Pas de deux (Jake Lockley x reader ) đđ©°
A/N: So! Kinda my first fic? Trying to exercise my writing skills. (You wonât believe how many times I had to just write âexcersizeâ for autocorrect to save me.) So I hope yâall can enjoy the product of my practice!
In a previous post, I mentioned Jake crying while watching ballet. But what I meant to say was I had already developed a fic to this very concept. Needed the confidence to post it- which the reception to the first post got! It said Swan Lake, but for the plotâs conflict itâs Nutcracker.
Warnings: Fluff, mild comfort, reference to MK lore but you can pretend it isnât, reference to Tchaikovsky mourning his sister, No use of Y/N, may be read as the POV of Layla, or yourself, mentions of Marc and Steven, no direct use of Spanish but reference to Jake speaking it, Reader may or may not know Spanish, itâs ambiguous this way for a self insert!, and again, my first full fan fiction. That is a warning. Surprisingly unserious. implied that narrator and the moon guys are visiting the US for this show.
Gender Neutral reader, but with uncomfortable formal shoes because they plague us all no matter
Word count: the word counter website broke so let me know when you get down there kk
You and Jake go to the Opera house in downtown Chicago. However, the loyal servant of the Moon God reacts unexpectedlyâŠ
Hours earlier, Jake struggled with his tie while I mulled over walking into the opera house together. His dark mustache furled as I helped arrange the black fabric and romanticized the pair of us strolling down the Chicago street: dressed to the nines, my arm in his, with the Christmas lights illuminating our path to the theater. Jake refused, mumbling something about how he didnât want to make me walk longer in formal shoes than I had to. Knowing how I wouldnât say anything, refusing to complain or burden the evening, until my Achilles tendons were shot by the time we got back to the hotel.
Among the three of them, Jakeâs love language was having foresight to make life as accommodated and comfortable. But he forgets that he has a place in it.
Right now, in the brisk December evening, I trotted towards the warmly lit-refuge of the Civic Opera House. Jake dropped me off directly in front, rolling away to park his sleek Rolls Royce Phantom somewhere secure.
The exterior was like that of most concrete high-riser buildings. Though at ground level, in stark contrast, a sculpted arc entrance stood on the corner of the street. A light snow casted over the figures shaped into the stone. Tall preview posters displayed the principal dancer for the evening: the sugar plum fairy.
My pace towards the ticket booth was quick in the biting cold. The Opera house clerk smiled.
âReservations under⊠Spector?â
âNo- wait, yes. Yes.â
At my hesitation, I was rightfully earned a disconcerted expression. Marc must have booked the tickets. Before the words left her mouth, Jake appeared to save the day. Showing his- or Marcâs- ID. The clerk was satisfied and gave us two red tickets for entree. Jake took my arm in his, like a Highschool couple in a 50s movie. Between the regal opera house, the way he supports my arm, and opens the car door- truly old fashioned.
âThanks, Marc,â I teased. He nudged me with his arm.
âOh please, he made Steven book them,â Jake took off his gloves and stuffed them into his pocket. We handed our tickets off, and at last, we were on our way through marble floors and high ceilings to find seating.
Maybe thatâs why we both enjoyed viewings in this specific opera house. It was completed in 1929, yet shined as brightly as ever. Velvet red fabrics and amber blown lights. If you werenât careful, you could become easily motivated to write a romanticized novel.
In a world of my own, I donât notice Jake looking over my face. But he wasnât appreciating the interior of the architecture. Maybe the exterior of me.
Some hors dâoeuvres later, we situated in a balcony, closest to the stage. Jake insisted this would be âthe best spot in the houseâ. From the balcony overview, patterns in the snow dropletâs sequence could be figured into the shape of snowflakes. Once again, Jakeâs love language would make the evening special, by meticulous design. Jakeâs prior knowledge of ballet was limited, yet his relationship to the music goes back.
No one would assume that, from what meets the eye. Even if you knew of his nightly servitude to Khonshu- there was less reason to believe he keeps a special mix of Tchaikovskyâs Greatest in his carâs dash. His work isnât easy, and who doesnât wind down to music? An avatar to the god of the moon is no exception.
Live orchestra has become a small thing for us. One that Marc chuffs at and Steven⊠would probably like to be apart of.
The elevated booth was tailored to the best view possible of the tilted stage. Below, forms of people moved to their seats, shed overcoats, and checked the time. Soon, the red curtains would pull apart to reveal the iconic home of the Stahlbaumâs, and delicate Clara center stage. It was a matter of time, and based on Jakeâs mild leg bounce, not soon enough. I place a hand over his palm, steadying his nervous habit to a somber sway.
INTERMISSION
We returned to our secluded seats from the main area. Maybe or maybe not, pocketing some cheese squares and fancy crackers in napkins. Jake put his arm over the back of my seat and smirked, âYou think I could do that?â
âDo what?â
âThe dancing,â He grinned like a ferret. I pause for a moment to process the idea literally. You know what? Maybe. Iâve stayed in the car while Marc or Steven took care of their missions. From what Iâve seen, Moonknight is pretty agile. Mr. Knight is comparably a Gymnast. Making- often unnecessary- flips and turns over bullets and blades.
âTry asking Khonshu when you can take classes- conveniently between delivering justice.â
To which, Jake snickers. He takes his contraband-horderve from the lobby and speaks, âOh yeah, it will happen. Iâll just borrow Stevenâs tutu.â Jake looks aloft and grins, for a moment, itâs like I can hear his alter too.
âTHOSE CLASSES WERE A ONE-OFF TIME!â
The second act. Clara and the Nutcracker prince have crossed the forest into a world of her childlike creation. Her and the prince are welcomed by flowers, candy, and snow. It seems like the defeat of the rat king would be the last of the roomâs worries. Except for me.
