It’d be an expansion of my dbh rarepair fic ‘Laughter + Supernatural; Witch AU North/Chloe’ [settle down]
A fic exploring how North came to love and cherish her once destructive pyromancy because she meets Chloe (ambiguously written for the reader to view her either as a witch, as a fae, or even as an old goddess).
Lots of flowery prose, lots of imagery and just lots of North being incredibly in love with the woman who saved her life by making her realise it’s worth living.
im not usually an optimistic person when it comes to life events but im gonna try and list everything i can think of.
new season of [achievement] haunter!!!!!! s1 was SO good.....
moving back in for school (but also NOT at all.....)
joe iconis musicals (love in hate nation!!! punk rock girl!!!)
starkid musicals (black friday!!!! more hatchetfield sequels!!!! the show aj is working on with them!!!!!)
the starry concept album coming out!!!!!
for us to have a new president....
seeing mariah next spring when she comes to dpac on the mean girls tour!!!!!!!
seeing bon iver this fall when he comes to dpac!!!
seeing rainbow kitten surprise when they go to greenville this fall!!!!
learning cool things in my classes
passing my classes with good grades (i hope if i say it itll happen)
billions season 5........ gotta see the winston.... and the taylor mason...... and the ben kim........
a few days ago i would have said The Legislature changing but
possibly seeing @noneeyewithleftyork and @seelieflies the weekend after i move back in for school maybe........ if so i will take SO many pictures of them being gay together.
graduating and getting a job!!!! i will only be excited about that first part if the second part happens though. if i just graduate that will Not be good...... this will take a while though.
eating pasta. not sure when this will happen but it Will.
some of the stage 4 mcu stuff
rise of skywalker!!!!! followed by cats (2019). the same day. immediately after. because thats the equivalent of just a hammer to the face.
for me to become a better writer so i can enjoy my own fics. for me to update my fucking fic. sorry if any of yall read it and are waiting for an update.
the in the heights movie!!!!!!!
whatever will roland does after bmc closes!!! hmm. i just looked at the calendar and thats Uncomfortably close. let’s not think about this anymore.
STAR WARS THE MOTHERFUCKING CLONE WARS SEASON SEVEN. AHSOKA GODDAMN TANO ON MY SCREEN AGAIN. im crying just thinking about it.
the new sky factory series!!!!!!! the first one was FANTASTIC.
rwby7 and rvb... 18? are we on 18?
genlock season 2. if i say it enough itll happen. thats how it works right?
thats a sizable list!!! i actually feel better about the future now, even if like 95% of the stuff im excited about is just media i follow.
Ghost- Favorite song?
i got asked this already but i STILL refuse to pick a single song. so here’s all my favorite songs (that are on spotify).
no :( no pets. i would sure love a cat or two though!! if i ever get over my fear of other living beings that have the ability to touch me without my consent
Top 3 Favorite Ships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Connor/Gavin Reed, Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes
Lipstick or Chapstick: Chapstick
Last Song: Shotgun by George Ezra
Last Movie: Gone Girl
Currently Reading: I restarted the first Harry Potter recently but I’m pretty sure I won’t go through. I’m mostly reading fics these days, either ones I’ve already started or shorter ones. I can’t seem to focus for too long these days.
@dbhrarepairs Sunday Day 7: Free Day; Ballet AU RK900/Simon
When the last child is safely in the care of her parents and out the door, Simon sighs and sinks back into his chair. Friday done and dusted, time to slink back home for a restorative Lush bubble bath and maybe an indulgent glass of red wine. His phone rings just as Kara’s locking up the kindergarten classroom, and he gives her a wave goodbye as she jogs over to Luther’s car.
“North?” He sandwiches the phone between his ear and shoulder, fumbling for his bus pass.
“Si, you doin’ anything tonight?”
“I mean, I’m doing what any respectable thirty year old does on a Friday night: taking a bubble bath.” Pass located, he slings his bag over the other shoulder and makes his way to the station.
“Well save it for later. I have a spare ticket to the ballet tonight because Josh bailed-”
“He didn’t bail, North, he’s down with a cold!”
“Bailed.” She repeats sternly. “Anyway, free ticket to opening night at the Detroit Opera House. They’re doing Onegin.”
“I don’t know what that is.” His tone is apologetic as he rounds the corner. “I’ve never been to a ballet before.”
“Well it’s a nice night out. I get to see my gorgeous girlfriend, you get to perve on boys in tights. Oh and did I mention it’s for free?”
“Yes, you did.” Simon laughs. “Alright I’ll come along.”
“Meet me outside the building at 6:20pm sharp.”
Onegin, Simon learns on the bus ride home, is a dramatic tale of two people falling for each other at different times in their lives. There’s duels and murders and missed opportunities, and it’s apparently an incredibly challenging ballet for both the female and male dancers. He gets to see it for free, so sure why not?
After a quick shower and a quick message to his twin, Simon changes into something neat and somewhat fancy (it’s opening night, which sounds somewhat fancy) and heads back out. He’s coming up the steps, 6:19pm sharp and there’s North in a tux sans her usual combat boots.
“Hey loser.” She greets with a grin, leaning to kiss his cheek. “Look at you all scrubbed up.”
