Work Text:
The first time Charlie saw the Ditton Dancer, the curly-haired editor was a passenger in Isaac’s car with Sam and Amelia in the back. They were stuck in the usual morning traffic on the M20 commuting into London jobs from their various sections of Maidstone. Suddenly Amelia squealed and pointed across Sam’s lap at the vehicle just ahead of them in the lane to their left. As Charlie disengaged from the music he was queueing up from his front seat aux jockey position, he caught a glimpse of that car’s driver, just a few metres away.
A large white man with short blonde hair and wearing a green top was clearly enjoying music of his own, bopping along with his shoulders bouncing and his hands drumming wildly on the steering wheel. In between glances at the red brake lights in front of him, he was squeezing his eyes shut as he sang along.
Charlie grinned at the sight, tickled by the other man’s lack of self-consciousness and obvious delight in what he was doing to pass the time. Just as he went to turn down Isaac’s speakers to see if they could hear what the other car was pumping, that lane got loose and the nondescript sedan slid away.
Amelia groaned and complained she hadn’t had time to film him for TikTok. Frowning to himself, Charlie listened to the whole story of how the dancing man had a significant following there, albeit as a hashtag in videos posted by others. How he’d been branded by the town name based on the location of the first upload. Personally Charlie thought it a bit shaky in terms of consent but that didn’t stop him from clicking on the link Sam soon sent him as Amelia argued it was publicly visible behaviour.
[Credit and gratitude to Edina aka KedinArt on Instagram]
One thing lead to another in the mysterious ways of The Algorithm and, after about a month, TikTok had shown him dozens of snippets of the blonde man dancing in traffic. He got caught by one in particular which was nearly front on, showing Charlie the full scope of a round, warm, expressive and cheerful face with classically handsome features.
Feeling intrigued and a little guilty, Charlie clicked on the comments bubble and was quickly down the rabbit hole of speculation and thirsty fans. Skimming over the top of the wilder theories and unhinged fanatics, he saw the patterns emerge: people of all genders attracted to the dorky hunk, mums who worried about his random commute times and data nerds triangulating his probable point of origin.
Yeah, Charlie was creeped out and overwhelmed. But he lingered on a freeze frame of the gorgeous face for a full minute, thumb rubbing the ridges on his mobile case, until he bit his bottom lip and screen shot it. Then he closed the app and resolved to never venture further down that tag.
Occasionally he would flip past the image in his camera roll. More than once, he got stuck there, brain racing off into the clouds, thinking about the person behind the online fame. What was his real name? Why did he appear at different hours of the motorway crunch all the time? What did he do for work? Why was he always alone in his car? Was his home equally empty? Did he… like men?
Charlie shook himself like a wet dog and went back to what he was doing. Somewhere in here was the recipe he’d screenshot online. (Was there maybe already sour cream at home?) He turned down the dairy aisle at his local Sainbury’s and stopped in front of the case.
“Excuse me?” interrupted his search for the brand and size he wanted. Apparently he was taking too long. He turned, ready to scowl at the person when instead his eyes widened and his mouth fell open.
“The Ditton Dancer!”
“Wot?!”
There he was. Tall… wide! So wide!
Charlie stumbled over his tongue, trying to think, to process what even he could say as followup to that error. Swallowing, he decided to just go for it.
“I am so sorry. You probably don’t know this and maybe you won’t want to but you’re a little famous online for dancing in your car and I swear I’m not a stalker but I’ve seen you and oh god I’m sorry what is wrong with me I’m Charlie and you’re lovely.”
The blonde blinked through this torrent and a soft smile slowly spread across his face. When Charlie got to the finish line and panted uneasily, the other man just tilted his head and kept blinking and smiling for way too long.
Charlie felt his lips stretching wide, revealing his teeth and his embarrassment as his chin wrinkled under the grimace and his shoulders drew up. “Sorry?”
The blonde shook his head. “You already said that and I’m not sure why. I’m… You’ve seen me dancing in my car? I do do that a lot.” He smiled wider, comfortable somehow with this disaster of a conversation.
