He didn't know what the fuck he was doing here. Or rather, he thought as he watched her bend over to correct the posture of one of her students, ass out, spine curved enticingly, he knew exactly what the fuck he was doing here and it was a really, really bad idea.
Not that he'd ever really given a shit how bad an idea was.
Trying not to fidget or just hop on the floor to start doing push ups in his uncomfortable boredom, trying to strengthen himself in ways he really didn't enjoy, he tapped his fingers on the practice bar impatiently, hoping beyond hope she'd be done with the brats soon and they could get this joke of a "practice" done with so he could move on with his life. She'd wanted nothing to do with him when he ditched dancing and joined the Star Clan officially, hadn't spoken to him more than in passing at a party in the year after that, and hadn't spoken to him at all since he'd gone to prison. That wasn't gonna change just because he was out. She probably thought he was done with it, but fuck that. Star Clan was his legacy, the gang started by that piece of shit who was his bio dad, and he was gonna be the top fucking dog one day. Fucking the boss' sister wasn't gonna help that, and she wasn't gonna be into it anyway if he was caught up in the shit, so this was a last hurrah-for her, of course, because she'd looked so damned sad— and then it was on to bigger and better shit, time to become the god he was fucking born to be.
A rising god couldn't be bogged down with minions anyway, not really, not the truly loyal kind. He'd had to cut them all off when he was idiot enough to get caught— a god lifted people up, he didn't drag them the fuck down. Soul had tried and Maka had tried and even Kid had tried to visit him and write to him and talk to him and help him— fucking help him, like he needed their fucking pity. He could manage his own shit. He'd fucked up once, yeah, but gods learned from their mistakes. There wouldn't be a second time, but until he had clawed his way to the top of the heap, he wanted to keep his true followers out of the fray; he wasn't gonna let them get caught up in the backspatter of his climb.
That included her, although she had been the only one with brains enough to get the fuck out the first time.
Or maybe she just didn't give a shit.
Either way. Wouldn't be the first time one of his minions was blind to the light. The path to godhood was fraught with peril, as it were.
One last dance. He'd abandoned her to dance alone. One last dance. She'd always been a good enough follower that she'd more than earned it.
He shoved aside how much he wanted to dance with her, to put his hands on her, feel their connection flowing through him as it had for years, as it had until he'd rejected it. Would he still feel it now, so long after? He couldn't help it— how much he craved it. Dancing had been a freedom of a sort, something so different from anything he had ever known before it that he could— he could just fucking be. And just being with her? That had been fucking fantastic.
But gods couldn't just be. Gods had to fight.
Black*Star was ready for the fight, but this could come first. Two years in prison, two years without his loyal followers, three years without her— and more ahead— he deserved a break, didn't he?
The brats were doing pirouettes now, basic shit. He considered helping out of the sheer need to move, but didn't want to step on her toes, so he grabbed the barre instead, ostensibly to warm up. It'd been years since he'd done a dance warm up, one meant to keep him stretched and limber, rather than a warm up for strength training, but he still remembered, his muscle memory kicking in as he used the barre for support. Refusing to admit how much he'd missed even something so mundane, he instead hopped away from the bar to do a one armed hand stand. Yes, that was more like it. That was how a fucking god warmed up.
Grinning at the gasps from Tsubaki's students, he switched arms, then launched to his feet to execute a back handspring, execute a perfect landing (of course), and bow for his drop jawed audience, satisfied in the clear rise in his follower count.
Tsubaki cleared her throat, shaking her head but also grinning, as she said, "Yes, well, I think it's time to call it a day, boys and girls! Good job everyone, and I'll see you next week. Don't forget to bring the announcement about recital next month to your parents downstairs!" The kids began to chatter, looking at Black*Star with wide eyes as they shuffled past, and in mere moments, the last of them were through the door of the small studio and they were alone.
Just him and Baki. It felt wrong. It felt right. He ignored the pick up in his heart rate because gods didn't get all goopy over a girl, tried not to stare at just how well she filled out a leo, and casually strolled over, wide grin plastered on his face.
"So," he said just as casually. "Ready to dance with a god?"
When she laughed at that, a genuine laugh that crinkled the corners of her eyes, holding out her hand in invitation, he couldn't help but to feel that for the first time in a long, long time, all was right with the world.
All was definitely not right with the world. It was all wrong, all completely, totally, ass end wrong and he had only himself to blame.
