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“This was stupid.”Fabian shouldered Kristen, one of his rhinestones catching in Kristen’s skin-tight top. “You signed us up for a dance competition. This is your fault.”“It’s still stupid!”The Solesian Improvised Dance Contest (SIDCON as it was referred to) was a rare event, brought on only by some strange lunar rules where the moon was shining on the right stone, or something. To be perfectly honest, neither Kristen nor Fabian had thought that hard about it. The flyer had fluttered oh-so-perfectly through Kristen’s open window like a god-sent missive, hitting her in the head and gracefully settling on her duvet.A dance competition, delivered as a holy quest either by her god or a particularly strong gust of wind? How could Kristen resist? If she had learned anything from Fabian, it was that dance was never planned. It was now, it was always, it was messy. This flyer was a message from Dance, commanding her to join the fray.But Fabian had also taught her another thing: dance was not her specialty. And it did say ‘duo category’ right there.The first round had been smooth, clean. Honestly, kind of fun. After being texted a quick info-dump, Fabian had sprinted to Mordred Manor wearing athleisure gear and demanding that Kristen at least learn how to do a box step without falling over. And then a grapevine without tying her own shoelaces together. And then a simple tango without kicking Fabian in the shins.“Hold my hand.”“This hand?”“How did your arm even get there? The other hand.”And, credit where credit is due, it had worked! Fabian led (thank fuck, and Cassandra) and the two made it safely through to the second round, narrowly beating out a pair of goblins whose leotards did not fit them around certain areas where it should fit. Perhaps divine intervention had ensured no one had to see any more of that.SIDCON’s second round had been a little trickier. Something to do with salsa, and not the kind that Kristen was accustomed to. Still, Fabian’s interpretive flair of becoming the tortilla hat atop Kristen’s shoulders with his green dancer trousers billowing out as guacamole had somehow sealed the deal.“Dude, you’re kind of heavy.”“I am lithe. Lighter than air. A spirit of dance.”“This ‘spirit of dance’ is going to ruin my back. Get off me so I can spin you.”And then—oh fuck. They had made it through to the final round.Fabian picked himself out of the rhinestones that had attached themselves to each other on their tops with a grumble. “I was meant to be relaxing today. At home. Mazey wanted to hang out.”“I’m sorry, are you saying you would rather go on a date with your girlfriend than perform with me in an improv dance contest?”“Yes. What is there to not get?”He sighed, glanced up at the clock. “Okay, we have about an hour before we have to go back on. Do you know what category the final round is?”And Kristen tried to remember, really did. Even patted down her skin-tight mesh trousers for the flyer, which was impossible because pockets were just non-existent for both women and dancers, apparently. It had been dancer’s choice for round one, salsa in its many varieties for round two… fuck, what did that third one say? That third bullet point, that one that her mind’s eye just was not focussing on.“No clue.”Fabian sighed. “Okay. Well, this is an improv dance competition. And if there is one thing that Terpsichore Skullcleaver taught me, it’s that all dance should be improvised.”Kristen nodded increasingly, moving to shove her hands in her pocket and remembering damn it, watching a rhinestone pop off her thigh and slide away. “That’s good! That is good news. So, we can just wing it when we’re up there.”With a perfectly executed eyebrow raise, Fabian held out his hand. “Absolutely not. You are one of the least dexterous people I have ever met. If I don’t teach you something, you will fall over or hit one of the judges in the eye.”Kristen sighed, slapping her hand into his. “Fine. Teach me to… I don’t know. Jive?”Fabian’s eyeroll could kill. And maybe it did – someone in the crowd fainted, although that could have been because one of the teams had just done a flawless Dirty Dancing lift. “I shall teach you to waltz. And how to hold me properly. And how to look cool even when you can’t dance.”“Teach me, great sensei.”“Please don’t call me that.”They moved into a nearby rehearsal room where a few single entries were stretching on the bars, ballet flats and jazz shoes all toe-touching the huge mirror. It was a fairly expansive room, meaning there was a large corner where Fabian could safely teach Kristen without worrying about whether she would elbow a stranger in the face. He was not about to get disqualified for sabotage. “Okay, so first – the male leads.”“Sexism?”