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Corybantic Dance	By : fantards Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 843 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Disclaimer:
Naruto is not our toy, although sometimes we wish it was.
Almost everyone you meet here belongs to Masashi Kishimoto, we just
borrow them, occasionally. Hayate's parents, Gekkou Ken'ichirou and
Gekkou Shizuka, belong to Haya Madison, and Genma's mother, Shiranui
Riza, is all Penbrydd's fault.
Author's
Note: The song Genma's singing in this chapter is "Devil's
Radio" by Robyn Hitchcock. On a linguistic note, a 'molly' has
been a crossdressing male prostitute, since approximately 1730.
The
Wryly Fantarding Q&A panel for Corybantic Dance is still located
at wrylyfantarding. livejournal. com / 5948. html
Warnings:
Violence, expletives, eventual yaoi (KoIzu, KoIzuRai (more
funny than sexy), GenHaya).
***
Chapter Nine
Hayate was taken
slightly aback by the number of people who had noticed his absence
that week. Absences from school were a normal and unfortunately
frequent thing for him, and few people besides his teachers ever
seemed to notice, let alone comment on it. But today as he walked
through the theatre to get to the green room, he found himself
confronted with multiple people who all seemed genuinely
concerned about his absence the previous day.
He was
deliberately vague on the matter. Lying was almost out of the
question -- mostly because he was so terrible at it -- but for some
the simple answer of "I had to go to the doctor" (he
figured he didn't have to specify whose doctor) wasn't enough.
When they asked more questions, he just quickly excused himself and
hurried on further toward the green room.
Anko was waiting for
him there, and he approached her with a certain kind of dread filling
his stomach. "And where the hell were you yesterday, huh?"

she said, though her tone didn't seem as demanding as it had been
lately. Hayate was still apprehensive as he dropped his backpack on
the floor.
"Um. I had to go to the doctor yesterday. Did
I miss anything really important?"
Anko peered at him for
a moment, and much to Hayate's relief, she didn't pursue the issue of
his absence. "Same shit, different day, kid. Oh, but..."
Her eyes glittered for a moment, and his stomach sank. Even in just a
week, he'd come to learn what some of Anko's many vibrant expressions
meant for him. This one looked to be a fatality waiting to happen.
This one usually meant she was about to have him do something
crazy, stupid, and probably dangerous. He'd managed to avoid doing
pretty much all of them so far, but he supposed his luck could only
run so far.
"Some idiot launched the lead's handbag up
over the catwalks last night and it's stuck there. I need you to go
get it, kid." Hayate's face fell as he watched her setting up
the props table. "It's up to you how you want to get it down,"
she went on, flippantly, "but the simplest way is probably with
a really tall ladder, or maybe some creative pulley work..."
Genma
traipsed out backstage, from the classroom, singing 'Devil's Radio'
at the top of his lungs. "Dahlin', you don't have to call me
Stalin --" He kissed Kotetsu bruisingly, on the lips. "Or
even Mao Tse Tung, 'cause I'm far too young!" He kissed Izumo,
who did a slightly better job of dodging, and only took it on the
cheek. He continued to sing and twirl as he made his way toward the
green room. "My rising sign is Capricorn, is that surprising?"

