Act I: Pas de Deux

Ahiru stands in the corner of the large practice room as rehearsal ends, everyone sweating and laughing as they begin to single file out into the locker rooms. She smiles and bids everyone goodbye as they pass her, hoping that her smile can conceal just how nervous she feels for the part. One of her leg warmers slides down her tights as she tries to flatten some loose hair and tuck them underneath her yellow headband. Eventually the choreographer leaves, and she's left all alone in the large bright room.

Sighing, Ahiru finds herself glancing over toward one of the mirrors and studies her reflection. Maybe she's grown a little, but she still looks gangly and awkward and…not at all Clara-like. Can she really do this? She was even messing up a lot in practice earlier, and she could tell a lot of the other members looked at her funny. Maybe it really is too soon for her to think that she could have possibly received the part from pure talent.

Suddenly she sees a dark reflection standing in the mirror, and she stands up straight with a surprised squeak. Ahiru didn't even realize that Fakir hadn't left practice yet. He's standing in the other corner, watching her with his arms crossed.

Turning to look at him directly instead of through a mirror, Ahiru gives a nervous laugh. "Ah… all done for today, huh?"

At first he says nothing, eyeing her carefully. Then he shakes his head and pushes himself from leaning against the wall and begins to head on over toward her. Ahiru feels herself stiffen.

"You were a complete mess today," he states bluntly. "I don't know what's going on, but I know you can dance better than that."

Feeling her heart sink a little, Ahiru glances away, suddenly not wanting to look at him. It's really unfair to him, isn't it? He makes a much better Nutcracker Prince than she makes a Clara. He doesn't need someone like her as a partner. "No, it's… not really like that. Not at all! I just—"

"Come on." When Ahiru turns her head back to him, he's standing a few feet away from her, one arm positioned behind him, legs and feet poised, and one hand outstretched to her invitingly.

Ahiru recognizes it as the first position to the pas de deux between the Nutcracker Prince and Clara. "I'll show you that you're better than that."

Rehearsal that day mostly included the beginning parts, where Clara first found herself in another magical world. They didn't use any of their time for the partner dances. So what did Fakir mean to do? Ahiru knows that she can only seemingly dance well when she has a good partner; it's dancing by herself that is the problem.

Nonetheless, she tries to lift herself into position, attempting to look dainty. "…Okay," she mumbles a little shyly. She offers her hand in return.

With that, Fakir steps forward and begins the dance. He gently takes her hand and bends down in a bow, lowering his head until he appears to give her fingers a princely kiss. It causes Ahiru to freeze for a moment as the flashbacks from her dream the night before fill her mind. That was—he did something like that—no, Fakir didn't do anything, just the one from her dream! They were two completely different—!

Against her better judgment, Ahiru flushes. But she still finds it in herself to lift on her toes and step closer, before he draws her by the arm and stands tall.

She doesn't even need the music playing in the background. She can hear every chord, every phrase, screaming loudly in her ears as Fakir leads her in the pas de deux. They circle around the room as if presenting for an audience, before their arms lift above their heads and they stand tall. Ahiru curtsies.

Her movements are still awkward and not skilled enough to be called Clara. But even so, Fakir doesn't comment on it. He takes his hands and places them on her waist which garners a small gasp out of her while he lifts her up in the air. Ahiru tries to concentrate on being graceful and dainty and everything Clara should be—but all she can remember is the way Fakir's hands gripped at her hips in a similar way in her dreams. Sliding down her waist, rubbing sensually over and in between her thighs, urging her to spread her legs and welcome him. And she did spread them. Ahiru didn't even have to think about it twice in her dreams as she gave Fakir permission to continue touching her, his chest against her back and breathing hotly at her ear. She remembers the way his fingers inched closer and the way her hips subtly drew upward because she wanted him to and—

"Ahiru."

"QUA—!"

Back down to reality, Ahiru abruptly jumps and Fakir manages to hold tight to her shoulders before she could fall. He gives her a quizzical look. "You started breathing heavily. What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing!" she squeaks. "Nothing at all, I was just—I'm still a little tired from practice today! Ahahaha…."

Fakir lifts one brow, studying her with scrutinizing eyes as if waiting for her to give him a proper explanation for her behavior. Instead, Ahiru can only meet his green eyes and blush even more upon the way that color also haunted her dreams. One of the clearest parts of her dream last night includes the way he crawled down her form, staring at her with dark eyes as he kissed down her belly. And the things he whispered, talking about how he can make her feel so good, make her toes curl and body shake….

She really needs to stop thinking about this.

Shaking her head violently, Ahiru suddenly pushes herself away from Fakir and dashes off to the door, heading to the women's locker room. "I'm sorry! I'll practice later I'mjustreallytiredrightnow!"

Fakir is left standing in the middle of the room, hands still in position, and completely confused.

Ahiru erratically gasps, trying to muffle it some by biting her lower lip, as Fakir trails his fingers from his grasp on her ankles down her legs. Her fingers clutch in the bedsheets beneath her and she hooks her legs onto his arms. She's almost breathless, giggling as his touch tickles the underside of her thighs. And then he leans his head down to her body, his hands raising the skirt of her nightgown and exposing her abdomen. He flicks his tongue in her navel, causing her to cry out before his teeth gently graze against her soft skin and move lower to tug her lacy panties over her thighs. She raises herself up on her arms as best she can but Fakir stops her, pushing her back down with his mouth on top of hers.

"Fakir..." she gets out when her mouth is free again, gasping again as he takes hold of her hips.

Her panties are gone, though Ahiru doesn't know or care how that happened. Her heels rub against his back as he kisses the lower part of her belly again.

"Keep going," she urges on, shifting her hips in his hands.

Ahiru can feel Fakir smiling against her skin, warm breath and green eyes driving her mad as he murmurs his intentions to her. And then she finally feels him move down lower, mouth working over her.

"Ah-!"

She instinctively bucks her hips and tries to move her legs further apart, moaning and panting. One of her hands moves down and tangles in his hair, keeping him in place. His name falls from her lips again and again as she arches her back, feeling herself getting closer and closer to the brink.

It was the first time Ahiru's voice woke herself up. She struggles to catch her breath, body convulsing and mind reeling from her dream. Her legs, spread and propped up, fall back to the bed. The sheets and her nightgown are bunched up at her middle and her hand is down her panties. She reluctantly removes her hand and wipes some sweat from her forehead with the back. Her cheeks tint pink in frustration and embarrassment. It seems like the more she understands, the worse the dreams get.

Now how is she going to face Fakir today?