The studio door squeaks as Sam hip checks it open. He finishes his text to Dean "Practice again 2day. Will b late home". He turns the ringer off and puts it away into his bag. A few other dancers are already in the studio, practicing for their upcoming showcase. Ruby and Becky are at the barre, warming up. Ash had his ear buds in and was bopping around in a style that resembled no type of dancing Sam had ever seen. Still, Ash made it look good. Sam grinned, shaking his head. That kid really did dance to the beat of his own drum.
He shucked off his jacket and shoes, dumping them onto his bag. He shuffled over to a clear space in the room, going through his stretches and clearing his head. Between sprinting to the laundromat and back before Dean woke up, a science test and losing his math book he was yearning to get some stress relief. He took a deep breath and sat down, bending at the waist to stretch out his spine. Right now, it didn't matter that his English paper was due in 2 days, that Dad wouldn't be home for a month, that Jessica hadn't spoken to him at lunch. Right now, what mattered was the music, the space and his body.
The pleasant ache in his body as he stretched helped shift the stiffness from being hunched over a desk all day. His ankle was still a little tender but he could get passed that. He was about to get up and start trying out a few moves when Madame MacLeod bustled in. The pint sized red haired was a harried as she ever was. Her long ballgown-esque dress, shifted around her legs as she negotiated her way into the room, burdened with several books, a bag, her trust velvet pouch of crystals and herbs she claimed, "cleansed and sanctified the energy of the room, clarifying mental focus and connecting body to spirit". Sam smiled to see her.
"Need help there, Miss?"
"O Samuel, less of the Miss and more of the taking these huge tomes into those strapping arms of yours. Lots to do today and little time to accomplish them."
Sam took her books from her and put them on the table she kept in the corner of the room next to the stereo, CD collection and props closet.
"I do hope Samuel dear, that you are not going to attempt any ballet foot work today" She said, eyeing his ankle.
"But I need to work on my arabesque for the final exam…."
"1 day off will not throw out all the hard work you have been doing. A broken ankle very could. Strap that foot and work on your jazz routine"
Sam sighed and nodded, digging into the class medical kit for an ace bandage. He had a lot of practice in this kind of first aid.
"Hey Sam"
He looked up to see Ash standing over him, twisting a hair tie around his long mop.
"Hi Ash. Headband not cutting it today?"
"Nah man. These luscious locks are getting harder and harder to keep under wraps."
"You know you can cut hair, right?"
"I could say the same to you Mr. boy band heart throb."
Sam chuckled "Yeah but I don't complain about my hair"
"No, you just tie it up into one of those hipster man bun things." Ash replied, handing him his spare hair tie. Ash had loaned him a hair tie every lesson since the first time Sam met him. It was how they became friends in fact.
"Hey, if it works, it works" Sam took the hair tie and pulled his hair up and back.
"You know I have tons of those" Ash said, sitting down next to him "You could keep it and just wear your hair up all the time. It looks good"
"Yeah but Dean…"
Ash groaned and flopped onto his back. "Dean, Dean, Dean. He's your excuse for everything. You can never do anything because Dean would get upset. Or your Dad. I bet you haven't told them about the upcoming show case"
"Why would I tell them? I have a good thing going here Ash. Telling them about it would just ruin it."
"They should see how good you are Sam. You've worked too hard at dancing to keep pretending to be a mediocre soccer player."
"I've worked too hard at dancing to have my brother call me a sissy or my dad to act like I'm an embarrassment. They wouldn't get it, okay? My Dad's idea of what guys should do is as traditional as it gets and Dean fits right into it. He's strong, athletic, fast…"
"Sam you're strong and athletic and fast"
"Forget it Ash. This isn't a movie where everybody learns important life lessons about love and acceptance. This is real life. One day I'll have to tell my Dad I don't wanna go into the Marines and that I want to go to Julliard. And that will mess up his grand revenge plans and break his heart. It's more than likely he'll never speak to me again."
"Sam, it's not your job to find the people that killed your mom..."
"Don't Ash. Just. Don't" Sam looked him dead in the face, expression cold and eyes blazing.
In that moment, he regretted the day he told Ash about his mom. She and his father had meet in the forces when they were both deployed to Afghanistan, her Army, him Marines.
According to the fragments he'd been able to wheedle out of Dean it was all sunshine and roses until an insurgence fighter group blew up the house where Mom had been. She wasn't even supposed to be there, she was supposed on a plane to America with baby Sam and four-year-old Dean. But red tape got in the way and Dad came home from the embassy to find the place ablaze. He could only rescue the boys before the whole place caved in. Since then Dad had been obsessed with finding the people responsible. Sam knew was meant to sign up as soon as he was legally able, in one years' time. He also knew there was no way he could. All the unofficial training his father had put them through growing up (and the arguments that ensued as a result) had shown him that. Of course, Dean was all for it and couldn't understand why Sam wasn't. In the end, it just became easier to pretend everything was fine. Sam signed up to "soccer" with the excuse that it would boost his fitness for the aptitude test because he knew his father would agree to it then. Since then everything had calmed down and Sam wasn't going to do anything to ruin it.
"Sorry man. I didn't mean to… I mean I just wanted to…"
"I know Ash. Just drop alright?"
"Alright"
The rest of the practice was pretty sombre after that, at least for Sam. Madame Macleod went on about her crystals and the importance of form for a bit. Becky squealed, Ruby called him a moose, Ash spaced out to his own music and ignored the choreography. Sam drifted into his own corner, mechanically working through his jazz routine. It was quiet, soothing. But he didn't soar. Not today.
