Dance, Dance

aka the dance class fic

Katy may look like an angel, with her shiny blonde hair and perfect smile, but Kris knows better. The frilly summer dresses and the sensible shoes are just a front. She's pure evil inside. Kris can't blame anyone else for being fooled – she does puppy dog eyes like no one else – but having dated her for five years, he should have known better.

Deciding to stay friends with her has definitely been a mistake.

It's one thing to trick him into attending a dance class – what's a little humiliation between friends, after all – but sending him to this particular studio when she knows... But of course, that's where the 'evil in sensible shoes' thing comes in. Kris was the one stupid enough to point the guy out to her – the guy he'd been noticing. Looking him up and down critically enough to make Kris self-conscious on the guy’s behalf, she’d said hmm thoughtfully. That tone should have immediately clued Kris in that she was plotting something.

Kris wonders how she found out about this place; did she actually follow the guy? Kris wouldn’t put it past her. Kris has been silently watching him for over a month – they eat lunch at the same café, so it's not like he was actively stalking or anything – and he hadn't realized the guy was a dance instructor. Though it does make sense now that he thinks about it. The way he moves, effortlessly fluid and graceful, should have given it away.

But anyway, even stalking would have been pardonable for Kris if she hadn't stood him up.

I'll be right there. No, seriously. You go on in. How did he even buy that? Her phone is turned off now, of course, but she'll have to show her face sooner or later. They’re going to have a long talk about appropriate ex behavior.

Kris has no rhythm. A dance class, a salsa class, is the absolute last place he should be. There's a reason he always performs with an instrument. With a guitar in his lap, he can just sway and it looks passable. No one at the pub expects him to shake his booty anyhow.

But Katy had said that getting drunk at gay clubs and letting guys grope him didn’t count as rediscovering himself, that he had to do more, try new things, find out what else he likes once he’s out of his comfort zone.

She’d sounded wise, damn it.

And she’d threatened him with a yoga class.

Dance class isn’t horrible. With everyone stumbling around, completely out of sync, Kris doesn’t stand out as badly as he thought he would. In fact, once he gets into it, it’s kind of fun.

Maybe even a little too much fun.

You'd think his dick would be too distressed to have that much ‘fun’ with the threat of absolute humiliation looming over him. Kris blames the hands. Adam's hands, with the black nails, and the freckles, and the way they were on Kris' hips.

And by hips, Kris means ass.

And there'd been grinding. Kris is not equipped to handle grinding in broad daylight.

He takes a deep breath, staring at his flushed face in the mirror, and splashes his face with cold water. He can't believe he ran out the door. He doesn't even remember what excuse he gave; for all he knows, he could've told the guy he left the stove on or something.

Great first impression, that. First dazzle him with your nonexistent moves and then bam! Run out the door like you're on fire. He's sure to ask Kris out now.

Kris had had to get out of there though. He doesn't do this. When he likes someone, he takes things slow. It had taken him the better part of a year to ask Katy out. It's how he does things. And okay, so he doesn't exactly have practical knowledge of how that would translate to guys, but he's pretty sure pressing his hard-on against the guy's thigh the day they met is not the way to go.

This is the most embarrassed Kris has been since third grade, when he'd accidentally touched Mrs. Reynolds' breast.

With hands braced against the sink and water dripping down the sides of his face, Kris takes deep, calming breaths. He needs to get a hold of himself. He'll have to go back in there; he can't just leave like this. Even if he never saw Adam again, it would be just rude to run out and disappear in the middle of class.

But he's nowhere near ready to face him yet when Adam walks in.

"I am so sorry," Adam says emphatically, staring at Kris' face in the mirror.

Kris forgets to breathe in his confusion. "What?"

"I never – I shouldn't have." Adam shakes his head. He has a very expressive face. Kris knew that, of course; he'd noticed when Adam chatted with the waitress, his face telling the whole story to Kris even though he couldn't hear the words. But it feels different when it's directed at him. It's downright ridiculous, but it makes Kris feel special. "I made you uncomfortable," Adam continues. "I had no right. I am really, truly sorry."

Adam is... panicked isn't really the right word. But neither is flustered, which applies more to Kris than Adam right now. Adam isn't embarrassed. He's apologetic. He's not just saying this because he thinks Kris might sue or something. He is honestly and entirely sorry.