“We’re not doing this now.”He placed his hand on Kristen’s waist, drawing her in until they were chest to chest as she awkwardly rested an arm around his shoulder. “We should be this close whenever possible. It’s an intimate dance.”Kristen snorted. “I have never been this physically close to another man in my entire life.”“Like I said – intimate. Now, you are going to want to follow me. So, when I step forward…?”With a confident smile, Kristen nodded. “I step forward.”“No.”“What the fuck?”The basics took a while, Fabian hissing out comments under his breath as a few of the lean ballet dancers glanced over at them with humoured smirks. Philistines, they would not know the true magic of dance if it slipped out of his billowed trousers and hit them in the chest. Wait, repress that memory. “Ok, so. In ballroom, who leads?”“You. The man.”“Great.” He let out a quick sigh, bending down to touch his toes just to let off some steam. “Now. I’m just going to teach you a couple of quicker steps, but we’ll probably just speed up the ballroom if a really quick song comes on.”Kristen waved away the notion. “Where’s the fun in that! Seriously, I’m here to learn. I want to do well.”Fabian smiled in appreciation. “I know you do. But I have been learning dance for years now, and you impulsively signed yourself up to this five weeks ago. There is going to be a bit of a curve that we’re just going to have to deal with.”A knowing smirk on her lips, Kristen tapped her temple. “Don’t worry. If all else fails, I have a backup plan.”“Oh no. What is it?”“This!”From nowhere, Kristen pulled out a long ribbon dancer. The intent had been for it to swirl dramatically and beautifully over her head, although it instead fluttered lifelessly down and trailed from her hand like a sad worm. At least it matched their costumes.Fabian raised his eyebrow. “I… have never danced with a ribbon before.”“What? Then you’re not a real dancer.”Bless him, he looked offended. Fabian sucked in a deep breath, reciting a mantra Kristen had once thought he said to his reflection and refused to confirm. “No such thing as a real dancer. Dance is real, therefore, all who dance are real. One dancer is as important as another, and you are one cog in the great cosmic wheel of movement.”“I am just saying, Fabes. Worst comes to worst, I whip this bad baby out and we win the thing. Boom.”“I’m more worried about you tying yourself up and dying. And besides, this is improv. Whipping out a ribbon is a pretty clear sign you have thought about what you were going to do prior to hearing the music.”“Not if I do it in an inescapable, irrefutable moment of passion. Boom.”Fabian shook his head more firmly, as if telling off a naughty child. “No, Kristen. No boom. No ribbon dancers. You have a history of breaking bones when a ribbon dancer is in your hands.”“Only my own!”The rest of the preparation went as smoothly as Fabian could have hoped for, which admittedly was not a lot. At least the looks coming from the other dancers had been sympathetic towards him and not utterly soul-destroying. He was the Oracool, the Future of Dance. He could not lose SIDCON, not when the trophy was so close in reach. All that was between him and yet another accolade to add to his many others was a five-foot-nine redhead with no coordination and even less focus.Hey, the stakes had been harder.The time came, the little voice over the speaker calling for all couples to return to the stage, ready to be a part of the final competition. Three couples left – a lithe elf couple that Fabian swore he recognised from the Champion of Dance Battle Adaine had asked him to do; a female orc and a male halfling in what was surely a diversity win; and Fabian Aramais Seacaster, Future of Dance, with Kristen Applebees.They gripped each other’s hands tightly, Fabian closing his eyes and praying. Not a huge religion buff, although Ankarna had saved the world so he could lose his v-card, so maybe he owed it to her a little. “Come on, please be ballroom… please be ballroom… or something so simple even Kristen could not fuck it up…”Ollivander Tweedle, aarakocra dancer extraordinaire, took back to the microphone and let out a little thin cough. “Welcome back, dancers! The competition is fierce, and now we come down to our final contestants. Tonight, for your final performance, you…”Fabian squeezed Kristen’s hand. Kristen squeezed back, her callouses catching on his freshly manicured skin.“Will be performing…”Kristen let out a soft little prayer for justice, kindness, and certainty in the face of doubt. Fabian prayed a little harder.“A ribbon dance!”