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Link would like it to be known that he doesn’t like to be stared at.
As he stands alone in the studio, music echoing oddly from a single CD player, he believes such wants are being left unfulfilled. The piano continues on, heedless of what he thinks. So he continues on, working through basic stretches and exercises. He watches himself plié in the mirror, keeps his form completely. His feet do not waver from 5th position. He staightens, does another one.
“ Pliés , really?” His mystery watcher finally interrupts him from the door. Link shoots a look. “What are you, six?”
Link sacrifices his arms, though keeps doing pliés . [Basics are important. You know that, Revali.]
Revali scoffs, entering the room proper and settling down in one of the spare chairs in the corner. Link resigns himself to not getting much proper choreography done tonight. “Yes, yes of course. But I barely see you doing difficult moves. Figure out a grand jeté yet?”
Link rolls his eyes. He knows how to do a grand jeté , just not to Revali’s lofty standards of acrobatics. The action tells Revali more than his words could, so he begins to do a relatively slow series of chaîné turns. Revali scoffs as Link’s pointe shoes make quiet noises on the vinyl flooring.
“I understand that’s you’re not particularly adept in the air as I am, but seriously .” Revali stands, pulling his braids into a quick bun. “There’s no need to ground yourself so harshly.”
He slides behind Link, and Link considers how hard a dégagé has to be for it to hurt. Hands land on Link’s waist, and he slaps one just to be indignant. (And also to catch his fingers on the beaded bracelet Revali forgot to take off. Revali throws it across the room with a grumble, and it lands safely on top of his bag.)
Revali has tried many times to coax Link into choreographing, or at least performing a pre-choreographed, pas de deux . Naturally, with Link as the ballerina and Revali as the danseur . The pose tells Link that tonight is no different. Just to make him mad, Link begins to chaîné again — this time at full speed. He sighs, but follows dutifully along. “You’re flexible,” the other man admits, placing his hands on Link’s hips again at they come to a stop. “And fast. Not as fast as me, but decently fast. A pas de deux performed by us would be marvelous.”
Link throws Revali a look over his shoulder, a quirked lip and raised eyebrow, then turns it into a partnered pirouette. Instead of spotting forward, he keeps his eyes directly on Revali. The hands on his hips easily shift and guide him.
He’s teased Revali enough on the romantic nature of a pas de deux that he doesn’t need words for his rebuttals anymore. “Goodness. So caught up on the gender thing. What are you, homophobic?”
Link’s face instantly slides into being flat, and he deeply considers changing his pirouettes into fouettes. His face must be amusing, as Revali’s cocky look twitches. Before Link can truly do anything to rebut, Revali unceremoniously grips Links waist and tosses him upwards. Link can barely let out a shocked sort of gah noise, before he’s caught and held aloft, sideways, over Revali’s head.
He glares at the dumbass in the mirror, but holds a pose. Revali’s arms barely waver from Link’s bodyweight, and he will never tell him that he finds it impressive. It would go directly to his already huge ego.
“See? We work great together!”
Revali slides him down into an arabesque , keeping a steady hands on his thigh and ribs. Link snorts like a bull, wordlessly refusing.
Revali then drops him into a fish dive. Link is unprepared, and has to catch himself with his hands rather than pose. He punches Revali’s ankle, earning a quiet hiss.
“ That’s why we should practice.” Link glares, and Revali gently lowers his legs rather than manhandle him more. Link has no qualms of being nice, and tackles the idiot’s legs out from under him.
He goes down like a bag of bricks, and Link laughs as he’s betrayed by the gravity he loves so much.