“Jackson, can you come here for a sec?”

Jackson nodded, pushing up off the ground from where he was currently sitting on break with his teammates.

“’Sup Coach?” Jackson asked as he wiped his sweaty bangs away from his brow.

“I had something I wanted to discuss with you…” his coach beckoned for Jackson to follow, leading him into his office. “Sit.”

Jackson obeyed, sinking into the swivel chair on the other side of his coach’s desk, which was incredibly cluttered, as usual.

“So, I’ve been wanting to bring this up for a while now, but never really knew how,” his coach began, and Jackson was suddenly hit with a wave of concern. He immediately sat forward in his seat as he tried to explain.

“Is it that serious? I don’t know what I did, but I swear–”

“No, no no no Jackson, you’re fine, nothing’s wrong, don’t worry,” his coach immediately cut in before Jackson’s imagination ran off to who knows where.

“Okay, phew, you had me scared there for a second,” Jackson let out a relieved huff of air, sinking back into his seat.

“Alright. So. I was just thinking…wait here let me just show you,” his coach rummaged around in his desk drawer for a few seconds, before tugging out a somewhat crinkled pamphlet, handing it over to Jackson.

“You’re in a really good place right now to do well this season, Jackson, as is the entire team, and I really want to help maximize your potential, and in turn the team’s potential. You’ve been a bit… off-balance lately, which is what I believe is causing your footwork to get a little more sloppy.”

“So you want me to take ballet?!” Jackson asked incredulously, gesturing to the pamphlet with a horrified look on his face. “I can work on my footwork on my own!”

“I’m sure you’re capable,” his coach soothed. “But most hip hop dancers do take ballet too, you know, it’s proven to help core strength and control. It also helps you build and gain control over muscles you’d never work on otherwise, which can make a big difference too when dancing.”

Jackson slumped.

“Do you have too?”

His coach grinned, knowing he’d won that battle.

“You start on Monday.”

~~

The second Jackson walked into the ballet class, any previous misgivings and hesitancy were immediately forgotten.

Because damn, that !

In a studio full of little girls (Jackson would place them to be around middle school aged, though he’d always been bad at this sort of thing) it wasn’t hard to pick out who the instructor was. Jackson had been expecting some stern old lady, probably Russian, who carried around a pointing stick she’d use to smack the students when they weren’t performing up to standard.

What? That was the proven stereotype!

So to say he was very pleasantly surprised to see a very young man (with a gorgeous ) teaching instead, would be an understatement.

“Hello, my name is Jackson, hip hop dancer, joining your class!” Jackson greeted loudly with a grin on his face as he strode right up to the man with an outstretched hand. When the instructor turned to look at him, however, he only gave Jackson’s hand a disdainful look, and made no move to shake it.

“You’re late,” he said instead, and Jackson’s jaw almost dropped at the sound of his voice. It was gentle, soft, and well yes very cold, but Jackson had always been very good at turning on his selective hearing.

It was also this shameless ability that allowed him to completely disregard the man’s seriously annoyance and grab his hand in a very hearty (and one-sided) handshake.

“I’m so excited to meet you and join your class!”

The man now forcibly tugged his hand out of Jackson’s grip, looking downright scandalized by Jackson’s behavior.

“Please, you’re disrupting the class. If you’re here to learn, then go get into place.”

He gestured to an empty space on the barre, where the little girls were currently lined up and giggling.

“Yes sir!” Jackson saluted, but then stopped to give him a sly grin.

“But first, may I know my teacher’s name?”

The man rolled his eyes, already turning around to walk back to the front of the room, where a demonstration barre was set up.

“Jinyoung.”

~~

Ballet was a nightmare.

Jackson really didn’t mind being in the same class as little girls, but damn they were little monsters! Not monsters in the sense that they were terribly behaved, but in the sense that they were so damn good.

When Jackson went back to his coach to ask about his placement, he was told he’d been placed into an intermediate class. There was an adult class, but they went at a much slower pace, and with Jackson’s background in dance it would’ve been much too tedious. As for the beginner’s class, his coach had thought it would also be much too basic.

But in intermediate, Jackson had absolutely no idea what was going on.

The first day, Jinyoung left him alone for the most part, letting him try to follow along and figure things out on his own and not be too overwhelmed. Which Jackson appreciated, but at the same time, still felt like he just dove into a whole new language of which he understood absolutely nothing.

Plié? Tendu? Piqué? Port de bras, rond de jambe, battement? And what the hell was the difference between first position and fifth position?!

Every time Jinyoung would stand up front, demonstrating a quick combo and yell out these various words that held no meaning to Jackson. Besides, how was he supposed to remember all that after just seeing it twice? But those monstrous little girls would memorize it immediately, and when the music played, all Jackson could do was to try and imitate the movements of the girl in front him, frantic as he switched his feet and always a beat behind.

The class met twice a week, Monday and Thursday, and by that second Monday Jinyoung had had enough.