Charlie took one steadying breath. “Yeah, you apparently do because multiple people have filmed you and posted it to TikTok. You’re a minor internet sensation.”
The taller man made a face as he considered that but he didn’t seem upset. “They call you the Ditton Dancer because that’s where the first video was tagged.” Charlie got an attentive nod and raised eyebrows. “Ummm, most people think you’re cute and it’s all good silly fun,” Charlie stammered, feeling the heat of a blush creeping up his neck, “but… y’know, it’s the internet so…” The other man was grinning now; Charlie didn’t want to kill the vibe but didn’t he deserve to know…? He cleared his throat. “And a few people are kinda obsessed with you, so there’s that.”
“With me?!” The brown eyes drifted up to the ceiling as the stranger tried to absorb Charlie’s (excruciating) blabber. But they soon returned to make contact again. “Why?”
Charlie sputtered and waved his free hand (the one which wasn’t tucked through the handles of a shopping basket AND holding onto his umbrella inside its plastic bag) at him. “Because!” Another head tilt. It was not possible this man did not understand what the appeal would be! Charlie rolled his eyes and emphatically turned his entire body back towards the refrigerated case. “Because you look like Chris Hemsworth mixed with a golden retriever,” he mumbled.
He laughed! The other man laughed! A generous, belly-jiggling, unashamed laugh!
“You think I look like Thor?! Um, awesome? He’s fit as!”
Charlie turned back; now it was his turn to blink. The blonde rocked on his heels and smiled in a friendly way.
“You have… thousands of people… of all genders… interested in trying to get with you… and you’re not even bothered?!”
“No,” he replied as one corner of his smile curved it into a smirk. “I’m bisexual and single. Why would that bother me?”
Charlie felt the blood rushing around inside his body, making his ears and fingers tingle as he stared at the larger man. “Right,” he whispered as tiny lances of queer joy pierced his aorta from every side. One corner of his brain reminded him of the other questions he’d wanted to ask and he had to catch himself from blurting them all out.
So instead he just stood there, feeling more like a numpty with every passing wordless moment. The other man’s smirk got bigger until finally he bent his top half in Charlie’s direction with a conspiratorial wink. “It’s Nick, by the way.” Charlie gasped. Was he reading his mind?! Oh no!
But Nick just bounced back on his heels and grinned unashamedly at Charlie’s returning blush. “Hmmm,” he pulled in his lips a moment, “would you happen to be one of those people?”
“Wot?!”
Nick’s snort was warm, not mocking. “Would you…” he circled his chin up and forward with each phrase, “happen to be… one of the interested people?”
Charlie squeaked involuntarily, his body shivering, his mouth tightening into a dismayed moue.
Nick paused, pulling his lips to one side. “Okay well, if you were, that would be nice because I think you’re lovely too, Charlie. Now then, I was just grabbing this.” And with that, he opened and reached into the cabinet next to Charlie to pick up a small carton of oat milk.
Then he turned back and Charlie’s brain, still largely offline with all the revelations of the last couple minutes, unhelpfully started cataloguing Nick’s outfit of (damp) blue hoodie, gray joggers and black Vans instead of actually formulating words. So when Nick raised an arm as farewell, he could only wave awkwardly around the items clenched to his chest and watch him walk away.
But as soon as the blonde disappeared behind the corner of Aisle Eight, Charlie shook himself, set his basket down and raced after him.
Twenty minutes later, he reclaimed the basket with one hand while he held his mobile in the other. What was his real name? Nick Nelson. Why did he appear at different hours of the motorway crunch all the time? Same answer as the next one on Charlie’s list. What did he do for work? He trained adults in first aid and the like, scheduled around other people’s jobs. Why was he always alone in his car? Nobody else had his oscillating work hours. Was his home equally empty? Nope, two fat cats called him daddy. Did he… like men? Charlie tapped the screen against his bottom lip and grinned. Yep!
He looked down at it again and his thumb hovered over the image from TikTok. Should he make it the photo for the new Contact in his mobile? He smiled to himself as he deleted the contraband screenshot. Nah, there would be a chance to use a much better one in that slot soon enough.