooting around the table and pushing his way onto Billy's bench. "I could use a shoulder to cry on."

"Me, too," said Billy, pulling Dominic into his arms.

They held each other close, breathing each other's scent and waiting for the floodgates to open, only they never did. Breathing turned into nuzzling. Nuzzling turned into mouthing. Mouthing turned into a kiss on the neck, first from Dominic, then from Billy. They pulled away enough for Dominic to search Billy's eyes. "How straight did you say you were?"

"Not as much as you might think," murmured Billy, thickly.

"Wanna get out of here?"

"More than you can possibly imagine, but right now, you're going to go sit back on your side of the booth, and we're going to work a few things out, alright?"

"Can I kiss you first?"

"You'd bloody well better," said Billy.

"What about the bartender?"

"Nick? Oh, he's gay-"

Dominic was devouring Billy before he could catch his breath.

Backstage at the Oklahoma Star Ball, as the other dancers came and went, Billy watched as Dominic stretched an hour before his heat was scheduled. Their students had done well in the pro-am sessions throughout Friday and on Saturday morning, much to everyone's delight. Even Deb was thrilled with the studio's success at the event, and had been run off her feet networking with other studio managers whilst Billy, Jasmine, Daisy, Steve and Dominic danced their bahookies off in heat after heat.

"You're going to owe me a massage when you're done with the championship," he said, as Dominic caught sight of him.

"Says the man who refuses ever to compete in professional ballroom dance, again," retorted Dominic.

"You got me into this mess," said Billy rubbing pointedly at his own back.

"I got you into this? And here I thought it was you'd spent three hours in a pub one night persuading me to go ahead and do this with Jasmine. 'It'll help you drive away your demons, Dom,' you told me."

Billy winced at Dominic's imitation of him, stifling a grin.

"Or was that just a fake Billy you sent along in a clever disguise? Like a sort of Billy-bot?"

"Well, if it was a robot of me, it had a lot of good sense, didn't it?" he said, affectionately. "You've never seemed more alive in-well, since I've known you, anyway. And that's saying something, considering all the electricity you generated right from the start."

Dominic shook out his legs and walked-prowled-towards Billy. He really was stunning in that shade of navy, especially with the streaks of electric blue.

"Jesus Christ, nobody's going to be able to keep their eyes off you on the floor, tonight," whispered Billy.

"That's the general idea," purred Dominic. And then he took Billy in his arms. "Thank you," he said, in a very different tone, straight from the heart.

"You're welcome," murmured Billy, rocking Dominic softly. "Thank you."

Dominic buried his face in Billy's neck and pulled his arms tighter round him, trembling.

"Don't cry, Dom." Billy swallowed around a lump in his own throat. "Your eyeliner will run and you'll look like a vampire, or a member of Kiss."

"Thank you for everything," said Dominic, his voice thick and unsteady, "no matter what happens tonight."

"Och, ya big girl's blouse! D'you really think my feelings for you are dependent on whether or not you win the bloody thing?" Billy pulled back enough to look Dominic in the face. "How many times do I have to tell you? My name's Billy, not Raoul, and last I checked, I was Scottish, not French. Also last I checked, I didn't give a rat's arse whether you won, lost or painted Oklahoma City neon green, unless I had to pay for it."

Dominic laughed through his tears, clearly trying to quell them.

"Look, just go out there, do the best you can on this day, and don't step on Jasmine's feet or kill any of the judges, alright? You do that, and there's no way on God's earth I couldn't be proud of you-"

Once again, Dominic stopped Billy with a kiss that went soul-deep and left him hard and spinning in a haze.

"Why did I ever agree to Deb's conditions? Not to mention yours?" said Billy, when they had to breathe.

"Because it's more exciting this way? Because you wanted to keep your promise to Deb? Because you wanted to prove to me that you weren't just eying up all the dancers before settling on me?" Dominic leaned in. "Because tonight is the end of the abstinence period?" He stretched his right leg up over Billy's shoulder and braced his foot against the wall behind Billy's back. "Want to help me with my over splits?" He leaned against Billy, pressing his uniquely stretched groin against Billy's hip.

Billy swore he could feel Dominic throbbing through his dance belt, even though that shouldn't be possible. When he was sure nobody could see, he let his hand light on Dominic's very prominent bulge and squeezed, eliciting a groan that sang to his cock. Then he ran his hand down the muscles of Dominic's thigh and calf, squeezing more professionally and leaning into his body so he could stretch properly. "Change legs," he said, when he could feel the muscles align properly.

Dominic did as he was told, and this time, Billy let his hand stray into the cleft of Dominic's perfect arse. Dominic shivered, then winced. "Dance belt," he said, ruefully.

Billy changed his touch immediately. "Sorry," he said, once again leaning in to help Dominic stretch.

Dominic leant forward and kissed him. "It's so erotic, I'll have to think horrible thoughts while I dance." He slid his tongue deeply into Billy's mouth.

"Win, lose or draw, you're coming back to mine, tonight," said Billy, huskily. "At least, you'd better!"

"Um, guys?"

"What? Oh, sorry, Jasmine," said Dominic. He kissed Billy one last time before leaning in to nuzzle his ear. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."