“And you without your boots. What is the world coming to?” Simon teases as she laughs. “I had a look on their site, the show doesn’t start until seven?”
“Yeah but obviously I gotta smooch my girl and wish her luck.”
“Surely you don’t need me to do that?” He cocks a brow as she snorts back a laugh.
“Relax Si, I’m sneaking you backstage for a VIP tour.” North shrugs, looping her arm through his and tugging him into the building. There’s people in various degrees of fancy clothing from ‘somewhat’ to ‘not at all’ to ‘very fancy’ but North steers him away from the crowd and down a corridor. There’s a few ‘hi North’s and ‘she’s down the hall’s said in passing as North leads Simon through a field of floaty dresses and white tights and then they’re approaching a dressing room just as it opens. A petite blonde ballerina steps out, dressed in period costume. Her face lights up when she sees North, and she’s quick to close the distance between them.
“Hey cutie.” North grins, squeezing her close as Chloe giggles.
“You’re not meant to be here!”
“Can’t your girl wish you luck?”
“Very quickly.” Chloe concedes, leaning up for a kiss. “Now sneak away back to your seat before Eli catches you!”
“Kamski’s stalking around?” North looks over her shoulder as if expecting him to materialise.
“You’re not the only one wishing us dancers luck on opening night.” Chloe laughs, poking her cheek. “And unlike you, he’s the director of the company and has a right to be here.”
Simon stands back at a polite distance, admiring their exchange. They haven’t been dating long enough for Simon to have met Chloe yet, though their work schedules played a large factor in the delay too; when everyone’s working full time and they’re all a bunch of thirty-somethings, social schedules are hard to negotiate. Not that Simon negotiates much; he’s never been a social butterfly and there’s comfort in staying in the nest he’s built with his twin brother.
He averts his eyes when they kiss, trying to allow them privacy, and distracts himself by checking his surroundings. There’s other ballerinas in lovely period costumes, and- what was the word for a male dancer? Ballerino? Dans ...something French. Handsome boys in coats and cravats and tights that look like the dancers were dipped in body paint rather than wearing something sewn from material. A dancer exits the dressing room on his right, and Simon accidentally catches his gaze. He’s tall, taller than the other male dancers, with a cut jawline and sharp cheekbones and dark hair that’s been artfully swept from his face. His costume looks fancier than the others, and he holds himself with the air of a leading man. Simon belatedly realises he’s still staring and quickly looks away, feeling his cheeks grow hot.
“This is Si.” North loops her arms through his, startling him, and he looks over to see Chloe’s smiling face.
“It’s so good to meet you in person at last, Simon.” She shakes his hand, and Simon can see why North is so smitten with her and those big blue eyes and that joyous smile.
“The pleasure is all mine, Ms Chloe.” He can’t help but smile in return, and it tickles him that North looks at her with unabashed adoration; there’s joy to be had in the joy of others.
“Chloe, curtain’s up in fifteen.” A deep accented voice interrupts, and there’s that looming leading man only up close now, close enough if Simon reached out he could touch him and confirm he’s real and not some fever dream fantasy.
“Alright Ronan.” Chloe’s smile turns apologetic. “I’m going to have to shoo you both away now.”
“Good luck with the performance.” Simon clasps her hand again and North steals another kiss before they leave. When he looks over his shoulder, he catches Ronan’s eyes again, the dancer looking at him with mild curiosity and Simon hastily drops his gaze. North gives him a wicked grin.
“His name is Ronan Stern and as far as Chloe knows he’s single.”
“Shut up.”
Objectively he knows what ballet is, and even though he’s never attended a live performance he’s seen clips and movies and gifs and photos. It really is different sitting in a fancy theatre and watching it unfold in person, though. The orchestra is right there, the dancers are right there, and it’s all so tangible in a way he’s never experienced.
Ronan plays Onegin himself, and Simon wonders how it is that a human being of flesh and blood and bone just like him has somehow honed his body into an instrument like that. Surely humans aren’t made to leap that far and jump that high and hoist up ballerinas like they weigh nothing more than a doll? He dances with power, with purpose, and there’s an intensity to him that Simon’s drawn to. Chloe’s petite stature is dwarfed further by his build and the way he holds her and carries her makes their size difference so obviously delightful. She’s dainty and demure and he’s commanding and calculated and somehow it’s a beautiful match and Simon can’t take his eyes off of them.
Onegin is a man ruined by his own pride, and in doing so ruins the lives of others. There is no redemption for him, and Tatiana holds no love for him anymore when they reunite years later. The story ends and it isn’t happy, it’s just and rightful and Simon thinks distantly it’s somehow different from Swan Lake because this time the woman lives and she’s safe and loved. He likes this one better.
“You haven’t said a single word.” North pokes his cheek once everyone takes their final bow and the applause has died down and the lights come on again. “You liked it?”
“Holy shit?” Simon breathes, and North bursts out laughing.
“Uh huh.” She nods. “Yeah, holy shit. You hooked?”
“God is it always like that?”
“Pretty much.” She laughs again, slinging an arm around his waist as they shuffle towards the nearest exit along with the throng. “I’m a convert. Never thought much about ballet but there’s something almost magical about it isn’t there?”
