How to Survive Ballet Lessons, Part 1
Title: How to Survive Ballet Lessons, Part 1
Author: madamroyale
Pairing: Ryan Lochte/Michael Phelps
Rating: PG
Part: 1 of 2
Word Count: 2,003 words
Summary: Lo wants to take ballet lessons. Panic ensues.
Disclaimer: This is pure fiction. I am not, nor do I have any connection to, Mr. Lochte or Mr. Phelps.
Author's Notes: So, this took me awhile. It was born on a prompt post in this very community. I would like to thank mugglemiranda for her awesome ideas. Several of the things she suggested have made their way into this part and the next one. Also, I made Ollie and Lo twins because they are in my head. I hope you all like this.
It was an average Sunday morning. Ollie and Lo had been stuffed full of buttery pancakes and were now nestled in front of the television, watching cartoons. Lo sat on one end of the plush couch, thumb stuck in her mouth and drooling on a tattered blanket. Ollie was at the other end wearing just his pajama pants. The matching shirt was currently in the laundry room sporting a large maple syrup stain. Both Ryan and Michael were relishing in this rare, quiet moment with both twins in the house. God Bless Sunday mornings.
Michael was sitting at the kitchen table going through his e-mail while Ryan sipped coffee and paged through GQ magazine. He liked to fold the corner of pages that showcased pieces of clothing that caught his eye. Michael replied to various messages concerning his Foundation, random appearances and so forth. He came across a familiar piece of correspondence from the twin’s first grade teacher, Ms. Diaz. It was the beginning of the month and that meant a new activities calendar. Michael opened the PDF file and examined what events were scheduled. The first thing scheduled, sans a few birthdays, was something called Careers in the Community. Curious, Michael read the description.
Careers in the Community is an annual presentation that gives students a chance to see different career paths and the people behind them. This year the speakers will include Officer Timothy Matthews, Fire Chief Sam Matteo, LeAnn Ranic, owner of Le Chic Puppy, a dog grooming business, and Penelope Worchester, Head Ballerina at the Steinberg Dance Company.
Huh, it actually sounded interesting. Better than Fire Safety Day. Michael openly winced as he remembered two weeks of Ollie and his "surprise fire drills". He and Ryan had made the mistake of indulging Ollie as they trudged outside on cold, Maryland afternoons carrying three very upset dogs. These were stopped the night Ollie burst into Michael and Ryan's bedroom at 1 AM blowing a whistle (Bob had given Ollie and Lo official coaching whistles, as he called them, after a visit to Meadowbrook the summer before. Payback was a terrible thing.) only to find Papa Ryan's head (Ryan had given himself the title of 'Papa' when the twins were born. Actually, that was his shortened title. He was originally Big Poppa after the Notorious B.I.G. song. Michael hated him a little that day), mainly his mouth, on Daddy Michael's no-no area. Ryan explained to a confused Ollie that Daddy had boo-boo and he was kissing it to make it all better. Their young son accepted the explanation but fire drills were effectively banned in the Lochte-Phelps household.
Returning to the present, Michael was about to inform Ryan of the function when he became distracted by the sounds of unrest. A shrieking Lo came padding into the kitchen to inform her dads of how Ollie took her blanket because she refused to watch Fanboy and Chum Chum. Silent time was officially over.
*****
“Papa, can I take dance lessons?”
It was Thursday afternoon and Ryan had just picked up the twins from school. Ryan had barely asked how school was before Lo flung her question at him.
“Dance lessons? Lo-Lo, why do you want to take dance lessons?”
“Cause, today a ballerina talked to us. She was very pretty and she said she started to take dance lessons when she was in the first grade. She showed us a video of her dancing, too. I want to dance just like her!”
It was in these moments when Ryan realized just how lonely it must be for Lo sometimes. She was outnumbered 3 to 1 in the boy/girl ratio of their house. He could imagine Lo’s face as she watched transfixed by the dancer’s elegant movements. Grace and poise were two words not often associated with Michael or Ryan, outside of the pool that is. He couldn’t deny her this seemingly mild request.
“Sure, baby. We’ll talk to Daddy about it when we get home.”