Did a pair of night blue eyes and a warm smile have so much power to sway a big star like him? Then again, maybe she was the star after all and he was just the background, the sky that let her shine, because dancing with her again was like coming home and it felt so warm, so good, that he hadn't been able to give it up. So when she'd sat him down at the end of practice, staring at him with those wide blue eyes, and asked him if he was planning to go back to the Clan, he'd said no, lied easily and outright, too afraid to scare her off so soon. And when she'd let out her anxiously held breath and given him that beautiful smile and exclaimed how glad she was, he'd been glad of the lie, so glad he almost wished it were true. And then when she'd suggested maybe they could partner again and try out for the Conservatory in a few months for Spring admission he'd said sure, why the fuck not?
He really was a fucking idiot like his bio dad used to insist when he'd smack him around, back when he was barely out of diapers. He really, really was. What kind of god lied to his loyalest follower, to the one fucking minion who mattered most?
Not a very good one.
Still, he could do this. He could keep her out of the shit, and do what he had to do to get ahead, and when it was done she'd be happy for him 'cause he'd run shit the right way, not like her dirtbag brother.
The same dirtbag brother he was off to meet now.
His phone rang, blaring out the song he'd chosen for her ringtone as they re-exchanged numbers a mere half hour before. I'm your venus, I'm your fire, pure desire.
She really, really was. He picked up quickly, heedless of the fact he was only a few feet away from the door to the Clan headquarters, slowing his steps to talk to her before he took this meeting.
"Your god is listening," he said, only to be greeted with a laugh.
"You never change," she replied, and she sounded the smallest bit exasperated. "Anyway, I know I just saw you a few minutes ago, but I was talking to Maka, and she was really excited to hear you were back, and she and Soul are free tonight and, well, they were hoping you'd be willing for us all to go out. Kid and the sisters want to come, too— it would be just like old times!"
Pausing to collect his thoughts, he frowned into the phone, glad she couldn't see, then latched onto the one bit that he could handle. "Wait, Maka and Soul are free tonight? So those two are still attached at the fucking hip without the actual fucking part?"
Her nervous titter made him smile. "Wellll, actually, they live together now, and, um– well– I think they are– um– intimate, yes."
"'Bout damn time," he guffawed loudly, earning a glare from the bodyguard lounging at the building entrance. Fucking scrub. "I was pretty sure for awhile there my man Soul was gonna die of blue balls. Whiny little fucker had it so bad I'm pretty sure he'd have eaten literal shit for her if she asked nicely. Hell, even if she didn't."
Tsubaki was laughing breathily on the other end of the phone, even as she reprimanded, "Black*Star! Those are our friends, be nice." Our friends. He'd missed the sound of that. "Anyway, they decided to get an apartment together when they started college, and I think things just happened really fast—"
"Pshyeah, Maka strutting around in a towel after she showers– 'cause she does that shit– wasn't gonna be long– shit was ready to boil over two years ago, like damn," he chortled.
"Wait, how do you even–" Tsubaki began, sounding a bit shocked, before letting a loud breath into the speaker and sighing. "Doesn't matter. The point is, they've been dating a couple of months and they're really happy—"
"-—Cause blue ball rage is a thing," he put in and she snorted.
"Okay, yes, they've been way more relaxed since the weekend after they moved in together and they announced they were dating, happy?"
"Nah, I'd rather not think about them bumping uglies, but shit, it had to happen. Continue."
"So, anyway," she went on, exasperated. "We'd all really like it if you'd go out with us tonight. We were thinking of meeting at Reapers at 8 if that's okay?"
Aw, shit, this again. And 8? Clearly Kid was as fucking weird as ever. He wasn't ready to face them, wanted to keep them all far from his shit, but hell. Hell. His minions had clearly missed his light in their lives, craved his glowing ass like a drunk craved jaeger, and he was a god after all— if he could keep Baki out of the shit, then he could keep the rest of them out, too— and fuck she sounded so damned hopeful. Well, what kind of god would he be if he let her down?
"Yeah, okay. Reapers at 8. I'll be there."
He clicked the phone off before he could hear her response, squared his shoulders, and went off to meet with the gang boss.
Keeping his loyal minions safe and owning the Clan to rise to fucking godhood?
Ignoring the any niggling doubts that he might or might not have, he flashed a maniacal grin at the door guard, who looked wary at his passing.
Hell yeah, he thought as he entered the building. He was the biggest damned star around— he was god enough to do it all.
A/N- Oh really, Black*Star? You sure about that?