Stepping into the green room, Genma swept Hayate off his feet,
eliciting a short, strangled yelp of surprise from him, and spun the
kid around. "You know that I was born so very soft and easy
going. I make no trouble at all!" He smirked at Anko and ruffled
Hayate's hair. "Hey, kid. What's Bitchzilla got you doing
today?"
The glittering in Anko's eyes hardened to
something sharp-edged, and Hayate just sort of stared at Genma dumbly
for a moment, as did Izumo and Kotetsu from outside the green room.
Those two walked off, muttering to themselves about Genma's
disturbingly good mood.
"Um..." Hayate coughed,
trying to regain what little composure he still possessed these days.
"I guess yesterday someone's prop bag thing got stuck in the
catwalks, so..."
"Standard prop fag duty." Anko
grinned at Genma dangerously. "What about you, Queen Molly? What
are you up to?"
"Apparently, I'll be holding the
A-frame, Bitchzilla. Can't let you damage my goods." Genma
snapped his teeth at Anko.
From outside the green room,
Kotetsu's voice could be heard, raised in loud protest. "I don't
care about Genma's dick! The important thing here is my dick, and why
you're not --" A series of thumps could be heard. "Ow!
Shit! Ow! Dammit! Izumoooo..." Kotetsu trailed off into a whine
and the thumping died down. Hayate cringed slightly and looked up at
Genma.
"Um, Genma, do you think you might be able to help
me get the bag down? I don't know if I can do it by myself." He
cast an uncertain glance at Anko. She didn't look pleased. "Um.
If you have the time. You're probably busy, so..."
"That's
what I just signed on for, kid." Genma's eyes never left Anko.

"I'll be stabilising the A-frame while you play fetch. Come on
and we'll do this thing."
"Oh. Right. The A-frame,"
Hayate said dumbly. He had only just learned what that was the other
day from Aoba and he'd already forgotten. Jumping into the world of
theatre tech, even when he was only working props, was definitely
confusing business. He could feel Anko's eyes on his back as he
followed Genma out of the green room. She was clearly irritated that
Genma had spoiled her entertainment.
Hayate squinted up at the
catwalks, trying to spot the bag. "I just hope I can reach
okay...well, we have to find it first..."
"Cake.
Lemme go steal Aoba for a second so we can get the monstrosity out
here and pitched. Then it's just you and me. I'd let you help me, but
I don't want you getting hurt. We don't really have time for this
right now." Genma rested a hand on the kid's shoulder, briefly,
as he glanced around. "Stay right here. Just keep looking."
He took off in the direction he'd just seen Aoba walk past.
"Aoba!
I need to borrow you for a sec. Need the A-frame, lack a second set
of hands."
"Yeah, I'm on it, man!" Aoba hustled
over to Genma, adjusting his shades. "What's up?"
"Bitchzilla
wants the kid to go get something that's stuck up in the lights,
somewhere. I promised to help with the ladder. Is she trying to kill
him?" Genma managed to force the anger back off his face almost
as fast as it appeared. He propped the door of the costumes room open
and grabbed the enormous ladder to back it down. Aoba worked on
assisting him -- he looked a little gangly, but four years of tech
had really put some muscle in him. Together they lugged the ladder
over to where Hayate was standing, pointing upward and
squinting.
"What's that, kid? See it?" Aoba grunted,
and Hayate nodded slowly.
"Yeah...I think so. That looks
like it."
Genma nodded and he and Aoba walked the ladder
back up, standing it properly when it got close to full height.

"Alright, kiddo. How this thing works. There are two ladders,
here. The frame is twelve feet high. We can add another ten feet with
the central column, and you'll need almost all of it. Even locked
down, the central wobbles, which is why I'll climb the inside of the
frame to hold it still for you. If it pulls away from me, jump. I
don't expect it; it never has, but, seriously, jump. If it pulls
away, the whole ladder's coming down -- you on it, me in it -- and I
want to make sure you're not going to get hit." He grinned at
Aoba. "Thanks, man. I hate this fucking monstrosity."
Hayate
looked more than a little nervous. "That really doesn't look
safe. Maybe we should find some other way or something, or ask
Yamanaka..."
"What? Don't be silly. I'd tell you to
hold it for me, but I don't think you're tall enough or skilled
enough to offset my weight properly. I've been doing this for years.
I haven't dropped anyone, yet, and I'm going to be extra careful that
you're not the first. Hell, I like you." Genma climbed up
the unbraced ladder to feed out the second stage, locking it in place
before climbing back down. He caught Hayate's eyes and looked into
them. "I'm not going to let you fall. I just have to give that
warning. It was given to me and every other crew member who's ever
been up this thing. Standard procedure. I'm really not going to let
you fall."
Hayate still looked fairly apprehensive as he
approached the ladder, swallowing. "Okay..." Like
climbing a tree. It's just like climbing a tree. Except the tree
might fall over and maybe kill you. He shook that thought out of
his head. Genma wasn't going to let him get hurt, much less die.
He stepped onto the ladder carefully, holding on with a death grip.
Genma scrambled up the inside of the ladder like a spider monkey,
determined to be in place like he should have been before the kid had
gotten started. Hayate climbed up slowly, rung by rung, eyes fixed on
the bag stuck in the catwalks.
Genma braced himself against
the inside of the ladder, carefully offsetting the kid's weight,
trying to keep the second stage straight. He fell into a meditative
state, breathing cautiously, aware of the balance of his entire body
and the weight above him. As he stared down at the stage, Anko walked
under the ladder, staring up at him.
"Hey, there, Queen
Molly. If I knew you'd be doing this, I'd have told costumes to put
you in a skirt. The view's great from down here," she taunted.

