Work Text:
Basic in Place (Jive)
Dick eyes the celebrity dancers critically. It’s a pretty mixed field, in his opinion. The usual amount of actors, politicians and sportspeople—those were always wildcards. Some comedians, who were at least comfortable with that kind of limelight, and singers, who tended to do best just because they were used to moving to music. Back when he was a pro, he’d have liked Cassie or Kara; or maybe Jessica, who looks like she’s about to cry when Dick catches a glimpse of her in rehearsals.
Eh. Garth will handle her. Hopefully.
It’s not Dick’s job to worry about it, not anyone more. He’s a juror now, and he finds, as he settles down into a chair and goes about his first night judging the couples he was once a part of, that he likes it.
Jason Todd is number eight in a field of sixteen, and… uh… Dick will be surprised if he’s still number eight after receiving his scores. Kori does her best. She’s not the easiest dancer to lead. However, that should be more of an advantage in the first few shows where many of the male celebs are happy to be guided through the choreography. Jason’s just… not up for it.
“You lack the foundation,” Bruce says. “Your footwork is atrocious, and your back too stiff. No wonder your arms don’t know what they’re doing. You need to go back to basics with Kori and figure out the steps and rhythms before you try doing anything expressive.”
He’s right. Jive isn’t the easiest dance to start with, but as he’s an MMA fighter, Jason’s stamina should be up for it. Dick gives him a three and doesn’t feel bad about it at all.
Reverse Turn (Viennese Waltz)
Jason gets to open the next show, poor sucker. Dick knows firsthand what a pressure that is.
He’s always been more of a Latin dancer, but he appreciates a good Viennese Waltz for its sheer romantic qualities. As the first strains of “Where The Wild Roses Grow” begin to play, Dick nods approvingly. Kori apparently went for full drama this time.
And Jason does do better. Bruce’s words must have reached something in him cause his footwork is solid and his posture appropriate. (The older man does give good advice, even Dick personally knows how much its delivery can hurt.) They even add in a few lifts, which, solid choice. Jason is definitely strong enough.
…maybe a little too strong, though. It means his posture doesn’t have to be perfect (lifts are about leverage and perfect positioning just as much as pure strength), and Kori’s heels get just a little too close to his chest. That perfectly crisp white shirt never stood a chance. There’s an audible rip and Strictly Comes Dancing gets to experience the glory of Jason Todd’s right pec.
Now, Dick is very much not opposed to a bit of ogling. Jason doesn’t seem fazed, either, so he doesn’t even feel about it. The only thing is: When Jason comes up to the jury desk, Dick sees that what he took to be a colorful tattoo is, in fact, a soulmark. A pair of birds, blue and red, nesting close together.
The perfect match, indeed, to the one over Dick’s heart.
“…what do you think, Dick?”
Dick looks into the camera and smiles. “Agreed, Clark. I’m impressed that you just kept going, and both your presentation and footwork have improved much. The transitions… well, Kori will tell you plenty about them. A definite improvement, Jason, well done.”
Jason nods and turns to Bruce. Nothing in his face gives away that anything just happened. He must’ve seen Dick’s soulmark, right? It’s on display every Latin dance he does. But he hasn’t done any this season, just sat behind this desk…
It’s gonna be a long fucking evening.
Shoulder to Shoulder (Rumba)
“Hey, Clark?”
Clark’s smiling when he turns around. “Hey, Dick. What can I do for you?”
“You know how this is my first time as a judge—“
“And you’re doing great,” Clark interrupts, and Dick smiles.
“Thanks. However, there’re one or two contestants I have trouble with—Jason Todd, in particular. I wanted to ask if you’d be alright taking the first spot with him. “
Clark frowns, looking concerned. “I mean—yes, of course. Just… is everything alright with you?”
Is it?
One of the celebrity contestants on the show turned out to be Dick’s soulmate last week. How’s Dick supposed to be? What’s he supposed to do?
He’s thought about it. This is a competition, and Dick is a judge. He takes that very seriously, even if it is show business. How could he face his fellow dancers and jurors if they knew that one candidate is his soulmate? Also, from what he can see, Jason seems to be one of these exceedingly competitive people even if he’s always happy to cheer for others. Dick doesn’t want to spoil it for him.
