Fingertips gliding across his skin, fingers falling in the wind, frazzled eyes glazing akin; beauteous images. Ballet was always something foreign yet like mother nature to him. He glided, he spun, he lifted-- it was all with ease, done with an ingrained instinct of movement, as well as years of toughening practice.

The barre exercises had passed too slowly for him, the grace and spirit not yet there. He was too jumpy, too excited, not even thinking of Otabek; it had certainly been too long since he'd been allowed to partake in this.

They were all spread out differently than regular classes, clumped in pairs rather than lines. Yurio's corps de ballet was located in the center front, standing to attention as Yakov was announcing the next move. He was finally talking about more complex moves, the lessons slowly getting somewhere. This was, after all, the third day of partner training, most students hoping that they'd be practicing more complicated things.

"I am sure you are all familiar with the two-person fish tail move, which you will be practicing now. Be wary of where your feet are being placed-- I am seeing too many sickled and curved toes instead of pointed. Go!" He clapped his calloused hands roughly, ending the announcement off with a humph.

Yurio stifled a chuckle, murmuring, "Who in the advanced class still has the habit of sickling their feet?"

"Don't make fun of habits-- you eat the same thing everyday for breakfast." Otabek scolded him, his voice deep but not menacing at all.

"Hey, fucker. There's a difference; that's routine, not habit. Does it sound like I'm accidentally asking for a bran muffin every morning?" Yurio moved to place his thin hands on Otabek's waist, who stopped him there.

"Well, I suppo-- what are you doing? You're the ballerina, princess." He removed Yurio's hands, instead assuming the role the fuming boy was trying to grasp.

"That's touching, Beka, touching. Or, should I call you princess? Because I'm sure as hell not being the girl again." He struggled under the firm hold to no satisfaction.

"Ah, Yura. Want to switch off, then?" Yurio nodded hesitantly at the suggestion-- wait, did Otabek wink? No, no, there's no way. Yakov would turn into a happy-go-lucky-strawberry-blonde loli before that could ever happen. Yurio clicked his tongue, deciding that he may as well be the girl first since they were already in that position.

He bent his left leg in a demi-plié, steadying himself with lead-shaven feet. The other leg lifted behind him with the form of a fairy; his arms accompanied with one in front and the other to the side. His position was fed rich off gravity, soaking it all in and causing all limbs to grow light. Such a standard stance, yet his absolute favorite, only getting more favored as his comrade joined in and placed either hand on the waist and arabesque leg respectively, pausing a second in the sweet lullaby before continuing.

Otabek tenderly lifted Yurio into the air, angling his own leg behind him in the fish position interwovenly. They were a mix of clement branches, uniforms of black and gray to each their own. It was a quick sweetness of the moment, holding the position for a good ten seconds before releasing. He was more confident with Otabek's touch now, surely, yet still jolting when the contact ended-- a natural reflex to the smooth strokes and brushes, in his mind. They were just friends, friends just; he couldn't begin to fathom anything else ever happening. Natural for all partners, for it was such a fact that he was just friends with Otabek, his face should be under 'over' in the Merriam-Webster dictionary... if only. Even though he thought this, Yurio was very well assured that he wasn't completely believing it himself-- although making due progress, it would take time for him to fully forget about his feelings.

Because of this, the crowded room was getting to be one hundred and nine degrees, no room to breathe as Otabek motioned for him to start the reverse move, with him as the male. He watched as Otabek held a cool face while balancing, something Yurio could never do, always showing the emotion that went through him. They were so different from each other, and that may be a factor in why Yurio was so drawn, a mosquito to a ultraviolet light.

He couldn't exactly place his feelings into words, it was a jumble he was trying to sort out. One thing was for certain, though, that being he loved the comfortable aura he felt when with Otabek. No matter what was happening, even if he was awkward and beating himself up over his crush, he was still overall comfortable being there. Maybe it was because Otabek was so easy to talk to, rarely getting angry at Yurio unlike most people.

"Hey, Beka, why do you never get pissed at me?" He moved his hand to the soft inner thigh of the other's lifted leg, focusing on the movements of the fish dive.

"What?"

"You know, I'm always in a shitty mood but you're constantly calm towards me. Are you just trying to put on a... a poker face?" He winced at the bluntness, knowing that this had virtually come out of nowhere.

Otabek's face hardened, and Yurio thought he had managed to make him mad-- quite ironic. However, he seemed to be making that face to something else, not furiated at Yurio in particular.

"No. I'm not trying to be indifferent. I simply don't find you angering," Otabek paused and smiled, "I actually like being around you."

With that unexpected response, Yurio lifted him up into the air, thankful that his blushing face was hid behind Otabek's back.

Once again, they held this position before releasing, switching again and again until the alotted time for that move was over, conversing all the while. At one point, they came across the argument of if the egg or chicken came first, but neither really cared; after learning that he wasn't a complete nuisance to Otabek's existence, Yurio was less wary of what he said.

The practice continued to progress with various moves, much to the students' dismay (those of which hungry for lunch), but eventually stilled to a standpoint. Yakov frowned, although not an irregular occurrence, and dismissed them for a short break. Cheering filled the room, and soon left along with the students. Yurio stalked towards his bag, slipping off his sweatbands inconspiciously. He felt a shadow approach him, and turned around to meet it.

"Yura. Would you care to go out to l-lunch with me?" Otabek had his hands behind his back, and Yurio was struck with the realization that this was the first time he'd ever seen the man stutter. He gaped, thinking of how Otabek had just let his guard down, actually down-to-earth stuttered in front of him. That was certainly a rare sight, one of which that should be exhibited at an art museum for how momentous it was.

Yurio noticed Otabek beginning to widen his eyes, most likely thinking he was being rejected. He rushed to respond, not a smidge of him thinking about anything other than the glorosity of a lunch date with Otabek.

"I, I yes! I would, I mean. Yes." He straightened up and smiled, also a rare sight-- this day may as well be put in history books for all the newcomings. After all, we were born to make history.

~ ~ ~

A/N: This chapter has so many references to songs and movies, especially Die Hard. I find it that when I'm stuck at a part, I look for inspiration in other things, those things being IMDB quotes and my music library. Does anyone else do that? Okay, I'll stop talking now, bye!