You And Me - A Collection of Les Twins One Shots

Danger

As soon as they entered the club, Laurent felt consumed by the music, a steady stream of hip hop pounding through the air. The bass vibrated straight up through his veins. He followed his friends further down the rabbit hole with Larry a familiar presence at his back. 

"You two want anything to drink?" Regi asked over the roaring volume.

"Just water," Laurent answered. The air was stuffy down here, a hint of sweat mingled with whatever booze people had spilled on the linoleum floor. While their friends went to order, Laurent and Larry scanned the crowd for anyone they might know. Most of the people in the club were mediocre dancers at best, seemingly happy to just go with the night's vibe. And then there was a group of strange-looking fellas a little off to the left of them.

Laurent grew wary upon catching the eye of the tallest of the group. The guy stuck out of the crowd like a sore thumb. His posture screamed trouble from the way his chin was raised to the way his chest was puffed out. Laurent had come to know men like him in the past and he recognized the signs of impending trouble they often embodied. If growing up in Sarcelles had taught him anything, then not to piss off the wrong people. He tensed, trying not to hold eye contact for too long because he didn't want things to get confrontational.

"You've spotted the goods, huh?" Regi pressed a bottle of water into his chest and handed one to Larry, whose eyes had followed Lauren't gaze across the dance floor. "Guy's name is K'Lab. He's not the type to take losing well. Fucks with his ego and all."

"Wouldn't hurt if he had a bit less of an ego," Larry muttered. "What about the rest of them?"

"They call themselves 'Catfish'. Decent enough on the dance floor. Not so decent when you get to know them in person."

"Never heard of them." Laurent found that the gang leader's attention had now shifted onto Larry, who glared at the guy with enough fire in his eyes to burn the whole club down. Larry was quick to start a fight if someone disrespected him or god forbid, disrespected Laurent. But Laurent usually managed to keep him in check. They weren't back home in Paris, they weren't teenagers anymore and most importantly, they didn't need to prove anything to anyone.

"Stop it," Laurent chided, shooting his brother a look of disapproval. Larry reluctantly allowed Laurent to pull him further into the crowd until the gang was out of sight. He busied himself with their friends instead of allowing the stranger to ruin their good mood. The beat was still on point and people were having a good time all around them. The night was young.

Larry relaxed a bit as his body started moving on its own accord and Laurent smiled at him, trying to find a good place to start. Larry fed off of his energy, reacting to his every move as though he had foreseen them. They got lost in the music for a little while and lost track of time when two of the hooded assholes from earlier joined them on the dance floor. They must have been watching from the sidelines or something, because they started imitating their moves, trying to ridicule their style. Laurent had participated in too many battles in his life to get riled up by pretty much any disrespect. So he kept his cool through their butchered imitations and just exchanged a knowing glance with Larry.

The guys' dancing wasn't bad. They did a mix of break-dance and hip hop that reminded Laurent of capoeira, supporting themselves on their hands while their legs flew up in kicks and twists. On each beat they popped up, undulating through a series of hip-hop moves, and then they were down again, spinning on their heads. Laurent and Larry stood back, allowing them to pull off their routines. After a couple of cheers from the crowd and aggressive shouts from the other gang members, it became pretty clear that these people were out for a battle. The tension in the room was cackling. Everyone was cheering, encouraging the twins to take on the combat. Larry's eyes burned holes into Laurent, asking him to take the bait. He wanted to outclass these assholes. But Laurent's guts churned with unease at the idea of going up against a gang. The voice of reason in his mind piped up at the dark, layered outfits these guys were wearing, too inconspicuous and impractical for a dance-off but just about right to hide a knife or gun.