It surprises Kris how much he doesn't want him to be.

"I don't do that. I don't – " Adam runs a hand through his hair, trying to push the wayward strands behind one ear – which doesn't work and makes Kris itch to touch them. Crap. " – flirt with students. It's unprofessional. There’s no excuse. And if you want to come back, I can assure you, there will be no more flirting. None at all."

"Oh." Flirting. Kris hadn’t realized there had been flirting – like, yeah, of course there was flirting, but he didn't realize there was intentional flirting. He thought it was, like, how Adam communicated with people. And possibly inanimate objects.

"But of course you don't have to," Adam says, mouth turned down in the corners. "If you’d prefer another instructor, I can arrange for another class. We have a great – "

"I don't," Kris says, turning around to face Adam. His hands are shaking from nerves, but if he's going to do this, he'll do it face to face, not through a mirror. And there's no way he's not going to do this, so. It's time to man up. Or something. "I don't need a new class."

"Oh, good," Adam sighs, offering him a polite, relieved smile. "I sincerely apologize for – "

Kris’ lips curl up. "No, seriously, stop apologizing."

Adam nods, licks his lips. "I can do that."

"It's okay," Kris admits. "I didn't leave because of the flirting."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Kris looks down at his feet, and then at the door, then back at his feet. It’s suddenly way too hot in the room. "I mean – I wasn't uncomfortable. I mean, I was, but – I didn't mind..." He shakes his head and palms his forehead. Seriously, could he possibly get any lamer?

When he looks up, Adam is staring at him expectantly, confused. Who wouldn't be, with all this meaningless babbling?

"I mean – I was uncomfortable because I didn't mind the flirting."

Adam stares at him, lips parted, eyes blinking. If Kris could get over the sight of his lips, and his eyes, and his freckles, he would have perhaps taken a step forward, but as it is, he can't look away from Adam's face – or even move – so his moment of opportunity passes by quietly.

"Oh, I... That's. Wow. Okay."

Kris ducks his head. This is exactly why he prefers to go slow. He has no idea how this is going to play out. Adam could be interested, not interested, involved with someone else, straight – okay, probably not straight, but for all Kris knows, he could be terminally ill and dying. He could be leaving for India in two hours – to become an actor in Bollywood! Kris needs more background information before he asks people out. Definitely more than their jobs and favorite sandwiches.

"Well, uh." Adam chuckles. "Kris," he says, very deliberate, almost tasting the name, "not to make this moment even more awkward, but uh – are you and um... Kate..."

"Katy," Kris corrects him. "Ex-girlfriend."

"Oh good," Adam says, perking up. "You're single?"

Kris bites lip. He has to, or he's going to grin like an idiot. This probably means Adam has no plans on becoming a Bollywood actor. "Yeah."

"Awesome." Adam steps forward. "Then you won't mind if I do this."

Adam's hands settle on his hips, strong, leading without really leading, and his lips rest on Kris', not tentative, but soft, coaxing.

Kris doesn't mind and then some.

Kris has kissed guys before. In fact, for a while now, he's been kissing guys like kissing is going out of style. Katy's not the only well-meaning friend he has. She’s actually the least obvious one. The rest of them don't bother with tricks like this. They just take him to gay clubs, get him smashed, and then push him towards some unsuspecting stranger. Kris distinctly remembers Charles tripping him the first time.

In the last couple of months, Kris has become a sort of a kiss slut, and honestly, none of it is his fault.

But this kiss is different. The ones before had all been quick and dirty; sweaty and hot as they happened, but forgotten in minutes. Kissing Adam is like... it's like dancing, only easier. Adam moves to a sultry beat that’s only in his head, but as their lips slide against one another, slick and perfect, Kris could swear he could hear it too.

It shouldn’t be this smooth, new things rarely are – but there’s always that one exception, one song that comes together with almost no effort from Kris, easy as breathing. Kris never knew that could apply to people, but here is his proof. It feels like playing his guitar and being played in return.

"God," Adam pants against his lips, hands coming up to cup Kris' face. "I knew you'd be like this." He sucks on Kris' bottom lip and then presses inside with his tongue, his moan lost in Kris' mouth.

