27 bandshirts || a metallica fanfic

17 - Death To Ballet:

"Ay, Princess, the Queen wants you in her office." Eric announced as he returned to the studio.

At the ballet school, that was what everyone called my sister and I. She was the queen and I was the princess. Since our last name was King, they thought that sounded charming. To me it was a constant reminder of how child-like I must've seemed in comparison to Saldana. In the world of ballet she was always going to be my senior and I had become dreadfully tired of competing.

Little droplets of sweat made their way down Eric's toned abs. For some silly reason my co-instructor was under the impression that because I knew he was homosexual I'd find him any less attractive. The man was a true Adonis in every way. Even whilst wearing tights - which he always did. Lars would fit right in over there.

"My sister has an office? When did that happen?" I was laughing and putting on my pointe shoes.

"I mean, she shares it with someone else, but it's an office. What do you got, huh?"

"I got you, babe." I sang to him in the style of Cher and Sonny when he helped me to my feet.

"Yeah, right. I always told you those Metallica meatheads would steal you away from me and now look." Those were fairly melancholic words, but his grin indicated he was happy for me.

I noted how much he sounded like Kirk in that moment. As if their hold on me was so limp-wristed, even the most gentle tug was going to make me slip away.

My eyes rolled per their own will and I comfortingly took hold of his hands again, "Say the word and I'm yours, Eric. I know a place we could run away to. There's a priest I'm on good terms with, a neat little village in Scotland. What was it called again... Gretna Green, perhaps?"

"Kiss my gay ass." He muttered softly enough for only the two of us to hear and I snorted out a very un-ladylike laugh.

If an office wasn't indicative of my sister's rank in the school, her clothing style definitely was. Junior instructors like Eric and I hobbled around in sweatpants and tank tops - wholly unglamorous. Saldana, who didn't have to get changed into leotards and tights as soon as she arrived, got to show off her collection of pencil skirts and blazers. She had been a senior instructor for 3 years, but it was still odd to see her strut around the vast hallways in court pumps. Even Saldana went through an Adidas phase.

"The Queen requested to see me?"

I opened my big mouth before even stepping inside the office, only to find her and Joe sitting side by side behind the desk, polishing off a rack of ribs.
What the fuck? My sister, eating ribs?

"You both have jobs, in case you've forgotten."

"I've got a pile of administrative work and he's just a lazy rockstar. What else are we gonna do?"

"It's alright, Saldana. Let her be jealous."

My lips stretched to a smile involuntarily. Joe was spot on once again - I adored ballet, but being flung into the air to the Dance Of The Sugar Plum Fairy while Kirk was home and could rock out to Run To The Hills by Iron Maiden was annoying me senseless.

"There better be a good reason for me being called here to watch you two smear marinade all over your faces." I folded my arms across my chest and started tapping my pointe shoe, "Eric is waiting for me."

"Your sister has some good news for you."

Joe wasn't wearing glasses again and his hair was swooped over one side of his face due to a side-parting. How he could look so effortlessly cool was what actually made me jealous. Saldana's gaze lingered on him for a few more seconds before she turned to me, dropping a bone in the styrofoam box.