[drabble] Point Your Fingers And Do The Twist
Title: Point Your Fingers And Do The Twist
Author/Artist: kahlanaisling
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Arthur, Denmark/Belarus
Rating: G
Warnings: Nope
Summary: Mathias has a date with Natalya. He asks for Arthur's help. Drabble for bobness1.
Mathias cannot dance.
This is not an entirely accurate statement. The definition of dance is to move rhythmically to music; Mathias can most certainly do that, Arthur can vouch for it. He's actually got a good sense of rhythm. One-two one-two and five-six-seven-eight and four-four time are not phrases that are unfamiliar to the Dane's ear, especially with Arthur as his roommate (Arthur is an actor and prides himself on being a triple threat). However, he can't. . . dance.
Arthur wishes he could. No, he doesn't wish. He sits there and grumbles and whines because Arthur needs to practice and Mathias is absolutely useless. He doesn't even bother to try to learn the dances because he claims he's not an actor, not a musician, not a performer, why does he need to learn this shit?
There's a glint in his eye as he calls it "shit". Arthur knows he means it playfully. If Mathias truly hated what Arthur's chosen to do for a living they wouldn't have made it out of their first month sharing the flat.
So Arthur's given up on him and is busy getting that tricky ront de jambe. It's not normally difficult for him, but the beat is fast and it's hard to wrap one's head around. Thus, practice is a necessity.
He's just about to figure it out when Mathias runs into the room at top speed and knocks the speaker off the table. It crashes loudly to the floor.
Arthur sputters, "Mathias, what the hell--"
But then Mathias is gripping his collar and he can't keep speaking if he wants to breathe. "You gotta help me, Arthur," he says, fast and furious. "There's this thing with girlfriend jabber jabber blah blah blah can't yadda yadda blah wah wah. . . "
Arthur hits his shoulder and yells, "Diction, Mathias, enunciate. All I'm hearing is a pile of jibberish."
Mathias is not fazed. He takes a step back, breathes, and says again, "Nat is making me take her dancing on Friday night and I don't have a fucking clue what to do."
Arthur sits down on the sofa. "Thank the lord, I thought there was something wrong."
"But there is something wro-- wait." Mathias frowns, his large eyebrows narrowing into a glare. "Hey."
Arthur can't help but grin as he rests his chin on a hand, propping one knee over the other. "Well, it's not as if you not having a clue isn't normal."
"Ja, that may be, but it's sure inconvenient. Are ya gonna help me or not?"
"What's the venue?"
Mathias has wrangled his lanky arms out of his coat. He tosses the heavy material to the floor, sitting down on the table Arthur shoved out of the way to make rehearsal space. Arthur almost tells him to get off, but he doesn't care enough. It's not like he's putting his feet up, after all. "Venue?"
"Where is it, and what kind of dancing?" Arthur has known Natalya since childhood. She is an old-fashioned kind of girl; sullen, cold and slightly manipulative, but beautiful all the same. Mathias admits he is smitten. Arthur thinks it's closer to pussy-whipped, but he likes Natalya. She's classy. They were in the same dance company in their youth, he knows that if she's dragging Mathias out dancing it's not going to be in a smoky underground club, as much as she seems like the type to lurk about there.
Mathias huffs and reaches for his coat, digging inside one of the deep pockets. He eventually pulls out a pamphlet and squints at the small print. "Um. Big ballroom, fifties maybe? I dunno."
Arthur takes the pamphlet. Mathias is right about the venue and theme. He hasn't been swing-dancing in a while, but it's not the sort of thing that's difficult to re-learn.
"Yes," Arthur says. "I think I can help you out."
Mathias breathes a sigh of relief.
"Now, to discuss the matter of payment. . . "
- - - - - - -
A/N A basic ront de jambe. It's more complicated than that once you bring in actual dancing, since it can be utilized in so many ways. I've been doing it for years and still have trouble with it orz.
The title comes from here. I am a shameless childhood fan of the Wiggles, and the twist was the obvious logical conclusion from the prompt. Hope you enjoyed!
