A/N: This grew from a drabble request made by chemicalchrush.
A/N #2: Thanks to Ro for being an amazing beta, and to Maeve, for beta-reading and always being so encouraging.
A/N #3: I am in NO way an expert on ballet or music/orchestral life. I'm an expert on NONE of the careers mentioned - with the exception of Wufei's, and even then I fully acknowledge he is way too young to have that job - so please just know I'm relying on the internet. If you have any suggestions or expertise to offer, I welcome it.
Warnings: language, angst, sexy times
Pairings: 2x3xR, 3x5, 1x4, 1x6, DxC others will be added as necessary
Pas de Trois
Chapter Two
I was almost late.
My first ballet class, at the tender age of three, had started in tears when, after having gotten lost as I wandered down the long hallway of classrooms searching for mine on my own, I finally stepped into the right room and was immediately yelled at by the instructor, Miss Patty.
The rest of my memory of that first class was faint - but it involved Cathy hugging me, Cathy, all of eight, yelling at Miss Patty, and ice cream.
Our parents had been performing that night - as they had almost every night of our childhoods - and had decided that ballet classes were the best way to keep us occupied while they were at rehearsals or performances. When they came home from their show that evening and sent the babysitter on her way, Cathy and I told them what had happened.
Whereas Cathy had comforted me and called Miss Patty a 'mean old lady', our parents sat down and sighed. They told Cathy she was the perfect big sister for trying to protect me and comfort me, but then said that if we really wanted to be dancers we needed to learn now that we could never be late. Ever.
Early is on time, my father had said in his stern voice, and on time is late.
They sent me to bed, and the next day my father walked me to class - missing his own rehearsal to do so - and stood behind me while I apologized to Miss Patty for wasting her time and everyone else's.
Miss Patty, who had been awestruck to be standing in front of my father, one of the most respected principal dancers with the New York City Ballet, had only been able to nod dumbly and tell me to take my place at the back of the class.
It had been more than twenty years since I had been late to a ballet class - I had made it a habit to arrive at least half an hour early ever since I started my apprenticeship with ABT - until today.
Today, I skidded to a halt and yanked the door to the rehearsal room open at ten-twenty and met the stares of the entire company.
I swallowed hard and adjusted the strap of my duffel bag over my shoulder, drew in a deep breath, and walked into the room.
Class wasn't due to start for another ten minutes, so, while nearly everyone was present, only a handful of people were actually in their positions on the floor.
Most of the company was still arranged along the sidelines, pulling on sweaters or pinning up their hair or wrapping ankles and knees.
Heero, of course, was already in his spot on the floor.
Ballet class was, like everything else in the company, incredibly hierarchical.
While the apprentices had their own classes, some were invited to attend the company class as well, and they hugged the back wall as if intent on disappearing into it.
Corps members took up positions in front of them, us soloists used the barres in front of them, and the company principals took up positions directly in front of the mirrors.
Heero had, on the first day of rehearsal after our promotion to soloists, stepped up and claimed a spot close to one of the windows and several rows up from where we had stood last year.
I had been terrified to move up - had actually spent that first class still in my same position as when I had been part of the corps - but the next day I had joined him and we had stood side by side every day since.
Today, I had to hurriedly pull on my shoes and shove a headband on my head to keep my hair off my face - a note I had received too many times as an apprentice to risk getting again.
Heero arched an eyebrow at me.
"You didn't come home last night," he said, voice low enough that even Ralph and Iria, the soloists closest to us, couldn't hear him.
"Don't tell me you waited up?"
Heero rolled his eyes. "I had other things to occupy myself with."
"Other things or other people?" I asked, and cast a significant look at the ballet master at the front of the room.
Zechs Merquise, one of ABT's most popular principals, had been given the position of ballet master this season as he transitioned from dancer to choreographer. As ballet master, he led the morning classes, his pale blue eyes critical and omniscient as they took in our stretches, our barre work and our center work.
He was choreographing Le Corsaire this season, and with casting set to go up at the end of the week, this class - like all the ones before it this month - felt like an audition.
Heero followed my gaze to Zechs and then looked away with a shrug, refusing to comment.
I had to roll my eyes as I straightened up beside him. I had a few inches on Heero, which irked him to no end, and I didn't mind using my height advantage to annoy him on occasion.
I leaned close.
"I thought you weren't going to sleep with him anymore."
"And I thought you were done with Wufei," Heero retorted.
I arched an eyebrow at that. As far as I knew, I was done with Wufei.
"He came by last night looking for you."
I could only stare, and Heero offered me a superior little smile.
