Ficlet: Entrechat Cinquante: tight
Apr. 7th, 2009 12:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
splixTitle: Entrechat Cinquante
Pairing: VigBean
Rating: G to NC-17
Author: Alex
Warning: AU
Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
seans_50 challenge.
Beta: the most excellent![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kimberlite.
Disclaimer: Utterly untrue.
Prompt: tight.
February 1989
*
February came, and with it, torrents of rain and snow that lasted for weeks. Either would have been fine, but the combination of both was ugly and disheartening, even to hard-bitten lifelong New Yorkers. Not a day passed when someone didn’t go arse over teakettle on the icy sidewalks. A higher proportion of people than usual suffered from colds and flu, crowding already overcrowded emergency rooms. Social life dwindled as people stayed home, reluctant to brave the weather. Adults who prided themselves on their mellow temperaments found themselves snapping at companions, roommates, children, and spouses, staking out cozy territory like irritable cats.
The bad weather pleased Sean in an obscure way, suiting his mood admirably. The scope of his existence had narrowed in the twenty days since Brill had put him on probation. He went to class daily at a studio near Carnegie Hall and spent most of the morning there. He had to pay five dollars a day, it was a little boring and most of the other dancers were too impressed by his presence to be truly friendly, but the instructor was no-nonsense and didn’t waste anyone’s time. After class, Sean came home and did the day’s chores, Viggo’s as well as his own. The loft had never been so clean, and Viggo, stand-up fellow that he was, felt obliged to compensate Sean for his industry with marathon evenings in bed.
Neither of them made the joke that an accusation of sexual harassment had improved their sex life. Sean was still deeply, unshakably angry. Only Viggo’s insistent pleading had kept him from resigning the day after he’d been put on probation. He’d received floods of supportive phone calls and visits, and the general company attitude was sympathetic toward him, but injustice had left a bitter taste in his mouth. When he went back to the company, Olivier would still be there, never mind that he was being ostracized, to hear Viggo tell it. Brill would be there too. Brill was always there, a burr under his fucking tail. Dynamic duo, the pair of them.
*
Sean’s hand fumbled for the shrilling alarm clock. He hit the snooze button and curled close to Viggo’s warmth, burying his face in the nape of Viggo’s neck. He smelled best there for some reason.
A murmur arose, half-smothered by pillows. “You need a shave.”
“I’ve been lazy,” Sean admitted. No one at the dance studio objected to his stubble.
“You’re giving me beard-burn.”
“Ah, you love it.” Sean rubbed his chin on Viggo’s smooth shoulder, then rocked his hips up against Viggo’s arse and slid his hand over one taut thigh to rest on Viggo’s stirring cock. “See? Flesh never lies.”
“So clever.”
Sean grunted agreement and closed his eyes, listening to the tapping of sleet against the window. “Another pretty day.” Mentally, he ticked one more day off his exile and cursed Olivier and Brill in a single blast of fresh anger, then took a deep breath and kissed Viggo’s shoulder. “Do you want to have lunch?”
“Sounds good.” Viggo turned to face Sean. “Only ten days left.”
“Who cares?”
Viggo smiled and brushed a finger over Sean’s unshaven cheek. “You do. Every morning your body tightens, and it’s not because you’re horny. It hits you every day, no matter how hard you try to hide it. I just wish there were something I could do about it.”
“You can’t do anything, Vig. But thanks. It’s only that...the situation hasn’t changed, and even when I go back –“ He shrugged and turned to stare up at the ceiling.
Viggo drew the blankets up around Sean’s shoulders, tucking him in tenderly. “Want me to beat him up?”
“Which one?”
“Either. Both. Whatever you want.”
“Wouldn’t that be fantastic?” Sean laughed, and the alarm shrilled again.
*
The studio class had been cancelled. There was no explanation but for a hastily penned note taped to the door. Sean checked the roster, looking at the other classes. Tap, jazz, interpretive modern, rhumba, salsa, ballroom. Nothing appealed. Aimlessly, Sean went back to the locker room, slipped his jeans and socks on over his tights, buttoned his coat, and headed out into the blustery morning.
*
“Sean!” Beverly, the receptionist, stared in surprise.
“Hi, Bev.” Sean took off his wet cap and shook it onto the floor. “How’ve you been?”