Michael had been pre-warned about Lo’s new love via a poorly worded text message from Ryan. All through dinner she gushed over the costumes the ballerina wore and how she danced on the tips of her feet. Ollie could barely get a word in edge wise on his new dream: Fire Chief Dog Groomer. Although Michael found time to remind him of the "no surprise fire drills" rule. After baths and a bedtime story (Lo insisted new books be purchased that contained stories about ballerinas), could Michael and Ryan launch Phase One of their plan - find a school.
****
A week later, Michael, Ryan and Lo sat in the director’s office of Miss Mason’s Dance Academy waiting for Miss Mason herself. Both Taylor and Dalia, Michael and Ryan's respective nieces, had taken dance classes at Miss Mason's. Whitney and Megan raved about the school, which also admitted students on a rolling basis. Lo was sitting on Michael’s lap playing a random game on his iPhone. The two men tried not to act uncomfortable as they took in their surroundings. The office was filled with fake, satin flowers draped over curtain rods and bunched together in elaborate bouquets. Pictures were hung in identical frames showcasing various performances and practices. It was so feminine. So not them.
“I sincerely apologize to keep you waiting, gentlemen. My afternoon tap class unfortunately went long.”
Jacqueline Mason, owner and director of the dance school, introduced herself to both men and Lo before taking a seat behind her neatly organized desk. She was easily in her early forties and wore a shade too much makeup.
“Lauren, one of our advanced ballet classes in starting now. Would you like to watch?” Jacqueline asked kindly.
Lo looked up at Michael, silently asking permission.
“It’s alright with us, kiddo.”
Jacqueline asked her assistant to escort Lo to the classroom. Once she was out the door, the adults began to discuss the issue at hand. Jacqueline reviewed the school’s mission statement, the cost of tuition and end of the year recital. Michael took notes while Ryan tried to stay focused. She produced a paper and handed it to Michael.
“This a list of things Lauren will need as a student. It’s pretty standard: leotard, tights, tutu, and ballet shoes. I’ve taken the liberty of writing the address of an excellent dancewear store on the back. We also have a policy on how the hair should be worn during practice.”
“Um, like in a pony tail?” asked Ryan who was generally confused
“No. We ask that all students come to class with their hair in a bun. It causes fewer distractions, especially for the younger ones.”
Neither Michael or Ryan knew how to create a bun. Neither of them were very good at styling Lo’s hair period. Of the two, Ryan was mildly better and was usually the one in charge of these things. Phase Two was now upon them: learn to create the perfect bun.
****
“Lo, Daddy and me are very, very sorry. Please, come out from under the table.”
“No! I’m never coming out!”
“Come on, baby. We were just trying to make sure you looked good for your first dance lesson.”
“You pulled my hair! It hurt. A lot.”
Ryan sighed as he sat on the kitchen floor. It had been a terrible morning. After meeting with Miss Mason, Michael had called Whitney to inquire on hair buns. She was usually the one phoned on such hair matters. The next afternoon, Whitney carefully demonstrated on Lo what to do. Once again, Michael took notes. Ballet buns were a different animal from a normal version. There was hairspray and special bun pins to be used (never to be confused with bobby pins). It all seemed rather simple, really. A high ponytail, a loose twist, a few pins and bam! Perfect bun.
Both men knew that practice was the only way one mastered any task. So it was decided Lo would wear a bun to school for the next week. This way by the time of her first class, Ryan and Michael would be experts. They decided to alternate days as to better familiarize themselves. Day one was Ryan’s turn. It started out fine. Ryan wet Lo’s hair and easily produced a ponytail with no fly away hairs. That in itself was a triumph. However, it quickly went downhill during the hair twisting. Ryan kept twisting too tight, causing a knotted bun. He grew more frustrated each time he went to re-do the twist. Lo fidgeted and moaned throughout the process. Patience was not a virtue most six year olds had.
“Michael, can you please help me!?”
“Papa! My head hurts.”
“I know. But Daddy is gonna help me with this. Just hang in there.”
Michael had been busy getting Ollie dressed when he heard the unfamiliar sound of Ryan’s annoyed voice. The bun situation was obviously not going well.
"Dude, I can't twist the hair. It's getting all knotty. You try."
Michael could see Lo was clearly distressed, so he knew a limited window was open before a full-on freakout. He sat behind Lo, going over his notes, and carefully twisted the hair loosely. Success. A similar bun to the one Whitney produced was now forming. Both men let out an audible sigh. Alright, they just had to pin the damn thing and it would be over.
"It's all in the wrist, Ryan." Michael said smugly.