Kris wants to tell him that this is not him; it must be Adam. He must have tuned Kris somehow when he wasn’t looking. He’s definitely gone up a few pitches, and now they match. But he doesn’t think that would make sense to anyone other than him, and his mouth is busy, so he lets it go.

(Kris lets a lot of things go, including the embarrassment and the desire to kill Katy.)

When they come up for air, Adam doesn't step back. Granted, Kris is holding onto his arms pretty tightly, but Adam could totally break away if he wanted. Instead he leans in, breathing against Kris' skin; he runs his lips down Kris' cheek, drops barely-there kisses along his jawline.

Kris stays still and lets him.

"Class," Adam says, sounding pained. "I have to get back."

Reality trickles in, slowly but surely, and Kris comes back to the room – the bathroom. There's a sink digging into his back and he can hear music coming from down the hall.

The door doesn't even have a lock. Anyone could have walked in.

He lets go of Adam's arms quickly. Adam takes a step back.

Kris isn't shy. Not really. He's just very much out of his element here. This is what he imagines standing on a stage holding a tuba would feel like. The setting would be familiar, but the instrument? Not so much. Kris has never played the tuba in his life; he wouldn't know what to do with it.

Okay, so it's not the most perfect analogy. He does know what to do with Adam. It's just the fact that he's never done it before and wouldn't have chosen to do it here, right now…

Not that any of this was bad. Just – awkward.

He clears his throat. "Sorry," he says, patting the bunched up fabric of Adam's t-shirt to smooth it out.

"It's okay," Adam replies with a self-satisfied smirk. He mirrors Kris' gesture and reaches over to fix Kris’ shirt – only, Adam's hands linger a lot longer than they have a need to and they don’t really do all that much straightening.

With his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, Kris stills Adam's hands with his. "Class," he reminds him.

Adam licks his lips. "Right." He steps back, one, two, three steps, until his back hits the stall door, and says, "You go ahead. I'll just – "

He makes an indecipherable gesture; it could mean he’s going to wash his hands or possibly jerk off.

Kris decides that he doesn’t want to know. He walks out on shaky legs.

~

The rest of the class is a blur.

Kris gets a couple of curious stares, but he can't focus on them for long enough to make himself care. He dances with Adam again, no way to get out of it with no one else to partner him, and while Adam's hands still feel like they're burning their way through Kris' clothes, there is thankfully no more grinding.

Adam doesn't meet Kris' eyes at all; in fact, he seems completely occupied with the walls and the lighting fixtures and every other couple in the class instead. Kris tries not to read anything into that. Adam is teaching right now, and this – Kris – must be a distraction. It only makes sense. Instead, Kris concentrates on trying to come up with a way to ask him out that's not completely lame.

After careful consideration, he settles on coffee. Coffee is safe. People have coffee all the time. It's not a big deal. And coffee can totally end in kisses. Coffee-flavored kisses could be very nice.

Adam finally dismisses the class and Kris lingers behind, waiting for everyone else to file out. He tries to look busy and not twitch too much, though he very much doubts that it works.

When the last person finally leaves, Adam turns to face him and really looks at him for the first time in what feels like hours. He seems a little surprised that Kris is still there, but thankfully it's not a bad ‘surprised’, it's a very pleased-looking ‘surprised’. One could even say relieved.

Kris smiles at him. There are a great many things he's not sure about right now, but knowing that they both consider this a good thing makes up for a lot of the uncertainty.

"Hey," Kris says softly.

Adam walks toward him, eyes alight with something between mischief and lust, and once he's in touching distance, he says, "Hey," and leans in.

Kris braces himself for the kiss – hands fisted, eyes closed and everything – but it doesn't come.

"This is okay, right?" Adam asks, eyes narrowed.

Kris almost snorts at the question. Their lips are almost touching already and Kris can still feel where Adam bit into his bottom lip the last time. They're a bit beyond this being okay. "Yeah," he says, "it's okay. It's more than – "

Adam doesn't give him a chance to describe just how okay.

~

They don’t go out for coffee. Adam says he already has coffee right there and produces two cups of something vile – one of which Kris drinks happily. The conversation flows, not stilted at all, and Kris feels himself relaxing into it, watching Adam’s face and hands as he talks about this and that: songs, his mother, his friend that designs jackets, his roommate who screwed him over and left him homeless...

