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Most of the time, Misto preferred to practise ballet in the university’s studio. But sometimes, either when that studio was booked or Misto did not want to interact with other human beings, Tugger would come home to find all the furniture pushed against the wall, and Misto pulling off some complicated and cool move in the middle of the living room. Today, it seemed, was one of those days.
Tugger opened the door and nearly tripped over the coffee table, which had been shoved right over by the doorway. He seized the handle to steady himself, before he realised he’d need far more than a door to stay calm. Misto was dancing on their hardwood floor, doing a series of difficult-looking spins. Fouettés, Tugger knew they were called. He didn’t know a lot of the French ballet words, but fouettés held a special place in his heart – they were how he had met the glorious dancer who was now his boyfriend.
He had been in a foul mood that day. He was running late for a lecture that was on the 12th floor of a building with a single broken-down lift, and unaware that in this particularly nasty building, the 12th floor was actually below the 11th. So Tugger had barged along the corridor to his room, then tried to quietly slip in so the lecturer might not notice his lateness. To his surprise, he walked not into a lecture hall, but a dance studio. Much like now, his breath caught in his chest as he watched a young man dance. He spun, and somehow, impossibly, just kept on spinning. How he didn’t get dizzy and/or fall over, Tugger still wasn’t sure. He counted fifteen spins before the man stopped, and noticed that Tugger was there. Unable to speak, Tugger had just burst into a round of applause. The man had blushed and said it was nothing, and of course Tugger had to disagree. Tugger forgot about his lecture, they got to talking, discovered both of them were in the market for a roommate, and Tugger moved in the next weekend.
Tugger had fallen hard and fast for Misto, who was shy when you first met him, but when you got to know him was the most fun and amazing person you’d ever meet. Tugger had lamented being in love with his beautiful roommate who he had thought would never feel the same way many times to Munkustrap. But then Munk had visited and pulled his head out of his arse. With his brother’s encouragement, Tugger finally got up the nerve to tell Misto how he felt. To his surprise and delight, Misto liked him back, and they had been together ever since.
And it was thanks to stupidly-impressive fouettés! Tugger had never been particularly interested in ballet, but they were spectacular to watch, and Misto himself was so gorgeous and stunning that Tugger couldn’t help but let out a cheer from the doorway.
Misto managed a few more before needing to stop, turning to Tugger with a broad smile on his face.
“New record, babe?” Tugger asked with a grin.
“Twenty-four,” Misto answered, his breath just a bit heavy. Mind-bogglingly fantastic, he was. Twenty-four fouettés and barely tired.
“Yes!” he shouted back, scrambling round the coffee table and vaulting over the couch to gather Misto in his arms. “You’re goddamn spectacular, you are. Totally worth me nearly tripping over the coffee table!”
“Sorry,” Misto said, laughing slightly.
“Well, my life did flash before my eyes for a moment, but the sight of your beautiful face brought me back,” Tugger said dramatically.
“You’re terrible!” Misto snorted, running his hands through Tugger’s artfully messy hair.
“I’m a joy.”
Tugger leaned down to kiss his spectacular boyfriend. Yeah, he could handle the occasional surprise furniture reorganisation for this.