Work Text:
Ed Teach had been stuck in meetings all day. Meetings that were supremely fucking boring and which, in Ed’s humble opinion, could have been a fucking email. But he had to sit there in the sleek, glass-walled conference room all day simply because he was the founder and head of Blackbeard Consulting Group. Bullshit. Even more bullshit was the fact that his CFO, Izzy Hands, had confiscated Ed’s phone prior to the start of the meeting marathon because he said he was sick of Ed burying his nose in his phone instead of paying attention to clients. Ed didn’t see why he had to pay attention. Or why he needed to be in the room at all, to be honest. It was all the same old shit, day in and day out. Companies hired his firm to maximize their profits, which BCG always did. Attack the personnel roster with ruthless efficiency, find the dead weight, restructure, show those in charge how to squeeze every last drop of productivity out of those who remained, always achieving more with less.
HR departments hated to see him coming, and if he was honest, Ed was hating himself a bit more with each passing day. He made his living depriving others of theirs while the fat cats who hired him made out like bandits. Ed had begun expressing his displeasure with his chosen line of work several months ago, which irritated Izzy to no end. He went on a tirade anytime Ed had even hinted at the idea of retirement, so Ed had stopped talking about it altogether and mostly just brooded in his office for the better part of a year while Izzy and the others got on with the day to day. But the company was built on Ed’s image and brilliance, and Izzy insisted he be present for their quarterly reviews with their current slate of clients. And to ensure Ed was well and truly present both physically and mentally, he had wrestled Ed’s phone out of his hand after distracting him with a mocha-caramel-whipped cream monstrosity from Ed’s favorite cafe.
So Ed found himself in the conference room that day with nothing to distract him. Well, there was spinning in his chair. Take that, Izzy. But even that lost its appeal after awhile and so Ed spent the remainder of the day with his head propped in his hand as he listened to clients drone on and on. Once he’d shaken the last set of hands, he turned to Izzy and demanded his phone. He shoved it in his pocket and without another word, made his way outside where his car and driver were waiting.
“Will that be home, then, Mr. Teach?” asked Buttons in his thick Scottish brogue. “Or will ye be answerin’ the call to stray from paths known and trodden in favor of somethin’ new?”
“Uh, nah, mate, straight home, please.” Ed leaned back in his seat and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Are ye sure, Mr. Teach? Refusin’ to answer the call of the wild and wondrous universe can only lead to devastation.”
“Look, mate, no offense, I just need you to not be fuckin’ weird right now.”
This request was met with silence. And a twinge of guilt. “Sorry, man. It’s jus’ been a day, ya know?”
“Aye. Home it is. Ye can mebbe answer the call tomorrow.”
“Aces, man.” Ed settled in for the drive home and began scrolling through his phone, which had dozens of red notifications dotted around his homescreen. First order of business was clearing out his voicemail. One of his late night internet shopping sprees must have landed Ed’s number on some kind of solicitation list because he’d been receiving a startling number of spammy phone calls lately. It was annoying as hell, having to swipe away notifications for both phone calls and voicemails that were never intended for him. Most of the messages simply said “Hello, hello, are you there?” before hanging up after about twenty seconds. So it caught his attention when he saw one voicemail that was a full two minutes long. And there was no transcript for it. Intrigued, Ed pressed the play button.
The call sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well. Ed could make out a distant voice in the background:
“...alright? Let me see you at your best. So here we go, five, six, five, six, seven, eight.” There was a rhythmic tapping accompanying the cheery voice. The cheery voice with a Kiwi accent! What the fuck? Ed immediately restarted the message, holding the phone up to his ear to try to hear every word. He had to listen three times to finally catch the whole thing:
“...alright? Let me see you at your best. So here we go, five, six, five, six, seven, eight. Everybody’s looking at me, looking at me. And five, six, over, over, and nine, ten, drop, soft turn, and no, no, no! Watch me! We’ll do it again. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, and one, two, three, four, and five, six, seven, eight. And turn, turn, turn, turn. Watch the flow, and five, six, seven, eight, and…oh no, no, no! Lucius! Get up! Eugh, why are you so sweaty? This is an easy one! Tighten up, mate! Okay and here we go, and---oh damn! Lucius, help! Why is this recording?...Oh, fuck!”