"I wonder what would happen if I..." Anko reached for one
leg of the ladder.
"The kid would be dead, but I'd be in
the hospital. And Raidou would kill you. In the most literal
and unpleasant possible way." Genma grimaced as sweat rolled
down his face and dripped to the stage below. Getting close to the
lights when any of them were on was a rather warm experience. "Don't
fuck with me, today, Anko."
"You're really fucking
boring, you know that?" Anko shook her head and headed off
stage. "And hurry up with that, already. I don't have all
night."
Aoba sighed in terse relief, swallowing
uncomfortably. "She is seriously out of her fucking mind,"

he muttered, keeping the ladder steady on the bottom. Hayate, a
little less than halfway up the ladder now, made the mistake of
glancing back down at the sound of people talking below him. He
shuddered briefly but braced himself, biting the inside of his cheek
for a moment.
"U-um -- is everything okay?" he asked
uncertainly. He really didn't want this ladder to fall.
"It's
fine, kid. Please just move. I'm not Rai -- I can hold you up, but
you need to get your ass in gear." Genma studied the stage below
him, looking for the slightly darker spots where his sweat was
striking. "Man, how did we fail so badly to talk Rai into the
department? Two of us made it..."
"Football
practices, man," Aoba grunted. "Freaking brutal. Raidou's a
pretty tough guy, but I sure wouldn't want to do this after
the daily football practice. I'm just lucky that track doesn't meet
every day."
Hayate worked on trying to get up the ladder
faster, still nervous that he'd slip. He finally reached the top,
feeling his heart jump into his throat as he no longer had a full
length of ladder to rest his body against. Grabbing the top of the
ladder tightly with one hand, he reached for the bag hanging off the
catwalk. His fingers closed around the cloth -- finally, yes, okay

