Chapter Text
“Derek, I can’t do this.” Isaac says to him after he’s come out of the knee-glide.
“Is it your ankle? Does it hurt?” Derek immediately goes to him to check.
“No, it’s not my ankle Derek. It’s this choreography and we both know it.”
“You’re doing ok.”
“I suck.”
“You’re one of the best dancers at this school Isaac.” Derek points out. There’s a reason Isaac got an early admission to the Boston Conservatory, and unlike Derek, isn’t pulling his hair out over this showcase.
“Ballet dancers. Ballet: that’s what I do,” Isaac corrects, “this—I can’t do any of this, Derek, and we both know it.”
“Please don’t do this to me.” Derek pleads. It’s literally 9 days until the senior showcase. Dress rehearsals start in two days. He needs Isaac. It’s bad enough that Scott quit on him, Isaac can’t too.
“You need Scott Derek.”
“Oh the guy who quit on me? I need that guy?” he challenges.
“No you need the guy that helped you take your routine to the next level. You know, the one, who you didn’t really talk to before offering me my spot back.” Isaac points out.
“I—he’s not a student. Mr. Yukimura probably wouldn’t let him perform and he knew it was temporary until you could dance again.” Derek defends but even to his own ears it sounds hollow.
He’s such an idiot and a jackass and oh God the things he’d said to him!
“I screwed up.”
“Yeah you did.” Isaac doesn’t try to sugarcoat and Derek is only slightly grateful for that, “Not too late to fix it.”
“There’s no way he’s going to talk to me now.” Derek says. Not after that confrontation they’d had.
“Derek--”
“Just—at least give me a chance to fix the routine. I can make it work.” Derek reassures.
Isaac sighs, “It’s not my ass on the line though. But fine, I’m not just going to quit on you.”
“I can fix it.” Derek promises.
And he tries. Over the next few days he tries. Even as dress rehearsal starts and he sees his first glimpse at all the other performances and how exceptional they are. He spends more hours in the studio and onstage trying to rework the choreography. He works with Isaac, who gets better, but it’s nowhere near where it should be.
Derek is a tight-coiled spring ready to snap on Wednesday night. Two days before the final showcase. Two days before his future is decided. Mr. Yukimura is supposed to stop by tonight to see what the final show is going to look like. Derek has arrived a few hours early as he’s been prone to do to get more rehearsal in. Except the rest of the performers aren’t there.
Damn it.
--
Scott has just sunk into his armchair to the right of where Stiles and Malia are cuddled on the couch when the doorbell rings.
All three friends look at each other.
“That can’t be the pizza already, I literally called five minutes ago.” Stiles points out.
Scott shrugs and goes to answer. When he opens the door he’s surprised at the amount of people standing on his porch all dressed in leotards, tights, and various other dance attire.
“Uh…hey?” Scott says uncertainly to Isaac, Kira, Allison, Liam, Mason, Lydia and Boyd and Erica. Jeez.
“We’re just going to cut to the chase: we need you. More specifically, Derek needs you.” Isaac says right off the bat.
“Derek…needs me.” Scott repeats.
They, all of them, nod firmly.
“It’s gotten kind of desperate.” Erica pipes up.
“So…the only time he needs me is when he’s desperate?” Scott asks, irritated, “and if he needs me so bad why isn’t he here himself?”
“He’s an idiot.” “Have you met Derek?” “Really, Scott?” and loud, derisive snorts come flying at him all at once.
“Look,” Boyd steps in front, “I know after the way you two left things the last person you want to help is Derek. But he needs your help ok? I mean the other day I found a filled out application for Cornell.”
Scott’s surprise he’s sure is written all over his face, “He…doesn’t want to go into business. That’s what his Uncle wants.”
“Will you please, please reconsider?” Isaac asks. Every single one of them turn pleading glances on him and how is he supposed to resist that?
“But, I’m not a student. Mr. Yukimura won’t let me perform.” Scott reasons.
Isaac smirks and shrugs, “Who’s to say all of this rehearsal won’t somehow aggravate my already delicate ankle?”
Scott sighs, “Hey Stiles?”
“Yeah buddy?”
“Save me a few slices of pizza ok?” he turns back to the small crowd of dancers, “let’s go then.”
--
Derek looks towards the doors as he watches his dancers stream through the doors, “Where the hell have you guys be—Scott?!”
The teenager, in sweats and a plain white shirt, waves sheepishly at him, “Hey Derek.”
“What are you doing here?” he asks incredulous.
Scott shrugs, “A little birdie told me you needed some help?”
“That little birdie, by the way, was me.” Isaac says unashamed, “you guys can make eyes at each other later there’s a dance that needs saving.”
Derek only has half a second to balk because he’s right. They don’t have much time to waste.
The rest of the night goes by in kind of a blur of rehearsals and talks about lighting and adjusting Isaac’s costume to fit Scott’s much smaller frame. By the time they finally get a moment alone together it’s almost midnight and Scott is on his way to Kira’s car so she can drive him home. Derek can’t let him leave without a proper thank you and apology.
“Scott, hold on!” he manages to catch him outside the school doors.
“Yeah?”