Author/Artist: kahlanaisling
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Arthur, Denmark/Belarus
Rating: G
Warnings: Nope
Summary: Mathias has a date with Natalya. He asks for Arthur's help. Drabble for bobness1.
Mathias cannot dance.
This is not an entirely accurate statement. The definition of dance is to move rhythmically to music; Mathias can most certainly do that, Arthur can vouch for it. He's actually got a good sense of rhythm. One-two one-two and five-six-seven-eight and four-four time are not phrases that are unfamiliar to the Dane's ear, especially with Arthur as his roommate (Arthur is an actor and prides himself on being a triple threat). However, he can't. . . dance.
Arthur wishes he could. No, he doesn't wish. He sits there and grumbles and whines because Arthur needs to practice and Mathias is absolutely useless. He doesn't even bother to try to learn the dances because he claims he's not an actor, not a musician, not a performer, why does he need to learn this shit?
There's a glint in his eye as he calls it "shit". Arthur knows he means it playfully. If Mathias truly hated what Arthur's chosen to do for a living they wouldn't have made it out of their first month sharing the flat.
So Arthur's given up on him and is busy getting that tricky ront de jambe. It's not normally difficult for him, but the beat is fast and it's hard to wrap one's head around. Thus, practice is a necessity.
He's just about to figure it out when Mathias runs into the room at top speed and knocks the speaker off the table. It crashes loudly to the floor.
Arthur sputters, "Mathias, what the hell--"
But then Mathias is gripping his collar and he can't keep speaking if he wants to breathe. "You gotta help me, Arthur," he says, fast and furious. "There's this thing with girlfriend jabber jabber blah blah blah can't yadda yadda blah wah wah. . . "
Arthur hits his shoulder and yells, "Diction, Mathias, enunciate. All I'm hearing is a pile of jibberish."
Mathias is not fazed. He takes a step back, breathes, and says again, "Nat is making me take her dancing on Friday night and I don't have a fucking clue what to do."
Arthur sits down on the sofa. "Thank the lord, I thought there was something wrong."
"But there is something wro-- wait." Mathias frowns, his large eyebrows narrowing into a glare. "Hey."
Arthur can't help but grin as he rests his chin on a hand, propping one knee over the other. "Well, it's not as if you not having a clue isn't normal."
"Ja, that may be, but it's sure inconvenient. Are ya gonna help me or not?"
"What's the venue?"
Mathias has wrangled his lanky arms out of his coat. He tosses the heavy material to the floor, sitting down on the table Arthur shoved out of the way to make rehearsal space. Arthur almost tells him to get off, but he doesn't care enough. It's not like he's putting his feet up, after all. "Venue?"
"Where is it, and what kind of dancing?" Arthur has known Natalya since childhood. She is an old-fashioned kind of girl; sullen, cold and slightly manipulative, but beautiful all the same. Mathias admits he is smitten. Arthur thinks it's closer to pussy-whipped, but he likes Natalya. She's classy. They were in the same dance company in their youth, he knows that if she's dragging Mathias out dancing it's not going to be in a smoky underground club, as much as she seems like the type to lurk about there.
Mathias huffs and reaches for his coat, digging inside one of the deep pockets. He eventually pulls out a pamphlet and squints at the small print. "Um. Big ballroom, fifties maybe? I dunno."
Arthur takes the pamphlet. Mathias is right about the venue and theme. He hasn't been swing-dancing in a while, but it's not the sort of thing that's difficult to re-learn.
"Yes," Arthur says. "I think I can help you out."
Mathias breathes a sigh of relief.
"Now, to discuss the matter of payment. . . "
- - - - - - -
A/N A basic ront de jambe. It's more complicated than that once you bring in actual dancing, since it can be utilized in so many ways. I've been doing it for years and still have trouble with it orz.
The title comes from here. I am a shameless childhood fan of the Wiggles, and the twist was the obvious logical conclusion from the prompt. Hope you enjoyed!