Meet Us at the Barre: A Series of SAB Oneshots

rings

Mature content ahead

"Are you sure you're okay with me being here this late?" Emmie asked, stepping into the doorway. She slid her coat off as she spoke. "I know it's been the longest day for the both of us." 

Ben shook his head. "Emmie, seriously. You're never a problem. You're always going to be welcome here." Ben shot her his famously comforting smile as Emmie started to remove all of her jewelry from the day. 

It usually went like this. Her and Ben would go out to dinner after a long day of rehearsal, then they'd head back to his place, and maybe sip some wine if the day was particularly rough. Occasionally, it would escalate from there, but never anything violent or raw -- always something of two broken dancers, consensually loving one another with the knowledge of each other's bodies that only a pas de deux pairing could have. 

Most times, though it wouldn't even escalate past getting dizzy on cheap red wine and falling asleep to an old ballet film or an episode of whatever show Ben was enjoying at the time. On those nights, much like this one, Ben would offer to give Emmie one of his massages. They were nearly as famous as his smile. 

Ben's dad had gone to college and switched majors a million times. The man had so many side certifications and hobbies that when Emmie found out he was a registered masseuse, she wasn't even surprised. Ben once told her that he knew how to fly private planes, and had a license to do so. 

"I see you've started to quit?" Emmie asked, making small talk, dropping her jewelry off in the empty ashtray on Ben's sideboard. 

The man watched as Emmie set her rings in the ceramic dish. He always admired her jewelry, though she never danced with any of it on. It was something that she reserved for times outside of the studio. Emmie claimed over wine one night that she wore so much jewelry in what little off time she got so that she could "carry the glamour of ballet" with her at all times -- or something to that effect. 

Ben swallowed. "You always said I should quit." 

His joking tone was still so full of love. Ben tried his best to keep the mood light. He could tell something had been on Emmie's mind all night. 

The loving joke comment seemed to make the ring on Emmie's left middle finger tighten. She quickly ripped it off, disregarding the fact that it was her most expensive ring. 

Ben never told her that that ring of her's was his favorite. It was a gold band, sparkly, with a little divot taken from the top of it, almost as if there was another ring that held a stone. A big stone that would slide into place like puzzle pieces. To Ben, the style always twinged to the degree of something of an engagement band missing the ring, but he never thought much of it. You wouldn't wear such a ring on the wrong finger. 

Emmie forced a chuckle. "I'm always right." 

Ben smiled. "And so am I. Come on, you know the drill." He grabbed her hand and led her to the bedroom she'd visited many times before. "Take a seat." He gestured towards the mattress. 

Emmie took her seat in the middle of the bed, laying her feet flat like she always did when Ben offered to soothe her tense muscles. 

"How did Black Swan go today?" Ben asked, wasting no time and getting right to working out the knots in Emmie's calves. 

Emmie sighed, throwing her head to rest against her shoulder. "Peter was one more sloppy fouette away from cutting my feet off." 

Ben looked up at Emmie in somewhat of disbelief. "He's had a stick up his ass all day. I promise you that it wasn't your fault."