Ah, me.

Okay, so I really like this idea, but I've got so much going on recently, and a book I am supposed to be writing, but I want to write this too.

I'm thinking that if I get a certain number of reviews on this, I will start dedicating myself to this fic, and update it weekly.

So, uh, here's my attempt at this.

"Ivan, it seems you are putting too much stress on yourself," Francis said, looking at his notes about his current patient through his reading glasses.

"I know how dedicated you are to your work, mon ami, and it is a good thing, but… you need to give yourself some time to relax." The blonde leaned back in his leather chair and removed his glasses to look at Ivan, who was sitting on the patient couch. He always refused to lie down, which had suggested immediately to Francis that he was all business.

Ivan had been seeing Francis for therapy for the past few months, now. His boss had 'suggested' it, meaning that he either had to get the therapy or be fired because he was dangerous to his co-workers. Which was silly, because even if Ivan could give looks that would make people shit their pants, he wasn't actually going to hurt anyone. His boss failed to accept that, though, and so he was stoically sitting on the soft lounge chair meant for laying on, in an office obviously meant to feel comforting but only making him slightly annoyed.

"…What?" Ivan asked, giving Francis an incredulous look.

The blonde merely smiled, "You need to relax. Work has taken you over; you are incredibly stiff, even now." He laced his fingers together and leaned against his desk, "In your free time, when you do not have work, you should do something that you enjoy."

"I enjoy working."

"Ivan," Francis scolded, "That much work is not good for you. Really. Finding another activity that you enjoy will decrease your stress levels and make you feel calmer. Reading, painting, sports, exercise, going to movies- any of these things will help, you just need to find one that you like."

"What if I don't like any of those things?"

Francis shrugged, "Then find something different that you enjoy."

With a frown, Ivan looked at one of the 'relaxing' paintings of the sea that was hanging on wall, "What if there isn't anything else I enjoy?"

Francis was quiet for a moment, and Ivan thought that he might have asked a question that stumped him, but he turned out to be wrong when Francis grinned suddenly, "Then I will have to assign you a stress-relieving activity."

Curious, Ivan raised an eyebrow and looked at him, "…Such as?"

"Dancing."

"You cannot be serious."

"As serious as a heart-attack, cher, which you will probably end up having if I do not get you some stress relief as soon as possible," Francis retorted, pulling a folder out from one of his file cabinets and closing it with a thump. He threw the file onto the desk for Ivan to pick up, "Here, take a look. I am sure a man such as yourself would want some information on exactly what he is getting into."

Ivan nearly glared at the blonde but picked up the folder anyway, flipping it open to find a picture of another smiley blonde looking at him, "…Who is this?"

"Alfred Jones- Ah, sorry, Alfred F. Jones, I should say," Francis chuckled, "He's very particular about that."

Unamused, Ivan stared blankly at him, "And? What does this person have to do with me?"

Francis smiled, "Alfred is another patient of mine, here for a different reason than you, but more than that, he is someone who can teach you how to have fun."

"I'm not interested-"

"Alfred is in charge of a dance studio," Francis continued, ignoring him, "His 'crew' as it is called works primarily with a type of dance called 'Street Jazz', more commonly known as hip-hop. He has described it to me as 'really awesome ballet but a lot more sexy'."

Ivan nearly glared at him, "Mr. Bonnef-"

"Francis, Ivan."

"Francis," Ivan ground out, annoyed, "I am not interested in this 'street jazz' or whatever you called it, or this person who teaches it." He tossed the folder back onto the desk, staring it down like he hoped it might catch fire, "I will not be doing any dancing."

"Ivan, please understand," Francis said, working at the bridge of his nose, "I am seriously concerned about you. You may not realize it, but you are ridiculously stressed. You are wound too tightly, and at some point you are going to shatter." The blonde sighed, "Whether that will happen tomorrow or a year from now I cannot know, but if you keep yourself at this level of intensity without ever taking a moment to relax, you are turning yourself into a time bomb- you will eventually self-destruct."

Making sure he still had the pale-haired man's attention, he leaned forward, "Relaxation of any kind will be good for you. That will help you unwind. And if you refuse to do a relaxing activity on your own, for your own health I have to make you." He sat back and smiled a little, "Consider these classes your prescription- the medicine you need to relax you."

With a frown, Ivan sighed, resigning himself to the fact that there would be no winning with this man, "…Fine. One class. That is it."