“They can’t be mere mortals like us.” Simon sighs dramatically. “Not when they can move like that and spend two hours on their toes or carrying the entire weight of another person.”
They exit the opera house and before Simon can step away, North tightens her hold around his waist.
“Come on, I’m picking Chloe up by the stage door.”
“You don’t need me around to do that.”
“Yeah but between the two of us I’m the gay that can drive, so I’ll give you a lift home.”
“...You sure?” Simon resists when she tries to tug him away. “I mean, I don’t want to come between you two. I’m sure she’s tired and would rather go home right away.”
“You’re one of my besties, Si.” North rolls her eyes. “I want to see you home safe and not taking the goddamn bus at this hour. Chloe’s gonna be cool with that.”
“If- if you’re sure …”
“I’m sure.” North declares, all but dragging him to follow.
There’s a small crowd at the stage door, family members and partners Simon guesses, collecting their talented dancers and congratulating them. Chloe emerges in a long cream coat with a fluffy fur collar and North picks her up and spins her around.
“Congrats babes, you were perfect.” She grins, peppering her face with kisses as Chloe giggles brightly.
“Ready to go home kiddo?” A gruff voice by his ear asks, and a middle aged man brushes passed him to reach out and clap Ronan on the shoulder.
“Dad? I didn’t know you were coming.” Ronan blinks in surprise, a small smile spreading on his face as he embraces him tightly.
“I managed to convince him.” Another voice pipes up, belonging to a young man not dissimilar to Ronan though without the accent. “Not that dad needed much convincing- this is your debut on home soil after all. And what an amazing debut it was, Ronan.”
“Come on.” The father of the pair jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Connor cleaned up his room and everything. I’m not letting you go back to your apartment on opening night; you’re spending that with your family and not with Reed. I already spend enough time with that grumpy dumbass at work I know what you’re in for.”
“We have agreed to a truce because of the cats.” Ronan grins, adjusting his grip on his bag as his brother helps shoulder his way through the crowd. Simon watches them leave and Ronan looks over his shoulder, their eyes catching again briefly before Simon looks away in panic.
“C’mon Si, let’s get you home.” North snaps his attention back to the present, flicking his temple.
“He’s single.” Chloe pipes up, and Simon feels his cheeks heat. “And likes boys too.”
“Will you two stop it?!”
In the car he takes the back seat so Chloe can sit up front.
“He just moved back from London.” She continues despite his exasperated sigh. “He was accepted into the Royal Ballet program when he was nine and is the youngest danseur to be promoted to Principal Dancer in recent history.”
“But he gave that all up?” Now he’s curious. “Why would he then step down from that and move back to Detroit? We don’t exactly have the most thriving ballet scene in comparison.”
“I’m not sure either. I spent a year as the guest ballerina with the Royal Ballet, he’s an absolute dream to dance with.” She catches his eyes in the rearview mirror and smiles. “He’s the perfect gentleman, and everything I could ever ask for in a partner. When the season ended he told me he wanted to come back to Detroit. Elijah was more than happy to offer him a position.”
“Maybe he got homesick? Connor’s pretty glad to have him back.” North shrugs as they idle at a red light. “Saves him from travelling to London all the time to visit.”
“If he marries a nice boy in Detroit then he’ll never even think of going back to London either.” Chloe giggles slyly and Simon groans, slumping in his seat.
“Okay listen, I appreciate you two arranging a marriage for me but-”
“Simon, I don’t know how to break this to you but your future spouse is not just going to materialise in your home.” North sniggers. “At least let us try and meddle a little.”
“North told me about your ex and-”
“North!” Simon protests and North cuts in.
“No, shut up, Gideon was an asshole Simon I’m still mad about him. Okay I ranted to Chloe even though you told me not to tell anyone, but I was going to explode if I didn’t tell anyone.” She stands her ground, muttering under breath. “Murder is illegal, anyway.”
“Ronan is a lovely gentleman, at least give him a chance?” Chloe smiles encouragingly.
“He’s like the 2005 Pride and Prejudice Mr Darcy only in tights.” North adds, and Chloe bursts out laughing as the car pulls up at the apartment block. “Okay Si, goodnight.”
“Thank you for coming to watch us.” Chloe turns back in her seat so she can hold his hands. “It’s really lovely to meet you. I hope we can hang out soon.”
“It was absolutely magical, thank you Chloe.” Simon squeezes her hands, smile ernest. He flashes North a grateful smile. “And thanks for the lift, North.”
Danny’s already asleep when he tiptoes into the apartment, so he makes sure to make as little noise as possible. Slipping into his room, he flops onto his bed and pulls out his phone. Wrestling against the temptation only lasts all of five seconds before Simon is typing ‘Ronan Stern’ into google and diving into articles and accolades. No Facebook, no Twitter but he does have an Instagram, and he’s also featured in the Royal Ballet’s Instagram account often. Or, well, used to as stated in one of the posts from six months ago showing a farewell post.
He’s...infuriatingly attractive, like the way Markus is infuriatingly attractive but in a different kind of way. Simon’s crushed on Markus for so long, so he knows how this story goes; he’s going to pine away, absolutely ache for him and wear his heart on his sleeve and they will be friends and Ronan will have no romantic interest for him the way Markus sees him as a good friend and nothing more. Simon is used to the heartache, really. It’s also why he ends up in shitty controlling relationships with shitty controlling men because he’s bad at speaking his mind and he’s bad at saying no.
