The Intervention
bea_nonymous
The strobing lights of Babylon pulsated in sync with the strident oscillations of techno beats and the humping of oiled, writhing bodies. Four particular men huddled together against the bar in conspiratorial brotherhood. Each face bore a distinct expression-sympathy, amusement, horror, and confusion.
"Someone needs to say something. Put him out of his misery. And ours." Ted turned away from the pitiful sight on the dance floor and ordered another drink.
"Oh, come on! He's not that bad...just...different. He does his own thing."
"Justin, he nearly knocked your head off during 'I Will Survive'. And you didn't get that shiner from rough sex. I saw him elbow you last night."
"It was an accident," Justin muttered. He self-consciously touched the bruised skin around his eye. It was still a little tender despite icing it for the better part of the day.
"Yeah, and so is that," Emmett piped up, pointing to Octupus Man. "A really bad accident. A terrifying freak of nature. A centipede on skates..."
Michael interrupted and jumped into the fray. "Hey! Lay off him already. We all know he's not Baryshnikov, all right? But he's comfortable with himself, and I don't think he'd take too kindly to us criticizing him. Besides, Brian and I have been best friends since we were fourteen years old. We've always looked out for each other."
Michael received three distinct eye rolls and went back to being ignored.
"Well, I think it's kinda...sexy." Justin made this proclamation with the intention of convincing himself more than the others. In all honesty, he had known for a long time that something had to be done. He was tired of his toes hurting all the time from being trampled on.
Shaking his head in pity, Ted sighed heavily. "Brian's dancing is not sexy. I know he's your boyfriend and you love him and blah, blah, blah, but sometimes love means hurting the ones you care for the most."
Just then, the tempo of the music shifted from techno to a bouncier beat. The synthesized strains of a current Top-40 hit filled the club. Brian knocked someone over with an ill-timed hip thrust, causing his friends to groan in embarrassment.
Justin scrunched up his nose and tried not to laugh at Brian's uncoordinated gyrations. "What's he doing now? It looks like he's imitating a derailed train."
Emmett squeaked and buried his face on Ted's shoulder, speaking in between shuddering sobs. "No, he's just trying to do the Running Man. Does he honestly think that's still popular? Teddy, I don't know how much more of this I can take!"
Ted managed to extricate his wet shirt from Emmett's blubbering grasp. "Justin. I'm afraid you're just gonna have to talk to him."
"What the hell am I supposed to say? 'Uh, Brian. Don't dance anymore. People think you're having an epileptic fit'?
"Maybe offer to sign him up for lessons at Dancing Queen Studios? We'll all chip in to cover the costs. After all, it's for your own safety, Justin. And for our mental health. And possibly for the overall good of mankind."
Justin gazed into his drink sorrowfully. "I can't. He'd never fuck me again."
"Oh, God! Not the Cabbage Patch! Anything but that!" Emmett wailed and wiped his runny nose with a cocktail napkin.
"Well, then. There's only one thing to be done," Ted concluded with a slap on the counter. "We need to stage an intervention as soon as possible. Tomorrow. Before we chicken out, that is."
"Look, guys. That wouldn't be right. Brian and I have been best friends since we were fourteen years old. We've always looked out for each other..."
"Shut up, Michael," came the unified scolding. "You're going."
****
Black leather jacket in hand, Brian opened the loft door only to stop short. "Oh, just my luck. It's the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Why are you blocking my doorway?"
With Emmett leading the way, the foursome marched in, full of high grandeur like a brigade during cadence. The door slid shut and they lined up as if awaiting execution by a firing squad.
"If you came to chat, tough shit. It's the annual Socks for Cocks fundraiser at Babylon, and I'm late."
Ted was the first to speak. "This isn't a social call. We are here on very important business. Something that involves all of us, especially Justin."
Brian looked at Justin, who waved sheepishly. "What? You want to watch me fuck him? Done. Justin, bend over."
Justin shook his head vehemently and stammered. "No, um, you see, the thing is..."
"...you look like a spinning windmill when you dance," Ted blurted out.
"It's true," Justin reluctantly agreed. "You nearly poked my eye out the other day."
"Good going, you two!" Michael fumed sarcastically. "I told you this wouldn't work. Brian, look, you and I have been best friends since we were fourteen years old. We've always looked out for each other..."
Emmett made an exasperated noise and threw his hands up in the air. He made a grand show of removing his sunglasses and firmly took Brian's hands into his like a Mother Hen comforting her chicks. "Honey, what we're trying to say is that the Karate Kid wants his wax-on, wax-off moves back, understand? I mean, haven't you noticed that we head for the bar whenever you step onto the dance floor? It's not because the bartender is really hot. It's because we're afraid of you. It's dangerous out there with you shaking your tail feather every which way."
Brian's eyes moved incredulously from face to face. "This is about my dancing?"
"Prancing is more like it," Justin chimed not-so-helpfully. He simply shrugged when Brian raised his eyebrows. "I'm just sayin'..." he trailed off.
"It's not that we don't love you," Emmett continued, "because we do. Like a brother. Well, except for Justin, who loves you in a non-brotherly, suck-my-cock kinda way, because that would be totally 'ew' if he loved you like a brother. Oh, and Michael, who loves you in a weird, restraining order kinda way..."
Ted stepped forward and reached into his inner coat pocket. He pulled out a gift certificate and handed it to Brian. "Don't be offended, but this is worth six weeks of dance lessons. See the heading? Beginning Movement for the Less Agile. Designed specifically for those who are rhythmically challenged..."
Justin noticed that Brian's right temple started to throb. He cleared his throat and licked his lips. "Eh, Ted?"
"...I also believe there's a companion course, Light Steps for the Long-Limbed. And if you do well..."
Emmett took into account Brian's heightened color and nervously tugged at Ted's sleeve. "Hey, sweetie?"
"...there's an advanced course called Fancy Footwork for Fairies..."
"Stop!" Brian barked. His hands shook, and he counted to ten before he spoke again. "I think you need to leave. Right. Now."
"Yeah, um, right. That would be best. Come on. We tried."
Brian watched as the guys scurried out the door. He no longer felt like partying. Walking over to the full-length mirror, he swayed back and forth for a few moments. Oh my God. He immediately picked up the phone. "Hello, Dancing Queen Studios? I'd like to sign up for lessons..."