-- but when it didn't come away right away, he felt a surge of alarm.
Was it snagged? He tugged a little harder and felt it come away with
a small ripping sound. He cringed but tried not to think about it.
"Umm, I got it," he called down, a little shakily, and
started back down the ladder.
Genma crouched statue-still, the
sweat now drizzling rather than dripping from his face, shirt wetly
stuck to his back. "Great." He was seriously not cut out
for this shit. Climbing was all well and good, but bracing someone
who moved as slowly and unsteadily as Hayate was just nerve-wracking.
The semi-meditative state now included a hissed stream of curses with
every breath, in and out. His arms burned and his back was starting
to cramp from the bizarre position. Come on, you've fucked in
tighter spaces than this. It's not that bad. Just stay still a bit
longer.
Hayate did his best to scramble down the ladder,
his heart thudding in his ears from the sheer rush of being up so
high, of being in that precarious position. His foot slipped on one
of the lower rungs and he choked on his breath, grabbing at the
ladder, but managed to catch himself at the cost of the handbag. It
slipped from his hand, falling to land on the floor beside Aoba, and
he let out a shuddering sigh. That was okay. That could be picked up
after. He clambered down the rest of the ladder as quickly as he
could, all but jumping off of it and staggering a few steps back,
breathing a little bit deeply.
Genma wheezed with relief as
Hayate stepped off the bottom of the ladder. Now he just had to get
down from there. "Coming down!" Taking a deep breath, he
pulled himself back over to one side of the ladder and scrambled down
the inside face. When he hit the ground he turned and went right back
up the proper way to let the second stage down. On the ground, again,
he realised that he was damp everywhere he had skin. With a shudder,
Genma wiped off his face with the bottom of his shirt.
"Thanks,
man." He clapped Aoba on the shoulder as the other senior bent
down to pick up the prop that had fallen by his feet. "Give me a
sec and we'll put the monstrosity back." Turning to face Hayate,
he studied the kid for a moment. "You okay, kid?"
Hayate
nodded, taking the handbag from Aoba. Studying it, his face fell
slightly. "I ripped it a little," he said grimly. "It
got snagged on the catwalk..."
Aoba glanced over his
shoulder, frowning. "Ahh, shit. Hey, Genma? Before we put this
thing away, do me a favour and grab my bag. If we're lucky, I can fix
this thing before Anko comes back over here."
"Yeah,
I'm on it." Genma sprinted off and returned in a few seconds
with a large, lumpy backpack. "What the fuck do you keep

in this thing? You and your bitching about frosh bags, and still you
keep more shit in this thing than God would know what to do with."
He handed the bag over with a grin, and Aoba rolled his eyes.
"I
don't normally keep this much shit in here. I was cleaning out my
locker today and forgot to bring an extra bag to stick shit in."
Aoba shrugged and dug around in his backpack until he produced a
compact sewing kit. "Let me see the bag, kiddo."
Hayate
blinked at Aoba as he handed the prop over. "You carry sewing
stuff with you? All the time?"
Aoba flashed him that
goofy grin that he was so well known for. "The ladies love a man
who's always prepared."
"I will never understand why
chicks dig this fool." Genma gestured exasperatedly at Aoba.
"Cannot keep his mouth in check, looks like a complete dork in
those glasses, but keeps a harem without effort. I have no idea why
this works at all...I mean at least I look like candy, half the time,
even if I am an asshole."
"I keep telling you, man."

Aoba leaned against a row of seats with that grin still on his face,
threading a needle. "It's the Yamashiro Factor."
"Yeah,
yeah. And I've actually gotta work my hot ass for what I get." A
moderately wicked grin crept across Genma's face. "What do we
call what Rai's got? Did you hear he made some cheerleader walk home,
last weekend? Apparently, she grabbed his junk." He looked like
the idea of anyone ever trying to grab Raidou's crotch was the most
ludicrous and wholly stupid thing that could be done.
"See,
I only date the nice girls," Aoba said, shaking his head. "I
mean, I know Raidou's all...you know. Him. But he needs to stop
dating the dumb bitches. Obviously he's not going to get an ounce of
respect out of any of them. I'm not surprised she tried that."
He shook his head. Hayate seemed a bit awkward about this topic of
conversation, glancing around idly before he spoke -- but he did
speak at all.
"I'd probably do the same thing," he
said, quietly and half-muttered. "If I was Raidou, I
mean."
"Oh, honey, I don't blame him. They're not
nice girls, at all. I'd slap them." Somewhere in the last thirty
seconds, Genma had kicked over into ultra-fag mode -- the very thing
that had earned him the handle 'Queen Molly'. "Sometimes, I just
want to set him up with a nice girl, but your exes are crazy and I
don't...ah...yeah. I try not to, anyway. I just want to back that boy
into a wall and show him what kissing's supposed to be like. Tell him
he'll know he's found a good one if she can give me competition.
That's his complaint, you know. 'Oh, I don't want people touching and
kissing me. That's kind of gross. And not fun.' Hmph. If I thought
he'd ever forgive me, I'd show him fun, just on
principle."
Aoba looked mildly squicked, shaking his head
as he started stitching up the side of the handbag. "Man, don't.
Ever. He'd kill you if he really thought you ever seriously
considered it, and I don't want to clean you up after that mess."
"I
don't blame him, though. Um, Raidou." Hayate coughed and watched
Aoba work. "It is kinda gross. Maybe it's just not for
everyone."
Genma stared at Hayate for a moment. "Okay,
two things, in order. First, it's not serious serious. I'm not
into him or anything. Just a favour to a friend. Like you do, y'know?
And I'm not going to do it, either. Not unless I'm really drunk, and
he's really whiny. Next, I can't imagine not enjoying it! What's so
gross, kid? Explain this to me like you would to a retard, because
that's about my level of comprehension, here. I mean, I can see not
liking it if it's done badly, but usually it's pretty
good."
Hayate looked embarrassed, shaking his head. "It
just is. I don't know. Why is it important?"
"I hate
being clueless. There are many things in the world that are
completely foreign to me, and I'd like to at least...not be entirely
stupid about them." Genma reached out and ruffled Hayate's hair.

