The Perfect Son

Disclaimer: I own nothing recognisable as belonging to Step Up 2. I just like to borrow the characters and plot and … change them until they're virtually unrecognisable.
A/N: My first ever Step Up fanfic, so be warned! It's Blake/Chase brotherly fluff, set just after the Streets. Let me know what you think!

"And where exactly were you while your brother was off gallivanting in the rain?!"

"He wasn't gallivanting, Mom, he came to watch me!"

"What on earth are you talking about – watch you where?!"

"Watch me dancing," Chase Collins said coolly, fighting the urge to grimace in the wake of his father's furious glare. Damon Collins narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to his youngest son, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

"Dancing?" he repeated. "Street dancing?"

"Yes," Chase replied, an almost unnoticeable quaver in his voice now. He could defy his parents in secret to his heart's content, and never give it a second thought, but he always forgot how much he hated being caught at it; how afraid he still was of his father's wrath.

"Oh, Chase," his mother sighed dramatically. "Chase, you know that that isn't really dancing! It's for hooligans; criminals – not the kind of people you ought to be associating with!"

"You have a hell of an opportunity at MSA, boy, and you risked it all on an illegal street dancing contest?!" his father bellowed. "Are you out of your mind?! Well no wonder Blake careened off to find out what the hell was happening – putting the fundraiser and the school second, because of you! Are you proud of yourself?!"

"I'm sorry that Blake got involved," Chase lied through his teeth – if anything, he was touched and glad that his brother had shown up, and according to Andie, had been truly impressed – "but I never asked him to. I didn't involve him because I know that MSA is his priority, just like it's always been yours. But it's not mine – I know it's an opportunity, but maybe it's not the right one for me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Damon growled. "You're a Collins. Your place is at MSA."

"I hate ballet, Dad!" Chase argued, but his father scoffed.

"You'll learn," he said derisively. "Maybe it'll take you longer than it took your brother, but you'll learn eventually. This – this hip-hop nonsense is a passing phase, and a dangerous one at that. Your mother's right – it's for criminals and hoodlums. Just look at what some of them did to your brother's school! The repairs are going to cost a fortune!"

"They're not all like that," snapped Chase.

"Oh, please!"

"He's right," came a soft voice from the doorway. Chase looked over his shoulder in surprise to find Blake entering the kitchen, still dripping wet. His parents' gazes softened immediately, as Blake shed his coat and suit jacket and ran a hand through his sopping hair.

"What are you talking about, Blake?" his father asked wearily. Blake crossed the room to stand beside Chase, clapping him on the shoulder and shooting him a 'shut up and let me do the talking' look.

"Not everyone who was at the Streets tonight is a criminal," he stated more clearly. His parents both broke into protests, but he held up a hand to silence them, and to Chase's astonishment, the older Collinses fell quiet immediately. "No," he said quietly. "No, now you get to listen. Chase is not a child any more, and he's not me. And he's perfectly capable of making his own choices, and choosing his own friends. Tonight he went out there, into a world where he doesn't fit in, and he showed them that he can dance. He can dance, Dad, and he's damn good. His friends – all MSA students, I might add – are an extremely talented group of kids, just trying to find their niche. Not everyone is suited to ballet and classical dance, and that's all right. I just wish it hadn't taken me so long to realise that." He glanced sideways at his brother, who was staring at him with a mixture of astonishment and awe, "I'm sorry, Chase," he murmured. "I was proud of you tonight." Chase's eyes widened even further at this praise, and he nodded slightly.

"Thanks, Blake," was all he could come up with to say.

"This is absurd!" Damon cut in angrily. "Blake, I don't know what you're trying to say here – these are the vandals that trashed our school!"

"My school," Blake corrected him firmly, and Damon blinked stupidly at him. "It hasn't been your school for a long time, Dad. The Board – not you, the Board – put me in charge, because I can make a difference there. MSA can be better, but not if we continue to be so close-minded about the talent that we have. I've learned that now, and I plan to act upon it. And there's nothing you can do to change that."

"We founded that school!" Damon shouted.

