Caffeine To The Bloodstream

Males do not dance, that's just gay. Males aren't for dancing and they don't go onto the television and dance in a sparkly shirt to win a competition. They don't just do all that to win money. They do not do such a thing.

Okay, so maybe if you take away the winning money bit, you'd be just about there. Except you take the negative parts out and there you have it, the kid in a nutshell. He isn't actually a kid; he's a man with the vocabulary of a five year old. Or a seven year old, but that would be pushing it a little.

Males are not for dancing. They're for being a chauffeur to the lady and they're just there to give out sperm to make a ratty kid with a despicable attitude. But isn't that just how the cookie crumbles now?

Jon's a male and he doesn't dance. Spencer's a male who looks like a female so he had to learn cheerleading, but we're not going into that. Ryan's just an amateur dancer so he can't even dance for toffee yet (Okay, he would but he wouldn't be good enough anyway) and Brendon's a master of dance. In the making. He's just like, professional. Or some other spiffy word you can think of at this moment.

Jon's a nice, standard male who wanted to be a brain surgeon when he was seven, but who doesn't? He ended up working at a corner shop when he was eighteen and that took a hell of a lot of work. So at twenty he got into his second year of university, when he realised he needed to get his grip together. First year you don't have to worry, you can go back to your Mummy and Daddy and have chicken nuggets from McDonalds or something like that. Second year you actually realise you've got a life in front of you and you've got to work to actually get somewhere. Third year, you don't go home. Not even if you've been offered a ten thousand billion sports car imported from Italy, you don't go home. Not even to have a bit of your mum's roast dinner. Yeah, you can go home for Christmas and possibly Easter at a stretch. You don't get something from the chippy though. So on that third year, he forgot all the months and the days and he actually forgot to go back at Christmas, so he went back home at Easter thinking it was Christmas. And the chocolate coins had melted in the back room. Poor things.

Spencer's able to get through life as a transvestite. No, not really, but he would be able to. He just needs to learn how to plait his hair and stop trying to be Santa with the beard and then he's on the road to go. Nice kid, Spencer is. Except he's twenty but can pass off for about thirty-five. Someone said that he looked like Ryan's daddy-waddy. Oh dear...

Ryan decided he wanted to dance. Be like that Maxxie kid from Skins, except he's not blonde or short. Sorry, kids; bad luck...but he wanted to dance. Nothing would let him in to have training. Not even once a week, poor thing. So he used his power of being just that little bit famous. Being in that band with those dudes; Billie, Zac, Oliver, T-ball and the big heartthrob, Danny. And T-ball wasn't his actual name, it was actually Taylor, but you're right in guessing he hated it. People these days...

Brendon was born a dancer. Or born to be a dancer. Whichever you prefer. Picked up the dancing shoes at a young age and then grew up as the geeky kid he was that danced. Except geeks don't really dance, do they? But lets just say that in that time, if you wore glasses - or even just contacts, bless - then you were automatically a geek, basically. Unless you got into the 'cool group' and then you were just...not a geek. Brendon got half way there. Just halfway because he can't do anything better than that. Snap.

You know, Ryan finally got into a place for it. No, he didn't get a place on Strictly Come Dancing, they wouldn't let him in, goddamn. So when he got into Grile Verdict (it didn’t really mean anything, they just thought of it because they needed a name) he was immensely happy and he was blatantly excited that he’d gotten somewhere and wasn’t rejected.

“Are you the new...uh, student?” a mysterious voice said, from the other, darkened side of the hall. Ryan’s part was lighter and you could hear the clicking and clacking of the shiny polished shoes that were on the feet of the voice’s owner.

“Y-yes,” Ryan squeaked, and as he finished the room lighted up. Just like the movies. He looked at one of the two scarves that loosely hung around his neck as the clicking and clacking drew nearer to his ears, making a rhythm that was annoying, but you could get used to it.

“Wow. You’re a guy that’s a fashion freak. This is nice, isn’t it? Come here.” It was Brendon, the dancer, the more-or-less professional dancer. He stood with legs shoulder width apart.

“Why?”

“Come here. It’s not hard.” Ryan walked forth after this, still nervous about it all. He wanted it, and he was sure. But he wasn’t exactly sure about what he was actually doing. “Come on, kid. Is the hair that’s up your ass ginger?”

“And you know, my brother had a rabbit.” Ryan put on an obviously fake Scottish accent, and he nailed it. He nailed the accent. Well, the fake accent. Obviously.

“Did he now? That’s nice.”

“Actually, he had a guinea pig. But whatever,” Ryan shrugged off the thought, thinking about music that’d be perfect to dance to. Well, really, you can dance to anything. You’ve just got to have imagination, haven’t you?

“So lets get this show on the road, girly.”