Before I could question him further, Zechs called our attention to the front.
I had to shove all extraneous thoughts to the back of my mind and focus. Even though the class started with stretches at the barre before we moved on to combinations and partner work in the center, every minute of the class mattered.
And not just because Zechs was watching.
The barre was home, as Cathy said - as our parents had said when I was finally tall enough to reach the one they had installed in the living room of our apartment growing up - and when you stepped up to the barre and rested your hand on it, you were shutting out everything else in the world.
Nothing else mattered but the barre, your body and the music.
It was one of the things that I loved most about ballet, getting lost in the movements, the positions. Feeling my body stretch and curve. The music, even though it was a single pianist, moving through me and informing my gestures.
As difficult and painful as ballet was, I loved it.
I could always trust the barre to be there, and I could always forget about everything else when I stepped up to it.
I could put Wufei out of my head - I could even forget about almost being late to class because I had woken up on a Brooklyn rooftop only an hour ago, sandwiched between two virtual strangers. I could even forget about Treize and his pointed comments, his disapproving gaze.
Of course, I could only forget and ignore everything for so long. Class came to an end at noon, and after we bowed our thanks to Zechs he departed the room and the company dissolved into cliques as everyone went through cool-down stretches.
"So where were you?" Heero asked.
"Brooklyn," I said.
Heero arched an eyebrow. "I thought you had a date with Treize."
"I did. It was awful."
"Awful enough that you decided not to come in early and work on your jetes?"
I shook my head. "No. I'm sorry about that. I overslept. I-" I hesitated, aware that what I was about to say would sound both ridiculous and lame.
"You… murdered Treize and spent the night hacking up his body?" Heero guessed.
I glared at him. "No. I went to a birthday party in Brooklyn."
"Who do we know that lives in Brooklyn?"
"No one. He's- he's a bartender, and I met him last night."
"And went home with him after the awful date with Treize? I thought you weren't sleeping your way through the city anymore."
"And I thought you weren't going to focus on berating me for my personal mistakes as a way to ignore your own colossal lack of judgement when it comes to Zechs," I bit out.
"At least we can disappoint each other equally," he said, and I had to laugh at that.
Heero offered me a slight smirk and a hand up as I finished stretching. We hefted our bags and left the room.
We headed up two flights to another rehearsal studio, where we would work on Sylvia for the next two hours before taking a lunch break and then returning to the rehearsal hall for an hour to touch up choreography for tonight's seven-thirty performance of The Firebird.
Because we were about to face two hours with Une, I decided to give Heero something besides her utter loathing to think about.
I sighed. "I didn't sleep with him."
He gave me a very pointed look, eyes roving over my entire body, taking in the clothes that I had worn to yesterday's class and rehearsals. I had barely had time to stop by our apartment in Murray Hill to grab my bag on my way in from Brooklyn that morning, and I definitely hadn't had the time to find clean clothes or shower.
"I slept over," I amended, "but I didn't fuck him. Or her."
"Or her?" he asked incredulously, a little too loudly, and we both looked around and then stepped aside to allow a few dancers to walk by. "What kind of birthday party was this?"
I rolled my eyes. "It was Duo's birthday - a surprise party that his roommate, Relena, threw."
"And we don't know either of them."
"No. Duo was a waiter at the restaurant last night. He saved me from Treize."
"So you went to his birthday party in return." The way Heero said it made it crystal clear that he was adding this to his mental list of 'Reasons Why Trowa Will Die Alone of Syphilis' - a list I was sure he and Cathy had started together.
"Yes," I said, leaving out the desserts in the back of a cab. "We hung out and it got late, and-" I also left out the part where Duo and I fell asleep on the rooftop while waiting for Relena to kick everyone else out of their apartment "-I stayed the night. I woke up late-" I decided not to tell him about waking up on the roof, with Duo draped over me, legs tangled in mine and head tucked under my chin, or Relena, one arm around my waist as she spooned against my back. I also didn't want to tell him about extricating myself from them, crawling out of the pillow nest and stealthily making my escape. Even though Heero didn't know either of them, I was pretty sure he would judge me for it. "And then I came here."
Heero gave me a look. He knew I was leaving out a lot, but he also knew not to press me for more details.
"Wufei wanted to know how you were doing."
Heero said it in a low voice, and I frowned.
"Wait- he came over to see you and ask about me?"
Heero nodded.
"He could have just called."
"Yes, because being a passive-aggressive asshole and manipulator is in no way his MO," Heero pointed out.
That was fair, but part of me was absurdly touched by the idea that he had gone to see Heero behind my back.
"What did you tell him?"