"And you turned it over to the next generation over twenty years ago," Blake reminded him, his own voice just as loud as his father's. "Director Gordon saw the potential for this change. You had her removed. Well I'm your son, Dad, and if you think I'm afraid of you the way she was, you're wrong. I know the worst you can do to me. You can try to destroy my reputation, but I was entrusted with the welfare of MSA by someone other than you, and I'll be damned if I let you interfere and take that from me."

"And what exactly are you going to do – turn it into a welfare centre for the homeless street dancers?!" his mother snapped, her cheeks colouring.

"Hey!" Chase raised his own voice now, indignant. "They are not homeless and they're not all vandals – they're people, Mom, just like everyone else!"

"And they deserve a chance," Blake finished more quietly. "A chance that I plan to give them, and if you think you can stop me, then just try it. I would love to see what happens."

"You ungrateful little –" Damon spluttered. "You're our son! Your brother was out there tonight participating in an illegal competition, outside in the rain, making a fool of himself and the family name! And you're congratulating him?! You've lost your mind!"

"It's you who've lost your mind if you think there's anything wrong with what Chase did," Blake argued back. "He expressed himself – and isn't that why you wanted us to start dancing in the first place? No, that was all a lie too – it was never about us. It was about the Collins family name, the Collins reputation, about you showing off to the world that you could train your own sons to be you. Well you failed, Dad. I'm not you, and Chase is definitely not you either. And thank God for it."

"How dare you speak to your father that way?!"

"Because I am sick and tired of trying to please you and it never being enough!" Blake forced out furiously. "I am done with being the perfect son and never being happy! I've had enough. I came here tonight to try to talk sense into you – to make you see that you've got a hell of a son, and a hell of a dancer, here, and that you ought to be proud of him. But you never listen, and you're too stubborn to admit to being wrong. Clearly there's no hope. I'm going home – and Chase, you are more than welcome to come with me. I know I wouldn't want to stay." He turned his back on his parents, grabbed his coat and jacket, and marched from the room before either of them could respond.

He was halfway down the driveway towards his car when he heard a voice behind him.

"Blake! Hey, Blake!" He turned and grinned at his brother, who was jogging to catch up with him. Chase was still drenched, and getting more so by the second as he hurried out into the rain again. Blake unlocked the car with the remote on his key fob and gestured for his brother to get into the passenger seat. He himself ducked in behind the wheel and leaned back against the headrest, letting out a long breath. A moment later the other door opened and slammed shut again, leaving Chase in the car.

"They're going to kill us both, aren't they?" Blake asked, his eyes shut and his head still lolling against the back of his seat. Chase laughed – a real laugh, one that Blake hadn't heard in far too long.

"Probably," he agreed. Blake quirked a grin and looked sidelong at his brother.

"It'd be worth it," he admitted, and Chase mirrored his smile as he reached for his seatbelt.

"I have to say, bro, I'd forgotten you had it in you."

"Honestly? So had I."

"Well, I'm glad you found it again," Chase said. "Although living with them after this is going to be hell."

"Well, we'll see," Blake said cryptically, and Chase caught his eye, grinning.

"You either just threatened Mom and Dad, or you invited me to move in, big brother."

"I'm undecided as to which would be harder."

"Living with me, definitely." Blake chuckled.

"That's what I thought," he concurred, pulling the car smoothly out of the driveway and turning in the direction of his apartment.

"Andie said you let her back in," Chase said after a few moments of silence.

"I did."

"Why?" Blake pondered his words for a few moments before responding.

"Because she's good at what she does," he said finally. "With a little training she could be good at a whole host of other things, too. She deserves that chance."

"Thanks, Blake," Chase said for the second time that night. "And thanks for standing up for me in there. I never needed their approval. But ever since I was a kid … all I can ever remember is wanting yours." Blake smiled a half-smile.

"You've always had that, Chase."

A/N: Okay so that was cheesy. So sue me. I enjoy brotherly fluff. I'm semi-considering a second part, where Chase tells Andie that he's living with Blake etc, but I'm not sure if it would be well-received. As I said, this was my first Step Up fanfiction, so I'd really appreciate your thoughts, whether they be good or bad!

Cheers,
Alison :)