[SOL! Verse - I Heard It Through The Grapevine]

[nyota_uhura24]

Finally it was Monday. Nyota usually went several days without seeing Jim during the week, but the wait between Saturday and Monday always felt like forever. Thankfully her father had mostly recovered from his illness and told her he didn't mind if she kept her weekly dinner date with “Anna.” She felt a little twinge of guilt every time someone

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[owns_the_chair]

One full Sunday and the better part of a Monday had not even been close to sufficient time for Jim to calm down. Not after what he'd seen and heard before leaving the diner late Saturday night. After his last set, he'd packed up, then headed to the kitchen to see if he could steal himself a moment or two alone with Nyota. He'd gotten as far as the door when he'd stopped dead in his tracks and just... stared through the small round window. There she'd been, having a seemingly intimate conversation with Trent, and then the bastard had leaned in to kiss her. And she. hadn't. stopped. him. After that, he'd turned on his heel and gone back to the small stage to gather his things.

To add insult to injury, Kamau had been there, and at Jim's oh so very helpful hint that he go check on what Trent was doing with his sister in the kitchen, Kamau, the rotten kid, had smirked at Jim and informed him that Trent was allowed. Because he was her fiance. As in, the man she was engaged to be married to. At that point, Jim had put on his jacket, picked up his guitar, and tried to look as amiable as possible while simultaneous getting the hell out of there before he gave into the temptation to storm into the kitchen and break Trent's face.

He'd wandered the streets for a while, and finally made it home sometime after midnight, then proceeded to crawl as deeply into a bottle as he could. The hangover he'd had all Sunday hadn't helped matters, but at least it had kept him immobile enough not to seek her out and tear her head off.

And now, it was Monday, he hadn't acted on any of his impulses to call her and cancel, and she'd be here any second. There was no more time to lick his wounds, but that didn't mean he had to play nice with her anymore. She'd used him, she'd filled his head - and even worse, his heart - with pretty words, and known all along that none of what she said would ever happen.

When the knock on his door came, he set his jaw and called for her to enter, flipping through a few records until he found the one he wanted. She was here to learn how to dance, he'd teach her how to dance. And tonight, he'd teach her the tango. Just because he felt like it.

[nyota_uhura24]

By the time he called out for her to come in she was only thinking about Jim. Sometimes her time with Jim still felt like a fantasy, but it was also the part of her life that felt most real, the part where she could simply be herself. She'd always loved and cherished her family, but had known all along that there was a part of herself she couldn't let them see. It wasn't until she met Jim that she'd found out what it was like to freely speak her mind, to dance, to be with someone she truly loved. There was a lot she wanted that she'd never have, but being with Jim always gave her a sense of possibility. He renewed her convictions that the world could and would change.

But when she walked in the door, something about the set of his shoulders as he looked through records made her lips purse slightly in a frown. She tried to shake it off and walked over to the bed to drape her jacket over the table. "I missed you," she said in greeting, walking over to where he was standing to kiss his cheek. "What dance am I learning today?" Even though the main reason she came here now was to see him, she still loved the dancing.

[owns_the_chair]

He didn't look up from his records when she entered his apartment, simply put them back on the shelf with a 'thunk', and stretched his arms over his head. She was pretending for all the world that nothing had happened, and of course, in her mind, nothing probably had. She probably still thought he was some mindless sap she could string along for the ride until she either got married or grew tired of him. When she said she'd missed him, he had to bite his tongue to keep in the sharp retort, only replying to her with a bitter chuckle.

The kiss to his cheek made him want to either kick her out, or slam her against the wall and fuck her until she changed her mind about marrying Trent, and he had to take a deep breath to stop himself from doing either of those things. "The tango," he answered simply, then moved to the middle of the floor and held his hand out to her. "I thought it fitting."

[nyota_uhura24]

She blinked a little at the greeting. Normally he would hug and kiss her, tell her he'd missed her as well, instead of just immediately starting the dance lesson. She peered at him as he stepped onto the improvised dance floor, wondering if she'd missed something. He certainly looked a little tired, which wasn't really surprising given how hard he worked between the diner and the studio, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

"I've always wanted to learn the tango," she replied, smiling as she stepped closer to take his hand and put her other hand on his shoulder. Her eyes searched his face for the joy and love she was used to seeing there, but she couldn't find it. In fact, something about his expression on his face sent a little chill down her spine. Frowning a little, she asked, "Jim, is everything all right?"