Nearing a majestic finale, the nutcracker prince shares a dance with her majesty, the sugar plum fairy. He takes her hand and holds it, as her powder pink leg ascends. But this isnât what Jake is thinking about. His eyes are hardly on the scene below, but he is paying attention to the music. The Nutcracker, Op. 71, Act II: No. 14a, Pas de deux. He holds his breath for a moment. A small gesture I might have missed if he didnât drop my hand when he does so. I glanced at him, not wanting to disturb his fixation to the show.
And maybe I didnât want to disturb the way his locks messily fell on his forehead and ears. Heâs a gentleman, so he wouldnât wear his hat into the event. But by removing it, the bunched hair underneath fell loosely. Marc and Steven were supposedly relentless about on the way downtown, if his passive looks to the rear view mirror meant anything.
Does a family of birds live in your hat, mate?
Cmon, Jake, everytime I get the body I have to run a comb through it.
After Jake lowered his hands from applause, he took mine in his again. As if he six whole minutes without it was too much. I press my thumb into his knuckles. He pulls my hand closer to him, holding it totally casually to his heart.
The Finale had wrapped up in a roar of an audience. The eveningâs dancers made their bows and the orchestra had begun to pack up their bows and sheet music. Neither me nor Jake were one for crowds, but fortunately, the box seats were close enough to a flight of stairs that crew members likely took. We stood and peeked down the flight that turned around the ivory painted walls.
Jake held my arm and smirked, âDo you want to take a shortcut?â
I gave him a puzzled look. âThat way? Are you sure there is an exit? We might get a meet and greet with the rat king,â I half-joke. Jake grins and his eyes light up at that risk.
My eyes narrow,
âYou want to meet the rat king donât y-â
âYes.â
Itâs Christmas. Might as well give Jake the gift of following through one of his mischievous schemes- together. Jake is laughing and throughly unserious as we move closer to the landing of the stairwell. I slide my hand down the glossy railing, âIf we find this rat thing-â
âWhen. When we find the rat thing,â Jake interrupts.
I pause and continue, âYes, my apologies. When we find the rat, are you going to valiantly slay it, and save me?â
Jake thinks for a moment, stopping on the stairs. He responds, âIâve fought weirder.â I nod agreeably as we continue hand in hand. But he mumbled something I couldnât hear, perhaps some Spanish intonations, but too low to react to.
But I had a pretty good idea what he meant to say out loud. Jake will show his affection in careful planning, a car ride anywhere, but not typically his words. In those tender instances where he has to resort to sweet nothings, he expresses it in Spanish. The words flow so naturally that they arenât being filtered by a process of translation. Just his feelings, as they are.
I smile, and pull him into my arm tighter. It was more than likely he was protectively, lovingly ranting about how well he would protect me. How he would welcome the chance to prove it. In the dimly lit corridor we found ourselves in, we located an exit door and push it. I recall the December air and hold his arm closer.
Jake holds up his keys and presses down on his buttons. Immediately after leaving the back door, we are greeted by the flashing headlights of his car in a neighboring lot. Jake looks at my face of surprise and laughs, âYou thought I was going to let you walk so far in those shoes?â
While in the car, on the way back to the flat, Swan Lake plays over the radio. I clutch my coat in the warm embrace of the carâs heating system. Jake is tapping his finger along while letting cars through, but he stops as the piece ends and the next begins. The Pas de deux. This time, I donât miss my chance to ask. My hand grazes his leather coated arm, âYou alright?â Jake keeps a deadpan look through the droplets on the windshield, blinking several times. I lean in a touch closer, âJake?â
âUhm, I just read where, you know, whatâs-his-face, wrote this piece for his sister who passed. It uhmâŠâ Jake, agitated by the way his mouth wants to curl into a grimace in front of me, lays his arm down in a finalizing gesture. He was done talking about it, not without losing clear vision while driving. I hold his gloved hand, and without thinking, hold it to his chest. His shoulders finally lowered. The light turned green. The music filling the gentle silence.
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Moon boys at Disney World đđ
âš Headcanons because I want to meet Mr Knight in Disneyland all the time. Wanna make a part 2 to cover these 80s dudesâ response to Galaxies edge alone-
â Steven is in the hall of American Presidents.
â Marc is holding Jake back in the head space, probably because this is Stevenâs third go around.
â Marc goes on Space mountain. Jake then also gets a turn on space mountain. Then Marc. Then Jake again.
â Marc is keen on a Mickey bar. Steven is not since they arenât dairy free.
ââMate, Cmon, get a classic dole whip! Itâs pineapple!â
â âDonât worry buddy, Itâs not a real mouse,â as he unwraps his ice cream.
â Jake refuged in the Haunted Mansion to get away from the colors.
â Steven dragged him out to meet Mary Poppins
â All three enjoy taking turns to eat a fancy grilled cheese in Epcot (The ones they serve with a literal can of tomato soup? They think itâs hilarious.)
â Steven gets brave enough for the TRON legacy ride. The guys are cheering him on. As soon as the operator gives a thumbs up- Marc has been elected to the front.
â Steven is inside the Epcot ball and anticipates the ancient history section.
â Marc likes the stars section.
â Jake likes the part where the shuttle goes backwards and feels like laying down.
â Jake finds Test Track. You already know.
â VRROOOOOOOMMMMMM
â The guys Hype up Steven to try Rock nâ Roller coaster. Heâs in and just as he starts to push Marc to the front- the ride GOES.
â and he LOVED it.
â The moon boys are hyping Steven on as he buys a round (1) of lightsaber churros.
â Marc appreciated the Aerosmith.
⊠â Jake is figuring out how to get a vehicle this fast
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