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"It's called a ballerino, Hunter," Crosshair says, narrowed brown eyes meeting Hunter’s wide eyed stare. "Don't act so surprised. " Hunter blinks three times, carefully controlling his lips.
"Crosshair, I...it's not that I'm surprised so much as....well, it's just that...when the actual kriff did you decide you wanted to dance ballet?" Don't laugh at your brother, don't laugh at your brother...Hunter repeats to himself, mouth practically quivering with repressing it.
Crosshair sniffs. "You don't have to come."
"No, Cross, I want to. I'll be there." Hunter gives his brother his most I'm not laughing at you smile he can possibly give, waiting until he's gone to snicker into his hand.
"Did you know?" He asks Omega later, feeling like he's been left out of a great secret.
"Yeah, Hunter. Everyone knows." Omega gives him her best I'm the big sister glare, tossing her long blond ponytail over her shoulder. "Crosshair's been learning all summer."
Hunter shakes his head, questioning everything he has ever known.
*****
Hunter sits in the darkness of Pabu's only performance hall, palms sweating. He's nervous. Somehow, this piece of his brother has gone overlooked by him; the piece that wants to dance in front of other people. Why does this make Hunter feel like he's failed him?
He takes a deep breath, glancing to his left where Wrecker sits. Wrecker, who knew Crosshair wanted to dance. Wrecker who isn't sweating. To his right, Omega is nestled against his shoulder. He nudges her, grinning nervously down at her when she looks up. She squeezes his arm.
"He's really good. You'll see," she says. Hunter laughs a little, a nervous laugh.
A low sound begins, coming from just beneath the stage; strings playing a melancholy melody. The curtains part slowly and the music continues, and Hunter sits up straight in his chair. The stage is dark. The instruments change and at the same instant, a soft light illuminates a kneeling dancer, back bowed to the audience. At first, Hunter can't see who it is. It's a male dancer, dressed in black; black leggings with black wraps up his legs and a black sleeveless top. When he stands, head still bowed, Hunter sees. The dancer is tall, slender, long legs ending in blunt toe shoes. His bald head shines under the stage lighting and the scars on his temple remind Hunter of the years of trauma and conflict he and his brothers had been through. He swallows thickly, watching.
Crosshair rises to his toes, strong legs flexing, arms that once held a firepuncher rifle, now hold a different sort of strength. As the dance plays on, more performers join him. Crosshair, as the tallest stands out. Even so, his grace and fluid movement would put him in the spotlight. When he leaps across the stage, it's with all the power of a wild feline.
The music swells louder, joining with the dancers. The music seems made for Crosshair, Hunter thinks; cold and aggressive, angry at times, but softening into something almost innocent, childlike. Hunter watches his brother dance and wonders that he didn't know Crosshair wanted this so very obvious piece of himself. Hunter watches his brother dance and wants to scream his lungs out with how good it feels to know his brother is happy.
When the curtains come back together and the music fades into silence, Hunter sneaks a glance at Wrecker's face. Enraptured is the only word that comes to his mind. Omega nudges his arm this time, and her widened eyes say I told you so. Hunter grins at her. The curtain lifts again and Crosshair stands in the middle of the dancers, holding hands on either side of him. He bows and his face is lit with joy and pride.
Hunter leaps to his feet, screaming his own pride until he's hoarse.