There’s also the question of publicity. This is a tv set; nothing stays secret if the producers smell a good story. Not to be prejudiced or anything, but Dick can’t imagine the news that Jason “The Red Hood” Todd’s soulmate is a man that likes to dance covered in glitter and feathers will go down well. The dancing world, too, has plenty of its own preconceived notions about manliness and leading men.
Nah. It’s much better if Dick just lets sleeping dogs lie. There’s a good chance Jason has no idea that they’re soulmates. Dick can approach him when the competition is over. If he still wants to.
Dick gives Clark a grin. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Uncle Clark.”
Later, when Jason dances a rumba that shows that he a) can move his hips (oh boy, can he) and b) has a smolder hot enough to match Kori’s, Dick is very glad for his decision. He needs a moment to compose himself, or all of his comments will be about his soulmate’s thighs and ass.
That hip swing. Jesus help him.
Solo Spot Voltas (Samba)
If Dick thought the rumba was bad… two shows later, Jason has to dance to the samba and lights the audience on fire. Dick is close to jumping to his feet; that’s how fucking fun their routine is. Sure, there are a few mistakes here and there, but Jason glides across the stage like a particular rhythm-loving panther, and then he and Kori shake it.
True to his word, Clark nudges Bruce when Hal looks like he’s about to turn to Dick for judgment first. Bruce has probably caught onto something by now-Dick doesn’t kid himself-but he hasn’t asked, and he’s being a good sport about it.
“You know I’m more the sentimental-erotic type,” Bruce starts. (Hal interrupts with: “And the latex type,” which, fair.) “But what you did here today was perfectly suited for the dance, and the audience clearly loved it. Even more important, there was some solid dancing in there.”
“Thanks,” Jason says drily. Kori laughs and looks pleased.
“As for all the hip… swings, if you can call them that,” Bruce makes a hand movement that’s probably supposed to be a figure eight but ends up looking more like a failed attempt at fly-catching, “Dick is more qualified to talk about them.”
Dick takes back every charitable thought he ever had about Bruce and then some.
Jason grins—rather cockily—and turns to Dick, cocking a hip out as he does. “Yes, Dick? What do you think about my hips?”
Dick laughs for the cameras. “Oh, quiiiite a lot. Mostly that having a great ass isn’t quite enough to distract me from the zeroes you’re trying to call figure eights.”
If anything, Jason’s grin grows wider. Hal jumps into the breach immediately: “I’m sorry, I know there was criticism in there, but all I can hear is that you called his ass great. Judging from all the catcalls earlier, the audience certainly agrees…”
Someone whistles, and then everyone is clapping and cheering loudly enough that Jason’s “Coming from you, Dick, that’s quite the compliment” almost goes unheard.
Dick hears, though, and tries not to blush. He’s used to compliments about his backside, but is Jason… flirting? Usually, Dick is pretty good at telling when someone is into him. This being a show with plenty of humor, though, the lines are blurrier.
“Ladies and gentlemen, show some decorum,” Hal calls out as if he hasn’t animated everyone into the rowdy behavior in the first place. “Clark. Can I please count on you for some sane comments?”
“I don’t know…” Clark’s eyes twinkle. “It is a very nice ass.” When everyone groans, he continues: “Another I liked is the way you’re now clearly leading Kori across the dancefloor. You might want to shift your weight just slightly during the….”
Change of Direction (Foxtrot)
Dick nods approvingly. Jason’s foxtrot is quite the show; his best ballroom performance so far. His turns are sharp, his movements gliding, and he’s leading Kori, no question about it anymore. They even managed to create quite a romantic atmosphere. When Jason dips Kori into a dramatic backbend and nuzzles her throat, closing his eyes and breathing her in… well, the audience loves it, and in a totally different way than last week.
However, when it comes to jury ratings… Bruce gets to start today, and he’s not holding back. “Jason. Jason, Jason, Jason.”
Jason raises an eyebrow. “Bruce, Bruce, Bruce.”
“What’s so hard about being straight?” Bruce asks, exasperated.
Dick feels the corner of his mouth twitch.
“I dunno, never been straight in my life,” Jason replies, only to immediately look like he really hasn’t meant to do that.
There’s a moment of silence, but never let it be said that Bruce will be deterred from valid criticism just cause an MMA fighter just came out on his dance floor. “Then tell your spine to acquire some heteronormativity as soon as possible, or I foresee dire things for your waltz next week.”
