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 Three - Part One

The callboard, Cathy used to say, is the place where you learn just how many of your fellow company's members hope you break a leg.

It was harsh, but it was, oftentimes, true.

The board at ABT was an eight-foot-long by four-foot-wide corkboard that covered most of one wall outside the main rehearsal studio used for morning classes.

Posted on the board were the weekly and monthly performance and rehearsal schedules, contact information, role tracking and, most importantly, cast lists.

I still remembered the first cast list at ABT that had featured my name. I had been an apprentice and, like most apprentices, I expected to be stuck as a page or a soldier - or any number of incredibly minor male roles for the annual production of The Nutcracker. But, after waiting nearly half an hour for the company dancers to clear out, I saw my name listed not only as a soldier, but also as the male in the Mirliton pas de trois for Act II. I knew that The Nutcracker was a chance for the corps to step up into roles that were almost large enough for a soloist, but it was rare that an apprentice got such a good role.

The casting had earned me more than a few glares and pointed looks, and, predictably, rumors had started to spread about just how I was spending my time outside the rehearsal hall.

Usually, the cast lists went up at the end of the day, as everyone left the rehearsal studios and made their way home or to Lincoln Center.

I wasn't sure why that tradition had been broken for the cast list of Le Corsaire, but when I walked in to the studio on Wednesday morning, there was a swarm of dancers in front of the call board.

I frowned, wondering if someone had been injured and there was an announcement for understudies to step in, but then, as the dancers in front of me shifted, I saw the bold, cursive typeface.

Le Corsaire.

I had thought the casting wouldn't go up until the end of the day on Friday. I hadn't realized Zechs had already made his decisions.

I looked for Heero - he hadn't come home last night, and I had assumed he had given in and spent the night with Zechs.

Smart of him, I couldn't help but think as I slowly pushed my way towards the call board.

Last year, I would have stood at the back and waited. This year, as a soloist, I felt comfortable pushing past the apprentices and corps members gathered, and peered between the shoulders of the principals and the other soloists closest to the board.

Three companies - A, B and C. That wasn't surprising, considering how few solos there were in the show - or in the season in general.

Aside from Conrad, the male roles of note were Birbanto, a member of the pirate crew and a traitor, Ali, the loyal slave of Conrad, and Lankendem, the owner of a slave market.

I remembered that for my first few shows with ABT I looked at the roles first and then for my name beside the roles I hoped for. Too much disappointment had forced common sense to teach me to look instead for my name and follow that to my role.

I started with the C company and read the column listing the dancer's names. Not there.

B company also didn't list me.

A company… Trowa Barton… Birbanto.

I stared.

I was a soloist. A very junior soloist. Birbanto was a great role - my father had danced it three times in his career - and it should have gone to a principal or a more experienced soloist.

This would, I was sure, enrage Ralph and Alex.

And as shocked as I was by my casting, it also made a certain amount of sense.

There were currently eight male principal dancers and six male soloists - of which Heero and I were the newest. With that many male dancers, competition should be very, very stiff for a role like Birbanto.

However, the company was in a bit of flux. Heero and I had been promoted from the corps last year when two male principals and another two male soloists left the company - three had aged out, one had decided to tour as a guest artist. The remaining principals were like Zechs - in their mid-thirties, some nearly forty - and their age was catching up to them. Heero and I were the youngest soloists, Heero by almost six years and I by four.

We had been lucky, to join ABT when we had. We had been promoted out of the corps probably two or three years sooner than we would have if we had joined two years earlier or later. And because of the age of the principals, there was every chance we would actually make principal if we stayed healthy and didn't piss off management.

I pulled out my phone and sent Cathy a quick text.

I got Birbanto.

I put my phone away, not waiting for a response since she could be in class already, and looked back at the cast list for Heero's name.

He wasn't listed in A company, and in fact - I had to look again.

Conrad… Zechs Merquise.

I stared for several seconds, unable to believe that Zechs had cast himself in the lead role.