"Ivan." Francis said warningly, "That is hardly even getting your feet wet."

"Two, then."

"Three at the very least."

"Two is my limit."

"I believe I have your boss on speed-dial…"

"…Three." Ivan muttered, standing now and preparing to leave, "But that is all."

Francis gave him a weak smile, "It seems that is all we can do, for now." He opened the folder on his desk, "Let me see… There is a class on Thursday at seven at the City Center downtown; I will let Alfred know that you are going to be there."

Ivan sighed and waved him off as he started to walk towards the door, "Do as you wish."

"See you next week, Ivan," the blonde chuckled, exhaling once his patient had left and slipping his glasses back on to write in his file.

As stoic and unopen to change as ever. Enrolling him in Alfred's dance class, hopefully they can help each other.

On Thursday, Ivan did as he was told. He didn't like it, and he tried to rebel by not wearing the proper dancing attire, but he went anyway.

Early, in fact.

If there was one thing Ivan was not, it was late, and he prided himself on the fact that he was always punctual. When he arrived at the marked studio of the City Center, still wearing his suit from work, there were a few dancers stretching, practicing a few moves, and generally preparing, but he didn't see anyone that looked like the blonde in the picture he'd seen.

Setting a bad impression already, Ivan thought, checking his wristwatch.

Alfred didn't show up until 20 minutes later, making him 15 minutes late.

He offered his students an apologetic grin, slipping his glasses off as he shuffled through the door, "Hey, sorry guys, work was a little rough on me today." Some waved him off and others laughed, making him perk up and drop his gym bag by the door of the studio room they were in.

"Alright, well, now that I'm here, let's get down to it, shall we? You all been practicing the moves I taught you last time?"

He got some nods and cheers and general noises of 'yeah', so Alfred nodded and grinned, bending from side to side as a means of stretching out a little, "Cool, then we'll pick up from there."

It seemed he hadn't been noticed yet, so Ivan started contemplating just quietly walking out, but right as he began inching toward the door, Alfred spotted him, making a surprised face.

"Oh! Oh, hey, you're-" Laughing weakly, he blonde jogged over to him and rubbed at the back of his head, "Oh man, sorry bro, I didn't see you there." He offered his hand and smiled a bright smile, much brighter than fake, frightened ones Ivan usually received, "The name's Alfred, Alfred F. Jones. I'm sure Francis told you about me…" He paused a moment, "..Ivan, right?"

So much for leaving.

Ivan grudgingly took Alfred's hand and gave it a firm shake, "Da, that is right." Francis had probably told him how to pronounce his name, he hadn't butchered it nearly as much as Ivan had been expecting.

Alfred grinned and gave Ivan's hand another squeeze before releasing it, "Awesome! Welcome to my Street Jazz class, Ivan!" Tilting his head a little, he gave him a look over, "Um, no offense, I dig the suit look, but… it's pretty tough to dance in that without hurting yourself or tearing your outfit." He patted his own thighs, "'s why I wear sweats, they're real easy to move in. Do you have anything like that to change into, or…?"

Frowning, Ivan shook his head, "I do not." Just as planned, of course.

Alfred blinked at him and looked to the rest of the group, "Um," he looked back and frowned a little, "Dang. Well, how's this- since it's your first day with us and all, you can just watch for now? Or, like, if you take the suit jacket off, you might be okay…" He made a thoughtful face and nodded, "Yeah, probably…"

Ivan shook his head again and held up a hand to stop Alfred's inspection of him, "Nyet, I think I will just watch."

It seemed he didn't like that idea even though he'd been the one to suggest it, as Alfred pouted and gave a slight sigh, "Well, okay. If you feel up to it later, though, you're free to join in." He gave him a thumbs up and little smile, and Ivan merely nodded.

He was getting away with this easier than he thought. Maybe if he stayed quiet and didn't draw attention to himself, he wouldn't have to come back.

"Hey, guys, listen up!"

Or not.

Alfred slung an arm around Ivan's shoulders, which was a bit difficult since Ivan was taller than him, and grinned, "This guy here is my new buddy Ivan, he's gonna dance with our crew for the next couple of weeks- maybe longer if he likes it!" The blonde winked at him, ignoring Ivan's annoyance, and continued, "He's not got the proper dressing for getting his groove thing on today, so he's just gonna watch for now, but give him a warm welcome, okay?"

…Fuck dance class.