Heero didn't bother to hide his amusement. "I told him that you were on a date with a world-renown choreographer who would probably sweep you away to go back to Paris or the Bolshoi."
I had to snort. I could clearly picture Heero delighting in telling Wufei that, could picture Wufei scowling and trying to decide if Heero was being sarcastic or not.
I could also picture Treize sneering at the very suggestion.
"No danger of that," I assured Heero.
Heero winced and gave my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.
We stepped into the rehearsal studio, and I heard Heero draw in a deep breath and watched him square his shoulders as Une looked our way.
"We open in a week," I told him. "Just remember, one more week and then you're done with her."
"Sure, until the winter," he muttered.
"Six months of freedom," I assured him. "Just remember that."
Heero nodded, and I squeezed his shoulder before moving off to greet Meilin Long and Sylvia Noventa, the two principal dancers who would dance the title role.
ABT, like most large professional ballet companies, cast multiple dancers in the leading roles of each ballet. The A company would perform on opening nights, the B company on the following, and - if merited - the C company would perform after that, with each company rotating out performances for the entire run of the ballet.
Sylvia had an A and B company but, since my role as Orion and Heero's as Eros weren't as taxing as the role of Sylvia or Aminta, the male lead, we would perform every night. It was good practice, and I didn't mind at all that it meant I wouldn't be home until after eleven every night all summer.
I was already a lead in the B company for The Firebird, as well as playing Tybalt in the A company of Romeo and Juliet. Once Sylvia opened next week, my schedule would be very full.
Of course, I hoped it would be even more packed - Le Corsaire was a great ballet, and Zechs promised to be an amazing - if brutal - choreographer. I wanted a lead in that ballet just as much as Heero did.
Une called us to attention - offering a sharp remark about Heero taking his precious time to play with his hair - and I settled myself in for just one of many rehearsals that day.
-o-
Heero and I spent our lunch hour at the New York Health and Racquet Club near Gramercy Park swimming laps. Most dancers spent their lunch hour working out, and while Heero and I usually spent a few days a week lifting weights, our preferred workout was swimming.
The NYHRC offered saltwater pools and, while the club membership ate up a healthy portion of both of our salaries, it was worth it.
There were elliptical machines and free weights at the ABT rehearsal studios, but taking the time to leave the building where we spent so much of our time was as much for our sanity as it was for our physical health.
As usual, swimming in a lane beside Heero devolved into a competition almost instantly. We never bothered to time ourselves, and rarely did we say anything about it, but there was always a clear winner and we both knew it.
Heero, though he was shorter than me, had incredibly powerful legs and enough motivation that, if willpower was enough, he would have been ten-feet tall. I had to push myself to stay even with him, let alone swim faster.
It was always a balance, trying to push ourselves yet not exhausting each other. We still had two afternoon rehearsals and a performance tonight.
Ballet was a marathon, not a sprint, and we had to train accordingly.
After half an hour in the pool, I finally got in a shower and took a few minutes to shave as well while Heero just looked on, very smug, and ate trail mix.
"So how was the sex with Zechs last night?" I asked, more to wipe the look off his face than anything else.
Sure enough, the smirk slid into a scowl and Heero looked away from my face in the mirror.
"I told him I'd rather keep things professional for now."
I arched an eyebrow, surprised and impressed. Heero was incredibly self-confident to the point of being arrogant, but even he had a hard time being less than deferential to choreographers.
"How did that go?"
Heero snorted and shook his head.
I thought he wouldn't say anything, but as I packed away my shaving kit and got dressed, he sighed.
"He said that if I was so hung up on sex being related to work then it was my problem."
I scowled. "He's an asshole."
Heero snorted. "He's also brilliant." Heero ran a hand through his hair. "Trowa, I want to be in Le Corsaire."
"You will be. You're a soloist. No matter how pissed Zechs is if you don't sleep with him, he can't keep you out of the ballet."
Heero shook his head. "No, Trowa. I want Conrad."
It was my turn to snort. "Good luck. Heero- that role- you do realize there are eight male principals, as well as the rest of us soloists."
"I know," Heero agreed with an angry sigh. "But I'm better than everyone else. I've worked my ass off for this and Zechs knows it. He-" Heero caught himself and shook his head.
"What?" I asked, unused to seeing Heero so doubtful.
He gave me a look, and I knew that whatever he was about to say would piss me off.
"What?" I repeated.
"The nights when I say I'm going to his place?" Heero began. I nodded. "We do end up there, but we usually spend a few hours at the studio first. We work on the ballet."
