23Jan13reblog
for the Fantasy TV Meme || 01/05 AUs
In which Derek is a classically trained ballet dancer, who learned his art at the most expensive academy money could buy. His dancing is technically perfect, but it is missing that something. Then comes an audition for his dream role, but the producers want someone who can display a more free-form, edgy style of ballet. His agent Lydia Martin thinks she has an answer that will kill two birds with one stone.
Enter Stiles, a hip-hop dancer working 2 jobs to try and finance his dancing career. Stiles has something by the bucket load but his dancing is a little unpolished, to say the least. Lydia is also managing Stiles, and sets up a meeting between the two of them in the hope they can learn from each other and start getting some damn work, because Lydia Martin only manages success stories, fact.


"OK, do you wanna maybe try that again? Without looking like a corpse after rigamortis has set in this time? That would be good, great even." The sigh that follows is loud, over dramatic, and deliberately antagonizing.
"It’s called posture Stiles. It’s a pretty integral part of real dancing; just so you know.” Derek snaps. The kid slouches against the rail and throws him a shit eating grin, crossing one leg lazily over the other before pushing up the sleeve of his scruffy red hoodie and eyeing his watch like he has better places to be.
"Well you dance like you’ve got a stick up your ass, Derek, just so you know…”
Derek wants that role, he really does, but nothing can be worth this torture. Nothing.

for the Fantasy TV Meme || 01/05 AUs

In which Derek is a classically trained ballet dancer, who learned his art at the most expensive academy money could buy. His dancing is technically perfect, but it is missing that something. Then comes an audition for his dream role, but the producers want someone who can display a more free-form, edgy style of ballet. His agent Lydia Martin thinks she has an answer that will kill two birds with one stone.

Enter Stiles, a hip-hop dancer working 2 jobs to try and finance his dancing career. Stiles has something by the bucket load but his dancing is a little unpolished, to say the least. Lydia is also managing Stiles, and sets up a meeting between the two of them in the hope they can learn from each other and start getting some damn work, because Lydia Martin only manages success stories, fact.

"OK, do you wanna maybe try that again? Without looking like a corpse after rigamortis has set in this time? That would be good, great even." The sigh that follows is loud, over dramatic, and deliberately antagonizing.

"It’s called posture Stiles. It’s a pretty integral part of real dancing; just so you know.” Derek snaps. The kid slouches against the rail and throws him a shit eating grin, crossing one leg lazily over the other before pushing up the sleeve of his scruffy red hoodie and eyeing his watch like he has better places to be.

"Well you dance like you’ve got a stick up your ass, Derek, just so you know…”

Derek wants that role, he really does, but nothing can be worth this torture. Nothing.

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