[Challenge & Counter to Seven] You Can Dance If You Want To

[dreamsofwords]

The backflips stopped trying to kill him about two days before the Challenge was set to occur, on the morning of January 19th, at the theatre in Town, and it was a good thing, Alasdair thought as he stood with Jeff and waited for the judges to deliver the verdict. He wasn't really a singer, after all, and he might have been Mak(in') 'Em Laugh in a way he didn't really anticipate otherwise. Especially in the face of Jeff's really polished Fred Astaire.

When Henry came back to tell them the news, though, it was Alasdair who was the winner, and he was smiling as he turned to shake Jeff's hand. "I thought you had me for sure," he said with an easy grin.

"So did I," Jeff said, grinning back and shrugging a little bit. "But that's what counters are for, right? Hey, you used to play ice hockey, right?"

"...Long time ago," Alasdair said, a line forming between his brows. It wasn't hard to figure out where this was going, he thought, and where it was going frankly sucked.

"Hey, it was a while ago for me too," Jeff said cheerily as he tipped his hat at Alasdair. See you there at two, Allie. Remember the skates."

Remember the skates, Alasdair thought as he made a face at Jeff's back and then ran a hand through his hair.

Well, at least he knew exactly where his skates were.





It could be worse, Alasdair thought several hours later, as the winter sun began to sink beneath the horizon. He could be in a broken, bruised heap on the ice already. There wasn't any doubt that Jeff was just a little better at this game; he figured it was the same part of him that made him a good shark lawyer.

Alasdair would be a terrible lawyer, but he had a few things up his sleeve. For one, he'd always been good on the ice. He'd been terrible at most sports, but hockey had been the one - the single one - where he'd been able to keep up with Evan growing up, and where he could keep up with Riley a little more recently. And then there the copoeira. He knew his friends had always laughed about him picking that as a martial art, but it made it easy to dance out of reach of Jeff Dornan's sharp elbows.

And it let him, as the seconds counted down on the clock, glide in close enough to steal the puck as Jeff was distracted with knocking him down.

He didn't get to just walk away with it, though. He could feel Jeff's breath on his neck as he took off down the ice, using his muscles in a way he hadn't in years. With five seconds left, he wasn't close enough, and Alasdair could feel Jeff taking off behind him in half-circle to block the goal. "Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath and glared at the goal. But what was there to lose? He thought as his lips narrowed into a line. He took his shot just as Jeff was coming around to the front but before he was close enough to intercept.

He made his shot, and he breathed out in a slightly disbelieving laugh as he finally let his butt hit ice. After a second, he squinted over at Jeff. "Good game," he said.

"...Yeah," Jeff said, his lips kicking up in the corner as he straightened out of the anguished crouch he'd gone into when the puck had sailed into the net. "Good game. Congratulations, Alasdair."

"Thanks," Alasdair said, and started struggling to his feet as people started to filter onto the ice. He took Jeff's hand when he offered it. "I got lucky."

Comments

[the_songbird]

Seeing as she's Alasdair's girlfriend, it would probably be awkward to say much to Jeff regarding his current loss. She can, at least, flash him a slightly apologetic good luck next time sort of smile, though, before she approaches Alasdair.

"Congratulations! That looked like a nice save!"

She didn't actually know much about hockey, but she got the gist anyway. Probably with pointers from Evan.

[dreamsofwords]

"It got down to the wire, that's for sure." He didn't really expect to win anymore than Jeff had expected him to win. "I might not be able to walk without wincing for at least two days, though. I'm pretty sure he clipped my knee."

[the_songbird]

She frowns slightly. "Should probably get you sitting down, then." And some ice. Once he's inside. Yes, this means he might be getting some nursing from the Jack of Clubs.

[dreamsofwords]

"It's not that bad." Sometimes he just needs to be a guy about it, really, especially in times like this. "Probably just bruised a little. There's some padding on under here."

[the_songbird]

Hockey is a pretty masculine sport. "Then there'll be no dragging you off to the doctor, then."

Though at these types of Challenges, there usually always seemed to be someone with medical know-how floating around, just in case.

[dreamsofwords]

"Not just yet," Alasdair said with a laugh. "Though, honestly, I wouldn't say no to a celebratory drink." He gives her a sidelong look, his dimples flirting in his cheeks. "Or a celebratory kiss."

[the_songbird]

She smiles at him and leans over to press a kiss to one of his dimples teasingly. "I think we can manage both of those. Maybe the drink should come first, though."

[dreamsofwords]

"You think so?" He laughed a little bit before he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and stepped gingerly off the ice. It'd be a little embarrassing, after winning, to fall on his ass.

A second time.

"Well, maybe we should corral your brother and Ri and see about doing that," he said. Probably some of his sisters too; they were about to descend like locusts.

[the_songbird]

"Sounds like a good plan, to me," she says, moving with him off the ice and onto more solid ground. "Before or after your adoring fans appear?"

Which if it's the former, they should go now. If the latter well...

