#hahahah don't ask for more I can promise nothing. this is a canape. You get one mouthful of pate.

[lemontrash]

"You're not following!" Wufei explodes, dropping her hands. "Stop fucking around and follow my lead!"

"Make me!" Dorothy shoots back. She pushes away from him and stalks across the dance studio to her water bottle, a long blade of distain for him. Wufei grinds his teeth. Of all people... "I'm only doing this for Une as a favour," she reminds him, "But don't think that means I'll do less than I'm capable of performing. If you want me to dance, then you need to do far better." Bitterness floods Wufei's mouth. This is bullshit. If it weren't for a mission, he'd have put an exit hole in the wall by now. He curses Une, curses Barton, Maxwell and Winner and every other man who ought to be standing here instead of him, and mainly curses whoever taught Dorothy to dance. She's violently talented.

"Again." He demands. No surrender. "Why? You're boring me."

"Again!"

"Une should fire you and let me hire my own partner. I could do this mission single-handed and not have to waste my time rehearsing your incompetant footwork."

"Catalonia!"

"I'm not deaf. You know," she continues airily, stretching, "It's a pity the target doesn't dance Standard. You'd excel in routines where you're supposed to look like you have a stick up your-" She yelps when he grabs her arm and drags her back to their first position mark.

"Shut up and dance."

"Are you going to get blocks for your shoes? It looks so ridiculous, you being shorter than me."

"If you put as much energy into this as being a bitch-"

"I can multitask," she cuts in, acidically sweet, and there's a sparkle in her eye that implicates her in the sin of enjoying herself. And because she knows that he knows and she still wants the last word, she drops her hand and pinches his ass, making him flinch upright. "Bottom in, now, clean posture, Chang."

"Are you finished?"

"Am I? I thought we were starting from the top."

She smirks although the next iteration of their choreography, fighting him every inch for the lead. He fights back, blood roaring in his ears, knowing at least he has more stamina than she does. But by the end of it, she's bored and irritated again. "This has to work," he says, when they finally quit rehearsals. Dorothy gives him an arch look. "It has to," Wufei insists. "If you're such an expert, advise me."

She purses her lips, looking him up and down. "That hinges on it being anything you're actually able to resolve." He's about to argue again, when she shrugs, turning flippant. "Very well. You have the ego and the physical strength and flexibility to dance."

Her hair swishes behind her as she advances on him, words like needles. "But you lack everything else. You're not charming. You're not seductive. You're not romantic. You have no sense of fun. You don't play games. You wield any dry, underused sex appeal you possibly could have have like a dead fish. You don't perform and you're not in love with your body."

He hates to gratify her by blushing, but it rises up out of his chest like a scald.

"You suck." Dorothy concludes. "That's just who you are."

Mulish instinct makes him say, "It's not."

This delights her. She walks off laughing, uncaring, snagging her sportsbag lightly in one hand as she goes.

"Oh? Well I look very much forward to seeing you prove it. Ta-ta!"

Witch.

Wufei steams. He practices alone, furiously, until he's forced to admit that raking himself over the coals is not unearthing any answer to her challenge.

He slumps down by the wall and, in the middle of the night, is unapologetic about waking Trowa with a phone call.

"My help?" Barton says, blearily. "I can't dance. I broke an ankle, that's the whole reason-"

"Not the dance," Wufei cuts him off. "I don't need you to do backflips for me. Something else. I need discreet advice."

Trowa's silence revererates with curiosity. Wufei decides that's no bad thing. "Come to the studio," he demands without explanation and hangs up. Alone, he stands in front of the mirror.

Inspired by @lila-oh

hahahah don't ask for more I can promise nothing. this is a canape. You get one mouthful of pate.