Sighing, he follows a link to Youtube and watches an excerpt from some sort of modern ballet Ronan performed last year with Chloe. It’s fast paced and dizzying and powerful, and his heart catches in his throat a few times when Chloe throws herself into leaps and jumps, Ronan always there to catch her and fling her and flip her. They’re a blur of wild movement and perfect partnership. Youtube recommends more clips, and it’s midnight but he has no self-control so he’s clicking those too, watching Ronan in other ballets, some clips even just sneakily filmed footage taken by an audience member.
He ends up watching interviews too, watching Ronan without the makeup and the costumes. He speaks like someone not used to giving interviews, and Simon finds it endearing that for a man with such a commanding presence he speaks almost shyly. The accent helps too. Simon shoves his phone away some time nearing 1am, barely remembering to brush his teeth before he falls asleep with a smile.
“Si?” Someone’s shaking him awake, and Simon groans. “Si, get up.” He cracks open an eye and promptly rolls over.
“Go ‘way Danny it’s Saturday. Let me sleep in.”
“North’s here.” He turns back over.
“What?”
“SI GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED OR WE’LL BE LATE!” He hears her call from presumably the front door.
“Late for what?” He pulls his pillow over his face as Danny laughs.
“That’s entirely your problem.” He’s poked in the side, and he yelps, squirming away from the torture. “Anyway I’m off. I’ll bring you any cookies if we have leftovers by the end of the day.”
“Bye Danny.” Simon pulls the pillow off and smiles sleepily at his brother, who gives a wave as he departs.
“Simon! C’mon!” North appears in the doorway of his bedroom looking unimpressed.
“What are you doing here? It’s-” he fumbles for his phone, “fuck it’s 7am on a Saturday!”
“Yeah and class starts at 8am and we still gotta pass by Starbucks on the way!”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Up!” She dives forward and yanks the quilt from the bed and he curls up immediately, shrieking in protest. “Up up!”
“North-”
“Just come with me Si, please? Just trust me on this one. I’ll even buy you lunch.” There’s a pause as he considers the offer.
“...Burgers at the Chicken Feed?” He peeks over at her as she rolls her eyes.
“Okay, yes, burgers at the Chicken Feed.”
“Deal.”
He’s not awake enough for this, and his eyes feel like burning coals in his head as he tries to keep them open. They stop at a Starbucks and North orders four coffees, not two, and carefully hands them to him. Keeping his hands on the little cardboard holder, he sets them on his lap and the warmth provides a little comfort on this bizarre mysterious trip.
“Are we going to Josh’s? Is this to pep him up for his thesis, since he’s down with a cold?” He asks as North makes a turn, and he spares a glance at the coffees, making sure he’s holding onto them securely.
“Nah, his boyfriend’s coming by today to take care of him. Josh didn’t want you to come over in case you got sick and since you work with kiddies that’d be pretty shitty.” She explains, making another turn. They’re entering the back of some large building that sort of looks a bit familiar. “Okay cool, we’re pretty much on time for them to arrive.”
“Them-?”
“I’ll get the door for you, hang on.” She parks the car and hops out, rounding the vehicle so she can open his door and temporarily hold the coffees.
“I still don’t know where you’ve taken me.”
“It’s not like you were going to do anything else this morning.”
“Excuse me, I was going to sleep in and then I was going to put the laundry on and curl up on the couch watching Netflix.” Simon huffs, accepting the coffees back.
“Uh huh.” North rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, this’ll be pretty relaxing too.”
It feels a lot like sneaking into somewhere they’re not meant to. Simon may be sleep deprived but he’s alert enough to realise they’re not meant to be here. They’re coming through some back door, through a long hallway and North is uncharacteristically quiet. There’s a hush in the atmosphere, tension and baited breath, and even in the elevator North says nothing. Anxiety coils in his chest as he trails her, scarcely daring to breathe before she looks over her shoulder and gives a triumphant grin.
“Okay, we’re here!” She opens a nondescript door and they’re in some beautiful open room with an entire wall of glass overlooking Detroit. One of the other walls is entirely covered in mirrors and there are a handful of people in various combinations of gym gear and tights and-
“Oh my god.” Simon feels his stomach drop and he doesn’t know whether to be angry or embarrassed. “We can’t be here!”
“We totally can, I do this every Saturday.” North grins, scanning the room before waving. “Babe!”
“North!” Chloe skips over to them, laughing when North picks her up and spins her around, a customary greeting Simon surmises. “Oh! And a wild Simon appears!”
“Not by choice.” He huffs, glaring at North before he holds out the tray of coffees. “I’m going to assume one of these is yours?”
“It’s the almond chai with honey, thank you.” She selects the cup and plucks it out, tipping up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Well, we still have about fifteen minutes before class begins. Which one is the soy latte with a triple shot and caramel?”
“This one.” Simon taps.
“Excellent.” Chloe nods, before turning. “Ronan? Coffee!”
He’s going to murder North. He tries to convey his murderous intent and his best friend smiles innocently back at him in response.
