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“Tycho, this is impossible.”
“No, it’s not. You’re trying to make it harder than it is. Look just--OW! Okay, don’t do that, that hurt. Just let me get into position…move a bit to the left...”
“Your left or my left?”
“...Yours.”
“Wait, I’m turned the wrong way again…!”
“If you’d just put your feet where I showed you!”
“I’m trying! They’ve got a mind of their own!”
“Okay, now just--OW! Ow, ow. Right, let’s just take a break and try this again in a minute,” Tycho hissed and tried not to limp as he made his way over to the bed and sat down, rubbing his shin. Wedge dropped down beside him, looking frustrated and even a little sullen, and Tycho rolled his eyes.
“Honestly, Wedge. How can anyone who flies, fights and kriffs like you do be so Sithspawned bad at dancing?”
“I told you it was hopeless,” Wedge grumbled, huffing out a breath that ruffled his dark bangs as he slumped back against the wall.
“Well if you hadn’t kept kicking me, or stomping my feet, we could have gotten somewhere…” Tycho wiggled his toes experimentally and grimaced. “Ow.”
“I hate these New Republic functions.” Wedge crossed his arms, looking downright petulant. “I hate having to pretend to be a politician, and I can’t dance.”
“I think,” Tycho said slowly, “That the first two have more to do with the last than anything. It’s not that you can’t dance--you don’t want to, because you associate it with something you despise so much.”
“So?” Monosyllabic responses; Wedge had retreated into defensive mode.
“So you’re confusing the two and it’s keeping you from thinking clearly.” Tycho sighed. “Look, I never cared for parties either, even if I was raised to attend them. But dancing...that’s something else. Sure, you might have to dance with someone political out of politeness’ sake at this thing, but that’s not why you should learn. You should learn because it’s the only way for us to be close, intimate even, with so many people around.”
“Hrrmmm.” Despite the noncommittal noise, Wedge’s demeanor changed noticeably as he mulled that over. Still, he was too stubborn to just give over and agree, and Tycho pondered for a bit himself, letting the silence stretch out between them.
“I think I’ve been going about this the wrong way,” Tycho said, brightening suddenly as realization struck, “I’ve been trying to teach you the way I was taught, and it’s obviously not working. We need to approach this from another angle.”
“Huh?” Wedge blinked, startled out of his own thoughts.
“It’s all in how you look at it,” Tycho said as he bounced up onto his feet, turning and holding a hand out to Wedge (who looked like he thought Tycho had lost his mind). Tycho just grinned and winked, “Come on. Take my hand.”
“Fine.” With an overdramatic sigh to indicate the great sacrifice he was making in trying this yet again, Wedge levered himself up from the bed. Tycho slipped his fingers over Wedge’s and circled an arm around him, giving them a bit of distance between to work with initially. For his toes’ sake if nothing else.
“Now. I’ve been explaining this artistically, and it’s clear we need to be thinking tactically.”
“Alright, I’m listening,” Wedge said, and he at least looked intrigued, if nothing else. Tycho hid a smile.
“Think of it as a basic set of flight exercises. The maneuvers are set, all you need to do is remember the sequence and keep an eye on where I am relative to you. If I do this--” Tycho stepped to the side and forward slightly, bring himself almost into contact with Wedge, “--then what would you do?”
And, as Tycho hoped, without thinking, Wedge stepped just the right distance back and aside, bringing them back into alignment again. The look of surprise on his face pulled a soft, genuine laugh from Tycho.
“Alright, don’t rub it in,” Wedge grumbled, but his accompanying scowl lacked sincerity, “And don’t get all smug. That was just one step!”
“Three, actually,” Tycho grinned, “But we have to start somewhere, don’t we? Now, just keep watching me and moving to keep the same distance between us. It’s a pretty simple pattern, and it repeats.”
And, though Wedge kept muttering under his breath, it worked. After a few more steps, he fell into the rhythm of it, and Tycho could feel him start to untense, which was a rare enough thing for Wedge in the first place.
“Looks like you’ve got it...a little more practice and it’ll be second nature to you,” the corner of Tycho’s mouth quirked, “Just one more thing to do, then…”
“Huh?” Wedge frowned, “I thought you said--oh! Oh.”
“Like I said,” Tycho grinned as he pulled Wedge in so they were pressed together, arms around each other, “close and intimate.”
“Okay...I could get to like this,” Wedge admitted finally. He rested his head on Tycho’s shoulder, eyes half-closed, the smallest ghost of a smile on his face, “Anything that keeps me near enough to you to feel your heartbeat can’t be all bad.”
“Why, next thing you know, you won’t even mind putting on your dress uniform,” Tycho teased.
“Let’s not get carried away,” the sarcastic tone was back in Wedge’s voice but he was still smiling, dreamy and lost in the moment; letting himself--just this once--relax fully, to be open and vulnerable in the arms of the man he loved.
“Right.” A rarely given gift, that trust, and one Tycho would never take for granted. Whatever deeper moments they could find in the middle of a war, in spite of their own pain and fears, he would take and he would treasure. Forever. “One step at a time then.” Tycho paused, then grinned.
“As long as it’s not on my feet again.”