Author's Note: Hello, all! Thank you for bothering to click on this fic! I stole the title from 'Bring Me Flowers' by Hope, the song Blake makes Andie dance to (on a totally unrelated note, that slow-mo krumping was awesome) during their first class. I thought that the lyrics were somewhat pertinent to the 'Blandie' pairing; "I haven't got a clue if you're the one/But I like you/And ooh, I like how you make me feel, yada, yada, yada". Was Blake trying to communicate something to Andie? Probably not. But it's a good starting point…
Anywho, I am an eternal shipper of 'Mandie' but this might just be my preferred pairing. You'd have to be dead to miss their heat. And while I love her relationship with Moose, I think I have more to sink my teeth into with Blake.
So yeah. This is my last fic for the shamefully sparse 'Step Up' archive and I loved writing it. Hope you love reading it…
Bring Me Flowers
Chapter 1: Opposites Distract
I avoid favoritism like the plague. It just does not do to prize certain students over others. Then again, if I did happen to have a special few under my charge, hypothetically that is, they would be James Francis Whittaker and Andrea West, which is odd considering the two could not be more different.
Jimmie: disciplined, respectful, easy to mold. Andie: raw, petulant, stubborn as a rock. But they stand out and that is valuable in a profession where talent is only one requirement…
I might take my imaginary favoritism a step further and say that I prefer Andie, with all her flaws, to Jimmie, in all his perfection. She is…challenging, to say the least, but it works. It makes me feel like I'm doing more than playing with mannequins.
I probably have Chase to thank for that. But of course, I will never ever actually thank him. The gloating would be unbearable…
Teachers That Suck…
Lincoln- spits generously when he talks (note to self- never sit in the first row again)
Madame Coquin- insists that we call her that (despite the fact that she's as French as a Big Mac)
Mr. Anderson- accuses me of being a spy sent by Julliard to sabotage them (if only)
Old Nelson– falls asleep randomly in class (once presumed dead)
A week ago, Blake might've topped that list, what with the ego-tripping and hating on The Streets and trying to break my leg in ballet class and expelling me that one time. But he has proved to be less of a jerk than I initially thought. He gave it a chance; he gave us all a chance, and now MSA isn't such a sucky place to be at…
He is seriously uptight, though. I mean, pardon my poetry, but Blake is so tense that the bug up his ass has a bug up its ass. Dude needs to lighten up, maybe hook up.
Chase should look into that…
Lessons like these make me wonder how the hell she is still here. This 'shaking of the moneymaker' is nowhere near as cute as she thinks it is. All right, it was a little cute the first time but I cannot accept it as a legitimate effort. Even hip-hop requires more technique…
"That is more than enough, Miss West. Miss West, stop…Andie!"
She freezes, mid-wiggle. "I am listening and interpreting, Blake."
"It's Director Collins. Don't think that we're chums just because you're dating my brother."
Andie straightens up and jerks her head to get the hair out of her eyes. "I'm trying to have a little fun. You know, ha, ha, ha? Why so serious, man?"
You see what I mean? She says things like that; stupid, obnoxious things and I know she will never understand how important this is, to me, to my family.
"This is not fun, Andie," I attempt through gritted teeth. "This is art, life, and I won't have you making a mockery of it."
"I'm not!" she whines, stretching out with the idleness of a cat. "It's just…ballet is all tutus and tights and twirling to me."
Tutus? Tights? Twirling? "You little heathen." I hiss, crossing my arms. "Have you ever seen or even heard of Coppelia? La Bayadere? Don Quixote? Le Corsaire?" She shrugs. "What about the more commercial hits? The ones any nitwit could Google. Romeo and Juliet, The Nutcracker?"
"Hey!" she snorts, taking a step back. "I get that it's hard, okay? I've seen the work that goes into it. What I don't see is the relevance."
The relevance? I could give the insufferable chit a ten-page essay on the relevance of ballet today. But would she read it? Oh, no. Miss West demands a more practical education…
"All right. You've shown me your dance culture. Now I'm going to show you mine."
"Show her your what, you dirty old man."
The grin on her face and the smirk in his voice is enough for me to know who has just arrived. "Hello, Chase," I exhale. "Come to return your girlfriend to the ghetto?" He takes her home after every lesson, even if it means hanging around for two hours. I suppose I should be happy for him. He's never put this much effort into a girl before…
"Bite me, Blake."
But she has gathered her things and rushed out the door with him before I can finish. Never mind. There is a dancer in there somewhere and it is my responsibility, nay my duty, as a teacher to chip away until I find her. I think a field trip is in order…
I keep telling him that Chase and me are not dating, we are not 'boyfriend and girlfriend'. The guy never listens, or he does but enjoys screwing with me anyway.
It's not that I don't want that, the handholding, the milkshake-sharing, whatever else it means to be in an exclusive relationship. But assumptions are tricky bitches. The fact that we had this one hot kiss in the rain does not mean we're official.
This is a hard-learned lesson courtesy of Tucker Smith. He thought that we were going somewhere and I knew we weren't. Instead of telling him straight out, I danced around the issue (no pun intended), in the hope of saving our friendship (and my place in the 410, I admit).
I won't flatter myself that he was thinking about me when he kicked Chase's ass and trashed Blake's studio. But my 'rejection' can't have helped either way.
Anyway, my point (yeah, I had one) is that I don't want to end up in Tuck's position, waiting for something to happen, realizing that nothing is going to happen, then feeling like a fool…
"So what does Blake really wanna show you?"
"What? Oh. His dance culture, whatever that means."
Chase smirks. "Sorry he's such a Nazi."
I shrug. "If Blake wasn't Blake, who would we make fun of?"
I mean it. One big upside of being at MSA is the opportunity to torment its Director. That thing I said earlier about ballet? I just wanted to see him mad. His mouth sets in this crazy thin line and his eyes bulge and his skin goes really pale. He's like some sort of lizard. It's awesome…
"What?" Chase chirps when we've pulled up to the house and I'm halfway out the door. "No goodbye kiss?"
I shake my head a little. Where did he learn to be so slick? Definitely not from his Type A brother. Maybe his Dad? Or is he self-taught? Either way it's pretty impressive, and I can't help but smile as I lean in for the-
"Andie? You've got a phone call."
Wow. Sarah has such bad timing it's incredible.
Chase laughs at my grimace and looks around me to wave at the woman standing on the porch. She's all smiles as I run up the stairs and once we've waved him off she coos:
"You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend."
"He's not my-" I sigh, feeling stupid for blushing. "I have a phone call?"
Sarah shrugs and I jog past her, only to find Charlie on the phone, clucking like a chicken.
"Gimme that, you little misfit. Hello?"
There's a beat before: "Hey, D. It's Felicia…"
A/N: Yep! I'm bringing Felicia back. She's a strong character. And a hot chick to boot. She's clearly impressed with the MSA crew during the final scene at The Streets and I think it's possible that she started to miss her friends (dancing and just hanging out with them) after that.
So yeah. How do you like our first chapter?