“Coffee?” Ronan walks into view wearing a plain white shirt and a pair of robin's egg blue tights that hide absolutely nothing.
“This is Simon.” Chloe introduces with a bright smile. “North’s bestie.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” He murmurs softly, shaking his hand. His hand is warm, his grip firm and Simon’s sure his cheeks are bright red. “Thank you for bringing us coffee, especially so early in the morning and on a weekend no less.”
“I-it’s nothing. Wasn’t really going to do much today anyway.”
“Oh, Markus! Good morning!” Chloe calls out as the door opens, and yes, there he is, there’s Markus Manfred looking incredibly stylish like no one has the right to be this early in the morning.
“Hey everyone, hey Simon.” Markus grins, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “What are you doing here?”
“North dragged me here.” He glares over at her and North only grins back unrepentantly. “What are you doing here?”
“I play the piano for morning class every Saturday.” He smiles one of his thousand kilowatt charming smiles and Simon still aches for him even though he knows the ache will never be soothed by Markus.
“You two know each other?” Ronan asks curiously, looking between them.
“Yeah, Simon’s one of my good friends.” Markus grins at him. “And so is North. I gotta go warm up and I bet you guys need to too. Take a seat by the piano, Simon. You and North can chill in that corner, I promise no one minds.”
He hopes he’s conveying enough Murder on his face when he looks at North as they curl up in the corner. North smooches his cheek with a wink and he sighs because he knows he’s not really mad, just incredibly shy and self-conscious.
“These are ours.” She taps the remaining coffee cups. “Now sit and relax a little Si. Just enjoy it.”
Markus runs his fingers along the keys, up and down the scales before tapping out brief snippets of various songs. An older woman enters the room and the dancers greet her respectfully and then class begins.
Simon’s still not sure he can quite comprehend how ballet is possible; it’s incredibly complex and beautiful and demands so much of the human body. He watches them go through familiar motions he’s sure they can repeat with their eyes closed, gradually increasing in difficulty until they’re leaping and bounding across the studio. The dancers shed some of their layers as the class progresses and their bodyheat rises from exertion, and Simon’s not beyond admitting (to himself, at least) that he’s enjoying this display of bodies in peak physical form in incredibly tight fitting clothing.
He’s inevitably drawn to the way Ronan moves, to the way he’s so confident and sure of every step, every sweeping gesture in time to the jaunty sprightly tunes Markus plays. He does as he’s bid, following every instruction called out by their teacher with the intensity of a soldier obeying orders. It’s a mesmerising display of elegance and power that reminds Simon of how his twice a week yoga classes really don’t hold a candle to the strict regimen these dancers must adhere to in order to keep their bodies in their prime. The hour passes and only as they’re saying goodbyes does Simon realise he hasn’t even looked at Markus once.
“So what did North want?” Danny slumps on the opposite end of the couch, making a show of flopping his legs over Simon’s.
“Hm?” He looks up from the Royal Ballet instagram account, distracted.
“North. This morning at 7am when she stormed into our house.”
“Oh she uh, dragged me off to the ballet studio to deliver coffee to her girlfriend and watch her morning class.” Simon quickly exits the app and wriggles into a more comfortable position.
“Why would she need you to do that?” Danny frowns.
“To get me out of the house so I wouldn’t just stay inside and watch Netflix and do laundry.” Simon laughs, completely avoiding mentioning Ronan at all. “It’s ok she bribed me with Chicken Feed burgers for lunch, and paid for the Starbucks.”
“Well, I guess I’ll have to thank her for single-handedly dragging you kicking and screaming into having a social life.” His twin teases with a grin, and Simon kicks him with an exasperated groan. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet a cute boy there.”
He meets said cute boy again, completely by accident the very next day. Actually, what happens is he sees a very large Saint Bernard dog waiting patiently beside a tall pair of legs in the queue at Starbucks, before he realises who the tall pair of legs are connected to.
“Heeeey, who’s a good doggo hm?” Simon chuckles as the dog sniffs his hand and pushes its very large head against it, obviously expecting pats.
“Sumo would hope it’s him.” Says a deep, accented voice that’s become rather familiar to him recently.
“Oh, Ronan h-hi.” Simon freezes, eyes wide when he looks up to see Ronan’s handsome face wearing an amused smile.
“Good morning Simon.”
“How was class?”
“Class was fine.” They shuffle towards the counter, and Simon tries not to stare at the sharp figure Ronan cuts in a long navy woolen coat and fancy plaid scarf. “I have a performance tonight so I’m resting for now, but I thought I’d take Sumo for his morning walk.”
“He’s very cute.” He can’t help but pat the dog again, the Saint Bernard giving a happy booming chuff in approval. “Your dad’s dog?”
“Yes, he’s getting up there in years but Connor and I still love him to pieces.” There’s a wistful expression on his face, his smile fond. “Both he and our dad work at the DPD, so Sumo stays home a lot. We try and make sure he goes for long walks in the mornings and evenings to make up for it.”
“Chloe said you moved back to Detroit recently?”
“Yes, about six months ago. I went straight into rehearsals for the season after only two weeks. Mr Kamski was keen to have me start.” The person ahead of them finishes paying and heads to the end of the counter. “Venti soy latte with a triple shot and caramel and a grande soy hazelnut latte please.”