And then I shook myself. Of course Zechs had cast himself in the lead role. His only friend in the company, Otto, was cast as Conrad in B company, and Ralph would dance him for C company.

Ralph. Heero was so much better than Ralph that it was laughable to even look at that man's name on the cast list for that role.

I scanned the list again and finally found Heero's name listed in the C company.

Ali… Heero Yuy.

Conrad understudy… Heero Yuy.

I felt my jaw clench in rage, and I turned away from the cast list and the dancers still crowding around it.

That bastard.

I still couldn't see Heero, and I wondered if he already knew - wondered where the hell he was.

I pulled my phone back out and called him, but it instantly went to voicemail.

I sighed, not bothering to leave a message - what the hell would I even say? - and put my phone away.

It was almost ten-thirty, almost time to start class, and Heero, to my knowledge, had never been late.

But there wasn't anything I could do, if he wasn't answering his phone.

Reluctantly, I stepped past the other dancers and walked into the rehearsal hall.

The pianist was already there, playing something jazzy and definitely not the music we normally worked with. He nodded a greeting at me and I nodded in return - I had no idea what his name was, but he had been playing piano for ABT for years before I had started as an apprentice, and would probably be here years after I was done.

There were a few dancers in the room, people whose names I had spotted listed as slave girls, solemn-faced and stretching.

And then there was Heero.

He was already there, in our usual spot, one hand on the barre to his left, his eyes glaring straight ahead at the mirror, his jaw clenched so tightly that I could see it from across the room.

Fuck that fucking asshole.

I walked over and stood in front of Heero.

I waited for him to look at me, for him to transfer his glare from the mirror to my face, and when his blue eyes met mine I could see that he was struggling not to cry.

I felt my hands curl into fists.

This was Heero. Heero who, as an apprentice, had fractured his ankle in the middle of a performance of Swan Lake and danced the rest of the show before even telling anyone.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, his voice raw and low and cutting.

"Heero-"

"I'm fine," he repeated, and looked away from me.

I let it go. I had to.

The rest of the company started filing into the room, all talking about the casting, all speculating on why Zechs had decided to cast himself.

It wasn't until Zechs himself arrived and took his place at the front of the room, that I realized I would be dancing Birbanto to his Conrad.

Suddenly, everything about him annoyed me. I had spent years looking up to him, admiring him and envying him. His incredible strength, his good looks - from his pale blue eyes to his blond hair, long enough that he had to pull it back into a loose bun when it wasn't styled for performances, to his chiseled, classical features - I had wanted to be Zechs for so long.

And now I didn't even want to look at him. Couldn't look at him.

Of course, I also couldn't look away from the ballet master without drawing the attention of other people.

I wondered what Heero was thinking. What he was feeling.

As if the world had decided to make the day even worse, Treize stepped into the room.

Every dancer was already keyed up over the cast list - and having an unexpected guest walk into class just before it began only heightened the tension in the room.

Everyone recognized him, had either danced with him or seen him in performance - and I wondered just how many of his fellow dancers had also had the dubious pleasure of going out with Treize.

The man was dressed for work - black ballet slippers, slim black jazz pants and a fitted red tank top - and I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

It had been three days since Kevin McKenzie had left the note in my dressing room, and when I had asked McKenzie's assistant, May, about rehearsals for the Winner event, she had said that Treize would contact me.

Considering that the Winner party was scheduled for Sunday night, and I hadn't heard anything from Treize - nor had Meilin, Heero or Iria - I felt it was a safe assumption that he was here for us.

Treize greeted the pianist with a smile, and then walked over to Zechs. The two spoke softly, smiling at each other, and Treize rested his hand on the small of Zechs' back in a way that looked incredibly intimate. It was exactly the way he had touched me the night of our date, and I found myself looking at Zechs in an entirely new light. And, by extension, Heero.