***
“Yeah...shit...oh fuck! Yeah! I got it!” Jon exclaimed, and no, he wasn’t having sex. He was concentrating on his work. He thought it was around January, but in reality it was May. Jon, you need to start getting your grip together. Come on, you need to know the date. It’s vital.

“Jon? Are you being a spaz right now or are you trying to nail your third year?” Rob asked Jon as he barged through the door of Jon’s university room. Quite tidy, but stuffed full to the brim of textbooks and worksheets and notes and crap. And yes, it was tidy.

“Both.”

“Dude, you do know it’s May? You don’t need to be all on the hook in May. Remember, May’s the let out, party time.”

“It’s January. It’s the eighth of January.”

“It’s the third of May, moron. Just cause it’s your third year doesn’t mean you need to be a geek that studies twenty-four seven.” Rob was Jon’s friend. Best friend. Maybe the only friend he actually had, he usually stuck to fuck buddies and the like. Although he did none of that when he went into third year.

“No, it’s January. Now can you let me study?” Jon said through gritted teeth. He wanted to study. He wanted to nail third year. He wanted to get out with a good life ahead of him and he didn’t want to end up as a cokehead or pothead, thank you very much. Oh, and he planned on a degree. Oh, yes he did.

“No. You need to party, you moron. It’s May. You always party in May and then you get shit-faced. It always works out in the end.”

“I need to work. Get out.” So Rob just lay on Jon’s bed, waiting. Nice night blue sheets and pillow cases, they didn’t look like they were to be messed about with. No playing ghosts with them, they were too nice.

“No.”

“I’m not going to fuck you, Rob.” Jon took in what the textbook was saying although it’s kind of difficult when you have someone trying to get you to party.

“Oh, well, we have a deal then. Fuck me and I’ll leave. I’ll leave you to study all you want through May and then you can miss out on all the parties.”

“I don’t care about the parties and I’m not going to fuck you.”

“I’ll have to wait here until you do then. Or I’ll have to make you. I can make you fuck me, Jon. I can get your sweet, sweet cock into my sweet, sweet anus and we can make sweet, sweet...fucking.”

“Too graphic, now fuck off!” Jon decided he’d block out Rob. He also decided it’d be a good idea to play a learn the language disc. So he did. And Rob decided to fake moan, fake orgasm and also decided to jump on the bed. Great. Blame Rob when the springs are broken, will you?

***

Spencer’s working a shift. He’s shifting, because that’s what Ryan calls it. It’s also what Jon called it before he turned into a mega nerd, and that’s why he likes it so much. Spencer was never one of Jon’s fuck buddies. He wished he was, poor thing.

Spencer’s waiting for a customer. Damn this boring town and all the kids being at school. And also the other fine adults for working too much. They needed more customers in that place. It’s an overrated place but can’t be that overrated if no-one goes into it. Spencer got paid at Starbucks for basically sitting back and reading a book for a couple of hours. Then finally getting a few customers before the cats are dragged in. Then it’s a hellhole. And Spencer gets to go home. To go and do nothing, except for Tuesdays when there’s amazing stuff on television. According to Spencer.

“Here you go,” Spencer said to some redhead who asked for a rather extravagant order, and Spencer wondered if he could actually do the order. By himself. Of course, this was a joke and the order was immensely boring. You could do it at home on your crappy kettle that only works half of the time!

“Thanks,” She said, rushing off somewhere else in the room that Spencer didn’t see. He just shrugged and went off his shift. It was half five in the afternoon, so his shift was over.

“Mary!” He shouted as he finally ran out of the building. Mary was a co-worker that was usually on after Spencer was. Not on as in period on, but in shifts. Oh well, you know what it all means.

***

In a few weeks, Ryan had become blatantly better at dancing. He’d gotten used to the fact that he had to dance with a fellow male. He wasn’t bothered by it anymore, he was there to dance and so that’s what he did.

“There’s a show soon. You should be in it, you’re good at the art of dance,” Brendon said, shrugging slightly.

“And with who exactly? Do you think that I’m even near good enough?”

“Sheesh, you’re great for a beginner. And you can just do all that shit with me, duh. It’s like, I wouldn’t be asking you otherwise.”

Ryan’s feelings, just...insecure, uncomfortable. He wants to be home, watching BBC News 24 at three AM. That’s nice. He wants to be home, watching The Fox and The Hound on the DVD player. He wants to be home, relaxing with a cuppa.

“But why?” he squeaks, “And what dance?”

“I was thinking more of a ballroom or a waltz.”

“Shit, that’s way too good for me.” Ryan doesn’t believe that he’s anywhere near good enough to even think about doing a waltz. But he actually is, he just doesn’t know it.

