Heat of the Moment
Based off the song "Heat of the Moment" by Asia.
Author notes: This was originally intended to be my dragon challenge story, but it didn't feel popslashy enough for me. Primarily because the main character doesn't really reflect any of the guys. But I like it as a story, so I needed to finish it.
You’d never been one for getting attached. You didn’t really see the point. Dear old dad had walked out on you at the tender age of two, leaving you and mom to fend for yourselves. Mom, she didn’t deal well with it, something to do with the image of the 60’s housewife she could no longer fit, took to drinking and dumped you on the steps of an orphanage. Twelve foster homes later, and yea, there really was no point in getting attached.
So you jumped around from job to job, the drive-in to the factory to the amusement park to everywhere in between. However, it was at a disco that you met him. Lance.
Some idiot friend of yours had convinced you that going to the disco was what everyone did these days, and if you wanted to fit in with the times, you had to strap on your platforms and go. Personally, you’d rather sit in a corner with your copy of Dark Side of the Moon. But you went anyway. Blame it on your innate urge to experience everything in life.
Disco came pretty easy to you. You’re really not sure why, it wasn’t like you were one of those free love, polyester posers. But your tenured ability to adapt to anything apparently also applied to body movements. Before long you’d been winning competitions, and the local club wanted to pick you up as an instructor. It was about time for a job change anyway, so you took it.
You remember the day you met Lance very well. You were instructing one of your regulars, an older woman with two left feet and not much chance of improving. Across the room, a young man entered the club. He was a starry-eyed boy who had very clearly never set foot in a disco before. He looked innocent, and no one who discoed was innocent, even if this wasn’t Studio 54. Two things pulled you towards him right away: he was excited to be here and he was gorgeous. The blond of his hair reminded you of sunshine, his eyes sparkled with anticipation and something else you couldn’t put your finger on. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.
He approached you cautiously. “Are you the Deacon of Disco?”
God, you hated that nickname. “Yea that’s me.”
“I’m told you’re the best teacher in town. I want to learn how to dance.”
“So they say. You’re gonna have to pay Vinnie over at the bar, but I’ll teach ya.”
“Hey, kid, I’m the one dancing here!” whined your current tutee.
“Time’s up,” you told her, though you still had probably 20 minutes left. “I’ll see you next week.” She was hopeless anyway.
The guy looked a little unsure watching her stomp off. “You do more than just partner dancing, right?”
“Hey, they already told you I was the best, didn’t they? What’s your name kid?”
“Lance.”
It was a name you’re sure you’ll never forget.
-------------------
Lance had become your regular on Thursday nights. What’s her name had stopped showing up when she realized you weren’t interested in her. You didn’t have any complaints.
Lance was an awkward dancer at first. He didn’t know his left from his right and managed to step on your feet every few seconds. But he was driven, and that often made for a better dancer than some of those with a ingrained knack for it. Every week Lance got a little better, and it made you smile watching him. No matter how difficult it seemed to be, he always managed to enjoy himself.
One particular day you had been teaching him the Bus Stop. It wasn’t particularly difficult, but Lance seemed to be having some trouble with it. He got the first few steps ok, then would end up tripping over himself on the next part. “I just don’t get it,” he said, “can you show me again?”
This was the fifth time you’d demonstrated it for him in the last ten minutes, but you did once more, slowly, so Lance could see it clearly. Once again, Lance tripped over himself trying to repeat it. You shook your head, but you weren’t about to give up on him. However, this method was clearly not going to work.
“Stand still,” you directed him, and moved behind Lance. “Let’s try something else.” You pressed your body to his, grasping his hands in yours and placing your feet just outside his. “I’ll move, and you can move with me.”
