Your Arms Feel Like Home

John felt like he was on Cloud 9 as he walked into the theater. He got dressed and practiced. John was an amazing modern dancer. His body lithe yet fit. His size made him perfect for the lifts. He was amazing. And his dancing was even better as he had Randy on his mind.

Randy decided to go see the show, seeing as John was in it. He arrived and pain, walking in and sitting as close as he could, a small grin on his face. He couldn't wait to see John dance.

John got into position. He was always the lead. He loved the spotlight. Black & Gold by Sam Sparro played and the curtain opened. John began his dance along with the others, always light on his feet, flexible and quick yet fluid and perfectly in sync as the other men lifted him and spun him. He was perfect.

Randy smiled as he watched John. John was amazing. He couldn't believe that he had never seen John - or anyone - dance.

John finished, he bowed to the applauding crowd. He saw Randy and winked at him before going to the back to change. He changed, said goodbye to the other dancers before leaving the theater. he spotted Randy and went over to him. "I knew you'd come." He chuckled.

"How could I resist? Hot guys dancing with each other, getting all sweaty and breathless is a sure way to get me anywhere," Randy tease with a smirk.

John rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Nice. Glad you were staring at them and not me." He pouted.

"Well, I mean, they are pretty sexy," Randy chuckled.

John chuckled. "And yet.. I'm the lead dancer." He said.

Randy laughed. A real laugh. One thing he hadn't heard from himself in months. "Well, I guess it's because you're the sexiest," he said.

John smiled and flipped his hair. "So that's what it is..." He said.

Randy chuckled. "Maybe. I mean, I'm just taking a stab in the dark. It may be how amazing you are at dancing," he said.

"Aw, well thanks. I try... 25 hours a day, 8 days a week." John chuckled. "How about me and you grab dinner?" He asked.

"You're asking me on a date? That's a first," Randy chuckled. "I'd love to."

John smiled. "Good. Let's go, you can ride with me." He said, leaving no room or argument as he pulled Randy over to his Ducati.

"Um, I don't ride bitch," Randy said, crossing his arms. Randy could be a pushover sometimes, but he could be stubborn, too.

John gave him a look. John was submissive, but not a pushover. He would cure Randy's stubbornness. He got off the bike, and forced Randy into the pack seat before he pushed a helmet on Randy's head. "Deal with it and hold on." He demanded as he got on the bike, starting it.

Randy crossed his arms. "If I fall off, it's on your hands," he said stubbornly.

"Don't be a pussy and just hold on." John said, reaching behind himself and grabbing Randy's arms, locking them around his waist before he sped off toward the restaurant he had in mind.

Randy growled. It was bad to push Randy past his limits, and John seemed to be doing just that. Not even five minutes ago, Randy was ready to marry this guy and now he wanted to push him off the bike.

john stopped at th restaurant and turned to looked at Randy. "What's wrong with you?" He asked, raising a brow.

Randy shook his head. "I have problems. Let's leave it at that for now," he said.

John nodded slowly. "What, are you a bipolar schizophrenic?" He asked with a raised brow.

"No. Like I said, let's just leave it as problems for now," Randy said, climbing off the bike and walking inside.

"Alright." John sighed and followed him. When they were seated, John looked up at Randy. "So Randy... you like bikes, yeah? What kind?" He asked, trying to break the ice.