Really it would only be polite to let him get some adoration from fans.

[dreamsofwords]

"Do you think there are that many?" He asked, a little doubtfully as he looked at the crowd. Of course he has friends, and family who wish him well. But so does Jeff. They're probably about equally popular, really.

Then again, that does look like a flock of high school girls about to descend.

[the_songbird]

"I don't know," she laughs, "it looks like you've attracted some new admirers. It was probably the singing and dancing."

Elani leans up to press a kiss to his cheek, "I'll go get the others, okay?"

[dreamsofwords]

"Hurry, would you?" It's a good-natured grumble. He's gotten used to, over the years, having a small cadre of girls trailing him now and again. It was the price of being a young teacher, he'd always figured. Most of the other ones were old enough to be the students' parents - not exactly the kind of guys you built fantasies around when you were bored in class.

"I'll send up a flare if I need some help."

[sirforawhile]

Sorry if this clap on the back startles you, Alasdair. Iggy's a bit too het up to notice in the hazy delight of congratulating him. "That was- that was-! I almost thought you'd be losing!"

[dreamsofwords]

"And we all thought it was the backflips that were going to do me in." He'll just prop himself up against the edge of the rink here until his legs stop wobbling. "Pretty sure both Jeff and I thought I'd be losing, too."

[sirforawhile]

There are plenty of people to keep the winner from falling. Enough that he might get carried off the rink, even. "You upset a ton of bets. Pretty sure at least one guy was adding on his bet on Jeff the last couple of minutes before that shot."

[dreamsofwords]

"Ah, the screams. Maybe I'll get stoned." In the not as fun definition of the word, that is. He might decide to get stoned in the fun way as a celebration, but...probably not. "I guess looks can be deceiving, even to me."

[sirforawhile]

"Diana's going to have a busy night once we're all out of here." Poke in the side where Allie presumably isn't tender. "So. Seven. How's that feel, then? Not got any last Six regrets?"

[dreamsofwords]

"She's going to owe me," Alasdair agrees with a grin. "It's...still sort of sinking in. I figure I'm going to have to remind myself that it's Seven of Hearts for a while. Might walk past my office at the school a couple of times after they update the plaque, you know?"

[sirforawhile]

"You poor sucker. Just wait. Someone's going to save the plaque and put it up all over to confuse the heck out of you. Remember when old Mr Carrington moved to Eight, how long that lasted?"

[dreamsofwords]

"Six months." Six months, seriously, of watching their high school physics teacher wander, vaguely lost, past his classroom and office. It'd been a hell of a year. "With my luck, they're already etching a 7 ♥ under my name at the school."

[sirforawhile]

"It's these newfangled inventions," Iggy says dryly. "Cellphones and cameras that take videos. Someone'll have called it in and someone else will be passing the moment of your victory around, I guarantee you."

[dreamsofwords]

"I should have known we were all doomed when we got past Morse code," Alasdair says with something of a dramatic sigh. "Ceiro's here anyway, I think. Judith probably would be, except Tristan's still too young for thwhole challenge thing. If they haven't already beat him to it at the school, he'll give them a call and let them know."

Ceiro was a good dean, all in all, even if his first action the year before had been telling Alasdair that he had to stop skipping Shakespeare. He was, at least, tolerant of the fact that Alasdair wasn't going to ever teach it the way the theatre department would like.

[sirforawhile]

"Gonna have an uproar in your classroom tomorrow," this said with a small elbow nudge. "They'll be using this to try and distract you, you know. Good luck reigning that set in."

[dreamsofwords]

Alasdair snorts a little and shakes his head. "I might just give the day up as lost," he says. "It's time to start the Shakespeare anyway...oh that's an idea," he adds brightly. "Henry's been bothering me for the last year to let him talk to the classes again." He expected he'd be getting a gentle reminder from the administration to cooperate with the arts departments if he kept putting him off.

"Tomorrow's as good a day as any." Then Henry could deal with the distracted teenagers while Alasdair sat behind his desk.

[sirforawhile]

Iggy snorts at that. "He'll be so thrilled he won't even mind the short notice. Is it going to be the same material as the last time, or will he be writing in a frenzy all night?"

[dreamsofwords]

"They're doing Henry VIII this year." Alasdair just thinks that it'd be nice if the theatre department ever put on something that wasn't Shakespeare. "So he'll have to come up with something on the fly about King Oooh Shiny."

[sirforawhile]

"Maybe he'll just exercise his improv, since he's the local expert on Shakespeare." Sarcastic air quotes included. "It'd be nice if they showed they were actually paying attention in history enough to poke holes into that."

[dreamsofwords]

It's nice when friends let you indulge in your irrational dislike of someone. It makes you feel all warm inside. "Somehow I think Henry's too much of a purist," he says dryly. He perks up a bit, though; they're the same rank now, which means he can do more pushing back when Henry decides to advise him on suggestions for the school drama club.

Oh, he's going to have fun.