Work Text:
Tobias sits on the red piano trying to watch his dancers practice, but something is wrong. He’s already gone through his checklist of probable reasons, and they’ve all been crossed off.
Hunger that he doesn’t recognize? No, Gabin convinced him to eat something for lunch. Is he sitting weird? No, and he readjusted multiple times already just in case. Anyone peeking in from the hallway? Nope, and he keeps checking to make sure it stays that way.
And of course the dancers aren’t perfect. They’ve just started learning this piece, and contrary to popular belief he doesn’t expect them to be perfect immediately… well, at least his definition of perfect. They’re doing all of the steps too. It’s not them. It’s… something.
“Stop!” he calls out, pausing the music. “Stop, stop stop.” He brings his hands to his mouth to think for a second in the silence as the dancers stare at him.
“Something’s off,” Tobias says after a minute of silence. He hops off the piano and starts walking around. “It’s not the dry air in the studio, though that’s not amazing, it’s not the way Tristan isn’t quite hitting his mark, which is also not amazing…” He pauses.
The dancers continue to just watch, used to Tobias’ tangents at this point.
Tobias looks at Gabin. Usually Gabin is able to help Tobias out in times like this. He’s often able to put his thoughts into actual words, or even has a suggestion that either works or sparks an idea. Sometimes Gabin doesn’t even need to speak, Tobias just finds the answer in his eyes.
(When Tobias mentioned this Gabin said it was very romantic. Tobias wasn’t trying to be romantic, it’s just a fact.)
Tobias walks up to stand face to face with Gabin.
“Tobias-“
“Don’t talk.”
Gabin snaps his mouth shut. This hasn’t happened before. “This” being Tobias staring intensely into his eyes in the middle of rehearsal. Gabin is about to say something again when Tobias recoils back.
“Oh my god-“ Gabin has never heard him sound so disgusted.
“What?” he asks. When Tobias doesn’t answer, just doubles over, Gabin starts to panic. “What?!”
He then feels something hit his upper lip and brings his fingers up to check. He realizes what’s happening as Tobias starts talking again.
“I do not do blood,” he says, referring to Gabin’s current nosebleed. “Twisted ankle? Fine. Dislocated shoulder? Whatever. But nothing is worse- well, maybe loose teeth. My niece once lost a tooth while I was in charge of her and god that thing was disgusting. Blood is gross but mouth bones-“
“Tobias,” Gabin interrupts. He holds the hand not pinching his nose together out and gestures for Tobias to give him something.
“Oh.” Tobias digs in his pockets and pulls out some loose tissues.
“It’s just the dryness,” Gabin explains, taking the tissues. “It’s not uncommon for me. Relax, mon amour.”
“How did you know he had tissues?” Mishi asks.
Gabin looks over his shoulder. “I fold the laundry.”
Tobias snaps his fingers. “That’s it!” he exclaims. He marks the choreography with his hands, really moving his whole body at one section.
“You guys need to fold into the middle section,” he says. “Gabin comes down from his shwoo and you all,” he gestures vaguely around the room, “need to fold into him. You’re framing him but you shouldn’t be static.”
None of the dancers say anything as Tobias zones out for a second, his hands flapping a bit, half marking the new change and half just releasing all of the energy now in his body.
Gabin moves to the trash can in the room, getting rid of the now used tissues. “Folding as in ‘tch’ or ‘mhhm’?”
Tobias hums and Gabin nods.
“A soft folding that doesn’t knock the air out of you,” Gabin translates to the rest of the group.
Tobias perches back onto the piano like nothing has happened. “From the top!”