Lance felt a little hestiant at first. The closeness was foreign to him. You gave him a minute to adjust, and he gradually slipped into your grasp. You moved your right foot forward, pushing Lance’s foot that way as well. Your left hand around Lance’s wrist followed, flowing out in the other direction. Once Lance got that position, you moved back, and repeated it with the opposite arm and leg. It was a fast dance, but you moved a little slower than necessary. As you reached the part where Lance had stumbled over himself before, Lance pressed a little closer in to you. Damn he had a nice ass. Actually, he was more filled out than you’d expected. He looked scrawny when he’d first come to you, but Lance was hiding some muscles under his baggy shirts. Feeling them flex against yours made your heart race.
“Hey um, is there any more?” Lance asked, clearing his throat first. You hadn’t even realized that you’d stopped moving. His touch had flooded all your senses and clouded out the rest of the world for a few seconds. You weren’t sure if that was good or frightening. You shook it off; you weren’t about to dwell on it now. “Um, yea, there is, but, you want to take a break? I could use something to drink.”
-------------------
You and Lance were in the back room after one of your sessions. You were snorting something, LSD, cocaine, you weren’t really sure anymore. Everyone in the place just snorted whatever they could get their hands on; the high was all that really mattered. Lance tended to be weirded out by the idea of sniffing a powder up his nose, but once he was buzzed it didn’t seem to be a problem.
“Hey,” Lance said, definitely buzzed by that point.
“Yeah?” you droned back.
“Do you like guys or girls?” he asked.
“I like teaching both, man, it doesn’t matter.”
“No. I mean like, you know.”
“You mean like, would I go for it with a guy? Yeah. I like em both.”
Lance tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I like guys,” he said. He turned his head to look at you. “You wouldn’t tell anyone that, would you? Nobody understands me as it is.”
You slowly moved your head to look at him. That look of him- sweat left over from the dancing, pupils slightly dialated, seeming to stare right into you- it grabbed you. Pulled you in. Instead of telling him “no”, you leaned in to kiss him hungrily. He tasted of smoke and liquor and sweat, and you’d never tasted anything so delicious in your life.
Lance, whether out of true interest or drug-induced lust answered back, just as hungrily. He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you down on top of him. Next thing you knew, you were sprawled on top of him, your hands running down his back and his in your hair. He felt so right under you, muscles flexed and polyester sliding against each other. Lance was a fantastic kisser, possibly the best you’d ever met, and you didn’t want to stop.
Rather unfortuantely, breathing was a necessity. You and he both lay panting as you moved back for air. “I’m gonna take that,” he gasped, “as a no?”
You looked him in the eye, contemplating an answer. He was breathtaking. The best answer you could come up with was to kiss him again. And again. And again.
Lance’s hand moved to the nape of your neck to bring you in closer. Yours found the first button it could find and slipped it open. One after the next, until Lance’s shirt spread open across his chest. Lance arched to shake the shirt off, and you helped to slip off the sleeves. You moved to settle back onto him, but Lance stopped you. His hand fingered your gold chain before snaking its way down to your pants. As the clothes came off, the passion between the two of you intensified, your eyes and his burning in the heat of the moment.
It was the most unforgettable night of your life.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
It wasn’t long after that, that they showed the big story on the news: people parading through the streets with banners, chanting “disco sucks”. You decided then and there to make your exit. Your job as a dance instructor wasn’t going to last much longer, even if you wanted it to. You went in early that day, turned in your platform shoes and polyester jumpsuits, and never looked back.
The next day you packed your bags and bought one way ticket to LA. You told yourself that you’ve exhausted all the jobs your could in Orlando, which was probably true, but wasn’t entirely why you were moving across the country. No, you just couldn’t bring yourself to see Lance again. You loved him. And that was too close.
-----------------------------------------------------
1982. You’d ended up in Los Angelos from Orlando. You didn’t know how he found you, but he did. You’d gone to answer the door, and there in front of you was Lance. He looked old, much older than he should have.
“Can I come in?” he asked, “I have something I need to tell you.”
“Yea sure,” you replied before welcoming him in.
Lance didn’t sit down, but remained standing. He looked very nervous about something. He cleared his throat before he spoke. “The doctor says I have this new disease. AIDS or something like that.” Lance paused. “He said it’s spread through gay sex. And um, I just wanted to let you know. Since there’s a chance…you know.”