What the hell? Ed was giggling hysterically in the backseat of the towncar. Who was this maniac? How had he managed to call Ed during his…dance class? Who was Lucius? And why was he all sweaty? Before he could overthink it, Ed tapped the callback button, but the call went straight to voicemail.
“Greetings! You’ve reached The Gentleman Choreographer, Stede Montague Bonnet! I’m unable to take your call at this time, so please leave a detailed message and I’ll get back to you forthwith! And remember, ‘There are shortcuts to happiness, and dancing is one of them!’”
The tone beeped for Ed to leave a message. He wasn’t ready! What was he supposed to say?!
Hi, this is Edward Teach. You accidentally left me a voicemail and as a result I’ve felt the most joy I’ve felt in years.
Hi, Ed here. Feels like I’ve been treading water, waiting to drown, and your voicemail has made me believe that happiness is possible again.
Hi, we don’t know each other but you sound like a lunatic and I might be a little bit in love with you.
Thankfully, Ed did not say any of these unhinged thoughts that raced through his brain. Instead, he simply said “Uhhhh….” before hanging up, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
Okay, yeah, not a good idea to call back without a plan. That one’s on Ed. Ed took a deep breath and googled “The Gentleman Choreographer”. There was exactly one result, and the contact info listed in the website preview matched the phone number that had called him. He clicked on the link and was met with a photo of the most stunning man he’d ever seen, frozen mid-leap, arms and legs extended out in every conceivable direction. He was wearing a black turtleneck and leggings that highlighted his incredibly toned (biteable, if you wanted to get scientific about it) calves and thighs. Ed could sense the movement of his thick blonde hair even in the still frame of the photo. The man was staring directly into the camera with gorgeous hazel eyes rimmed with laugh lines, and a dimple appeared on the left side of his toothy smile. There was no denying that the man was hot, but underneath a thin surface layer of horniness, what Ed felt when he looked at him was a sense of freedom, joy, passion; in short, everything that was missing from his own life.
Under the photo (which Ed eventually brought himself to scroll past) was a block of text:
Hi all! My name is Stede Bonnet and I’d love to be your choreographer today (or any day that works for your schedule). Here at The Gentleman Choreographer, we offer dance classes for all levels:
- Beginners
- Intermediate Beginners
- Experienced Beginners
- Advanced Beginners
- Professional Non-Professionals
- Private Lessons
About Me: I am a divorced father of two who discovered a love of dance quite accidentally. When my now ex-wife took up painting classes to break the monotony of our hum-drum life a few years ago, I decided I should try something new as well. She fell in love with her painting instructor, and I fell in love with the art of dance! After quitting my soul-crushing corporate job last year, I opened my own studio in the hopes that I could inspire others to find the same freedom of expression that I did. Dancing unlocked a part of myself that I had kept hidden away from everyone…including me! I am now out and proud and ready to help you find whatever bit of happiness we can offer in our state-of-the-art studio. So, let your body take over and come with me on a journey to discover your hidden talents and your truest self!
Disclaimer: PR Manager Lucius Spriggs does not condone this incredibly over-sharey bio nor its promises of self-fulfillment. In exchange for money, you might learn to dance. That’s it.
The car had come to a stop at a red light and Ed could hear the faint clicking of the turn signal that indicated Buttons would be turning right, in the direction of Ed’s (massive, dark, empty) house. After several frantic moments scrolling back and forth between the photo of Stede Bonnet and his incredibly frank biography, Ed hastily searched the website for an address. Once he found it, he texted it to Buttons.
“Say, Buttons? How far are we from that place?”
Buttons clicked around on his phone’s navigation system. “‘Tis a studio not too far at all, Mr. Teach. Decided to answer the call, have ye?”
“Um, yeah, I guess? Can we go there, please?”