"Don't worry about it, kid. I'll go pester Rai to explain it
again, when I'm not drunk, this time." Oh, god help me. It
now officially sucks to be me. Doesn't like the idea of kissing and
can't even talk about it? Ouch.

Hayate wrinkled his
nose and shook his hair out, letting it fall back the way it usually
did -- which, in all honesty, was a scruffy, messy sort of way. He
had that constant look of having just rolled out of bed all over --
messy hair, rumpled clothes, tired, near-dead look. Aoba just shook
his head, continuing to sew up the side of the bag. "Nearly done
stitching this thing up," he announced, grinning.
"Stitching
what up?"
Hayate could have sworn that he jumped
at the sound of Anko's voice, dangerously tipped with that edge of
utter insanity like always.
"Your prop. Take it out of
the primadonna who threw that shit up there. It came down ripped."
Genma wasn't lying, but he was certainly implying an untruth. His
back was to Anko as he looked sternly at Hayate, willing him not to
challenge the statements. Hayate shifted uncomfortably as Anko stared
at him from behind Genma, as Aoba started to knot the
thread.
"Well?" she said expectantly. "Was it
ripped when you came down?" She looked at Aoba sharply as the
senior opened his mouth. "Not you. I asked the prop fag
here."
Hayate nodded, though he still looked
apprehensive. Technically that was the truth, even though Anko
didn't look like she really believed it. She took the bag from Aoba
as soon as he'd finished it, inspecting it critically.
"Anko,
say thank you to Aoba." Genma didn't turn around -- didn't move
at all. His voice was quiet, but clear. Anko rolled her eyes at
Genma's back.
"Thank you, Aoba," she said with
saccharine sweetness. Aoba just shook his head and packed away his
sewing kit, and Anko turned her attention back to Hayate. "Come
on, kid. Back to the green room." Hayate nodded and shuffled
past Genma for Anko, thanking both Genma and Aoba as he
walked.
Genma nodded as the kid passed. "So maybe I push
her a bit," he commented to Aoba. "Someone has to stop
taking her shit. She'll win here, but that can't last. Blah, blah,
flies, honey, vinegar. You know the drill." He stared after
Hayate with a combination of suppressed lust, sadness, and concern.
Aoba shook his head, standing up with his bag.
"Hey, the
kid'll be all right. You were right. He's pretty tenacious."

Aoba grimaced at the ladder. "Come on, let's put the monstrosity
away."
Genma nodded again, and set to work helping Aoba
get the ladder back down. For some reason, he always wound up on the
down side, walking the ladder down. After inspecting it for any new
breaks -- the old ones were all painted orange -- he picked up his
end of the ladder and led the way off the stage, still shaking off
his concerns. Aoba was probably right -- the kid was going to be
fine.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Corybantic Dance