“Yes, sir,” Jason replies. “I’ll do my best to dance as if the stick up my ass is as big as yours.”
Bruce harrumphs. “My boy, we will not be talking about anything I put up my ass until at least show ten. Decent work. Go shoo.”
Dick—who has practically been raised by Bruce, has watched him banter with Clark and Hal for ages and still has no idea if he’s fucking either of them—loses it. Just. Breaks down into giggles and can’t stop until tears are streaming down his face. It’s a mess. He buries his face in his hands and probably smudges his eyeliner beyond repair; that’s how long it takes for him to stop laughing.
When Dick finally looks up, Jason catches his eye and winks.
Well, that answers that question.
Wing (Waltz)
They introduced a new element this season: The juror’s dance. Each of the three judges teaches a choreography to a randomly assigned group of contestants, and then the other two judge for bonus points.
Bruce goes to draw first. Dick knows he’s planned something devastatingly elegant, probably involving the waltz. Clark is looking for something more along the lines of cha-cha or samba, while Dick intends to have a great program with a tango or paso doble, or so God help him.
Well, tough luck to Bruce. He draws the bottom three candidates of their current field. Two of them are comedians and one a starlet, and neither know how to convey a serious face, let alone do a good ballroom posture. To his credit, he still grins into the camera and says: “I got the best group. You will have chills. Chills.”
Dick goes next, and he seems happy enough. Dick, as the youngest, goes last. Since he can do basic math, he knows exactly who’s name is in the last plastic ball he draws.
Jason Todd and Kori Anders.
On the one hand, this is a gift—and opportunity to do more than observe Jason. On the other hand, Dick is nervous as fuck. He wants to be better prepared.
Being a pro dancer on this show also means being a therapist. Dick has helped celebrities through discovering their femininity, overcoming stage fright, and dealing with perfectionism. You spend eight hours a day being closer than porn stars; it’s inevitable. If anyone on this show knows Jason by now, it’s Kori.
That’s why Dick tries to use his opportunity when he runs into her at the door to the practice rooms the next day. “So,” he asks, trying to sound casual, “what’s Jason’s deal?”
She gives him a look that shows she’s not impressed. “Stubborn as a mule and plenty of daddy issues.”
Dick laughs. “That bad, huh?”
“Jokes through everything and pretends he doesn’t work hard even when he’s in the studio an hour before me.” She shrugs. “Men.”
“Ouch.”
“He’s a good man,” she says unexpectedly. “He’s just finding his wings.”
She touches Dick’s shoulder and smiles, and then she’s off to join Jason. Dick watches them covertly and tries to identify this feeling in his heart.
Little wing, he thinks. Something about that sounds right, as if he’s called Jason that before, or maybe a previous life; whichever one established this bond they both carry tattooed on their chest. Little wing.
Kori catches his eye and raises an eyebrow. Before she can ask what he’s still doing here and thereby alert Jason to his presence, Dick flees.
Coupe de Pique (Paso Doble)
Dick enters the room for group training and tries not to look for Jason first. It’s just… hard. They haven’t interacted much outside of the show, and now they’re supposed to work together.
Everyone is incredibly excited to see him, though. Dick thinks it might just be the relief he’s not Bruce, but he’ll take it. By the time he waves to Jason, both of them look nothing but professional and friendly. After that, Dick gets lost in the choreography, even if he can’t help observing Jason.
He’s incredibly hard-working, that much Dick can tell. By lunchtime, the other celebrities are covered in sweat and slink off for food and some rest. Jason, by contrast, is still going through some steps.
Kori just rolls her eyes when she sees that. She clasps Dick’s shoulder briefly on the way out. “Good luck with that.”
“I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong,” Jason says as soon as Dick approaches. “I know you keep saying it’s not the movements themselves, it’s how I interact with Kori, but—“
“She’s your red flag,” Dick says, and Jason rolls his eyes.
“I know. Believe me, she tells me about twice a minute—as if I could forget with that hair.”
“Listen to her, then.” Dick shakes his head, moving closer. “What that phrase means is—she’s an extension of yourself.” Without warning, he grabs Jason’s waist with one hand, clasping the other with his left.