"Shut the front door up. Here. Pin it." (they had to watch their mouths, not an easy task, around the kids. So the word 'fuck' tended to be replaced by 'front door', 'fudge' and on one memorable occasion Michael told Ryan to go 'funkytown' himself.)
The first pin went in smoothly enough. The second went rogue. Michael pushed too hard and scraped Lo's scalp. That did it.
"OWWWWW! DADDY! OWWWW!" Lo yelled. With that, she sprinted out of the chair and underneath the kitchen table. Anytime Lo was scared, upset, or angry, she went underneath the table. She had started doing it when she was a toddler and the practice continued, albeit less frequently, to the present.
"All in the wrist, huh?"
"Don't. Just...they're going to be late for school. Try and get her out and I'll get Ollie going."
Michael had left Ollie eating Cheerios before dealing with Lo's hair. And that's exactly where he found him, titling his bowl and drinking the left over milk.
"Daddy, why is Lo crying?"
"She's just having a tough morning, buddy. Why don't you get your schoolbag?"
Ollie left the kitchen to gather his things while Ryan continued to plead with Lo for some kind of redemption. Lo just kept on sobbing and rubbing her head. It was a painful sight all around. Michael thought to employ the "bad cop" persona, which occasionally worked with her.
"Lauren Deborah Ileana, Papa and I are sorry. But you need to come out from under the table, like a big girl."
Lo only cried harder.
"This is bad, Michael. She's really upset."
"Don't you think I can see that! Maybe if you twisted her hair right..."
"Oh, blame me as usual. Well, I didn't jam a bobby pin into the damn kid's skull!"
"They aren't bobby pins, they are bun pins."
"Suck my di...hey, Ollie"
Ollie, back pack on, walked over and sat next to Lo. Ryan and Michael watched as he shook his sister's shoulder until she turned her head toward him. Ollie proceeded to whisper something into Lo's ear. A smile slowly crept onto her face until she was in full hysterics. Ollie started to laugh along with her. Michael and Ryan had witnessed their twin moments before but it still proved to be quite baffling. Ollie, then Lo, crawled out from underneath the table. She walked up to her dads, still sitting mystified on the floor.
"Papa, Daddy, it's okay, I know you're trying."
Author: madamroyale
Pairing: Ryan Lochte/Michael Phelps
Rating: PG
Part: 1 of 2
Word Count: 2,003 words
Summary: Lo wants to take ballet lessons. Panic ensues.
Disclaimer: This is pure fiction. I am not, nor do I have any connection to, Mr. Lochte or Mr. Phelps.
Author's Notes: So, this took me awhile. It was born on a prompt post in this very community. I would like to thank mugglemiranda for her awesome ideas. Several of the things she suggested have made their way into this part and the next one. Also, I made Ollie and Lo twins because they are in my head. I hope you all like this.
It was an average Sunday morning. Ollie and Lo had been stuffed full of buttery pancakes and were now nestled in front of the television, watching cartoons. Lo sat on one end of the plush couch, thumb stuck in her mouth and drooling on a tattered blanket. Ollie was at the other end wearing just his pajama pants. The matching shirt was currently in the laundry room sporting a large maple syrup stain. Both Ryan and Michael were relishing in this rare, quiet moment with both twins in the house. God Bless Sunday mornings.
Michael was sitting at the kitchen table going through his e-mail while Ryan sipped coffee and paged through GQ magazine. He liked to fold the corner of pages that showcased pieces of clothing that caught his eye. Michael replied to various messages concerning his Foundation, random appearances and so forth. He came across a familiar piece of correspondence from the twin’s first grade teacher, Ms. Diaz. It was the beginning of the month and that meant a new activities calendar. Michael opened the PDF file and examined what events were scheduled. The first thing scheduled, sans a few birthdays, was something called Careers in the Community. Curious, Michael read the description.
Careers in the Community is an annual presentation that gives students a chance to see different career paths and the people behind them. This year the speakers will include Officer Timothy Matthews, Fire Chief Sam Matteo, LeAnn Ranic, owner of Le Chic Puppy, a dog grooming business, and Penelope Worchester, Head Ballerina at the Steinberg Dance Company.