I had known my roommate for five years, and back when we had been apprentices, we had been assigned the same room in the apprentice housing. He had been a good roommate - as quiet and clutter-free as I was - but we didn't spend any significant time together outside of classes and rehearsals until the first cast party, for The Nutcracker. We had both had way too much to drink and, I discovered, being drunk made Heero just as handsy and horny as it made me. We did the smart thing and, instead of throwing ourselves at other company members, went back to our shoebox of a room, intent on a marathon of sex.

Only to discover that, also like me, Heero only liked to bottom. While Heero was different - bossy to the point that one of his boyfriends had fondly complained about Heero being a power bottom - neither one of us had much enthusiasm for topping.

Limited to trading blow jobs, we were both left unsatisfied but our friendship had grown from there.

Grown to the point that I knew, from Heero, that Zechs was every bit as bossy and demanding in bed as Heero was. I knew that they fought constantly, that the sex was almost always rough, and that Heero liked it that way.

Looking at Zechs now, at the almost subservient way he turned to Treize when the other man touched him, made me wonder just how many men Treize had bent to his will over the years.

Around the room, dancers started to shift uneasily.

Class should have started five minutes ago, and while it happened, interruptions and late starts were very rare.

Finally, Zechs and Treize stepped away from each other and Zechs looked around the room and singled us out - Meilin, Iria, Heero and then me.

"You four, Treize will be working with you this morning."

I didn't even bother to keep my lack of enthusiasm for that from my face.

I loved class - it was something I looked forward to, even when I was running late or hung-over or hurt. The fact that I was missing class to work with Treize for some donor's birthday party was just rubbing salt into the wound.

Beside me, Heero looked just as tense and angry and barely together as he had before, but he picked up his bag and walked out of the room, not looking at Zechs once, and I followed his lead reluctantly.

Treize led the four of us to a rehearsal studio on the next floor, where a pianist was already waiting.

We dropped our bags off by the far wall, and I started to stretch.

Treize cleared his throat and I looked up at him.

"We don't exactly have time to waste. I expect you've already warmed up sufficiently, and I only have time to spare for this little performance today and Friday morning."

His cold gaze was fixed on me and I swallowed back my anger and irritation - obviously, I wasn't sufficiently warmed up. None of us were. That's what the first half hour of class was spent on. The class that he had just pulled us out of.

I stood up, forced a neutral expression on my face, and walked over to stand beside Meilin.

She was a principal, one of the youngest, and an amazing dancer. She and I hadn't danced together much, and while I felt that this birthday party performance was, on the whole, a distraction from the rehearsals and shows we should all be focusing on, I was looking forward to dancing with her.

We would be dancing the pas de deux from The Sleeping Beauty, with Princess Florine and the Bluebird. I had been fitted for my costume yesterday, and I hadn't been able to ignore the feeling that this might be the only time I had the opportunity to dance this role. My father, of course, had danced it and been brilliant. He and my mother had actually done this pas de deux in the New York City Ballet production of The Sleeping Beauty years ago, at the height of their careers, and it was one of my earliest memories.

I had always wanted to dance this role, had always dreamed of performing it with my parents in the audience.

And of course, instead, I would be dancing it for a handful of rich people in some cramped Manhattan apartment. It wasn't even worth mentioning to my parents, who had, I was sure, done plenty of these kinds of things. In addition to real performances.

I could already hear my father's voice in my ears.

"Of course, when your mother and I toured, we performed that pas de deux for the President of Argentina - but it was nothing compared to performing it with the Kirov that one year."

"Darling," Treize greeted Meilin with a kiss on her cheek and a possessive arm around her shoulders. "You are a perfect Juliet - I saw you last week."

Meilin smirked, not so much preening under Treize's words as accepting them as her due. She was arrogant - a fair number of the company called her prima, and only half of them did so mockingly - but she was an incredibly talented dancer, graceful and powerful.

"And Iria - your Firebird is devastating," he said to the blonde haired ballerina, who melted under his attention.

