A/N: This is a giftfic for my wonderful moirail, Slytherinpirate! Happy holidays!
(P.S. I have no idea what I'm doing. Sorry. And much thanks to my sister for her sarcastic AU suggestion.)
Your name is Kankri Vantas, and you regret this already.
Since your father decided you weren't doing enough activities (because debate is your only extracurricular) and signed you up for, of all things, ballroom dancing, you've been secretly dreading it. You told your father that touching people you didn't know could be extremely triggering, but he sighed and told you that it would be good for you. And your brother, Karkat, won't back you up because he's been signed up for soccer.
So now you're stuck in a car with your exhausted father (he has two jobs and he had to work overtime last night) and your irritated brother, your heart pounding like the drum beat from one of those triggering pop songs.
"Kankri. Please get out of the car," your father says, and you can hear his patience wearing thin.
"But Father—"
"I will not hear one more argument against this, Kankri. It'll be good for you. And we'll be late for your brother's soccer practice."
"Karkat doesn't like soccer—"
"That's not your choice."
"I fucking hate soccer," your brother adds from the back seat.
"This is not the time for that conversation. Will you just please go on in, Kankri? You can drop it after this class if you still don't like it."
You sigh and see there's no more point in arguing. You open the door and trudge into the dance studio, your red turtleneck sweater catching on everything it can find. Your face goes scarlet because you were lecturing—telling your friends about this injustice at lunch this week and a few of them (including someone whose attention you care more about more than you'd ever admit) said they were signed up, too.
Inside, a perky woman with dark hair pulled into a tight, almost angry-looking bun is smiling in a way that makes you nervous. "Hello, dear. Are you…?"
"Kankri Vantas," you mutter.
"Kankri! Right, your dance partner is Cronus Ampora."
"But—"
"I know, I know it's a ballroom dancing class. But not enough girls signed up for this session." She gives you an exaggerated sympathetic look. "Just wait for a few minutes. Everyone will be here soon."
You sit on one of the benches and feel your stomach twist itself in knots. Why? You normally thing longer thoughts, but that's the only one you can manage to hold on to right now. Why him, of all people?
Others you know trickle in slowly. Some are your friends and some…some are the people who aren't so kind to you. Latula of course shows up, as do Meulin, Mituna, and Rufioh. Several others who aren't terribly nice to you for whatever reason also enter. But there is no sign of Cronus. You feel the knot in your stomach loosen and maybe he's just not here! Maybe he's sick. For once in your life, you can't open your mouth. Although you suppose that's because you think you'll vomit if you do.
The clock ticks to four PM precisely and Cronus saunters in, all overconfident and attractive and—no, you did not just think that. You blush and bury your face in your sweater. But of course Latula notices.
"Kankles," she teases. "What's up?"
"Nothing," you say. You're going to throw up if one more word leaves your mouth.
"Riiiight," she says, drawing out the word to the point where it grates on your already stretched-thin nerves. She's about to continue when the teacher starts class.
"We'll begin with the waltz! Everybody, find your partners!" You sigh and make your way over to Cronus. He smirks and you see the other students giggle immaturely. "Lead, take follow's right hand with your left."
"I'll lead," Cronus says, still smirking.
"Lead's right hand cups follow's shoulder blade!"
Cronus moves his right hand to your left shoulder blade and no, this does not make you feel a little bit good.
"Follow, put your left fingertips on the shoulder seam of lead's shirt!"
You hesitate, but manage the small action. At least it's not a terribly close dance. The dance teacher starts instructing you in the rest of the steps and you try your best to stay on your feet because that would be properly humiliating and you don't want to look ridiculous in front of Cronus—no, you didn't think that either.
The dance continues as your nerves tighten from a knot in your stomach to a Boy Scout (like you never were) tying up all your insides. Not that you want to be rude to Boy Scouts, but…okay, you're just really nervous!
Finally, the hour or so passes and it's time to go. You've been touching your dance partner (you must keep a level head) for nearly an hour and you feel like you won't be able to stand once you let go.
But you stay standing and you shove your hands into your pockets, hoping your father's there.
And of course he's not. Neither is Cronus's father. Every single other person leaves quickly until it's just you two on that bench. You don't feel so good.
"Hey, Kankri," Cronus begins. "Where's your old man?"
"He's picking my brother up from soccer practice," you almost whisper. You notice that Cronus is very conspicuously not smoking. Why?
"My old man probably forgot me again," Cronus says casually. You realize that he's probably never said to anyone before and you can't help but treasure the gem of information.
"Oh. Would you like a ride?" Your father will kill you.
"Nah, he'll show up eventually."
"Are you sure?" You don't want him to spend the night here or have to walk home or something like that. Wait—are you actually worried about him? What are you doing?
"Of course, dude. I'm fine. Why so fussed?"
"N-No reason…" Dammit, you stuttered! And swore! In your head, but still!
"S'okay. Did I ever tell you that sweatshirt looks really great on you?"
"Th-thanks…" He's looking right at you and you can't stand this. It's simply not fair. You hope your father comes soon.
"Hey, who's that?" he says suddenly. It's dark out, but that pair of slightly crooked headlights can only belong to your family's old car.
"Uh, that's just my dad. Bye," you say shortly.
"See you 'round," Cronus says, winking. That didn't make you blush. But…are you crazy, or is that a touch of blush you see on his cheeks?
"Kankri! We have to go," you father calls. You wave one more time and hope Cronus couldn't tell you were blushing.
You climb into the car, trying to conceal your broad smile. Your brother sits in the back seat, his soccer uniform covered with mud and grass stains a little bit of blood. He has a black eye and a bloody nose and he's crossing his arms angrily. You suppose soccer practice didn't go too well.
"So?" your father says. "Do you want to quit?"
"No. Not at all," you answer, and you smile even wider. Maybe dance classes won't be so bad after all.
A/N: Much thanks to the wikihow article on how to dance the waltz.
PS I know it's way late but if anyone wants a Christmas giftfic, message me your OTP on tumblr and I'll write one (my tumblr is the same as my name).