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Kay sighed, obviously exasperated. “I don't do that.”
Arthur laughed and clapped his older brother on the shoulder. “Oh, come on now; we both remember your dance lessons as a kid. Don't deny it, or I'll go find the photos.” Kay turned a particularly shocking shade of scarlet, and Gareth giggled.
“You danced?” he asked, a burning curiosity sparking in his mind. He needed to see this.
“Shut up, Beaumains. I did not,” Kay responded without breaking his glare at Arthur. Glancing at the rest of them, he whispered, “Arthur has a troubled relationship with the truth.”
“I have the photo album in my car!”
Gareth laughed again as jeers erupted around him.
They were crowded around the bar in the Round Table, the kitchen closed for the night and the bar never open on Mondays. There were about a dozen of them; Kay, Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, himself, and Gawaine — Agravaine and Gaheris had gone home, with Gaheris too tired to stick around and needing someone to drive him. Mordred had hitched a ride, not particularly wanting to deal with the kitchen's festivities. Lamorak and Tristan had stuck around as well, the latter practically hanging off Isolde while Lamorak stole jealous glances. Gareth once remarked that it was hard to tell whether Lamorak was more envious of Tristan or Isolde; Kay had let out a sharp bark of laughter before telling him to watch his tongue.
There were several other faces crowded around them, none of which Gareth knew all too well. He should be better about knowing his coworkers, as he often tells Gawaine, but the faces and names slip right past him.
None of them mattered in the moment, however, because Kay was flushed in embarrassment, if lightly, and Gareth knew the look on his face.
“Please, Kay? For your little brother?” Arthur pulled an exaggerated pout, clasping his hands together as if in prayer. Kay sighed.
“One dance.”
Arthur cheered and the rest of them joined in, someone even letting loose a wolf whistle as Kay turned to walk up to the little stage in the corner. Kay whipped around with a vicious glare directed towards wherever the whistle had come from.
Arthur played around with the jukebox, and a moment later a simple, jaunty reel filled the room. A mixture of fiddle, pipes, and guitar echoed through the rafters, and Kay's feet started flying. Gareth stared in awe.
He had never been one for dance, never really having been willing to put that effort in, but watching Kay made him want to learn everything. Kay, whose body was a tool first and foremost; Kay, who Gareth had never, ever pictured dancing; Kay, who had never been anything but blunt and brusque, was suddenly graceful and quick upon the stage.
Kay's eyes hardened with focus as the song sped up and his movements sped up with it. Gareth wasn't aware that someone could move that fast, much less in time to music — much less Kay. Gareth knew that Kay would be less than impressed at his reverence of the man, but he couldn't help it. Kay's dancing was one of the most impressive things he'd ever seen.
The song sped up further still, and Kay didn't falter. He spun and kicked and turned and Gareth almost wished he could have been on the stage as well, arm-in-arm with the man he was now seeing in a completely different light. He could never keep up, of course, but with something slower ... something gentler ... he would love to dance with Kay some day.
The song began to wind down, the frantic rhythm and energetic instrumentals fading out as Kay slowed his footwork and took a short, awkward bow. Applause erupted around the room, and Kay's face flushed visibly. He was shining with sweat, panting. Arthur whooped as Kay stepped down from the stage, grabbing his hand and throwing an arm around his shoulder.
“Let's hear it for Kay!” Arthur encouraged, and the cheers and applause were overwhelming.
Evidently Kay thought so too, seating himself in the corner of the bar and nursing a beer, glaring at anyone who tried to commend him individually. Gareth sat down beside him.
“Kay—” he began.
“No.”
“Oh, come on.”
“If it's about the dance, I don't want to hear it.”
“Actually, I was going to ask you why you're still here.”
Kay was taken aback by the straightforwardness of the question. “What?”
“Well, no offense, you're obviously miserable. You're also a grown man who can make your own decisions. Why are you here?”
Kay huffed a laugh. “Carpooled with Arthur and Guin today. If I take my car, they've got no way home.”
Gareth nodded. “That's ass.”
Kay laughed again, louder this time.
“You wanna go outside?” Gareth asked, standing up. Kay followed him wordlessly.
Once outside, Kay pulled a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket.
“You smoke?” he asked, holding out the pack.
“Uh, sure.” Gareth did not smoke.
After lighting his own cigarette, Kay passed the zippo to Gareth. Cigarette between his lips, he stared at it blankly.
“You have to flick the lighter on,” Kay offered helpfully.
“Yeah, thanks.” Gareth did not move.
“Like this, eejit.” Kay tipped his chin up lightly, flicking the lighter on and holding it up to the end of the cig.
“Th-thanks.”
“You're welcome.”
Gareth drew in a lungful of smoke, choking when the acrid taste hit the back of his throat. He turned away to cough as Kay visibly tried not to laugh.
“You don't smoke, do you?”
“Not ... not really,” Gareth admitted.
“Not at all?”
“Not at all.”
Kay shook his head. “Don't start.”
Gareth glanced at the cig in his hand, then back at Kay's face. “Uh, sure.”
They stood in silence, leaning against the balcony of the building. Gareth drew in another lungful of smoke, and another. It was really bad.
“You know,” he started. “Your dancing was bloody impressive.”
Kay turned away. “Thanks.”
“No, I'm serious. I hated dance as a kid, but Gaheris was doing it, so I had to too. You made me wish I kept with it.”
Kay threw his cig to the ground, stamping it out. “I'm gonna see if Arthur's ready to go yet.”
Gareth felt disappointment settle in his chest, though at what he wasn't quite sure.
“Uh, yeah, sure. Thank you for the smoke, and for — you. Yeah.”
Kay looked at him quizzically. “You're welcome, Beaumains. I guess.”
The door slammed behind him, and Gareth was on the balcony alone.