Jason’s hand moves to his shoulder as if on autopilot and Dick smiles. It’s nothing to lead him into the first steps; Jason’s got a feeling for rhythm and basic steps, and when Dick leads, he leads.
“You use her. You’re a strong fighter, proud, cocky in the face of death.”
Jason gives a crooked grin. “Sounds familiar.”
“Exactly. Kori—she’s your instrument and your prize in the ring.” Dick spins Jason. When they’re face to face again, he continues: “And yet… she’s her own person—a wild thing. You don’t possess her, and you know it.”
He leads Jason across the floor and revels in the way this large, dangerous man follows. Under Dick’s hands, Jason’s hips become sensual, his turns both sharp and flirty, and Dick can’t resist: He pulls Jason close, his hand pulling up one of Jason’s legs to his hip as he whispers: “She teases you, angers you, has you worship at her feet and filled with loathing—and you wouldn’t want it any other way.”
From this close, Jason’s eyes look more green than blue. Dick can smell him, musky and just a whiff of lavender, and tries to keep his hands steady.
“I think I get it,” Jason finally says. “Though I gotta say, all of that sounds like a fucking exhausting relationship.”
Dick laughs and lets go. “Go eat some lunch. You’ll need your strength for part two… and whatever choreo Kori has cooked up for you for this week.”
Jason groans. “I really do.” He pauses. “Thank you, though.”
“Any time,” Dick says, and then he does what he should have done ten minutes ago: He flees.
(On his way out, he passes Bruce’s room and hears strains of YMCA. That’s. He’s just not going to ask.)
Running Right Turn (Quickstep)
Jason and Kori do the Quickstep to Amy Macdonald’s This is the life, and they do it well. Dick decides to give them a nine—those arm movements aren’t quite where they should be, just that tiny bit disconnected from the rest of Jason’s body—and settles in to listen to Bruce’s comments with some anticipation. Those two have their comedy act down to an art that almost rivals the antagonistic chemistry Bruce has with Hal.
“Jason. I don’t know what to say.” Bruce looks very intimidating and brooding.
It’s a tough sell for a man who put on a disco outfit to dance to the Village People last week. Dick’s gonna have nightmares of that for months to come. He can’t imagine how Hal feels.
“Something good, I hope?” Jason’s laughing. Dick likes that about him—he seems more interested in how he feels about a performance than what other people think. Dick has seen him look furious with himself on eight-point nights and happy with five. It reminds him that the other man is also an athlete.
He can keep up with you, Dick thinks and immediately wants to slap himself for being sappy. Sure, he might carry Jason’s mark on his heart, but he doesn’t know the other man, not really. Those trailers before each performance can only show so much. Did it melt Dick’s heart to find out Jason sponsors an orphanage and works with disadvantaged youth in his studio? Yes, it did. Does he kid himself that facade is all there is to Jason? No, he doesn’t.
…Jason does have a great laugh, though. Boisterous, unrestrained, nothing fake about it.
“Yes.” Bruce still doesn’t smile. “This was as close to perfect as any performance here has ever been. Your timing, your carriage, your expression—well done, my boy. Ten out of ten. Hell, fifteen out of ten.”
“…oh.” Jason doesn’t seem to know what to do with that. Kori is screaming with joy.
Hal raises an eyebrow and turns to Clark. “Well. What do you say?”
“What can I, after that?” Clark’s grinning. “I thought it was a great performance with minor flaws, but honestly, if Bruce likes it…”
In the end, Clark and Dick both go for the nine. Bruce goes for the ten, his first of the season. Kori and Jason look more ecstatic than the night they objectively got a higher score with a nine from Bruce.
“He’s doing great,” Bruce tells Dick during the break. “He’ll be a good partner to any dancer.”
It takes a second for the meaning to sink in. When it does, Dick buries his head in his hands and groans, heedless of the curious stares he attracts. Right. Bruce knows Dick’s soulmark. He knows.
Jesus, is Bruce now biased? Because of Dick?
…he can’t wait until this season is over.
The Chase (Tango)
Okay, that’s not what he meant.
There’s a red light on Jason and Kori. Hal hesitates one last time—Dick always feels like strangling him when he does that—and then he says: “Cassie and Wally will get to go on to the next show! Sorry, Jason, Kori.”