“Okay. Does this mean you’re reprieved?”
“Not yet.” Another wave of anger rolled over his stomach. “I’m just having lunch with Viggo, and I’m a bit early.”
“Oh.” Beverly looked down and shuffled some papers together. She stole a quick look at the door to the administrative offices. “Maybe you should go up to Studio 25 and wait. I’ll tell Viggo you’re up there when I see him.”
Sean frowned and took a step forward. “Did Brill tell you not to let me in?”
Beverly lowered her eyes again. “I’m sorry, Sean.”
“It’s okay.” Sean wrung his cap in his hands, trying to keep from cursing. “I know it’s not your fault.”
“Nobody really believes that you – you know.”
“Thanks, Bev. Who’s giving company class today?”
“Christopher is. Jens is out with the flu. So maybe you should head upstairs now, just in case.” Beverly’s gaze brushed the door again. “I don’t want to be pushy, but –“
Sean smiled with every resource of good cheer he could muster. “No worries, Bev. If he sees me, I’ll tell him I pushed past you.”
Beverly shook her head. “I really am sorry, Sean. I’m looking forward to having you back.”
“I’m looking forward to coming back,” Sean replied, and as he ascended the back stairs, he realized he’d meant it. Brill and Olivier notwithstanding, he loved MBT – the dancers, Kit, the secretaries, the odd little studios, the weird, musty, old-sweat smell of the place, the miracles that they all created together. He loved, most of all, that he’d met Viggo at MBT, that he had a chance to work with him every day, to share the privilege of a profession that they both loved so fiercely. He’d been stupid to even contemplate quitting.
He stopped at the third floor, where the men’s locker rooms were located, as well as Studio 2, where company class was held. The piano, muffled by the wall, was pounding out the mazurka from Coppelia, and he paused a moment, listening to its lilting melody.
ONE-two-three, ONE-two-three....
He stretched his hand out toward the handle, then grasped it firmly. He was going to do what he should have done from the very beginning.
*
“All right, boys and girls, right hand to the barre. Plié – un, deux, trois –" Brill halted in mid-count as Sean, warmed up and in practice clothes, stepped into the studio. He said nothing, but simply folded his arms and stared at Sean. The music trailed off into silence.
Sean surveyed him coolly, then flicked a glance over the astonished dancers in the studio. His eyes sought out Viggo, who was looking at him with an Are you crazy? expression on his face. Sean winked and moved to the barre, stopping in front of Olivier. “Can you make some room?”
Olivier’s mouth opened. He looked at Sean, then at Brill, and then stepped back a pace. Sean took his place at the barre, waiting for Brill’s next instruction.
“Your probationary period isn’t over for another ten days, Sean.” Brill’s voice was patient and mild. Obviously he’d been counting too.
Sean stood straight and tall. “I’m not guilty of anything and it’s time I stopped acting as if I were.”
“Really?” Brill moved closer to Sean. Instinctively, the other dancers at the barre clustered together. “Olivier was quite distraught when he spoke to me. You need to leave immediately, I’m afraid.”
Sean turned around to face Olivier, who backed up another step, nearly treading on Cathie Silverman’s toes. “Why don’t you tell the truth?” he inquired softly.
Olivier lifted his chin. “You think coming in here and making a scene is going to help you?”
There was a note of trembling in Olivier’s voice that belied his bravado. Sean seized it. “You’re lying, and you bloody well know it. Tell him the truth.”
“I did. Don’t try to intimidate me.”
“I don’t need to. Tell him.” Sean turned to Brill, who was less than three feet away. “He’s lying. I told you that, and you didn’t believe me. But I’m not going to lie down and take this.” He almost added Just because you can’t stand me, but forced himself to state only the necessary facts.
“Olivier.” Brill spoke in a quiet voice that Sean knew from experience did not mean gentleness. “Did you lie to me about Sean?”
Olivier shook his head, keeping his eyes on the floor. “It was just like I told you.”
“Look at me.”
Reluctantly, Olivier lifted his head and gazed into Brill’s eyes. “It’s true.”
Brill peered at Sean, then at Olivier. “I’ll ask you again, just this once, and if you value your job, you had better answer truthfully. Did Sean attempt to force you into sex?”
Olivier’s mouth opened. His eyes darted back and forth. “I –“ He shuffled his feet, then directed a look of scorching anger at Sean. “Fuck you,” he whispered, tears springing to his eyes.