“I’m between apartments right now,” he says, gesturing toward the mats in the corner. Then, making a face, “I shouldn’t have said that, right?” he adds. “So not a first date topic.”

Kris grins at him. “This is a date?”

“Of course it’s a date,” Adam says, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been sitting in a super-uncomfortable chair listening to my life story for over an hour now. And there’s coffee. And kissing. It’s definitely a date.”

Kris drinks the rest of his cold and horrible coffee to hide his ever-expanding grin.

“Of course, I would have preferred dinner and wine and dancing, but – ” Adam stops and sits up suddenly. “You know what, hold on.”

And that’s how Kris finds himself seated on a mat in the middle of a dance studio eating leftover Chinese and having cheap wine in a plastic cup. It’s the most fun he’s had since – since he came to L.A. almost a year ago.

“This is a lame date,” Adam says apologetically, sipping from his own cup. “I probably shouldn’t say that either, but – I mean, it’s obvious that I won’t be taking anyone out to fancy restaurants for a while, and I really like you – ”

Kris is not a huge fan of fancy restaurants and he is quickly becoming a fan of Adam, so he cuts Adam off with a kiss – a tiny, soft kiss that means ‘shut up now please’ more than anything else.

Adam shuts up.

“No trash talking my first date in months,” Kris tells him.

One side of Adam’s lips quirk up and he nods, stealing one more kiss before pulling Kris up.

“Dance with me,” he demands.

The music is barely audible, they turned it down to be able to talk, but Adam doesn’t seem to care. He pulls Kris into his arms and tells him, “sway. I know you can do that.”

Kris feels too short; his face is barely level with Adam’s shoulder, but once they start moving together and their bodies align, he decides that it’s perfect. It’s certainly different, but they fit like this. He likes Adam’s arms around him and how he’s never hesitant to touch. Kris loosens up – he melts, really – and doesn’t protest when Adam’s fingers steal into the back of his shirt to touch his skin.

They stay like that for a while, Adam humming under his breath and his fingers tickling the small of Kris’ back. The susurration of the rustling fabric is hypnotizing, lulling Kris into a daze. Kris spends a long time staring at Adam’s neck, contemplating what it would feel like to kiss him there. What his skin would taste like. Then he’s woken up from his trance suddenly by Adam who’s taking half a step back from Kris to give him a look.

Adam doesn’t say anything, but there’s something in his eyes, something promising and exhilarating. One of his hands comes to rest on Kris’ chest, playing with the buttons of his shirt, and even though he doesn’t say anything, Kris can hear the question.

He swallows thickly and nods his assent.

Adam walks him backwards a couple of steps, eyes predatory, and steadies Kris against the wall. Kris raises an eyebrow at the display – if he hadn’t already figured out that Adam is the sweetest guy, he might have gotten ideas – but he doesn’t say anything when Adam undoes a button and leans down to kiss Kris’ chest.

Breathing proves difficult, but it’s not like Kris is particularly interested in doing it right now. He would prefer not to pass out though, so he does his best to draw in enough air to keep himself afloat.

Adam keeps moving down, one button, one kiss, until he hits Kris’ stomach and stops to nuzzle his bellybutton and then taste his skin with a leisurely lick. His hands are on Kris’ thighs, not doing anything, just holding on, but Kris’ legs quiver anyway, threatening collapse.

Kris is distracted by a potentially humiliating sound trying to crawl out his throat, so it takes him a moment to realize that Adam is abandoning his stomach to stand up. The sound finally escapes, more protesting than humiliating now, but Adam ignores it and just smiles at Kris like they weren’t in the middle of something.

“Breakfast,” he states mysteriously.

“Huh?” Kris says. His brain has apparently left the building.

Adam wraps his arms around Kris’ waist under his open shirt and leans close. “I’m pretty sure I can scrounge up something for breakfast as well.” He nuzzles Kris’ temple and whispers in his ear, “If you want to stay.”

Kris turns his face to meet Adam’s lips.

He stays.

~

The mats are extremely uncomfortable.

But they’re surprisingly easy to clean.

The End

October 21st, 2010