Jason doesn’t look surprised at all, and neither is Dick. This close to the final, audience ratings can make or break the night, and Jason has been consistently polling in the lower third. It’s hard when you’re up against an influencer, a famous actor, and one of the four women that can call themselves ‘America’s sweetheart.’
Kori, though, looks furious. Dick doesn’t blame her in the least—in terms of scores and performance, Jason could have been her ticket to the second win of her career. But nooo, the audience busts it wide open once again.
When he gets back to his room, Dick feels a bit lost. Is he supposed to call Jason? He can probably get his number from an assistant. He should make sure to meet up with Jason before the other man leaves, right? They should talk about this soulmate thing?
There’s a knock on his door.
When Dick goes to open it, he expects Kori—they have a bit of a tradition on elimination nights. It involves a lot of alcohol and shitty 80s movies. Instead, it’s Jason, and he’s wearing… the outfit he wore to his first dance of the evening? Which, it being a tango, means black pants and a tight, tight shirt. Dick is distracted enough by the sight that it takes him a second to notice the fucking rose in Jason’s mouth.
Then he just cracks up. “Seriously?”
Jason shrugs and removes the rose, holding it out to Dick with a grin. “Figured it’s worth a try.”
“I mean, I’m not objecting.” Dick’s still chuckling, but he does take the rose and beckons Jason inside. The other cast members don’t have to hear all of this. “You know, then?”
“Oh, yeah, Kori saw mine, and then all of a sudden, videos of you dancing shirtless became very necessary to my training process.”
Dick’s gonna buy Kori so many flowers tomorrow. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Why didn’t you?” Jason counters.
“I was supposed to be impartial.” Dick shrugs. “I mean, I wasn’t, not really, but in theory. Also, figured we don’t need that kinda shit storm right away.”
“That’s about what I thought.” Jason’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, and he looks down. “Also wasn’t sure if you wouldn’t just reject me out of hand, to be honest, so…”
“So you… thought you’d impress me with your dancing improvements, first?”
“Did it work?”
It kinda did, yeah. “That’s incredibly sweet and a little sad,” Dick says instead, “and we will have to unpack that later. Now, though, I was gonna order some room service and watch a movie. Wanna join?”
“Sounds great. I could use some comfort food.” Jason looks up and lets his shoulders sag in an exaggerated mimicry of sadness. “I did just get eliminated from the show, you know.”
“Aww,” Dick cooes, and it’s easy, so easy. “Let me make it up to you.”
Sweetheart (Cha Cha)
They don’t go public that season. Nor the next. Before Dick’s third season as a judge, he approaches Clark and Bruce with an idea.
By now, he’s found his groove. The Twitter thread purely consisting of his puns is legendary, and the candidates and pro dancers love him. Dick has nothing to prove to anyone, not anymore, and neither has Jason.
(Except maybe to Bruce that yes, he’s a good enough man that he can ask Dick to marry him. Dick doesn’t know how to tell him that Bruce already knows that, and so does Dick; it’s Jason himself who still needs convincing.)
“Tonight,” Hal says, “we have two special guests to open the show. Well, one special guest, really, the other one you see every night. You know them from our season eleven where…”
Dick turns to his partner and asks, quietly: “Ready?”
Jason just won his championship five days ago; he’s still covered in bruises from the last few fights, and his jaw is barely taped together. It means the world to Dick that he’s here, anyway.
“Ready,” Jason says. His shirt is seethrough; the birds clearly visible. Dick’s own skin is covered… for now. It won’t be by the end of their choreography. He’s known for taking off his shirt when dancing, after all, and what better to reason to do so than to show the world that he’s found his perfect match?
“Lead the way,” Dick says, and when the assistant gives the sign, Jason bursts out onto the stage, starting his solo part to loud cheers from the audience.
Dick watches him with a smile. Jason, of course, thinks coming out again on this show is the funniest idea in the world and was surprisingly enthusiastic about learning a new dance, this time with Dick. He doesn’t know about the ring in Dick’s back pocket or that their best friends and family are in the audience.
That’s fine. He’ll find out soon enough.
The assistant gives another queue. Dick puts on his show face and joins his soulmate on the dance floor.
(Bruce gives their performance eight points for execution and ten points for emotion, but “minus fifteen for the needless ripping of shirts. Have some class, please.” Dick can live with these results.)