“I—I just—I wanted—I’m sorry.” Derek stammers. Scott waits patiently for him to get his bearings, “I said some pretty shitty things to you. Not to mention pushing you to the side as soon as Isaac came back. I…I was just so focused on this showcase and I—I was wrong and I’m sorry.”
Scott looks on patiently while Derek stumbles through his apology before he smiles slightly, “Thank you, Derek. Apology accepted.”
“Thank you for…coming back and helping me Scott. You didn’t have to at all. But you did anyway.” Derek says and he still can’t get over that fact.
“I did anyway.” Scott repeats, “So I guess you can tear up that Cornell application now.”
Derek’s not too surprised at Scott knowing that considering who helped bring him here, “Jumping the gun there, maybe.”
Scott shakes his head, “No. I’m not.”
He sounds so sure about it. Derek wants to say something else. Maybe thank Scott again, hug him, pull him in by the shirtfront and kiss him. But then Kira and everyone else come bursting through the doors and the moment’s broken.
--
Scott’s heart is pounding. Hammering. Ricocheting. Threatening to dislodge itself from his body entirely—
“It’s normal to be nervous.” He jumps when he hears Derek’s voice behind him. The thick, black velvet curtain in front of him shrouds his view of the audience but he can hear them. He saw them earlier. It’s packed out there. His mother took off work for this. So did Sheriff Stilinski and his camcorder. Stiles and Malia are right in front (they had to be convinced not to make posters so they settled on writing his initials in permanent marker on their hands).
“Is it normal that my heart wants to leave my body right now?”
“If it didn’t—then I’d be worried.” Derek smiles down at him. And that reassures him.
“So should I be worried about you then? You’re looking pretty calm there.” Scott points out.
Derek decides then to take Scott’s hand and he notices how hard it’s shaking.
“You’re going to do great and all those schools are going to be falling all over themselves trying to get to you.” Scott squeezes his hand, “And I’m--”
“Going to prove your Dad wrong.” Derek finishes. Then the stage manager whispers that they’re going to start. Derek pulls Scott towards, “Break a leg.”
“Seriously why is that a thing?” Scott whispers.
And then the music starts and it’s like something else takes over him. The music, the lights, he can barely see past the first few rows but it’s all so…intoxicating. It’s like he goes somewhere else entirely. The raucous cheer from the crowd and the sudden darkness as the curtains close is what brings Scott back. He’s slightly aware that he’s being pulled off the stage and into the hallway backstage.
Scott is buzzing. He doesn’t think anything can compare to the feeling of being onstage and then Derek kisses him and there it is again. A feeling of being not totally there yet completely present. It’s over too soon for his liking.
“Whoa.” Scott exhales once he’s caught his breath.
Derek lets out a breathy chuckle, “Scott I—I don’t know how to thank--”
Scott stops him talking with another kiss. He needs their lips to be touching again. It doesn’t even matter that the hallway is teeming with other dancers going on and off the stage and into different dressing rooms. The second time they pull away it’s because Mr. Yukimura clears his throat. He’s standing there smiling with a woman standing regally next to him.
“Mr. Yukimura.” Derek says. He knows he’s blushing. He looks sideways and feels better that Scott’s face is also beet red.
“Mr. Hale. I’d like to introduce you to Marin Morrell. One of the recruiters from The San Francisco Ballet.” He introduces.
“I saw you at last year’s showcase.” She smiles calmly.
“You did?” Derek asks.
“This piece was different—showed risks and progress I wasn’t sure you were capable of.”
“Thank you.” Derek breathes out.
She hands him a business card, “Call me on Monday. I think there could be a great future at the San Francisco Ballet for you after graduation.”
Derek is speechless as he takes the card from her.
“And Mr. McCall is it?” she turns to Scott.
“Me?”
“Very nice work.” She smiles before excusing herself.
“One more thing, Mr. McCall.” Mr. Yukimura says, “Come fall, we expect all of our students to own at least one pair of tights. You’ll be getting a list soon.”
Scott opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish out of water, “But—but I skipped my audition.”
The director tilts his head in contemplation, “Did you? I think I saw a pretty amazing one just moments ago. Welcome to Beacon Hills Academy Mr. McCall.” He says before walking away.
Scott turns to Derek whose face emotes all of what Scott is feeling: bafflement, wonder, excitement.
“Did—did that just happen?” Scott asks.
“It looks all our dreams are coming true.” Derek smiles at him.
“It does, doesn’t?” Scott beams back.
--
In the Preserve, Scott intertwines his and Derek’s hands and leans his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder as they watch the sun go down. If anyone had told him months when he’d walked in to Beacon Hills Academy that only a few short months later he’d be a future student there with a boyfriend, on his way to one of the most prestigious ballet companies, Scott would’ve called them crazy. But yet here he is.
Derek untangles their hands and instead wraps an arm around the other boy and brings him closer.
“Thank you, Scott.”
His boyfriend looks up at him with the confused expression that Derek’s come to cherish, “For what? I didn’t even pay for dinner.”
“For making my dreams come true. I wouldn’t be here without you.”
“Neither would I.”
The press of their lips still feels like that first time.