You didn’t know what AIDS was then, what it did to a person, but the gravity on Lance’s face was unmistakable. This was serious, and not what you’d expected to hear from him. You’d expected to be on the receiving end of a lot of anger, hurt, sadness, but not fear.
“I, um. Thanks for letting me know.” What did you say to something like that?
“Yea,” he replied, looking down at his shoes. He looked back up at you before hesitantly deciding to sit down.
You both sat there in silence for a few seconds. Or minutes. Not hours, though it could have been; it felt like it. You and he contemplating what to say next.
You spoke up first. “You don’t regret it, do you?”
He looked at you, almost surprised by the question. “Regret what?”
“Us. Even if it…gave you this.”
“No,” he said with assurance. “Not at all. I couldn’t. It was…it was more than just a heat of the moment thing, you know? I mean, was it like that for you?”
“More than just heat of the moment? Yea. I loved you from the second you showed up.”
A confused look came across Lance’s face. “Then why’d you leave?”
You sighed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Lance didn’t move. “Try me. I’m not as naïve as I was.”
“It’s just this thing. I’ve never been able to stay long anywhere. With anyone.”
“You’re scared.”
You shook your head. “No. It’s not that.”
Lance reached out to touch your arm. “It is that. Whatever reason you say you have, underneath, it’s just because you’re scared.”
You knew he was right. Knowing that he knew you, that’s what scared you most of all. “I’m sorry Lance.”
Lance stood from the couch and moved towards the door. “I should go. It was good, seeing you again. I hope you do alright here.”
Watching Lance open the door, something hit you. You didn’t want this to be goodbye. Your life had been nothing but a long string of goodbyes, one after another. Lance had been the only person you’d ever cared about, and seeing him again let you know that you still cared about him. For once in your life, it was time to let yourself care. “Wait. Lance. Please stay.”
Lance closed the door and turned back around to you. “Okay.” He smiled.
You knew everything would be okay.
Author notes: This was originally intended to be my dragon challenge story, but it didn't feel popslashy enough for me. Primarily because the main character doesn't really reflect any of the guys. But I like it as a story, so I needed to finish it.
You’d never been one for getting attached. You didn’t really see the point. Dear old dad had walked out on you at the tender age of two, leaving you and mom to fend for yourselves. Mom, she didn’t deal well with it, something to do with the image of the 60’s housewife she could no longer fit, took to drinking and dumped you on the steps of an orphanage. Twelve foster homes later, and yea, there really was no point in getting attached.
So you jumped around from job to job, the drive-in to the factory to the amusement park to everywhere in between. However, it was at a disco that you met him. Lance.
Some idiot friend of yours had convinced you that going to the disco was what everyone did these days, and if you wanted to fit in with the times, you had to strap on your platforms and go. Personally, you’d rather sit in a corner with your copy of Dark Side of the Moon. But you went anyway. Blame it on your innate urge to experience everything in life.
Disco came pretty easy to you. You’re really not sure why, it wasn’t like you were one of those free love, polyester posers. But your tenured ability to adapt to anything apparently also applied to body movements. Before long you’d been winning competitions, and the local club wanted to pick you up as an instructor. It was about time for a job change anyway, so you took it.
You remember the day you met Lance very well. You were instructing one of your regulars, an older woman with two left feet and not much chance of improving. Across the room, a young man entered the club. He was a starry-eyed boy who had very clearly never set foot in a disco before. He looked innocent, and no one who discoed was innocent, even if this wasn’t Studio 54. Two things pulled you towards him right away: he was excited to be here and he was gorgeous. The blond of his hair reminded you of sunshine, his eyes sparkled with anticipation and something else you couldn’t put your finger on. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.
He approached you cautiously. “Are you the Deacon of Disco?”
God, you hated that nickname. “Yea that’s me.”
“I’m told you’re the best teacher in town. I want to learn how to dance.”