“How imaginative,” Brill said dryly. “Olivier, go get dressed and wait outside my office, please.” He moved to the front of the class again, then nodded to Constance. “Constance, take over, if you will.” Brill glided to the door, then paused and looked back at Sean. “Have that beard shaved off by tomorrow. Grande révérence.”
The dancers bowed, and applauded. Brill closed the door on their applause, but the clapping continued, doubled, trebled. Sean glanced around, and saw that everyone was facing him, clapping...for him. Even Constance, eternally bad-tempered, was smiling and applauding.
Sean flushed, nodded in acknowledgment, and looked for Viggo. There he was, smiling and clapping harder than anyone. He slipped behind Sean and caught him up in a hug. “I’m so damn proud of you.”
“Back to the barre!” Constance called. “Welcome back, Sean. Okay, everyone – from the demi-plié. Maurice - And!”
The piano swung into the mazurka again in counterpoint to the rain smashing against the window. Sean pliéd smoothly; his port de bras was perfect. His anger was gone.
It was good to be home.
*
Delibes - Mazurka from Coppelia
picture bygovi20
My table is here
Pairing: VigBean
Rating: G to NC-17
Author: Alex
Warning: AU
Written for the
seans_50 challenge.Beta: the most excellent
kimberlite.Disclaimer: Utterly untrue.
Prompt: tight.
February 1989
*
February came, and with it, torrents of rain and snow that lasted for weeks. Either would have been fine, but the combination of both was ugly and disheartening, even to hard-bitten lifelong New Yorkers. Not a day passed when someone didn’t go arse over teakettle on the icy sidewalks. A higher proportion of people than usual suffered from colds and flu, crowding already overcrowded emergency rooms. Social life dwindled as people stayed home, reluctant to brave the weather. Adults who prided themselves on their mellow temperaments found themselves snapping at companions, roommates, children, and spouses, staking out cozy territory like irritable cats.
The bad weather pleased Sean in an obscure way, suiting his mood admirably. The scope of his existence had narrowed in the twenty days since Brill had put him on probation. He went to class daily at a studio near Carnegie Hall and spent most of the morning there. He had to pay five dollars a day, it was a little boring and most of the other dancers were too impressed by his presence to be truly friendly, but the instructor was no-nonsense and didn’t waste anyone’s time. After class, Sean came home and did the day’s chores, Viggo’s as well as his own. The loft had never been so clean, and Viggo, stand-up fellow that he was, felt obliged to compensate Sean for his industry with marathon evenings in bed.
Neither of them made the joke that an accusation of sexual harassment had improved their sex life. Sean was still deeply, unshakably angry. Only Viggo’s insistent pleading had kept him from resigning the day after he’d been put on probation. He’d received floods of supportive phone calls and visits, and the general company attitude was sympathetic toward him, but injustice had left a bitter taste in his mouth. When he went back to the company, Olivier would still be there, never mind that he was being ostracized, to hear Viggo tell it. Brill would be there too. Brill was always there, a burr under his fucking tail. Dynamic duo, the pair of them.
*
Sean’s hand fumbled for the shrilling alarm clock. He hit the snooze button and curled close to Viggo’s warmth, burying his face in the nape of Viggo’s neck. He smelled best there for some reason.
A murmur arose, half-smothered by pillows. “You need a shave.”
“I’ve been lazy,” Sean admitted. No one at the dance studio objected to his stubble.
“You’re giving me beard-burn.”
“Ah, you love it.” Sean rubbed his chin on Viggo’s smooth shoulder, then rocked his hips up against Viggo’s arse and slid his hand over one taut thigh to rest on Viggo’s stirring cock. “See? Flesh never lies.”
“So clever.”
Sean grunted agreement and closed his eyes, listening to the tapping of sleet against the window. “Another pretty day.” Mentally, he ticked one more day off his exile and cursed Olivier and Brill in a single blast of fresh anger, then took a deep breath and kissed Viggo’s shoulder. “Do you want to have lunch?”
“Sounds good.” Viggo turned to face Sean. “Only ten days left.”
“Who cares?”
Viggo smiled and brushed a finger over Sean’s unshaven cheek. “You do. Every morning your body tightens, and it’s not because you’re horny. It hits you every day, no matter how hard you try to hide it. I just wish there were something I could do about it.”