“Come here, it’s easy. Well, only part of it is. It’s difficult but don’t sweat it, it’s easy once you know it. The music,” He made the music play by the nice little remote in his pocket, “and the person. Your hands, put them around my neck.”

“What?”

“Put your hands around my neck.”

Ryan did so, and Brendon clasped his hands on Ryan’s hips. It looked like a perfect love scene, although it was more of a perfect dance scene.

“You need to sway those hips,” Brendon smiled, “and work those feet.”

And that’s what Ryan did. He moved around swiftly, where the amateur leaded the professional around the floor.

“That’s good. Work it, kid. Work it.”

Ryan dominated the floor, making the arms that were on Brendon’s shoulders slide down, so his hands held onto them.

“You’re good, that’s good. You’re an amateur, I wouldn’t guess that. But you can’t beat me.” They both chuckled at that comment, where Brendon held Ryan’s hips closer to his body.

“Wow. That’s close,” Ryan said, nervously. He hoped but didn’t expect and didn’t think he’d get what he wished. Because half of the wishes you wish don’t come true, right?

“Yeah. It is. The next dance should be a little more saucy, don’t you think?”

“Well, I don’t really know...”

“You don’t exactly care, do you?” Brendon smirks into the other boys eyes. Was the fact that Ryan was older mentioned at all?

“Uh...”

And that’s the point where they kiss. It’s awkward but they don’t need to move. Ryan thinks it’s weird that he’s sharing a kiss with, well, his dance teacher who is in fact, younger, but he doesn’t care. He wants it. And he gets it. It’s different. It’s different to the other kisses he’s had, but wouldn’t it be? And it’s different in a good way, a nice way. It’s inevitable; they liked it. And they wanted it to carry on. Forever.

***

In about thirty seconds, Spencer will be at the Kalinfer building. That’s the place where Jon lives and that’s the place where Jon’s in the middle of studying.

“It’s cool, it’s cool!” Spencer shouts, shooting up five flights of stairs to find the door to another bunch of doors. He enters it, and finds room 31. That’s Jon’s room and that’s where Jon is and Rob isn’t. Rob’s in room 76 with some pothead getting high to bass-heavy music. Spencer likes the bass. Jon plays it.

Spencer knocks the door of room 31, and he just gets, “Go, away, Rob!” in which he answers, “It’s not Rob!”

Spencer’s heart beats twice as fast when he hears Jon speak. Especially to him. And his heart was racing in the Grand Nationals and it sort of won at that time. He entered the room, making sure the door was firmly closed behind him.

“Oh,” Jon raised an eyebrow, “Spencer.” For once in his life, he shut the textbook. He spun on the chair and looked at Spencer. This was obviously a sign.

“Should I, uh, go? You’re a bit busy, aren’t you?”

“I can fit this in. What’s up?” what’s up? What’s up? You’re kind of what’s up at the moment with him, darling.

“Can I tell you something?” Spencer’s heart just, nearly exploded at that time. He was bursting, he was nervous and he was worried.

“Sure, shoot.” Jon took off a pair of reading glasses that didn’t really do anything for him.

“Uh...um...I’ll probably, uh, stutter, so...y-you’re a nice guy, J...uh, I think I, uh, like you, uh...” spit out those words. Can you?

“You like me? Shall I tell you something?”

“If you, uh, want to...”

“You know I study too much, right?” Spencer nodded. “I do a lot of it so I can get somewhere but also, a lot of it is me trying to get my mind off of you.” Oh my God, this is perfect, isn’t it? It’s just perfect, right? Purr-fect. Like a cat. Well, it would be if Jon wasn’t scratching his head.

“Fuck, uh...”

“I don’t think you’d want to be a fuck buddy. You’re kind of...different, y’know? Different.”

“Am I? Uh...this is awkward.”

“It sure is.” Jon grinned, letting Spencer stand up. Jon opened his arms, and took a firm grasp of Spencer’s back as they shared a small kiss. Just small, nothing too rough and nothing too peck-y.

“Shit,” Spencer giggled, “This is good. I could get used to this.”

“Glad you think so.”

***

Ryan and Brendon nailed the contest. They won it – and a pub quiz. They won the whole thing, together. And then they got together and it was fluff and there was rainbows and happy bunnies and all that crap. But they got together and they kept dancing. Together.

Jon got everything right. He got it. He passed everything. He got a worthwhile job and he got his own house. His own house! Spencer got a better pay and they also got a little bit jiggy. They loved each other and all the doubt was obviously worth it. In the end.

And the couples met. Over a dinner, cooked by Ryan and Spencer. And Jon, if you count the fact that he boiled an egg and then went to watch television. They sat, and they acknowledged the fact that they were one of the weirdest group of friends ever.

Oh, and Brendon’s vocabulary improved, by the way.