“So they say. You’re gonna have to pay Vinnie over at the bar, but I’ll teach ya.”
“Hey, kid, I’m the one dancing here!” whined your current tutee.
“Time’s up,” you told her, though you still had probably 20 minutes left. “I’ll see you next week.” She was hopeless anyway.
The guy looked a little unsure watching her stomp off. “You do more than just partner dancing, right?”
“Hey, they already told you I was the best, didn’t they? What’s your name kid?”
“Lance.”
It was a name you’re sure you’ll never forget.
-------------------
Lance had become your regular on Thursday nights. What’s her name had stopped showing up when she realized you weren’t interested in her. You didn’t have any complaints.
Lance was an awkward dancer at first. He didn’t know his left from his right and managed to step on your feet every few seconds. But he was driven, and that often made for a better dancer than some of those with a ingrained knack for it. Every week Lance got a little better, and it made you smile watching him. No matter how difficult it seemed to be, he always managed to enjoy himself.
One particular day you had been teaching him the Bus Stop. It wasn’t particularly difficult, but Lance seemed to be having some trouble with it. He got the first few steps ok, then would end up tripping over himself on the next part. “I just don’t get it,” he said, “can you show me again?”
This was the fifth time you’d demonstrated it for him in the last ten minutes, but you did once more, slowly, so Lance could see it clearly. Once again, Lance tripped over himself trying to repeat it. You shook your head, but you weren’t about to give up on him. However, this method was clearly not going to work.
“Stand still,” you directed him, and moved behind Lance. “Let’s try something else.” You pressed your body to his, grasping his hands in yours and placing your feet just outside his. “I’ll move, and you can move with me.”
Lance felt a little hestiant at first. The closeness was foreign to him. You gave him a minute to adjust, and he gradually slipped into your grasp. You moved your right foot forward, pushing Lance’s foot that way as well. Your left hand around Lance’s wrist followed, flowing out in the other direction. Once Lance got that position, you moved back, and repeated it with the opposite arm and leg. It was a fast dance, but you moved a little slower than necessary. As you reached the part where Lance had stumbled over himself before, Lance pressed a little closer in to you. Damn he had a nice ass. Actually, he was more filled out than you’d expected. He looked scrawny when he’d first come to you, but Lance was hiding some muscles under his baggy shirts. Feeling them flex against yours made your heart race.
“Hey um, is there any more?” Lance asked, clearing his throat first. You hadn’t even realized that you’d stopped moving. His touch had flooded all your senses and clouded out the rest of the world for a few seconds. You weren’t sure if that was good or frightening. You shook it off; you weren’t about to dwell on it now. “Um, yea, there is, but, you want to take a break? I could use something to drink.”
-------------------
You and Lance were in the back room after one of your sessions. You were snorting something, LSD, cocaine, you weren’t really sure anymore. Everyone in the place just snorted whatever they could get their hands on; the high was all that really mattered. Lance tended to be weirded out by the idea of sniffing a powder up his nose, but once he was buzzed it didn’t seem to be a problem.
“Hey,” Lance said, definitely buzzed by that point.
“Yeah?” you droned back.
“Do you like guys or girls?” he asked.
“I like teaching both, man, it doesn’t matter.”
“No. I mean like, you know.”
“You mean like, would I go for it with a guy? Yeah. I like em both.”
Lance tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I like guys,” he said. He turned his head to look at you. “You wouldn’t tell anyone that, would you? Nobody understands me as it is.”
You slowly moved your head to look at him. That look of him- sweat left over from the dancing, pupils slightly dialated, seeming to stare right into you- it grabbed you. Pulled you in. Instead of telling him “no”, you leaned in to kiss him hungrily. He tasted of smoke and liquor and sweat, and you’d never tasted anything so delicious in your life.
Lance, whether out of true interest or drug-induced lust answered back, just as hungrily. He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you down on top of him. Next thing you knew, you were sprawled on top of him, your hands running down his back and his in your hair. He felt so right under you, muscles flexed and polyester sliding against each other. Lance was a fantastic kisser, possibly the best you’d ever met, and you didn’t want to stop.