Buttons maneuvered through the evening traffic to turn left at the next light and within ten minutes, the car was pulling up outside the studio of The Gentlemen Choreographer. The space was brightly lit with floor to ceiling windows in front. Ed practically had his nose pressed up against the car window, taking in the sight of a small group performing in front of mirrors that spanned an entire wall. Not a blonde head of hair among them, however. The group appeared to reach the end of their routine; he watched as they grabbed their bags and water bottles before exiting the studio and walking in various directions down the street. They were all smiling and laughing.
“To love yourself as ye must be loved requires change.”
Ed startled as Buttons’s voice broke the silence.
“What?!”
“Ye best be goin’ in, Mr. Teach.”
“Okay, yeah, ‘m goin’,” Ed said, opening the car door. What the fuck was he doing? He had no idea, but everything in him was screaming that he needed to go inside. “Take the rest of the night off, Buttons. I’ll call a ride share when I’m done here.”
Buttons simply nodded. Ed shut the door and watched the taillights disappear into traffic. He took a deep breath and opened the door to the studio, which was now empty.
“Hello?” Ed called out.
“I’m sorry, but we’re closed for the night! The last session just finished!” Ed heard a voice that was unmistakably the same one from the message call out from somewhere in the back of the studio. Then he heard a loud crash. Ed hurried over in the direction he thought the noise had come from.
There, at the back of the studio, in a closet, under a fallen clothing rack, was Stede Bonnet. He gazed up at Ed with wide eyes.
“The Gentleman Choreographer, I presume?” Ed stood over him, his long gray-streaked black hair falling around his face.
“You’ve heard of me?” squeaked Stede.
“Oh, I’ve read all about you. On your website. And, uh, you left me a voicemail.”
This last statement caused Stede to scramble out from under the fallen clothes rack. Ed offered a hand to help him up. Even once Stede was standing, their hands remained clasped together between them.
“Oh, god, I am so sorry about that!” Stede cried, finally letting go of Ed’s hand. “I don’t know how that happened! It’s a new phone, you see, so I’m still getting familiar with the settings, and these infernal leggings I wear during lessons are so tight, I think I must have calf-dialed you!”
Ed furrowed his brow. “Calf-dialed?”
“Yes! See?” Stede pulled his phone from a side pocket of his (so tight, incredibly tight) dance leggings. “I keep it here when I’m running rehearsals in case the children need me.”
Ed swallowed. “Oh. Yup, nice, very good.”
Stede pocketed his phone again and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry to have inconvenienced you.”
“No bother, mate,” Ed said. “That call was the highlight of my day.”
“Oh, really, now!” Stede scoffed.
“No, no, I mean it,” Ed said. “Some maniac Kiwi calls me up, barking out dance moves? Who wouldn’t love that?”
Stede laughed. “Ah, yes, thought I detected a bit of home in your accent as well….” he trailed off with a questioning tone, and Ed realized he hadn’t actually introduced himself. He stuck out his hand again (purely out of politeness and etiquette and shit, not just for an excuse to touch Stede’s hand again). “‘m Ed. Ed Teach.”
Stede shook Ed’s hand and placed his other over where theirs were joined together. “Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Ed. And thank you for coming to my rescue just now.”
“Let me help you get this back up,” Ed said, reluctantly breaking contact to help Stede set the fallen clothes rack upright. Once it was standing, Ed began running his hands along the colorful array of costumes. “These are incredible, man.”
“Aren’t they? I’m very fortunate to have an extremely talented tailor on my crew. Of course our rehearsal gear is mostly cotton and spandex, but the man’s a genius when it comes to velvet and satin showpieces. Here, get a good handfeel on this.” Stede pulled a red velvet coat with gold embroidery detailing off the rack and held it out toward Ed. Ed grasped an edge of the fabric between his fingers.
“Fuck, that’s nice. It’s so soft!”
Stede beamed at him. “And cut to fit like a glove. It’s my new favorite thing! Would you like to see?”
“Yes,” Ed said, voice just above a whisper.
Stede pulled the coat on over his black rehearsal clothes and suddenly seemed to be standing about six inches taller. He pulled the front of the jacket taut and gave little spin, causing the coattails to swish around him.