Huh, it actually sounded interesting. Better than Fire Safety Day. Michael openly winced as he remembered two weeks of Ollie and his "surprise fire drills". He and Ryan had made the mistake of indulging Ollie as they trudged outside on cold, Maryland afternoons carrying three very upset dogs. These were stopped the night Ollie burst into Michael and Ryan's bedroom at 1 AM blowing a whistle (Bob had given Ollie and Lo official coaching whistles, as he called them, after a visit to Meadowbrook the summer before. Payback was a terrible thing.) only to find Papa Ryan's head (Ryan had given himself the title of 'Papa' when the twins were born. Actually, that was his shortened title. He was originally Big Poppa after the Notorious B.I.G. song. Michael hated him a little that day), mainly his mouth, on Daddy Michael's no-no area. Ryan explained to a confused Ollie that Daddy had boo-boo and he was kissing it to make it all better. Their young son accepted the explanation but fire drills were effectively banned in the Lochte-Phelps household.
Returning to the present, Michael was about to inform Ryan of the function when he became distracted by the sounds of unrest. A shrieking Lo came padding into the kitchen to inform her dads of how Ollie took her blanket because she refused to watch Fanboy and Chum Chum. Silent time was officially over.
*****
“Papa, can I take dance lessons?”
It was Thursday afternoon and Ryan had just picked up the twins from school. Ryan had barely asked how school was before Lo flung her question at him.
“Dance lessons? Lo-Lo, why do you want to take dance lessons?”
“Cause, today a ballerina talked to us. She was very pretty and she said she started to take dance lessons when she was in the first grade. She showed us a video of her dancing, too. I want to dance just like her!”
It was in these moments when Ryan realized just how lonely it must be for Lo sometimes. She was outnumbered 3 to 1 in the boy/girl ratio of their house. He could imagine Lo’s face as she watched transfixed by the dancer’s elegant movements. Grace and poise were two words not often associated with Michael or Ryan, outside of the pool that is. He couldn’t deny her this seemingly mild request.
“Sure, baby. We’ll talk to Daddy about it when we get home.”
Michael had been pre-warned about Lo’s new love via a poorly worded text message from Ryan. All through dinner she gushed over the costumes the ballerina wore and how she danced on the tips of her feet. Ollie could barely get a word in edge wise on his new dream: Fire Chief Dog Groomer. Although Michael found time to remind him of the "no surprise fire drills" rule. After baths and a bedtime story (Lo insisted new books be purchased that contained stories about ballerinas), could Michael and Ryan launch Phase One of their plan - find a school.
****
A week later, Michael, Ryan and Lo sat in the director’s office of Miss Mason’s Dance Academy waiting for Miss Mason herself. Both Taylor and Dalia, Michael and Ryan's respective nieces, had taken dance classes at Miss Mason's. Whitney and Megan raved about the school, which also admitted students on a rolling basis. Lo was sitting on Michael’s lap playing a random game on his iPhone. The two men tried not to act uncomfortable as they took in their surroundings. The office was filled with fake, satin flowers draped over curtain rods and bunched together in elaborate bouquets. Pictures were hung in identical frames showcasing various performances and practices. It was so feminine. So not them.
“I sincerely apologize to keep you waiting, gentlemen. My afternoon tap class unfortunately went long.”
Jacqueline Mason, owner and director of the dance school, introduced herself to both men and Lo before taking a seat behind her neatly organized desk. She was easily in her early forties and wore a shade too much makeup.
“Lauren, one of our advanced ballet classes in starting now. Would you like to watch?” Jacqueline asked kindly.
Lo looked up at Michael, silently asking permission.
“It’s alright with us, kiddo.”
Jacqueline asked her assistant to escort Lo to the classroom. Once she was out the door, the adults began to discuss the issue at hand. Jacqueline reviewed the school’s mission statement, the cost of tuition and end of the year recital. Michael took notes while Ryan tried to stay focused. She produced a paper and handed it to Michael.
“This a list of things Lauren will need as a student. It’s pretty standard: leotard, tights, tutu, and ballet shoes. I’ve taken the liberty of writing the address of an excellent dancewear store on the back. We also have a policy on how the hair should be worn during practice.”
“Um, like in a pony tail?” asked Ryan who was generally confused
“No. We ask that all students come to class with their hair in a bun. It causes fewer distractions, especially for the younger ones.”
Neither Michael or Ryan knew how to create a bun. Neither of them were very good at styling Lo’s hair period. Of the two, Ryan was mildly better and was usually the one in charge of these things. Phase Two was now upon them: learn to create the perfect bun.