Rather unfortuantely, breathing was a necessity. You and he both lay panting as you moved back for air. “I’m gonna take that,” he gasped, “as a no?”
You looked him in the eye, contemplating an answer. He was breathtaking. The best answer you could come up with was to kiss him again. And again. And again.
Lance’s hand moved to the nape of your neck to bring you in closer. Yours found the first button it could find and slipped it open. One after the next, until Lance’s shirt spread open across his chest. Lance arched to shake the shirt off, and you helped to slip off the sleeves. You moved to settle back onto him, but Lance stopped you. His hand fingered your gold chain before snaking its way down to your pants. As the clothes came off, the passion between the two of you intensified, your eyes and his burning in the heat of the moment.
It was the most unforgettable night of your life.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
It wasn’t long after that, that they showed the big story on the news: people parading through the streets with banners, chanting “disco sucks”. You decided then and there to make your exit. Your job as a dance instructor wasn’t going to last much longer, even if you wanted it to. You went in early that day, turned in your platform shoes and polyester jumpsuits, and never looked back.
The next day you packed your bags and bought one way ticket to LA. You told yourself that you’ve exhausted all the jobs your could in Orlando, which was probably true, but wasn’t entirely why you were moving across the country. No, you just couldn’t bring yourself to see Lance again. You loved him. And that was too close.
-----------------------------------------------------
1982. You’d ended up in Los Angelos from Orlando. You didn’t know how he found you, but he did. You’d gone to answer the door, and there in front of you was Lance. He looked old, much older than he should have.
“Can I come in?” he asked, “I have something I need to tell you.”
“Yea sure,” you replied before welcoming him in.
Lance didn’t sit down, but remained standing. He looked very nervous about something. He cleared his throat before he spoke. “The doctor says I have this new disease. AIDS or something like that.” Lance paused. “He said it’s spread through gay sex. And um, I just wanted to let you know. Since there’s a chance…you know.”
You didn’t know what AIDS was then, what it did to a person, but the gravity on Lance’s face was unmistakable. This was serious, and not what you’d expected to hear from him. You’d expected to be on the receiving end of a lot of anger, hurt, sadness, but not fear.
“I, um. Thanks for letting me know.” What did you say to something like that?
“Yea,” he replied, looking down at his shoes. He looked back up at you before hesitantly deciding to sit down.
You both sat there in silence for a few seconds. Or minutes. Not hours, though it could have been; it felt like it. You and he contemplating what to say next.
You spoke up first. “You don’t regret it, do you?”
He looked at you, almost surprised by the question. “Regret what?”
“Us. Even if it…gave you this.”
“No,” he said with assurance. “Not at all. I couldn’t. It was…it was more than just a heat of the moment thing, you know? I mean, was it like that for you?”
“More than just heat of the moment? Yea. I loved you from the second you showed up.”
A confused look came across Lance’s face. “Then why’d you leave?”
You sighed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Lance didn’t move. “Try me. I’m not as naïve as I was.”
“It’s just this thing. I’ve never been able to stay long anywhere. With anyone.”
“You’re scared.”
You shook your head. “No. It’s not that.”
Lance reached out to touch your arm. “It is that. Whatever reason you say you have, underneath, it’s just because you’re scared.”
You knew he was right. Knowing that he knew you, that’s what scared you most of all. “I’m sorry Lance.”
Lance stood from the couch and moved towards the door. “I should go. It was good, seeing you again. I hope you do alright here.”
Watching Lance open the door, something hit you. You didn’t want this to be goodbye. Your life had been nothing but a long string of goodbyes, one after another. Lance had been the only person you’d ever cared about, and seeing him again let you know that you still cared about him. For once in your life, it was time to let yourself care. “Wait. Lance. Please stay.”
Lance closed the door and turned back around to you. “Okay.” He smiled.
You knew everything would be okay.