He turned to Heero and smirked. "And of course, your Tybalt is quite impressive. I'll be very interested to see what you are dancing in a few years."

He didn't say anything to me, and while I wasn't surprised, the snub still hurt.

Treize cleared his throat and walked back to the center of the room.

"Zayeed Winner is, as I'm sure you know, a good friend to ABT and, since I am a good friend of his, Kevin asked me to supervise this little performance for Soraya Winner. Zayeed chose all of you - apparently, Soraya thinks you four are the future of ABT - and Iria, I understand, chose the two pas de deux you will be performing for her mother."

I felt like an idiot, for just at that moment putting the connection together. Iria Winner, at thirty-four, had made principal last year, and would likely only dance for another season, maybe two at the most. When I had returned from Paris in January, I had been surprised that she had been promoted from the rank of soloist. She was good, but not as good as Meilin - not as good as Heero or I. It made sense that she was the Winners' daughter, and I had a brief, bitter moment of wondering if her family's hefty donations were part of why she had been promoted to principal in the first place.

Iria nodded. "My mother has always loved the pas de deux between the Bluebird and Princess Florine in The Sleeping Beauty and, of course, the pas de deux for Conrad and Medora in Le Corsaire."

I arched my eyebrows at that, thinking it was quite the statement for Iria to suggest performing one of the most famous pas de deux in the classical repertoire when the company would be opening the show in a little less than a month.

And then it hit me.

If I was dancing the Bluebird-

Heero would be dancing Conrad.

I looked over at my best friend and saw that his eyes were closed and his head was down.

Fuck this day.

"Now, if I recall, Meilin, you danced this role as an apprentice for me, didn't you? In the showcase?"

Meilin nodded and smirked again, clearly pleased that Treize remembered her.

"Good. We'll be using most of the same choreo - but tightening things a bit to account for space. I think we'll keep the variation for Florine in, but I'm not sure about keeping the variation for Trowa…" Treize turned to me and tapped a finger against his lips speculatively. "We don't want to bore them, after all."

Within the pas de deux, and for the Bluebird's variations, the male soloist did a series of leaps and turns that required incredible strength and skill.

Treize's insult was clear, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying the first thing that popped into my head - fuck you.

Instead, I shrugged casually. "Whatever you think is best." I hesitated, remembering how Treize had actually enjoyed the attitude I gave him at the end of our disastrous date. "Of course, if our most generous donors wanted an evening to remember, it seems a shame not to give them their money's worth."

I felt the eyes of Heero, Iria and Meilin on me, but I ignored all of them and met Treize's gaze.

His lips were tight and I wondered if I had miscalculated - if he perhaps had appreciated me talking back to him in private, but here, in front of the company…

Shit.

I could see my career going down the drain in those seconds as I waited for him to speak.

"Let's see if you're able to deliver, hm?" Treize finally said, his tone idle and deadly.

Feigning confidence, I nodded stiffly.

Treize turned to Iria and Heero.

"I know Zechs has all sorts of ideas for Le Corsaire, but let's keep this traditional - I think it's what Soraya likes best. Now, we only have five hours to work on this - I expect all of you to learn what I show you today and repeat it perfectly on Friday. Let's begin with Conrad and Medora."

He gestured, and Heero and Iria stepped forward while Meilin and I moved to the side of the room.

I took the opportunity to stretch and warm-up, Meilin doing the same beside me, while we both watched Treize walk through the pas de deux with our fellow dancers.

Treize drew heavily from the Ratmansky choreography, which was typical - Treize had the reputation of preserving the classics rather than reinterpreting them - and I wanted to hate it, to hate him, as I watched him work with Heero and Iria.

But I couldn't.

Treize was good - he was exacting and harsh but, after just twenty minutes of work, Heero and Iria already looked amazing.

When Treize gestured for Meilin and I to take their places, I had to fight back a wave of anxiety.

I had just watched my best friend dance his dream role - a role he had earned and been denied - for a man who quite clearly thought very, very little of me.

-o-

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