“Are you sure you belong in this class? You have no idea what’s going on, do you?” Jinyoung asked as he pulled Jackson aside after class.

Jackson was immediately defensive.

“Well you haven’t exactly been helping me!”

“Please, you’re not the only one in the class. You don’t even have the basics down, how can I give you corrections on top of that?  You’re barely keeping up.”

“Well then help me!”

They were both glaring now, eyes narrowed and breathing intense. Finally, Jinyoung broke eye contact.

“Fine. Wait here.”

Jackson huffed, plopping down onto the floor to wait.

Jinyoung was back moments later, tossing a packet at Jackson.

“Go home and first memorize those terms and positions. I’ll email you a list of video links, go through and watch those too. I’ll start giving you corrections on Thursday, so be ready.”

Jackson could only gape at the number of terms in the packet, but under Jinyoung’s heated gaze he could only swallow back his arguments, nodding meekly.

~~

Thursday came much too quickly.

To be fair, Jackson had been busy with hip hop practice, and his part time job, and…

Okay, fine. The truth was, even if he was busy, he easily could’ve found time to study those ballet terms and watch the videos Jinyoung sent him.

But there were so many of them! Just looking at the foreign words made his head swim, and he’d promptly given up within five minutes’ time. And as for the videos…he fell asleep ten minutes into the first one.

But just because Jackson slacked, didn’t mean Jinyoung was about to.

“Point your toes Jackson, your feet look like floppy fish.”
“Watch your turnout! No no no not like that like this.”

“I said first position not third Jackson.”

“Do you even know what turnout means? No not from your knees from your hips Jackson.”

“DON’T oh my god don’t do that. Plié with your knees over your toes, you’ll hurt your knees otherwise.”

“When I say point your toes that means through your entire foot, don’t just curl your toes!”

“Oh my god turnout don’t sickle!”

Jinyoung got increasing irritated with each correction, especially since Jackson seemed to show no improvement, though Jackson’s indignant comments in rebuttal probably didn’t help matters at all either.

“My feet are very y! They do not look like floppy fish!”

“Well how was I supposed to know?”

“Calm down geez just wait a sec I was just getting there!”

“My hips are my pride and joy and I swear to god that’s just unnatural.”

“Again how was I supposed to know?!”

“You told me to point my toes! You should say ‘point your entire foot’ if that’s what you mean!”

“What the hell is a sickle? Isn’t that Harry Potter money?”

~~

Things continued thus for three weeks. To say Jackson didn’t improve at all would be a lie, but it was only marginally. The only thing that did improve, however, was his snarky comebacks, and his increasingly suggestive comments about Jinyoung’s . (Those were subtle, of course; Jackson knew better than to say things outright in front of little girls, but the innuendo and constant references to peaches made it much too clear to Jinyoung.)

And Jinyoung was finally putting his foot down.

“You’re not even trying!” Jinyoung exclaimed after class, thoroughly exasperated. “I don’t understand why you’re here if you’re not even bothering to put some effort in!”

“I am trying!” Jackson rebuffed.

“You still can’t tell the difference between a tendu and a fondu– that shouldn’t take you three weeks to learn!”

“Hey, just because I don’t know the words doesn’t mean I haven’t improved in class!”

“Barely! Honestly, why are you even here?”

“To get a fine like yours!” Jackson couldn’t help it.

“See? Exactly what I mean– that terrible attitude of yours. If you think this is all a joke, you should honestly just quit and stop wasting both your time and mine.”

“But I am trying! Ballet is hard, okay?”

It was this last statement that made Jinyoung pause, his eyes softening just slightly as he stared at Jackson. But then they hardened again, narrowing in determination.

“You have improved in class, I’ll give you that. But your attitude needs some serious fixing. You’re trying but it’s half-hearted, and if that’s all you’re willing to give you shouldn’t come back until you’re ready to put in more.”

With that last icy sentence, Jinyoung swept out of the room, head high and shoulders pinned back.

Jackson walked out defeated, posture slumped and feet dragging.

~~

Jackson could practically feel the stress slipping away from him with every step he took into the club. The flashy lights, the loud music and booming bass, the grinding bodies…it’d been too long.

After his argument with Jinyoung, Jackson had moped the entire rest of the day, to the point where his teammates had commented on it. It wasn’t in Jackson’s nature to sulk, so he resolved to let loose for the night, dragging his best friend Mark with him out to the club.

“Wanna grab a drink first or dance first?” Jackson yelled in Mark’s ear. Mark shrugged, not caring, and Jackson made a snap decision.

“To the dance floor it is!”

The two of them were both incredible dancers, but anyone who saw them now wouldn’t have been able to tell. There was no technique to club dancing, the only rule being to lose control. Of course, they could’ve easily busted out some moves, but Jackson wasn’t that much of a tool to do so.