“You can’t do anything, Vig. But thanks. It’s only that...the situation hasn’t changed, and even when I go back –“ He shrugged and turned to stare up at the ceiling.
Viggo drew the blankets up around Sean’s shoulders, tucking him in tenderly. “Want me to beat him up?”
“Which one?”
“Either. Both. Whatever you want.”
“Wouldn’t that be fantastic?” Sean laughed, and the alarm shrilled again.
*
The studio class had been cancelled. There was no explanation but for a hastily penned note taped to the door. Sean checked the roster, looking at the other classes. Tap, jazz, interpretive modern, rhumba, salsa, ballroom. Nothing appealed. Aimlessly, Sean went back to the locker room, slipped his jeans and socks on over his tights, buttoned his coat, and headed out into the blustery morning.
*
“Sean!” Beverly, the receptionist, stared in surprise.
“Hi, Bev.” Sean took off his wet cap and shook it onto the floor. “How’ve you been?”
“Okay. Does this mean you’re reprieved?”
“Not yet.” Another wave of anger rolled over his stomach. “I’m just having lunch with Viggo, and I’m a bit early.”
“Oh.” Beverly looked down and shuffled some papers together. She stole a quick look at the door to the administrative offices. “Maybe you should go up to Studio 25 and wait. I’ll tell Viggo you’re up there when I see him.”
Sean frowned and took a step forward. “Did Brill tell you not to let me in?”
Beverly lowered her eyes again. “I’m sorry, Sean.”
“It’s okay.” Sean wrung his cap in his hands, trying to keep from cursing. “I know it’s not your fault.”
“Nobody really believes that you – you know.”
“Thanks, Bev. Who’s giving company class today?”
“Christopher is. Jens is out with the flu. So maybe you should head upstairs now, just in case.” Beverly’s gaze brushed the door again. “I don’t want to be pushy, but –“
Sean smiled with every resource of good cheer he could muster. “No worries, Bev. If he sees me, I’ll tell him I pushed past you.”
Beverly shook her head. “I really am sorry, Sean. I’m looking forward to having you back.”
“I’m looking forward to coming back,” Sean replied, and as he ascended the back stairs, he realized he’d meant it. Brill and Olivier notwithstanding, he loved MBT – the dancers, Kit, the secretaries, the odd little studios, the weird, musty, old-sweat smell of the place, the miracles that they all created together. He loved, most of all, that he’d met Viggo at MBT, that he had a chance to work with him every day, to share the privilege of a profession that they both loved so fiercely. He’d been stupid to even contemplate quitting.
He stopped at the third floor, where the men’s locker rooms were located, as well as Studio 2, where company class was held. The piano, muffled by the wall, was pounding out the mazurka from Coppelia, and he paused a moment, listening to its lilting melody.
ONE-two-three, ONE-two-three....
He stretched his hand out toward the handle, then grasped it firmly. He was going to do what he should have done from the very beginning.
*
“All right, boys and girls, right hand to the barre. Plié – un, deux, trois –" Brill halted in mid-count as Sean, warmed up and in practice clothes, stepped into the studio. He said nothing, but simply folded his arms and stared at Sean. The music trailed off into silence.
Sean surveyed him coolly, then flicked a glance over the astonished dancers in the studio. His eyes sought out Viggo, who was looking at him with an Are you crazy? expression on his face. Sean winked and moved to the barre, stopping in front of Olivier. “Can you make some room?”
Olivier’s mouth opened. He looked at Sean, then at Brill, and then stepped back a pace. Sean took his place at the barre, waiting for Brill’s next instruction.
“Your probationary period isn’t over for another ten days, Sean.” Brill’s voice was patient and mild. Obviously he’d been counting too.
Sean stood straight and tall. “I’m not guilty of anything and it’s time I stopped acting as if I were.”
“Really?” Brill moved closer to Sean. Instinctively, the other dancers at the barre clustered together. “Olivier was quite distraught when he spoke to me. You need to leave immediately, I’m afraid.”
Sean turned around to face Olivier, who backed up another step, nearly treading on Cathie Silverman’s toes. “Why don’t you tell the truth?” he inquired softly.
Olivier lifted his chin. “You think coming in here and making a scene is going to help you?”