****
“Lo, Daddy and me are very, very sorry. Please, come out from under the table.”
“No! I’m never coming out!”
“Come on, baby. We were just trying to make sure you looked good for your first dance lesson.”
“You pulled my hair! It hurt. A lot.”
Ryan sighed as he sat on the kitchen floor. It had been a terrible morning. After meeting with Miss Mason, Michael had called Whitney to inquire on hair buns. She was usually the one phoned on such hair matters. The next afternoon, Whitney carefully demonstrated on Lo what to do. Once again, Michael took notes. Ballet buns were a different animal from a normal version. There was hairspray and special bun pins to be used (never to be confused with bobby pins). It all seemed rather simple, really. A high ponytail, a loose twist, a few pins and bam! Perfect bun.
Both men knew that practice was the only way one mastered any task. So it was decided Lo would wear a bun to school for the next week. This way by the time of her first class, Ryan and Michael would be experts. They decided to alternate days as to better familiarize themselves. Day one was Ryan’s turn. It started out fine. Ryan wet Lo’s hair and easily produced a ponytail with no fly away hairs. That in itself was a triumph. However, it quickly went downhill during the hair twisting. Ryan kept twisting too tight, causing a knotted bun. He grew more frustrated each time he went to re-do the twist. Lo fidgeted and moaned throughout the process. Patience was not a virtue most six year olds had.
“Michael, can you please help me!?”
“Papa! My head hurts.”
“I know. But Daddy is gonna help me with this. Just hang in there.”
Michael had been busy getting Ollie dressed when he heard the unfamiliar sound of Ryan’s annoyed voice. The bun situation was obviously not going well.
"Dude, I can't twist the hair. It's getting all knotty. You try."
Michael could see Lo was clearly distressed, so he knew a limited window was open before a full-on freakout. He sat behind Lo, going over his notes, and carefully twisted the hair loosely. Success. A similar bun to the one Whitney produced was now forming. Both men let out an audible sigh. Alright, they just had to pin the damn thing and it would be over.
"It's all in the wrist, Ryan." Michael said smugly.
"Shut the front door up. Here. Pin it." (they had to watch their mouths, not an easy task, around the kids. So the word 'fuck' tended to be replaced by 'front door', 'fudge' and on one memorable occasion Michael told Ryan to go 'funkytown' himself.)
The first pin went in smoothly enough. The second went rogue. Michael pushed too hard and scraped Lo's scalp. That did it.
"OWWWWW! DADDY! OWWWW!" Lo yelled. With that, she sprinted out of the chair and underneath the kitchen table. Anytime Lo was scared, upset, or angry, she went underneath the table. She had started doing it when she was a toddler and the practice continued, albeit less frequently, to the present.
"All in the wrist, huh?"
"Don't. Just...they're going to be late for school. Try and get her out and I'll get Ollie going."
Michael had left Ollie eating Cheerios before dealing with Lo's hair. And that's exactly where he found him, titling his bowl and drinking the left over milk.
"Daddy, why is Lo crying?"
"She's just having a tough morning, buddy. Why don't you get your schoolbag?"
Ollie left the kitchen to gather his things while Ryan continued to plead with Lo for some kind of redemption. Lo just kept on sobbing and rubbing her head. It was a painful sight all around. Michael thought to employ the "bad cop" persona, which occasionally worked with her.
"Lauren Deborah Ileana, Papa and I are sorry. But you need to come out from under the table, like a big girl."
Lo only cried harder.
"This is bad, Michael. She's really upset."
"Don't you think I can see that! Maybe if you twisted her hair right..."
"Oh, blame me as usual. Well, I didn't jam a bobby pin into the damn kid's skull!"
"They aren't bobby pins, they are bun pins."
"Suck my di...hey, Ollie"
Ollie, back pack on, walked over and sat next to Lo. Ryan and Michael watched as he shook his sister's shoulder until she turned her head toward him. Ollie proceeded to whisper something into Lo's ear. A smile slowly crept onto her face until she was in full hysterics. Ollie started to laugh along with her. Michael and Ryan had witnessed their twin moments before but it still proved to be quite baffling. Ollie, then Lo, crawled out from underneath the table. She walked up to her dads, still sitting mystified on the floor.
"Papa, Daddy, it's okay, I know you're trying."