“Oh, are you meeting someone?” The question is out of his mouth before he can stop himself.
“No it’s for you. I read the other coffee cup yesterday, I know North’s usual, and I didn’t recognise the other one so it must’ve been yours.” Ronan’s smile is a little hesitant and Simon hopes his absolutely red cheeks signify he doesn’t mind one bit. “Now we’re even.”
“Excellent work, detective.” Simon tries to quip as Ronan taps his phone to pay for both coffees.
“My brother’s the detective, not me.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Though I suppose I won’t deny being called observant.”
“Well you’re used to noticing minute body cues.” Simon points out as they wait for their coffees. “Your partner depends on it. The way Chloe just...throws herself in your general direction without hesitating, and knows that you’ll catch her. It means she trusts in your abilities, in your partnership.”
Ronan looks at him eyes wide and lips slightly parted, and Simon feels stupid stupid stupid until he notices the faint rosiness to his cheeks, and the way Ronan averts his gaze after a moment too long. His heart skips a beat, his heart does that stupid thing where it throws itself in the general direction of a pointless crush without hesitating, without knowing if the other person will catch it. It does this every time, every single time, and sets Simon up for nothing but heartache later.
“That’s very kind of you to say, Simon. I’m glad that comes across when I dance.” Ronan says quietly, almost murmuring it into his scarf as if too shy to say it any louder. Simon knows this will go nowhere, just like his love for Markus but he’s always been unable to control his heart’s desires.
“I mean, I know nothing about ballet but I think that just lets me have a different perspective.” Simon rambles because he doesn’t know how to control any part of himself, apparently. “Critics know all the terminology, all the moves, all the stories of the ballets so they’d pick it all apart but since I know nothing I get to just enjoy it. Be in awe of the fact you’re human like me but somehow you can make your body do those things; dance like you can almost fly.”
“Simon, I-”
“Order for Ronan?” The barista calls out, and Simon is blessedly grateful for the interruption, looking at Sumo instead because he suddenly can’t face looking into those startling grey eyes a second longer.
“Here, Simon.” The large cup is held out to him, and Simon can’t help but let their fingers brush when he takes it because if he’s going to get his heart broken all over again the least he can do is indulge in the illusion of happiness for a little while.
“Thank you.”
“Would you- would you like to come along for a walk?” Ronan stammers hesitatingly and he’s ever so endeared. “I usually take Sumo for two laps around the park and then head home.”
“I’d really like that, if you wouldn’t mind the company?”
“I would like your company very much.”
The park is starting to turn into hues of sepia as Detroit eases into Autumn, and it’s Simon’s favourite season. It means cosy sweater weather and staying inside. Sumo trots happily ahead and Simon sips on his coffee and darts Ronan glances every now and then.
“I um, I wanted to ask you why your surname is Stern?” He catches his gaze briefly before focusing on Sumo again. “You said your brother Connor is a detective, and I realised North’s friend is Detective Connor Anderson at central station.”
“Oh I-” a thoughtful frown. “We’re both adopted. We were in the system for a while, and Lieutenant Hank Anderson fostered us. I got into ballet through the Abraham Kamski arts outreach program. Before the adoption process was complete, I was accepted by the Royal Ballet on scholarship when I was nine.”
Simon tries to imagine what that would’ve been like, to have one’s whole world change at the age of nine.
“Professor Amanda Stern became my legal guardian, so I became a Stern too.” Ronan explains, brows furrowed. “She wasn’t a mother figure. I felt like a student constantly under her tutelage, but she was never unkind. Just...intense. She believed in discipline and order and structure and pushed me to do my best. She taught- still teaches, advanced robotics in London though she came from Detroit too. She once taught Elijah Kamski, our current director and son of Abraham Kamski. That’s how it all came full circle- me moving from Detroit to London under her care and then back under now under Mr Kamski’s.”
“You spent all those years by yourself in London, without seeing your brother?” Simon tries to imagine what that would’ve been like too, but the pain is too great. “I have a twin brother, Daniel. He’s only older by a few minutes but the way he acts you’d swear we were years apart. He’s so over protective of me but I guess that’s because we’ve only had each other for so long.”
Ronan raises his brows curiously, and Simon tries to keep his emotions reigned in.
“We had a pretty ordinary if conservative upbringing in the suburbs but um, we got disowned when we were outed- well, I was outed by a classmate. Danny outed himself too, the moment our parents started yelling at me and we were out on the streets at seventeen. I don’t know if I could’ve spent so many years away from him, the way you were apart from Connor. I think I would’ve fallen to pieces.”
Ronan is quiet for a moment, before he reaches out and gently squeezes his shoulder.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“I’m sorry you had to grow up without Connor. And he grew up without you.”
“I had ballet and he had the police academy. We stayed connected via social media, it wasn’t too bad. When we were old enough we could fly to visit each other during breaks, if we managed to have enough money saved.” Ronan sighs, shaking his head. “You’re right though, some nights I would feel so lonely I thought I was falling to pieces.”
“Is that why you came back? Why you gave up such a prestigious position at the Royal Ballet?” Simon pries a little, hoping he’s not being presumptuous.