There was a note of trembling in Olivier’s voice that belied his bravado. Sean seized it. “You’re lying, and you bloody well know it. Tell him the truth.”
“I did. Don’t try to intimidate me.”
“I don’t need to. Tell him.” Sean turned to Brill, who was less than three feet away. “He’s lying. I told you that, and you didn’t believe me. But I’m not going to lie down and take this.” He almost added Just because you can’t stand me, but forced himself to state only the necessary facts.
“Olivier.” Brill spoke in a quiet voice that Sean knew from experience did not mean gentleness. “Did you lie to me about Sean?”
Olivier shook his head, keeping his eyes on the floor. “It was just like I told you.”
“Look at me.”
Reluctantly, Olivier lifted his head and gazed into Brill’s eyes. “It’s true.”
Brill peered at Sean, then at Olivier. “I’ll ask you again, just this once, and if you value your job, you had better answer truthfully. Did Sean attempt to force you into sex?”
Olivier’s mouth opened. His eyes darted back and forth. “I –“ He shuffled his feet, then directed a look of scorching anger at Sean. “Fuck you,” he whispered, tears springing to his eyes.
“How imaginative,” Brill said dryly. “Olivier, go get dressed and wait outside my office, please.” He moved to the front of the class again, then nodded to Constance. “Constance, take over, if you will.” Brill glided to the door, then paused and looked back at Sean. “Have that beard shaved off by tomorrow. Grande révérence.”
The dancers bowed, and applauded. Brill closed the door on their applause, but the clapping continued, doubled, trebled. Sean glanced around, and saw that everyone was facing him, clapping...for him. Even Constance, eternally bad-tempered, was smiling and applauding.
Sean flushed, nodded in acknowledgment, and looked for Viggo. There he was, smiling and clapping harder than anyone. He slipped behind Sean and caught him up in a hug. “I’m so damn proud of you.”
“Back to the barre!” Constance called. “Welcome back, Sean. Okay, everyone – from the demi-plié. Maurice - And!”
The piano swung into the mazurka again in counterpoint to the rain smashing against the window. Sean pliéd smoothly; his port de bras was perfect. His anger was gone.
It was good to be home.
*
Delibes - Mazurka from Coppelia
picture by
govi20My table is here
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-04-07 06:42 am (UTC)*g*
Sorry - I'm just delighted that I could read it and I'm all caught up!
Thank you, loving this story.
Cheers (off to see if I can read/catch-up on other stories I've missed)
no subject
Date: 2009-04-07 04:20 pm (UTC)I'm so happy that you're caught up and liking the story! I really appreciate you saying so. Hope you can catch up with the others! :)
no subject
Date: 2009-04-07 04:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-07 04:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-07 08:47 pm (UTC)Nothing more, nothing less.
*bows low before your amazing talent*
Anto
no subject
Date: 2009-04-07 10:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-08 03:10 am (UTC)I DO wish you'd stop talking about ending this. By my calculations, you have about 20 interim years to cover... *winks*
no subject
Date: 2009-04-08 05:44 am (UTC)You know, this is how you can tell I wrote all these on the fly - they're so BADLY spaced. I could kick myself! Still, I suppose that leaves some room for more, should I ever return to this universe. Thanks so very much - I'm delighted you're following along!
no subject
Date: 2009-04-08 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-08 09:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-12 08:20 am (UTC)Oh, that line alone broke my heart. *siiiigh* (I do so love the way you write Viggo in this story. Sean too, of course, but I figure that's implicit. ^_~) I could really feel Sean's very justified anger, and I wasn't sure how it'd turn out when he decided to face Brill and Olivier. A lovely resolution to a horrible situation. I hope Olivier is severely punished for this, and Sean gets some sort of restitution for all that time on probation, but I'm not going to hold my breath that Brill is that interested in redressing wrongs. ^_~
no subject
Date: 2009-04-13 03:18 am (UTC)Bless you. I love em both. :D
You're right about Brill, I think. It was Olivier's humiliation more than outright malice that caused the situation, but it's still despicable - and yet, yes, Brill, I imagined, wouldn't give the kid more than a sarcastic reprimand and no restitution for Sean.
no subject
Date: 2009-04-17 03:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-17 04:56 am (UTC)It usually does, eventually! :)