x-x
That night, Rodney spent well over an hour of what should have been research time sitting on his ass on the couch, using his laptop to look up John's old competition videos on YouTube. Why he hadn't done it earlier, he had no idea, but now, he wanted to see what the man was like when he was really dancing. More than that, it was sort of a quest to figure John out, because he just didn't get it. No way had that almost-but-not-quite-a-kiss been in his imagination. He may not have all the social graces, but he had enough savvy to know what had happened – well, almost happened.
There were several videos of John with his partner, dancing at various competitions in Canada and elsewhere, and Rodney was having a hard time reconciling the stylized, overly made up, sequined man from the recordings with the John who was just John, the John who'd almost kissed him.
The John who'd almost kissed him, but then hadn't.
And why the hell hadn't he? It'd looked like he'd wanted to. Was it that Rodney was his student? Or that, and this would be truly chilling, John was the only in-the-closet gay ballroom dancer in Canada? Oh, that would really and truly suck. He so did not want to do the coming out of the closet thing again – he'd had quite enough of that in his twenties.
Rodney's phone rang, snapping him from his reverie. He answered it, but barely even got a chance to say "Hello" before his grandmother started talking.
"So what's up with you and that nice young man?" she asked.
Rodney pinched the bridge of his nose. "You couldn't ask this on the ride home?"
"You didn't look like you wanted to talk about it then."
"And I want to talk about it now?"
She laughed. "So, about that nice young man," she said again, leading.
"He's just my teacher," Rodney said.
"Really?" she asked. "He seemed interested in more than that."
Rodney closed his eyes, wondering just how much his grandmother had seen. "It was just a dance. It's like acting," he said, mirroring what John had told him earlier.
"I don't think so," she said. "So what are you going to do about it?"
"Oh, for…"
His grandmother laughed again. "Good night, Rodney."
"Good night," he groaned.
x-x
Rodney shuffled his feet on the carpet, then crossed one leg over the other and started fidding with his shoelaces. He'd never been good at waiting.
John was actually late for their lesson – that had never happened before. The stupid lesson was only half an hour long – a half hour he'd come to really, really like, but today had been really, really dreading – and John had missed most of that, now.
What if he didn't show up at all?
Maybe he'd totally freaked John out. Maybe, after what had happened, John hadn't expected him to show up. Maybe… Oh, shit, what had he done? Had he driven the man away? Was he not even willing to be his teacher any more? Oh, God.
Rodney heard the door open, and he raised his head warily.
John stood there, looking sheepish, which only made him more attractive. Damn it.
"I'm sorry," John said, seeming to mean more than 'I'm sorry I'm late.' Shutting the door behind him, he asked, "Can we talk?"
Rodney nodded, tight and nervous. Thank goodness there wasn't another soul in the studio. If John was about to fire him or something, he didn't want witnesses.
As John sat beside him, Rodney shot out, "You're late," immediately wishing he could take it back. Sometimes his mouth got ahead of his brain.
"I know," John said.
"Where have you been?" Rodney asked, this time more gently.
"I was off being an idiot," John replied with his typical brevity.
"You better now?" Rodney asked, his mouth running again.
John put a hand on his leg, and Rodney nearly jumped out of his skin.
"You know what I said about the rumba and it being pretend?" John asked, staring directly into his eyes.
Surprisingly speechless, Rodney was unable to do more than nod.
John gave him a soft smile. "I think I made a mistake."
And with that, John leaned in and kissed him. And oh, it was everything that Rodney had thought it would be, especially when John wound a hand around his back and pulled him closer, because God, that was… Oh, that was something.
x-x
Rodney slid his hand across the table, nudging John's fingers. "Was it that I'm your student, and you didn't want to…?" He raised his eyebrows in implication, taking a sip from his coffee as he peered over the rim.
"Nah," John said, turning his own mug in his hands. "We're both adults, I figure we can handle it."
Rodney cast a faux-surreptitious glance around the nearly empty coffee shop, as if watching out for eavesdroppers. "Was it that you're actually closeted, and…"
John grasped Rodney's hand for a moment, then released it. "Hardly," he said with a laugh.
"So what was it?"
John winced. "It's that my life's not quite," he hesitated and sat up straighter, adding, "conducive to long term relationships."
Rodney felt that in his gut. He put down his mug. "What do you mean?"
"I like you," John said, looking down at his coffee. When he looked up again, his eyes drove right through Rodney. "But I'm a dancer. I'm here in Toronto right now, but I spend a lot of the year in New York training, a good chunk travelling for competitions, and…" He shrugged, but Rodney got no impression he was dismissing the issues. "I'm here, now, only because Kathleen was injured. Normally at this time of year I'm a thousand miles away."
Hold on. "Was?" Rodney said.
"What?" John asked, brows drawn down.
"You said Kathleen was injured. Past tense." When John didn't answer, Rodney went on. "So you're, I mean, we just…" He stumbled over the words, his hands emphasising each as he went. "And now you're telling me that…" He heaved a huge breath. "So when, exactly, were you planning to tell me that you're leaving?" He hoped, despite everything, that John would tell him he wasn't leaving, that he was staying in Toronto, maybe retiring, teaching full time, or… something.
John, to his credit, met his eyes. "I don't know yet. Couple months, maybe."
"Couple months?" Rodney gasped.
John pushed his coffee away. "I knew this was a mistake."
"A mistake," Rodney said sharply. "You know, it shouldn't suprise me that someone like you, with your..." He waved a hand up and down, indicating John's body, "...could be as...as..." He stammered, pointing at John defiantly. "Maybe we shouldn't see each other again," he said angrily, throwing up his hands.
"Maybe we shouldn't," John replied, not matching Rodney's heat. He seemed more defeated than anything.
"Maybe we shouldn't," Rodney echoed, voice now gone completely flat. Feeling like he'd just been kicked in the stomach, he stood. "I won't be in for my lesson on Thursday." At that, he turned and left.
x-x
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