[owns_the_chair]

She took his hand, and he jerked her closer, assuming the correct stance and putting his arm around her. There was really no way around doing that, the dance required some amount of physical contact, but it was just aggressive enough to suit his mood today. "Good, then now you have a chance to learn. It's not as easy as it looks, so you'll need to focus."

Without further ado, he began leading her through the basic steps, very carefully keeping his eyes from meeting hers. "Oh, I'm just peachy keen, honey," he smirked in response, though he couldn't keep the undercurrent of sarcasm entirely out of his voice, cheerful as he tried to sound. As they moved, he idly wondered just how long it would take for her to get wise to the fact that she'd been found out, that he knew about her little game, and if she'd have the nerve to play innocent with him. If she did, then... Well, he'd never in his life hit a woman, and he sure as hell wasn't going to break that perfect record over the likes of her, no matter how much she deserved it.

[nyota_uhura24]

She gasped a little when he pulled her closer, feeling a familiar thrill when his body brushed against hers, even if she couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension. "I always focus," she protested, assuming the basic stance and expecting him to tell her if she needed to adjust her stance for the tango. Her eyes traveled downward so she could watch and mirror the movements of his feet, but when she looked up she couldn't catch his eye. All his normal warmth and encouragement seemed absent today.

His reply to her question did absolutely nothing to assuage her concerns. She knew him well enough by now to easily be able to detect the underlying sarcasm. What in the world is going on? she wondered, trying and again failing to catch his eye. "If you say so... Is this the correct stance?" She wanted him to tell her more about the dance, about what drove it, about what it meant. And more than that she wanted him to stop acting so strangely distant, but she wasn't quite sure what to do when he was insisting that everything was fine.

[owns_the_chair]

Not dignifying her protest with a response, he kept his own stance to tightly, even the pros would approve. There would be nothing personal about this, not until he was ready to make it personal. Until then, he was content to let her stew in the dirty little trap she'd set for herself. See how she liked being the one who was kept in the dark for once.

Her steps were hesitant and more unsure than they usually were, and he gave her a not entirely gentle little smack on the back. "It would be if you'd straighten up. Maybe it'd make it easier for you to find your feet. I told you you needed to focus." Okay, so maybe he wasn't being one hundred percent professional, and maybe he was being extremely impatient with her, but he was the wounded party here. He was allowed. This would usually be where he told her the history of the dance, told her about the underlying emotions in it, but that would be just a little too much of a clue for her to figure out what was going on.

[nyota_uhura24]

She blinked in surprise when he swatted her back. He'd kept the promise he made her all those weeks ago in the diner to teach her correctly and not accept sloppy footwork, but he'd never been harsh or unkind about it. In spite of her protest she was finding it more and more difficult to focus on the steps. Why won't he look at me? She forced herself to straighten up, trying to concentrate on the movements. "Is that better?" she asked, hoping that something she did would make him look her in the eye. She'd seen tango a few times, and it had always seemed like such a beautiful, dramatic dance, but now it just felt like a mess.

He still gave her no hint about the dance's history. Learning the story behind a dance was always one of her favorite parts; it gave the dance meaning, made it feel alive. Plus it brought them closer to together, because usually some aspect of the dance mirrored their emotions for one another. "What's the dance about?"

[owns_the_chair]

The swat to her back seemed to help with her posture, and while he'd never gone easy on her, he had kept in mind that she wasn't aiming at dancing professionally. "It's a start," he shrugged, and kept leading her around the floor. Maybe she wasn't aiming at becoming a pro, but that couldn't stop her from treating her as if she did.

His jaw clenched a little tighter when she asked about the dance, and he weighed his words very carefully before replying, knowing that what he told her about the dances he taught her usually indicated something about how they felt. "The tango," he started, then did a quick turn. "Was invented in the back alleys and brothels of Buenos Aires. As a dance, the emphasis isn't on the places you touch, but about the space that separates the dancers."