"He's already rehearsing you for Conrad?" I was irritated, but not that upset. It was bullshit - for Zechs to have already decided that Heero would be his Conrad - but it wasn't outside the realm of what was expected.
"No. We've- I've-" Heero seemed to be struggling to say whatever was on his mind.
"Jesus, Heero, just say it."
"I've helped him choreograph it."
I could only stare.
Heero looked away, and we walked in silence for several blocks, away from the gym and back to the ABT rehearsal studios.
"What do you mean you've helped him choreograph it?" I asked at last.
Heero sighed and shrugged his shoulders, his body language more defensive than I had ever seen it.
"It started out- we started out with him just telling me what to do, but I had a few ideas of my own."
"Don't you always," I muttered with a smirk, and Heero returned the expression.
Even as an apprentice, Heero had tried to buck the system, had tried to turn demis into grands, and it had worked for him as much as it had against him. It had, I recalled, been what had first attracted Zechs' attention.
I shook my head. It was irritating to think that Zechs had decided to precast Heero - but that was not what this was.
And I knew Heero. If he said that he was helping Zechs choreograph the piece, he didn't mean that he suggested a cabriole here or a fouette there; he was legitimately helping Zechs craft this ballet.
"Is he going to credit you?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
Heero gave me a look and adjusted his bag.
"At this point? If I keep telling him I don't want to have sex until after he casts it, I'll be lucky if he even puts me in the ensemble," Heero muttered. "Of course he's not going to credit me. You know how this works."
I did. I knew all too well. Last night, with Treize, had not been my first experience with a choreographer looking to use a dancer for more than a muse.
My entire year in Paris had been filled with situations like that, and it was a large part of why I had decided to come back instead of joining the Paris Opera Ballet.
I tried to think of what to say, what I could possibly say to comfort him, and I struggled.
"I snuck out, this morning," I mumbled, looking away from Heero and straight in front of me. "We all fell asleep, and this morning I woke up and ran away."
"You didn't even… say goodbye?"
I shook my head. "Nope."
"So I take it you aren't planning on seeing him - or her - again?"
I shrugged. "Maybe I'll get an invitation to next year's birthday party?"
Heero snorted and shook his head.
It wasn't much comfort, but misery loves company, and at least I could wade through the mire with Heero, even if I couldn't figure out a way to lift him out of it.
"You're such an asshole," he muttered, a slight smirk on his face, his tense body relaxing.
"I know," I agreed, smirking again for his benefit.
But the truth was - I regretted it.
I should have stuck around, should have woken them up, should have done something. Last night had been so unlike any that I had experienced since college - maybe even ever - and I had regretted leaving them almost as soon as I stepped out of their lavish apartment.
Duo and Relena were unlike anyone I had ever met before. I didn't even regret that last night had ended without sex - although it would have been quite the experience to find myself between those two beautiful people - I just regretted that it had ended.
-o-
On performance nights, I didn't eat dinner before the show - I hated dancing while feeling full - and I had never liked eating a large lunch. It was something that Wufei used to point out, something he used to say was just yet another reason I was leading an unhealthy life and doomed to an early death - but I did go by the Pinkberry near Lincoln Center to get a cup.
I was fully aware of how stupid it was - a grown man getting a treat just because it reminded him of his sister - and I hadn't ever even told Heero about this pre-show ritual for fear of his judgement.
I comforted myself with the fact that I loaded my cup of chocolate yogurt with granola and fresh fruit, but I still couldn't help but feel guilty and furtive as I shoveled the yogurt down my throat while I sat on the steps in front of the Center.
I was never concerned with being spotted by a fellow company member - we were all too much inside our own heads to really care about looking at tourists sitting on the steps as we walked by.
I had ordered raspberries this time, and while they weren't the best fit with the chocolate, they reminded me of Duo and the night before.
I should have at least left a note, I couldn't help but think. I should have woken him up - or Relena.
Berating myself for mistakes was nothing new, and it kept me occupied while I finished the yogurt and then made my way into the dressing rooms at the Metropolitan Opera House.
I shared a dressing room with three other dancers - the A company Koschei who had opened the show last night, as well as the two dancers who played Kastchei. One of the stage hands had thought it was hilarious that the villains were all assigned the same dressing room, and had decked out the door to our room with black crepe paper and skulls.
I stepped into the room and greeted Alex, the B company Kastchei.
He nodded at me but didn't say anything. Alex and I had never been close - he and Ralph, another soloist in the company, were three years older than Heero and I. It irked Alex and Ralph that, despite their superior experience, both Heero and I were often in competition with them for leading roles. The fact that Heero was the A company Kastchei infuriated Alex, and he made no effort to hide his dislike for Heero or myself.