“Oh, fuck yes!”Unbelievable. Despicable, one might say. Fabian watched, mouth open, simply aghast, as a sequined troll with glitter all over their rough skin walked to each couple, handing out shining ribbons in matching colours for each couple. As he approached Kristen, she shook her head and grinned. “I’ve already got my own. Can I use it? Can I actually use it?”The troll shrugged, handing Fabian his own. Kristen produced her ribbon once more from whatever spare pocket or extradimensional space sat underneath her dance costume, the end trailing to the floor in a very unprofessional limp. The handle was unbelievably tattered, the ribbon devoid of all shine from the months, near year it had spent crumpled up in her pocket, a small smatter of blood on the tip where she had crashed onto it that one time. Truly horrible.“Why didn’t you get a new one?”Kristen frowned as though Fabian had suggested murder. “This is an heirloom! We’ll get points for being prepared.”“It is not an heirloom! And you don’t get points for that!”“Then what are we even doing here?”Ollivander tapped the microphone, signalling for the band in the back to ready their instruments. “Dancers, you shall begin in one! Two! One, two, three, and—!”Kristen grabbed Fabian’s forearm. “Follow my lead.”“The male leads—”“Not anymore, baby! Feminism!”The band began and Kristen twisted Fabian’s arm around, sending him twirling across the floor, his ribbon streaming around him like a great pink whirlwind. He kept his cries to himself, painting the dancerly smile across his face and only showing the fear in his eyes to Kristen. Unfortunately, his dancing partner seemed more intent to weirdly undulate, the ribbon dripping down her body, than appreciate his pain. “Copy me!”“What are you even doing?”“Body rolling.”“That is not how you body roll.” Holding his ribbon aloft, he began to, much smoothly, roll his hips and abdominals in time with the music. “This is how you body roll.”Kristen nodded, copying, adding a little flick to her ribbon. “Oh. I’ve been doing it so wrong.”“I’ve been meaning to tell you—”Before he could finish his perfectly executed insult, Kristen had charged for him, slid under his legs and stood up so he sat over her shoulders. “What the fuck, Kristen?”“Dude, just go with it! Dance is in us all, or something!”Fabian knew that – he was the one who told her that! He lamely waved his ribbon around the two as Kristen did some form of march, or step or—wait, a box step. Holy fuck, she was doing a box step! And—what was this? A grapevine without falling over or tripping on the ribbon? She was learning!Kristen tapped him on the shoulder. “Do some dance-y thing on my head.”“Like what?”“I don’t know, man. A… ballet.”“I’m not doing a whole ballet on your head. Just—toss up your ribbon.”As he rose himself to standing atop Kristen Applebees, she threw up her ribbon and he caught it with his other hand. As Kristen smized at the audience, throwing out the occasional arm or weird kick, he stood on his hands, held the splits, did a perfect backflip with the twin ribbons flying behind him. They were perfectly synchronised, the power of dance and friendship flowing through them.“Grand finale, Fabian. What are we going to do?”“Catch me.”With a quick Feather Fall, just in case, Fabian launched himself into the air, throwing both ribbons up as he did. Kristen, reacting far more quickly than he could have given her credit for, caught him in a spinning bridal catch before the ribbons fell from the sky once more. Fabian quickly swung down from her arms, standing up as he caught one—And Kristen caught the other on the final beat.The cheers from the audience were hysteria inducing. Fabian felt his heart pounding, the familiar sweat and joy of a song well embellished, Kristen right beside him grinning with that mischievous, victorious grin she was so used to wearing.And then the results were in.Ollivander smiled. “Fabulous work tonight, dancers. But the winner of the 78th Annual Solesian Improvised Dance Contest is…”The band let out a long drum roll. Fabian squeezed Kristen’s arm. “No matter whether we won or lost. Thank you for trying your best.”Kristen smiled softly. “And thank you for coming to save me from this contest. No one does it better than you.”“The K-Gone-2-Soons, Fabian Seacaster and Kristen Applebees!”Fabian screamed as the audience bellowed in applause. Kristen punched the air. “Fuck yeah! That’s how you win, baby!”Never before had Fabian felt such glee. “Holy fuck. We just won SIDCON. That’s amazing!”Kristen ran for him, scooping him up in one of the tightest hugs he had ever had the pleasure of being in. He hugged her back as the confetti fell from the ceiling, drenching them both in light and victory. As was truly deserved.And in every newspaper that week, their grinning faces were printed on the front cover, the Future of Dance gripping the trophy like he might lose it, and Kristen Applebees with her precious ribbon dancer tangled around one leg. Bill Seacaster had one framed for the captain’s quarters and Kristen swore to never dance again.