Even without drinking alcohol, the atmosphere of the club itself was intoxicating, and it wasn’t before long that Jackson had a rather dopey grin on his face. He’d been separated from Mark a while ago, and was now busy grinding next to a girl who was clearly wearing two bras. But hey, Jackson wasn’t one to judge, and effectively lost himself in the music and his own swiveling hips.

When Jackson first caught sight of him, it was only out of appreciation for the way his body moved. In a mass of flailing bodies, the one that caught his eye possessed an almost unnatural grace, but was still powerful, and still every bit as wild as everyone else. Jackson was pulled towards him almost involuntarily, and like usual his gaze travelled up and down in an once-over, and that’s when he froze.

He’d recognize that anywhere.

He’d started to back away, because dammit this was the reason he wanted to go clubbing in the first place! But by then it was already too late, because Jinyoung was already turning around to face him, eyes widening a fraction in recognition.

Jackson’s breath caught in his throat. Jinyoung’s hair was slicked back and eyes lined with black, such a stark contrast to the clean image he presented himself with during class. And god, those eyes.

Jinyoung, too, was frozen for a split second, but then almost immediately he was smirking, approaching Jackson in two quick strides, eyes smoldering and Jackson found himself meeting him halfway, an arm coming up to wrap around that narrow waist like it was second nature.

“Jackson, why am I not surprised,” Jinyoung drawled, his hot breath fanning over Jackson’s face. The smell of alcohol was strong, and he was clearly tipsy at the very least with his inhibitions lowered, but Jackson also knew from the gleam in his eye that he was nowhere near drunk yet.

“Well, I’m surprised to see you here.” Jackson placed his other hand on Jinyoung’s waist as well and they moved together to the beat, Jinyoung’s face flushed a few shades darker than the rosy red from the alcohol, but thankfully with the lighting it wasn’t all that obvious.

“Why? I don’t live in the studio, you know, and ballet isn’t the only genre of dance I'm familiar with.” With that statement Jinyoung leaned his head back, exposing his neck as he twisted his torso, and Jackson had to bite back a curse.

“Well, you’re so uptight all the time, how would I know?” Jackson shot back but there was no heat behind his words, only a fascination.

“I’m really not, it’s not my fault you’re so infuriating.”

“Oh me, infuriating?” Jackson voice lowered, suddenly surging forward to close the gap between them, chests bumping as his right hand came up to tangle in Jinyoung’s hair, bringing their foreheads together until they touched.

“Yeah, you.” Jinyoung was staring at him with half-lidded eyes now, and Jackson had the sudden urge to kiss him. “I know you’re a good dancer, and I know you’re capable of so much more so your half-assed efforts piss me off.”

“Hmmm, really?” Jackson hummed, unable to control himself as he brushed his lips against the corner of Jinyoung’s eye. Now he felt like he was the intoxicated one, fixated on the way Jinyoung’s long lashes fluttered shut.

“Yes really. I hate wasted potential. And I love ballet, so anyone who disrespects it deserves to be on.”

“You know, I think I like you better drunk.” Jackson mused, fingers traveling down from Jinyoung’s hair to his neck. On contact Jinyoung shuddered, eyes fluttering open. “Even with all the swearing, you’re so much nicer. And I’ve never disrespected ballet.”

Jinyoung snorted, pulling away slightly but not too far.

“Please. You’re like disrespect personified.”

“Are you sure you’re not just turning your embarrassment into annoyance?” Jackson moved back in closer again, hips swaying.

This time Jinyoung’s blush was all too apparent, and Jackson cooed, tightening his hold around Jinyoung’s waist.

“And here I thought you hated me.”

At this Jinyoung rolled his eyes, but didn’t push Jackson away.

“Of course I don’t hate you, idiot, but my patience has limits. You’re a lazy who doesn’t try and flirts too much and I know you can do better. Of course I’m gonna yell at you.”

Jackson grinned at Jinyoung’s words, his ability of selective hearing in full effect.

“So if you don’t hate me, you wouldn’t mind if I just…” Jackson leaned in, clearly heading towards Jinyoung’s lips, his left hand sliding down to squeeze Jinyoung’s .

He might’ve been let off with just a kiss, but the second Jinyoung felt Jackson’s hand sliding downwards he yelped, jumping away.

“Oh nuh-uh, you don’t get to do that yet.” He glared, but with his flushed cheeks and pursed lips he only came across as petulant.

“Yet?” Jackson latched onto that one word, reaching out for Jinyoung again.

“Oh god I’m not in my right mind,” Jinyoung groaned, stepping away from Jackson’s advances while rubbing at his temples.

“Oh come on…” Jackson whined and Jinyoung shoved him away. But then, as if struck by an idea, Jinyoung’s expression cleared, his smirk returning.

When he finally looked back up at Jackson, there was a challenge in his eyes.

“You’ve gotta earn it.”

~~

When he got home that night, Jackson was damn glad he didn’t have a drop of alcohol as he pulled out that damned packet of ballet terms from underneath his bed.

He had a lot of studying to do.