“Yes.” He answers with barely any pause for thought. “I wanted to be where Connor was, and that’s here in Detroit.”
“I imagine that decision didn’t make many people happy.” Simon winces as Ronan sighs heavily.
“No, but it was the right one. I don’t regret coming back to Detroit. I don’t regret giving all that up to be with my brother again. Well. Sort of. I don’t live with them since there’s no room and I have a housemate I’d rather kill but he has cats that like me and I like them more than I like him so I guess he gets to live for now.”
He says it so seriously, face deadpan, that Simon laughs loudly, startling Sumo. When he manages to recover, Ronan is smiling and Simon finds himself smiling too.
The working week passes in a blur and all Simon can do is stalk Ronan on social media and soak up what the internet has to offer and try his very best not to be so outwardly in love though it fails because Danny always knows how to read him.
“It’s the cute boy at the ballet, huh?” His twin grins, kicking his shin under the dinner table. Simon winces, kicking him back.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh okay, so I guess the ticket North dropped off for the finale performance of Onegin was meant for me?” Danny pulls out an envelope with a dramatic flourish and Simon lunges over the table to try and grab it.
“Give me that!”
“No, it’s not meant for you, you have no idea what I’m talking about!” Danny laughs, holding it out of reach. Simon whines in frustration, trying to reach for it in vain.
“Dannnnyyyy!”
“What’s his name?”
“Danny give it!”
“Not until you tell me who it is!”
“It’s Ronan.” He slumps in his seat, burying his face in his hands.
“Oh the hotshot from London?” Danny laughs, tossing the envelope over to him. “Yeah alright he’s pretty cute I guess. What? I looked through the program you left on the kitchen counter. He sounds way more impressive than Markus.”
“Markus is plenty impressive.” Simon mutters, snatching the envelope.
“North told me he has a Louis Vuitton pencil case for his charcoal sticks.” Danny cocks a brow. “His charcoal sticks , Simon. Anyway, full international scholarship at nine years old? Youngest dancer to be promoted to principal dancer? That’s way more impressive.”
When he looks at his brother, there’s something more than fond teasing to be found in his expression, so Simon opens up a little.
“Y-you think so? This isn’t...stupid, is it?”
“It’s not stupid, Si. I mean, your heart can be plenty stupid but that’s how you are.” The teasing is gone, replaced entirely by infinite kindness. “You love so openly, so intensely. I’m here because of that. You’re friends with North and Josh and yeah, even Markus because of that. You look after kids all day and you love your job and you love them and that’s why you’re so good at it. That’s why you’re such a good person.”
The tears fill his eyes and he feels stupid, but loved too and Danny’s wobbly smile tells him his brother feels the same. “That’s why you deserve to date an accomplished hotshot from London in incredibly tight tights.”
“Danny!”
It’s Friday and he’s coming up the steps, 6:19pm sharp and there’s North in an oxblood leather jacket over a jumpsuit and her usual combat boots.
“Hey loser.” She greets with a grin, leaning to kiss his cheek.
“Hey yourself.” He elbows her lightly before crooking his arm as she hugs it. She’s leading him down a corridor and he knows the way now. When Chloe slips out from her dressing room and into North’s arms, Simon sidesteps them politely and heads for the room down the hall, knocking on the door.
“Simon.” Ronan blinks in surprise, and he’s Eugene Onegin again, sculpted cheekbones and artfully swept hair. “Hello.”
“Hi.” His heart’s pounding, thudding so loud it might as well be the beat for them to dance to. “Good luck.” Tangling their fingers together, he tips up slightly on his toes and presses his lips to his and there’s a moment of surprise before Ronan circles an arm around his waist and pulls him in so they’re pressed together. They part for but a second before Ronan kisses him, and he kisses the way he dances; commanding and intense and powerful- the kiss of a leading man that sweeps his costar off their feet. It leaves Simon panting and dizzy and starstruck, and he knows he’s never been kissed like that all his life. Ronan seems a little self-conscious, a little embarrassed as if afraid he’s overstepped and Simon huffs a laugh, wrapping his arms around him.
“I’ll see you after the show.” He cups a palm against his cheek, pulling him to lean down and bump their brows together.
“And many more times after that, I hope?”
“Yes.” He laughs brightly, stealing another kiss. “And many more times after that.”
I was tagged by dear @sapphicmadameumbralis, thank you so much ♥
I tag people I know who write, as @lisaflowers, @namesonboats and @norchloe, if you want to do it too, feel free to ask me to tag you!
Christopher Landru and Fathia el Harbi are OCs from The Horde of Children (Reed900 fic). Heylgard and Dylan Lockhart are from original stories.
SIGHT.
small towns. big cities. six thirty curfews. lights that take the place of stars. blanket nests. light through the blinds as a wake-up call. found family. finding a single star in the middle of new york city. window shopping. watching something terrible and enjoying it. growing numb to the sight of injustice. wilted flowers. faded caricatures. bright, bold colours.