[nyota_uhura24]

She nodded and tried to concentrate on maintaining her posture and following his lead, but while they normally moved so seamlessly when they danced together, this felt more like an argument than anything else. But she had no idea what in the world they were arguing about, only that something was clearly bothering him. Something he refused to talk about. She wondered briefly if it simply had nothing to do with her, but didn't really believe it. What is happening?

His explanation of the dance felt a little stilted, but she was glad to be getting something out of him. She normally loved it when he turned her, but now it just made her feel even more off balance. "Back alleys and brothels," she repeated, trying to sound amused even though there was obvious strain in her voice. "Is it a space we want to close? Or a space we want to leave between us?"

[owns_the_chair]

The way she didn't quite follow his rhythm as easily as she usually did, and the strain in her voice were more than enough evidence to prove that he'd successfully put her off kilter. Good. At least he wasn't the only one trying to find his feet, one way or the other.

"The space between us is permanent. Like an invisible barrier. Unbreakable, and mocking us with its presence." It was as much of an explanation as he was really comfortable giving her, though there was a certain sick satisfaction in telling her about the dance. "You want to touch me, but you can't, and you won't ever be able to."

[nyota_uhura24]

Something about his explanation made her mouth go dry. I want so badly to touch you, she thought, fighting the inclination to stop dancing and just throw her arms around him and beg him to smile for her. But there was an invisible barrier between them, a barrier that felt far higher than the one that had kept them apart before they'd admitted their feelings to one another.

"It's not a very happy dance," she said softly. Being this physically close to him always excited her, but now all she could focus on was where they weren't touching. "And you? Do you want to touch me, too?"

[owns_the_chair]

"It's not meant to be a happy dance. It is, however, meant to be passionate. About a hunger that can never be satisfied." Briefly moving his arm from around her, he adjusted her pose, tilting her pelvis further away from his. There was something almost poetic about it, about every move, every step, his feelings doing the dance justice.

His lips curled up in an almost predatory smile at her question, his feet walking her a few paces backwards. "The dance was invented in brothels, sweetheart. What do you think the man's role in it is? If you need a story to go with it then, to put it bluntly, imagine a whore who falls in love with one of her johns."

[nyota_uhura24]

She paid close attention to the way he adjusted her stance, wanting to learn the dance correctly even if her mind was preoccupied with him and his behavior. Since he didn't seem to want to talk about it, she was trying to glean what she could from the dance and his explanations of it.

And there was hunger and passion between them, but his story about the whore falling in love made her cheeks color. It didn't seem the right way to describe any part of their love. "I'll try," she answered softly, trying to show him through her movements just how much she wanted to close the space between them, just how much it pained her to be this far away from him. "Does he... does he love her?"

[owns_the_chair]

Regardless of whatever else was going on between them, she was certainly picking up on the mood of the dance. There was a tension in her, in the way she kept the stance he'd showed her and didn't try to close the space between them that mad his heart beat faster. Just as it should be with the tango. As bittersweet, as passionate, and as painful as it was.

It was nearly as painful as the uncertainty in her voice when she asked if he loved her. They both knew that while they were discussing the dance, there was a lot more to it than that. And perhaps it wasn't fair to liken her to a whore, she'd been too unsure and ignorant about those things the times he'd been with her for him to question her virginity. But still. It fit with the story. "Only a fool falls in love with a woman like that," he replied, knowing it wasn't much of an answer, not to what she was really asking.

[nyota_uhura24]

Tension coiled in her limbs, fed by confusion and hurt and need. The dramatic music seared something inside her, made the emotions feel sharper. Paradoxically it got easier to follow his movements in spite of the sinking feeling in her stomach. It wasn't unusual for her heart to beat faster when he was close to her, but her desire was muddled with confusion and hurt.

Only a fool falls in love with a woman like that. Her step faltered, and she tried desperately to reclaim it. "But she loves him," she protested, knowing the emotions in her voice made it very clear that she wasn't talking about the dance. "Even if they're both fools she loves him. She doesn't know how to not love him." She blinked back the prickling feeling in her eyes, resisting both the urge to pull away and the desire to press her lips urgently against his. "Jim, what's wrong?"