Chapter Text
It started because Jay was bored.
Not the kind of bored that meant he had nothing to do. Auradon had plenty to do, but the kind that settled under his skin anyway. Restless. Unused energy with nowhere to go.
He missed movement.
Missed the feeling of knowing exactly where his body needed to be before his brain caught up.
So he found Lonnie.
Or, more accurately, Lonnie found him.
“You’re sloppy today,” she said, not even looking up as she adjusted her stance.
Jay scoffed, rolling his shoulders as he twirled the practice sword in his hand. “I just got here.”
“Exactly.”
He smirked. “You always this welcoming?”
Lonnie finally glanced at him, unimpressed. “Only when you’re off your game.”
Jay pushed off the courtyard wall and stepped into position. “I’m never off my game.”
“Prove it.”
Their blades met with a sharp crack of wood against wood.
It was easy.
Not effortless, Lonnie never let it be effortless, but familiar. Jay moved fast, testing angles, shifting his weight with instinct more than thought. Lonnie matched him with precision, redirecting instead of overpowering, every movement clean and deliberate.
“You’re rushing,” she said, deflecting a strike.
“You’re slow,” he shot back.
She pivoted, knocking his blade just enough to throw off his balance. “You’re predictable.”
Jay adjusted immediately, grin flickering. “Yeah? Then stop me.”
“I am.”
They circled.
Clash. Step. Shift. Reset.
It went on like that for a while. Long enough that the rhythm settled in, long enough that Jay stopped thinking about anything else.
Which was why he didn’t notice the audience at first.
Lonnie did.
“Your fan club’s back,” she said casually, blocking another strike.
Jay frowned. “My what-”
He glanced over her shoulder.
Three kids stood near the edge of the courtyard. Too far to interrupt. Close enough that they were definitely watching.
Jay rolled his eyes, lowering his sword slightly. “You gonna stand there all day?”
The kids startled like they’d been caught doing something illegal.
“…Sorry,” one of them muttered.
Jay snorted. “I didn’t say leave.”
That…was not what they expected.
They exchanged uncertain looks.
Lonnie hid a smile.
Jay gestured vaguely with his sword. “If you’re gonna watch, at least pay attention. You’re all looking at the wrong thing.”
That did it.
Curiosity won.
They edged a little closer.
Jay turned back to Lonnie. “Again?”
She nodded.
This time, Jay slowed his movements: not dramatically, not enough to feel fake, but enough that the patterns were clearer. Intentional.
Lonnie caught on immediately.
“Showing off?” she asked under her breath.
“Teaching,” Jay corrected.
“Since when?”
“Since five seconds ago.”
Their blades met again, slower now, more controlled.
Jay angled his body deliberately. “See that?” he said, not looking away from Lonnie. “If your feet are wrong, nothing else matters.”
One of the kids leaned forward slightly.
Lonnie shifted, forcing Jay to adjust. “And if you only focus on your feet,” she added, “you’ll miss everything else.”
Jay smirked. “Yeah, that too.”
The kids didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t ask questions.
They just watched.
That should’ve been the end of it.
It wasn’t.
—
They came back the next day.
Not all of them. Just two.
Jay noticed as soon as he stepped into the courtyard.
“They followed you,” he said to Lonnie.
“They followed US,” she corrected.
“Pretty sure it’s me.”
Lonnie raised an eyebrow. “Oh, absolutely. Your sparkling personality.”
Jay ignored that, glancing toward the kids. “You gonna tell them to leave?”
“Nope.”
“…Why not?”
“Why would I?”
Jay hesitated.
He didn’t have a good answer for that.
So instead, he sighed and lifted his sword. “Fine. But if they get in the way-”
“They won’t,” Lonnie said.
She was right.
The kids stayed out of reach. Quiet. Careful.
Watching.
Always watching.
—
By the third day, there were five of them.
Jay stopped pretending it was a coincidence.
“Alright,” he said finally, lowering his sword mid-practice. “This is getting weird.”
The kids froze.
Lonnie crossed her arms, clearly entertained. “You’re just noticing?”
“Yes, I’m just noticing,” Jay shot back. “Why are there more of you?”
A girl near the front shrugged. “We told people.”
“…Why?”
Another kid spoke up, a little more confident. “It’s cool.”
Jay blinked.
Lonnie’s smile widened just enough to be noticeable.
Jay dragged a hand down his face. “We’re not putting on a show.”