HEARING.
crickets and lightning bugs. car engines and a / c units. a phone call to mum / dad. laughing with friends. jokes that are so bad you have to laugh. the clicking of computer keys. noise cancelling headphones. the sound of silence. muffled music from another room. drumming fingertips on a table. clicking of pens. listening to a clock and swearing the ticks get slower. ringing in the ears. the voice of someone you love. pitch shifted songs.
TOUCH.
being held close during a long night. fleeting reassurances. holding hands when you’re scared. brushing fingers through strands of hair. freshly dried clothes. bruises on your knuckles. silk and satin. your favourite pet’s fur or feather. wringing your hands anxiously. snuggles. comforters in the dead of winter. nails against skin. cold metal. leather in summer.
TASTE.
coffee in the morning. tea in the evening. bubblegum that lost its flavor. alcohol burning the back of your throat. homemade cooking, no matter what’s made. blood in your mouth. stale air. mint. fresh vegetables. that processed taste of citrus candy. the first meal you cook by yourself that tastes good. foreign sweets. fast food. bittersweet. sour. spicy. sweet. bitter. too much salt on fries
SIGHT.
small towns. big cities. six thirty curfews. lights that take the place of stars. blanket nests. light through the blinds as a wake-up call. found family. finding a single star in the middle of new york city. window shopping. watching something terrible and enjoying it. growing numb to the sight of injustice. wilted flowers. faded caricatures. bright, bold colours.
HEARING.
crickets and lightning bugs. car engines and a / c units. a phone call to mum / dad. laughing with friends. jokes that are so bad you have to laugh. the clicking of computer keys. noise cancelling headphones. the sound of silence. muffled music from another room. drumming fingertips on a table. clicking of pens. listening to a clock and swearing the ticks get slower. ringing in the ears. the voice of someone you love. pitch shifted songs.
TOUCH.
being held close during a long night. fleeting reassurances. holding hands when you’re scared. brushing fingers through strands of hair. freshly dried clothes. bruises on your knuckles. silk and satin. your favourite pet’s fur or feather. wringing your hands anxiously. snuggles. comforters in the dead of winter. nails against skin. cold metal. leather in summer.
TASTE.
coffee in the morning. tea in the evening. bubblegum that lost its flavor. alcohol burning the back of your throat. homemade cooking, no matter what’s made. blood in your mouth. stale air. mint. fresh vegetables. that processed taste of citrus candy. the first meal you cook by yourself that tastes good. foreign sweets. fast food. bittersweet. sour. spicy. sweet. bitter. too much salt on fries
SIGHT.
small towns. big cities. six thirty curfews. lights that take the place of stars. blanket nests. light through the blinds as a wake-up call. found family. finding a single star in the middle of new york city. window shopping. watching something terrible and enjoying it. growing numb to the sight of injustice. wilted flowers. faded caricatures. bright, bold colours.
HEARING.
crickets and lightning bugs. car engines and a / c units. a phone call to mum / dad. laughing with friends. jokes that are so bad you have to laugh. the clicking of computer keys. noise cancelling headphones. the sound of silence. muffled music from another room. drumming fingertips on a table. clicking of pens. listening to a clock and swearing the ticks get slower. ringing in the ears. the voice of someone you love. pitch shifted songs.
TOUCH.
being held close during a long night. fleeting reassurances. holding hands when you’re scared. brushing fingers through strands of hair. freshly dried clothes. bruises on your knuckles. silk and satin. your favourite pet’s fur or feather. wringing your hands anxiously. snuggles. comforters in the dead of winter. nails against skin. cold metal. leather in summer.
TASTE.
coffee in the morning. tea in the evening. bubblegum that lost its flavor. alcohol burning the back of your throat. homemade cooking, no matter what’s made. blood in your mouth. stale air. mint. fresh vegetables. that processed taste of citrus candy. the first meal you cook by yourself that tastes good. foreign sweets. fast food. bittersweet. sour. spicy. sweet. bitter. too much salt on fries
SIGHT.
small towns. big cities. six thirty curfews. lights that take the place of stars. blanket nests. light through the blinds as a wake-up call. found family. finding a single star in the middle of new york city. window shopping. watching something terrible and enjoying it. growing numb to the sight of injustice. wilted flowers. faded caricatures. bright, bold colours.
HEARING.
crickets and lightning bugs. car engines and a / c units. a phone call to mum / dad. laughing with friends. jokes that are so bad you have to laugh. the clicking of computer keys. noise cancelling headphones. the sound of silence. muffled music from another room. drumming fingertips on a table. clicking of pens. listening to a clock and swearing the ticks get slower. ringing in the ears. the voice of someone you love. pitch shifted songs.
TOUCH.
being held close during a long night. fleeting reassurances. holding hands when you’re scared. brushing fingers through strands of hair. freshly dried clothes. bruises on your knuckles. silk and satin. your favourite pet’s fur or feather. wringing your hands anxiously. snuggles. comforters in the dead of winter. nails against skin. cold metal. leather in summer.
TASTE.
coffee in the morning. tea in the evening. bubblegum that lost its flavor. alcohol burning the back of your throat. homemade cooking, no matter what’s made. blood in your mouth. stale air. mint. fresh vegetables. that processed taste of citrus candy. the first meal you cook by yourself that tastes good. foreign sweets. fast food. bittersweet. sour. spicy. sweet. bitter. too much salt on fries
