A/N: It's just after mid-years and Ollie has returned from the third year tour and prix de fonteyn auditions are underway in Sammy's birth region, a loop hole that will allow him the chance to compete after missing city auditions. Meanwhile, Christian is having his own personal crisis.
So, with season two almost at it's end, I thought I'd write something. Gay characters. Slash. Nothing graphic. Don't like, don't read. Consider yourself warned. Also, it follows episode 17 and contains spoilers from then on. I don't own dance academy, don't claim to. Review if you like, but don't just serve me a cup of cold hater-ade.
'Hey, man. You're back, and you didnt get kicked off the tour again!' Sammy smiled, shaking his head at the thought of Ollie's "community service" sentence: help Sammy train or not rejoin the third-year tour.
'Somehow.' Ollie smiled back, handing Sammy some stuff to carry for him. 'So, I need to get to Kingston for the prix.' Sammy stated. 'But I thought you missed the auditions?' Ollie asked, confused. 'I did.' Sammy agreed casually. 'But?' 'But, regional auditions are underway, and, technically, I was born in the Kingston shire, so..' 'Loophole.' Ollie chuckled. 'So, I need to get there. Preferably in a red car. Oh, look!' He gestured towards Ollie's convertable. 'Sweet. We'll make a roadtrip of it.' Ollie smiled. 'Room for one more?' Christian piped up, walking over towards the other dancers. 'I want to see this guy who makes finless boards; thought I'd check 'em out and see an old mate at the same time.' 'Yeah, it's all cool. Grab your stuff and we'll meet back here in the morning.' The group break up and go their seperate ways, excited about the roadtrip to come, except Christian, who's nervous about what's going to come of his little plan.
It was barely eight thirty when the group threw their stuff in the trunk and climbed into the car. 'Typical. It's the same assignment every year. Two guys in the year above me did the whole coming out to mum and dad thing. Me too, as if being gay somehow defined me.' Ollie scolded the actions of his past, slightly amused at his own naivety. 'How did your parents take it?' Christian asked. 'Bit personal, Christian?' Sammy responded. 'Nah, it's alright. They were pretty good with it. I'd always known, and I guess they did too.'
A short while later, they pulled into a campsite somewhere in Kingston, not far from the audition hall where dancers were already preparing for that afternoon. As Ollie pitched his tent, Sammy and Christian hung a tarpaulin over a string and pegged some support strings into the ground, which left a foot high gap between the tarpaulin and the ground. Leaving their bags in the tent, they took off to the surfboard workshop where they would find the finless boards and where Christian would find his father.
'What can I do for you?' asked a man in his mid-thirties, wiping his hands on a rag. 'I heard you made finless boards.' Christian replied, masking his nerves. 'What do you know about them?' 'Not much, only that they're supposed to stop you slipping?' 'That's about it. What's your name?' Christian hesitated for a moment. 'Chris.' 'Okay, Chris, we'll meet back here this afternoon, go for a surf and I'll figure out what kind of board would be best for you.' 'Okay.' and on that note, Sammy and Christian left. 'Chris? Where'd that come from?' 'Tired, I guess.' Christian blew off Sammy's questioning. 'I'm going for a run. Good luck with your audition today.' 'Thanks.' Sammy called out, but Christian had already began to run, so Sammy headed toward the audition hall, collecting his things from the tent on his way.
'Where do you surf?' 'Maroubra, mostly. Surf's good there.' Christian supplied, diving into the surf on a board he'd borrowed from his father.
After the boy's group audition, Sammy was collecting his things when Ollie walked in. 'You killed it, man. There's no way you won't make the nationals.' 'We'll have to see if I kill it in tomorrow's solos first.' Sammy said. 'Details, man.' Ollie chuckled, putting his arm around Sammy as they walked outside together.
'Sounds like girl problems.' The boardmaker said as he and Christian collapsed on the sand after a long surf on good swell. 'Was that YOUR problem?' Christian asked testily. 'Sorry?' 'Is that why you couldn't hang around for me and mum?' 'I was nineteen when I married her and had you, I couldn't handle the responsibility and I had to find myself. I knew who you were the second you walked in...how is she, anyway?' 'She died. Eighteen months ago. She was sick, she needed you. And you weren't there. I looked after her. I needed you.' Christian's voice grew louder the more emotional he became.
Later, the boys were on the sand by the beach, Sammy practising nervously for the solos and Ollie leaning against his car, yelling out directions. 'How are you supposed to help me if you're sitting over there?' Sammy complained, attempting the same move for the god-knows-what time. Ollie laughed as Christian walked past the car and over to Sammy, performing the same dance that was infuriating his friend. Without missing a step, he leapt into the air, practically pirouetting before landing squarly on the uneven sand, his eyes meeting his father's, barely 20 meters away.
'I brought you this. You might slip a little, but it's a garunteed improvement over anything you were riding before.' He passed the board to his son. 'I don't have any cash.' Christian spoke. 'It's a gift.' His father replied, walking away before any more could be said. Christian carefully removed a piece of paper taped on to the board, and put the mobile number into his pocket. 'I'm going to stay with my mate tonight. My battery's charged if you need me.' He put the new board into Ollie's backseat and walked away.
Sure enough, by the time the boys got back to their tents, fast food in hand, Christian was gone, and so was his stuff. He'd taken Sammy's blanket and left his sleeping bag, though. Good thing that, nights by the beach were cold and his tent wasn't much of a tent.
That night as the rain poured down, Christian had called Sammy and in order to hear him, Sammy had to put his phone on speaker. 'So, do you like him or something?' Christian started. 'Coz you were acting pretty weird before.' 'No, I don't.' Sammy snapped. 'Sorry, it's just, you said you were working that stuff out.' 'Doesn't mean anything, Christian, okay?' Sammy responded, tired of the subject. 'Besides, I think he's into you, man.' Christian replied. 'Lucky I don't go for the neurotic type, then.' Ollie chuckled from his tent. 'Do you mind?' Sammy asked. 'We're trying to have a private conversation.' 'Get in here before you drown out there.' Ollie laughed. 'Gotta go, Christian. See you tomorrow.' 'Good luck, man. Kill it.' Christian replied, ending his words with a hang up. Exasperated, Sammy sighed, collected his things, and crawled into Ollie's tiny tent.
Lying down beside him, Sammy pulled his borrowed sleeping bag up over his head, muttered goodnight to Ollie, and fell asleep, mentally going over his solo again and again.