“We know,” the first girl said quickly. “We just-”
She hesitated.
Jay tilted his head. “You just…?”
“…want to learn,” she finished.
That landed differently.
Jay shifted his weight, glancing at Lonnie.
Lonnie didn’t step in.
Didn’t answer for him.
Just watched.
Oh.
So this was his problem now.
Jay looked back at the group.
Different ages. Different backgrounds. Some Auradon, some Isle. He could tell without asking. The way they stood. The way they didn’t stand.
All of them waiting.
For him.
“…We’re not teachers,” Jay said.
It came out rougher than he meant it to.
A couple of the kids’ expressions fell.
Lonnie didn’t move.
Jay exhaled sharply.
“…But,” he added, before he could think better of it, “I mean- we can show you stuff. Basic things.”
The shift was immediate.
Hope. Relief. Excitement.
Too much of it.
Jay held up a hand. “Hey, don’t get ahead of yourselves. This isn’t a class.”
“Then what is it?” someone asked.
Jay opened his mouth.
Paused.
Looked at Lonnie.
She shrugged, like ‘you started this.’
“…Practice,” Jay said finally. “You show up, you practice. That’s it.”
They nodded like that was more than enough.
It probably was.
Lonnie stepped forward then, seamless as ever. “First rule,” she said, voice calm but firm. “No one touches a sword until we say so.”
Every single kid stilled.
Jay blinked at her.
“Oh,” he muttered. “That’s good.”
Lonnie shot him a look. “Thank you.”
Jay turned back to the group, regaining his footing. “Second rule: no showing off. You mess around, you’re out.”
A boy in the back immediately straightened.
“Third rule,” Jay added, almost without thinking, “no one gets hurt.”
That one was quieter.
More serious.
Even the Isle kids reacted to that.
Jay noticed.
He always noticed.
“…We mean it,” Lonnie said.
No one argued.
Jay nodded once, satisfied.
“Alright,” he said. “Then we start simple.”
He stepped forward, gesturing for them to gather closer.
Closer.
Not too close.
“Stance first,” he said. “Everything starts there.”
As they shifted, awkward and unsure, Jay moved among them: adjusting shoulders, nudging feet, correcting balance.
Not harsh.
Not impatient.
Just…steady.
Lonnie watched him for a moment.
Then stepped in beside him, mirroring the same quiet focus.
The courtyard filled with movement again.
Different this time.
Messier.
Louder.
But alive.
Jay stepped back briefly, taking it in.
The uneven stances.
The hesitant swings.
The way they looked at him-like he knew what he was doing.
He almost laughed.
He didn’t.
Instead, he rolled his shoulders and stepped forward again.
“Relax your grip,” he told one kid.
“Eyes up,” he reminded another.
“Yeah, like that. You’ve got it.”
It wasn’t perfect.
It wasn’t even close.
But it wasn’t nothing either.
And somewhere between correcting a stance and stopping two kids from bumping into each other, Jay realized-
He wasn’t bored anymore.
Not even a little.
—
When it ended, the kids lingered.
Like they weren’t sure if they were allowed to leave first.
Jay waved a hand. “You’re done. Go.”
They didn’t need to be told twice.
They scattered quickly, voices overlapping, energy spilling over into the courtyard as they disappeared.
Except…
One kid stayed behind a second longer than the rest.
Dark hair. Sharp eyes.
Isle.
Jay met his gaze briefly.
The kid didn’t say anything.
Just nodded once-
Then turned and left.
Jay watched him go.
Lonnie stepped up beside him. “You noticed him.”
“Yeah.”
“You notice all of them.”
Jay huffed quietly. “Someone’s gotta.”
Lonnie smiled slightly. “You didn’t say no.”
Jay crossed his arms. “Didn’t say yes either.”
“Mm.”
A beat passed.
Jay glanced back at the empty courtyard: the scuffed ground, the shifted practice markers, the clear evidence that something had happened here.
“…They’ll come back,” he said.
Lonnie didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, they will.”
Jay let out a breath.
“…We should probably figure out what we’re doing before that happens.”
Lonnie looked at him, just a little smug.
“I thought you said this wasn’t a class.”
Jay rolled his eyes.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Well. Don’t make it weird.”
Lonnie laughed softly.
Too late for that.
Because whether Jay wanted to admit it or not…
It had already started.
And it wasn’t going to stay small.