I walked over to my dressing station and saw a cream envelope with the ABT logo on the front of it and my name scrawled across it in the barely legible handwriting of the company artistic director, Kevin McKenzie.
That made me a little uneasy - the last time I had walked into my dressing room and found a note from McKenzie had been two years ago, near the end of the season, and McKenzie had written that he was loaning me out to the Paris Opera Ballet to see if it was a better fit.
He might as well have said he wanted to fire me.
Even though a season with the Paris Opera Ballet was, in many ways, better for my career than another in the corps at ABT, it had felt like a punishment or a death sentence. Especially since I was never even called into his office to discuss it.
It wasn't until I was already in Paris, at my first day of rehearsals, that Une, choreographing the first ballet of the season, came up to me and told me that she had requested McKenzie loan me out for the season so that she could use me and show me off to her French colleagues.
I opened this note hesitantly, and then found myself sighing as I scanned over it.
Trowa,
As you know, our most generous donors are also our greatest fans. Next week is Soraya Winner's wedding anniversary. Her husband, Zayeed, has asked for the benefit of a performance from some of our dancers at the event. The Winners donate more than fifty-thousand dollars each season. You are, according to Zayeed, one of Soraya's favorite young dancers and we would like you to perform at this event along with Heero, Meilin and Iria.
Stop by the Wardrobe Department tomorrow so that they can fit you for a costume - you and Meilin will dance the Bluebird and Princess Florine from The Sleeping Beauty. My good friend Treize Khushrenada - the choreographer for Le Spectre later this year - will oversee all of the preparations for this.
See my assistant tomorrow for rehearsal times and locations.
Break legs tonight,
Kevin
On one hand, I was relieved that it wasn't something more serious than a few extra rehearsals and an evening of performing for a wealthy patron.
On the other hand, Treize.
I shoved the note back in the envelope and forced myself not to think about it. I noticed Alex looking at me in the mirror and I forced a smirk.
Alex liked to gossip - had started more than one rumor about Heero sleeping with Kevin McKenzie and me sleeping with Une to earn our promotions - and I refused to give him any ammunition for new rumors.
I spent the rest of my pre-show routine focused on the show, mentally reviewing the choreography while I stretched, so deep into my own head and thoughts that when I stepped out of the dressing room to head up to the stage I wasn't even paying attention.
"Watch it!"
I backed away from the man I had run into, the voice and the anger instantly putting me on my guard.
Wufei Chang glared over at me, and I glared right back.
His glare transformed into more of a stare almost immediately.
"What?" I asked, uneasy with the change. I was used to Wufei glaring at me - and I knew exactly how to deal with that.
The look he was giving me now, though, was too reminiscent of how he looked at me during sex.
"I haven't seen you in full makeup and costume before now," he said, cheeks flushing. "You look… you look good."
We stared at each other for a long, awkward moment.
"What are you doing here?" I had to ask.
He arched an eyebrow, bristling a little at the question. If this had been a month ago, I would be rolling my eyes and teasing him. But it wasn't a month ago.
"I had to fix a few light cues and talk to the board operator - she missed twelve cues last night. I didn't want it to happen again. Not for y- not again."
I sighed at the near-slip.
In the month since we had ended things - since he had kicked me out of his apartment - I hadn't seen much of Wufei up close.
As one of the most talented young lighting designers in New York, he worked for most of the dance companies and had opened three shows on Broadway last year. He had designed the lights for the first three shows of the ABT season this year but, because I was in the B company, I had yet to perform or have to interact with him.
When I had performed in the B company dress rehearsal earlier in the week, he had been so busy yelling at his assistants that I didn't think he had noticed me - and he certainly hadn't been backstage.
"I appreciate it," I managed to say.
He nodded and started to walk away, but then paused and turned back to me.
Here it comes.
"Heero said-"
"Heero likes to piss you off," I interrupted. I needed to get to the stage, and I did not have time to comfort Wufei. I also didn't have an interest in it.
He had been the one to tell me things weren't working out. He had been the one to suggest that I needed too much from him. He-
I drew in a deep breath and shook my head.
"I have a performance. I'm sure the lights look great."
I walked past him, not quite able to ignore the way his mouth tightened, not quite able to ignore the hint of his cologne that I loved so much, not quite able to force myself not to lean towards him as our shoulders brushed.
Yet another regret that I forced myself not to think about as I stepped into the wings and looked onstage towards the wash of lights, and the darkness beyond where the audience waited.
I closed my eyes and thought only of the music and the choreography, and I let myself become Koschei.
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