“Again,” Ed said, the word tumbling out of his mouth without his brain’s permission.
Stede giggled. “Let’s go to the studio. I’ve got something I’ve been working on for our upcoming talent showcase and I’d love some feedback!”
Stede led Ed from the closet to the empty studio. He walked over to a set of speakers and scrolled through his phone, tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth as he searched for what Ed assumed would be a piece of classical dance music. “Ah ha!” he cried. He pressed a button and quickly got himself placed in front of the mirror in first position, standing tall and proud.
A rhythmic dance beat began and Ed stood frozen in shock as Stede began to strut, pose, spin, and sashay his way around the studio floor to Todrick Hall’s “Nails, Hair, Hips, Heels”. The tails of the red velvet coat swished around him with every hypnotic move.
Nails, hair, hips, heels, ass, fat, lips, real
Purse, full, big, bills, bitch I'm a big deal
Legs, legs, face, eyes, thin waist, thick thighs
You, me, you wish, new phone, who this?
Pussy puss, puss
Give them cunt, cunt, cunt, bitch
Mama yes god and you pop that tongue bitch
This whole club is my runway run bitch
Y'all five, four, three, twos, I'm a one bitch
“Oh, here’s my favorite bit, Ed! Watch the flow!”
Girl, what did that girl just say, girl?
Girl, I don't dance I work
I don't play, I slay
I don't walk, I strut, strut, strut and then sashay
I don't work for free
No, that's not the tea hunty
So make it rain on me and I might let you see
What you gonna let them see?
Stede’s eyes caught Ed’s in the mirror at that point, and he ran, cheeks flushed almost as red as the coat, over to the speakers and shut off the music.
Ed shook himself out of his daze. “Uh, why’d you stop, mate? That was incredible.”
Stede lifted his head and glanced shyly at Ed. “Oh, I, um. Couldn’t tell. Your face was…doing a thing.”
“Okay, well, yeah, I think I bluescreened for a minute there. But my god, Stede, you can move! I loved it.”
“Oh. Oh. Well, thank you.”
“Teach me.”
“What?”
“I want lessons. I want to be able to do…that.”
“Ed, you can’t be serious!” Stede laughed.
“I am! God, you just looked so…happy and free and fuckin' sure of yourself…and I…I want that.” Ed felt tears pricking at his eyes as his voice broke. What the fuck was he doing crying in the middle of a stranger’s dance studio?
Stede walked over to Ed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Ed. Are you alright?” he asked quietly.
Ed shook his head and sunk to the floor. Stede followed him down, sat next to him, and placed a hand on his knee. He didn’t press Ed to talk, he just waited. As the tears started flow, Ed took a deep breath and then just unleashed it all. He told Stede how much he hated his job, how trapped he felt, how lonely he was. And Stede listened. He produced a handkerchief from his inside coat pocket and offered it to Ed.
“‘m sorry,” Ed mumbled as we wiped at his face. “You’re tryin’ to close up and some idiot comes in and has a mental breakdown in your studio.”
“Hush, now. You wouldn’t believe the amount of breakdowns--and breakthroughs!--that happen here, Ed. And no small number of them have been my very own. I’ve been where you are, felt the way you’re feeling. And if you want dance lessons, then you shall have them! Now, on your feet! We’re having a night! Once you’ve changed.”
Stede helped Ed off the floor and led him back to the costume racks, where he helped Ed select his own velvet coat, this one in a deep purple. When they returned to the studio floor, Stede spent twenty minutes searching for a song to use to teach Ed.
“Can’t we just do that Todrick number?” Ed asked.
“That’s a bit advanced, Ed. And it’s really my thing.” What a bitch. Ed loved it. So much so that Ed had to adjust the leggings Stede had put him in.
“Ah, here we go! Just the thing, I think! Now, follow my lead. And five, six, seven, eight!”
***
Six weeks later, a very happily retired Ed Teach made his debut in The Gentleman Choreographer’s Autumn Vibes Talent Showcase. He missed a step or two as he danced his way through “Because the Night”, but you’d never know it from the (many) congratulatory kisses he received from his boyfriend.