Author's Notes: Wow! I never expected to get this much feedback on the first chapter! Honestly, it's the most I've ever gotten for a fic at one time. I feel obligated to answer the one prevailing question: I'm not going to tell you what Téa has on Duke. You'll just have to wait and see.
Chapter Two
"Look. First thing you have to understand is that Mai's parents are rich," Duke explained the next morning. The day was overcast and muggy when the group of four met in Téa's studio, but thankfully the clouds blocking the sun kept the temperature of the room to a bearable level. Everyone sprawled out on the floor around the stereo in various degrees of relaxation.
"Ya mean they've both got sticks up their asses," Joey rephrased helpfully. Duke rolled his eyes.
"…Which means that they're not fans of the kind of dancing that goes on at the high school prom."
Joey spluttered indignantly. "Hey, just 'cause you're out of high school already doesn't mean—!"
"—I don't think he was trying to pick on us, Joey," Tristan cut in.
"He's too afraid of me to try anything like that." Téa smiled. Duke's lips twitched, but said nothing. She picked up where he left off. "So we're going to show you what I was trying to show you yesterday. How to waltz. Foxtrot, if we get that far, but definitely waltz."
"What about all that stuff with the sequins and the babes in slinky dresses? When're we gonna learn that?" Joey straightened from leaning back on his hands and flexed his wrists. "That stuff doesn't look gay."
"Your partner has to know those dances first, Joey," Duke explained with more patience than he'd shown in two days, "Serenity certainly doesn't, and I'm certain Mai doesn't either. You can lead an inexperienced partner in a fairly decent waltz. But a samba? Or a tango? Hardly."
"Hey, how do you know all this stuff?" Tristan quirked an eyebrow suspiciously. The dark-haired boy had been picking on them earlier about learning to dance, after all.
Téa and Duke exchanged glances. "Competition requires mastery of at least three Latin dances, as well as three traditional ballroom dances."
Tristan and Joey both sat back, gazes flicking between the slender girl and the equally willowy boy. Téa arched an eyebrow at them. "What? He was willing to learn, and my first partner moved away last year. So I taught him." She poked Duke fondly, and he flashed a sheepish grin that looked utterly out of place on his usually smug features. "We wiped the floor with the competition, last time."
Silence stretched.
"…Whoa." Joey managed at last.
"Well," Tristan backed him up, grinning, "if Téa could teach you, then she should be able to teach us easy."
"We'll see," Duke smirked, "but if you're such a prodigy, maybe you ought to be my student first. I've never taught anyone how to dance before."
"What's that supposed to mean? You think I'm stupid or something?" Joey demanded angrily.
"Well, Tristan doesn't have two left feet after all."
"…I swear, you start that dog shit again, and you're gonna be in for some serious a—" The blond broke off at Téa's glare, and dropped his eyes, rubbing the back of his head furiously. "Fine."
Tristan snickered, and Joey swatted him. Duke rolled his eyes for the second time. "Téa…"
Whatever he intended to say drowned in the sudden roar of rain striking the roof. Four pairs of eyes turned up, studying the rafters.
"Let's get going," Téa leaned back to shuffle through the pile of compact discs she'd assembled for today, "at least it'll be a lot cooler in here now." The rest of her company grumbled good-naturedly, but the rain interrupting their argument reminded them that time was of the essence, and they all got to their feet. Duke waited until the music started and Téa came back to claim her partner, before he led Tristan away from the others.
"So who gets to lead?" Tristan grinned.
"First, I want to know how much Téa has worked with you." The older boy seemed all business now, tone brisk.
"Oh…" The sudden change of demeanor flustered the brunet a little. "For about three days."
"You know the basic steps?"
"I think so…"
"She made you dance with the stick." Duke's bare arms rose, folded into a position Tristan remembered, miming the proper posture for the leader. The second day, Téa presented her students with a pair of broomsticks, and forced them to stagger through the steps with the damn thing clutched awkwardly across their elbows.
"Yeah…"
"And you whacked Joey with it at least once, didn't you?"
"Y—hey!"
"Sorry," Duke snickered at Tristan's glare, "I couldn't resist. Knowing you two…it was a given. Don't worry! If it's any consolation – I whacked Téa with mine the first time."
"You did?"
"Well, not on purpose, but yeah. Got her right on the back of the head. And if you tell her I told you, I'll kill you."
The idea of suave, self-possessed Duke whapping Téa on the head with anything – let alone a broomstick – was so hysterical that Tristan had to slap one hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. It broke the nervous tension about the new arrangement quite nicely, and as the older boy led him through the usual warm-up, he had to admit that he preferred this setup. Duke might not have been a professional teacher, but he knew what he was doing, and he also knew how to slow down his movements enough for his student to follow.
His mouth was a little harder to deal with, however.
"How do you manage to be so stiff? I thought monkeys were supposed to be agile."
Tristan bristled, but didn't have the time to retort before Duke moved on.
"I thought you said you could count to three."
"Will you shut the hell up?"
"Don't put your heel down! You have to move on the balls of your feet, or you'll never be fast enough to keep up with the music."
Tristan looked down at his feet in despair. "I'll fall over!"
"No you won't. It'll feel funny at first, but I promise you'll get used to it. This isn't the high school prom. It's not all about rocking back and forth and sucking on someone's face. Here…stop. Stop." And then Tristan was expected to freeze, let Duke walk around him and correct whatever he was doing wrong, and move back into the rhythm of the music when he said it was okay.
It was degrading, letting Duke order him around like this, but he put up with remarkably good humor. A quick occasional look across the room at how Téa and Joey were progressing registered that the blond boy was getting the raw end of his instructor's personality too, but he seemed just as resigned to the situation as Tristan.
And thus went the rest of the most humiliating – and possibly the most constructive – week of their lives.
