Chapter Text
“I am Not dancing with her.”
Brenn “Bog” Dahrfen fairly loomed over his supposed new partner. Even with the slight advantage that the steps gave the woman, putting the top of her head at the same level as his nose, he was almost a full head taller than her. A petite but lithely muscled frame and bold eyeshadow caught his gaze as the dancer gave the newcomer a once over. He wasn’t impressed. If it wasn’t for the ‘bite me’ emblazoned in harsh lettering across the front of her crop tank top and the equally surely expression on her face, he would have pegged the woman for one of the diva’s he had to deal with from other companies.
For her part, Marianne was more bewildered than angry, but she had been told before that her default expression seemed to shift to ‘resting bitch face’ more often than not when she wasn’t sure how to respond to a situation. The man before her classified as an unknown, that was for sure. He was rail thin, with wide shoulders and a dusting of stubble across his cheeks. His nose was prominent, and his cheekbones looked like they could cut glass. His eyes were also the brightest blue that she had ever seen. His height was almost comical, Marianne nearly had to crane her head back to look him in the eye.
Her new dance partner had a towel slung around his shoulders and a light sheen of sweat on what exposed skin was visible. It was clear to her that she had interrupted whatever practice he had been engaging in. Spiky half swept back hair, a brownish grey in color caught her eye as he combed one of his hands through the mess, further disheveling his appearance and with a start, the woman found herself comparing the taller man with a pinecone. He certainly looked prickly enough.
“Bog sweetie, why don’t you give her a chance. Miss Marianne is the best dancer from the Light Fen Company and they have graciously agreed to do a collaboration for the next production with us.”
A deep scowl replaced the frown on Bog’s face and he shook his head, Griselda just didn’t know when to quit. His grip on his water bottle tightened as his irritation started to grow. Not only had his practice been interrupted, now he had to deal with another one of the women his mother had brought to try and tempt him with. He was a solo or a group dancer. He didn’t Do duets. His mother knew this, but still insisted on trying to pair him off with every new hire she could find. It was highly irritating.
“No.”
A snort drew his attention an instant later and he turned to where the woman was now stretching her limbs out by the mirrors. His eyes swept over her body, looking for any sign of unbalance or unnecessary tension in the posture that could affect her movements. When he found none, Bog turned his gaze up to her face.
“I’m not any happier about this than you are Mr. Ichabod, trust me. But I promised my sister I would come and do a practice with you. I’ve seen your work, its good. But you could do better.”
Bog felt his temper begin to boil at her words. He knew that he was tall, knew that he was thin. It had been pointed out by multiple people over the years by bullies and well intentioned aunts. The reference to the old story book character was original though he would give her that. What really incensed him though was the remark about his skill. He could do Better? His teeth made an audible grinding noise as he marched over to the woman, using his height to hover over her threateningly. When the dancer didn’t even bat an eyelash a grudging respect started to kindle in his stomach, but the glower didn’t lessen one bit.
“What do you mean…princess.”
He could tell the nickname irked her, but a smirk tugged at Marianne’s lips in response to his jab. She straightened up from her bent position, leaning back against the metal bar that ran the length of the room.
“I’m just saying I was expecting… more from someone with your reputation. Your style works better when there are two people. One session. If we still hate this just as much as when we walked in we can honestly say we gave it a try and no one can bitch at us about it again.”
The challenge in her golden brown eyes was contagious. Bog felt an answering smirk starting to replace the sneer on his face, and he twisted his neck around to give it a crack before he stepped back out of her personal space and settled into a far less antagonistic position.
“Fine. Show me what you’ve got…tough girl.”
A dark purple i-pod made its way out of the pocket in her pants and got tossed to Griselda, who started shifting through the playlist labeled ‘duets’. A smile crossed the woman’s face as she plugged the device in, and with a start Bog recognized the first few bars of a song he really shouldn’t have been surprised that the other dancer used. Beautiful Crime filled the room as Marianne took her stance at the middle of the floor. All at once she burst into motion, rolling her shoulders and taking two quick steps forward. Her arms raised, hands in graceful arches as she pivoted in a classic ballet pirouette.
All at once she seemed to crumple and Bog nearly started forward to catch her despite himself, only to see how controlled the decent was as she landed in a position reminiscent of a dropped doll. Her legs swept around under her body, one hand trailing the floor as she lifted herself and swung in his direction smoothly. Automatically Bog was reaching for her, the slender hand fit inside his own larger palm with surprising ease.
He drew her close as she stepped in, his arm curling around her shoulders and her free hand pressed to his chest for an instant before she was pushing off to dip back, only their fingertips keeping her from pitching back into the floor. Bog felt his body starting to remember the flow of a two person dance now as he pulled her back and hooked one of his arms under her knees.
He swung the slighter female up and over his shoulder in a smooth motion, her upper body hanging over his back as he turned in place. He leaned to one side, letting her roll off him as his hand caught her waist so she didn’t hit the floor too hard. Golden brown eyes flashed up at him from where he peered down at her, the respect and growing enthusiasm pushing his own ambition to higher heights. If she wanted more, she would get it.
Bog took a few steps back, his arms spreading wide and legs bending as he did his own pivot. He swung his whole body back when he came up, allowing himself to fall sideways but catching his palms on the ground with his legs straight. Marianne was suddenly there in his face, arms winding around his neck and knees tucked under his ribs. Pushing off from the floor, Bog gathered his legs and shoved hard, springing the both of them back into an upright position.
Before she could fall, his hand was at the small of her back, and she was leaning into the touch, letting her arms drape behind her as her body arched up and her legs extended behind his back. Bog spun her to his opposite hip then, forearm catching her calves and lowering her upper body to the floor. They stared at each other for a single moment, breathing heavy before Marianne dropped herself the rest of the way and curled into herself, rolling over to get more space before she popped up again.
The song was starting to come to an end now as she placed one foot in front of the other; her arms held in a loose circle in front of her and held the pose. When she began to run at him, Bog braced himself against the floor and raised his hands, his eyes widening when the slight woman performed a truly impressive leap off the floor, her arms flung wide in an imitation of wings as she fell into his arms. Bog fell with her, landing on his knees as her body bowed in a graceful arc against the floor and her face became pressed into the cook of his neck.
There was silence then, the song’s last notes fading away and the two dancers were jolted from the stillness of the moment by a furious round of applause. Startled, they separated quickly, looking up to see that they had gathered an audience while they had danced. Dawn was practically vibrating with excitement as she stared at her sister and Griselda had tears in her eyes.
Marianne felt her face flush heavily, and a peek out of the corner of her eye told her that Bog wasn’t faring any better. They caught each other’s gaze a moment later and the woman gave a rueful smile.
“Not bad. I think this could work. What do you say…partner.”
Bog extended his hand, staunchly ignoring his mother’s repeated whispers of ‘finally’ as he grasped the smaller palm of his new duet partner in his own rough mitt. He hadn’t enjoyed a dance like that in a long time, and he didn’t mind admitting that he was wrong to himself.
“This could be an…adventure.”