His Gentle Beauty

Dance Technique

Eliza:

MacGyver's protective hold tightened on me, "No". A single word passed his lips.

"Do I have to remind you who signs your paycheque, Mac?"

"Is this what you meant when you said she has a certain skill set? Her age fits the mission's category? You told me Eliza would have more time, she doesn't trust anyone yet, Matty. I don't blame her, She just met everyone." His eyes held a crystallized fire. His tone was forward, but not aggressive.

"This isn't ideal, but it is our job. And I don't know what you're seeing, Mac. But she has not left your side willingly since you met. She trusts you. That's all we need." Matilda exposed.

My brain and body were conflicted. I wanted to pull away, unsure of what MacGyver might do out of anger. If he was anything like my parents, I needed to be as distanced as possible. While I also wanted him near, desperate for his comfort.

The room was suffocating with authoritative dispute. The two were speaking, retaliating back and forth. Although I couldn't make out the words, due to a mixture of anxiety and contemplation, I never wanted to upset either of them. Especially not MacGyver. However, I couldn't live with myself if Matty was serious of her threats and he became unemployed, all because of me.

"What do we need to do?" I asked, hoping that would be enough of an agreement.

The tall blond glanced down to me and I attempted to rid my face of any floating doubts. Once he believed my security in the decision, he faced Matilda.

"Great. MacGyver, I've got a ballet class set up for you in ten minutes."

"I get to see my boy do some twinkle toes." Jack smiled, amused. "Hold on there a second, how come Little Missy doesn't have to join him?"

"I've been doing ballet for three years now." I looked to the floor. Not that I was any good.

"On average it takes a person three to six years to achieve pointe shoes safely, but it took Eliza eight months." Matty voiced with pride, "unless you'd like to join MacGyver, refresh your memory."

I couldn't contain my excitement as I started jumping up and down, "I'd love to!"

————————

MacGyver had been attempting to memorize each ballet position over the past fifteen minutes. I softly chuckled to myself, this was the easy part. We had 48 hours before our mission began. I was not sure how MacGyver was supposed to fit years of training and flexibility into that amount of time, but not one other operative had experience in ballet. I guess, not many people with classical dance experience decided to settle in the field of secret agents.

MacGyver and I were meant to pose as pas de deux partners, who originally trained in Spain. I remained my current age, while the organization had to age MacGyver down, given this program was for high school students. Our cover names were Sofia and Mateo.

The ballet lesson was complete, but we booked the studio for the rest of the night to continue practicing.

"Should I just start calling you Mateo now, that way I won't accidentally call you by your real name? Wait, MacGyver is your real name right?" I glanced to MacGyver, biting my lip in attempt to hide the blush on my face. He wore black tights with a white leotard beneath. At first, I was intimidated at the sight. The top clung to his form, moulding with his bulging muscles and abs. My head remarked at me like my dad used to, He could break my body in seconds. But the concentrated look on MacGyver's face to present his form properly, was disarming.

"Yes, my birth name is Angus MacGyver."

"Hero's tend to have really bad names," I laughed. "Lift your elbows. You want your shoulder back, elbows up, and wrists in." I corrected the man who stood in second position.

"You think Angus is a bad name?" He smirked, challenging me. "More importantly, you think I'm a hero?"

"It's not the worst, I actually like it. But the Flash, his name is Bartholomew. That's why everyone calls him Barry. And like you, when everyone calls you Mac." I pursed my lips together, realizing my rambling could've been insulting.

"Have you and Jack been talking? He makes fun of me for this all the time." He occupied himself with demi pliés. "Hey, could you uh, tell me how I'm supposed to hold you when you do that leg thing?" Pausing, MacGyver continued, "this must be how Jack feels when I talk about science."

I nodded, making my way to his side, but in front of him. Riley hacked into the ballet academy's schedule and made sure our class focused on arabesques and balance, rather than intense dance routines.

My weight shifted onto my supporting leg and the other went behind me, creating a a 90° angle. "Put a hand on my front hip,"

My mind froze at the contact of his hand on my waist.

After giving myself time to re-form sentences, I elaborated, "Now put your other one on my lower back". My cheeks flushed pink, I hoped he couldn't see it in our reflection. "In arabesques, the person's pelvis tilts forward. Meaning the partner should move with the body, instead of just having your hands on their hips."

"Like magnets. Their opposite charges causes them to adapt and adjust when the other moves to connect." MacGyver moved closer, removing his right hand from my back and sliding my leg down.

There was a whisper of classical music flowing through the studio's speaker. I kept facing forward, staring back at him through the mirror.

"March 18th," he murmured, his breath fanning my neck.

"My birthday?" I turned, meeting his crystal eyes. "That's in eight months,"

"I know," His hands came up, caressing my jaw with his fingertips. His usual bright orbs, darkening as he glanced to my lips.

My heart thumped in my throat, "MacGyver," I swallowed.

That broke the haze he seemed to be in. He took a deep breath, stepped back and pinched the area between his brows.

"You like being near me, yet look absolutely terrified when I look at you," He cleared his throat.

"It's not that." I looked out the window, avoiding his stare. "It's the way you do it. You can't do that to me, please don't do that to me." I was no louder than a whisper.

"I wish I could say I don't know what you're talking about. But I do, and I understand." He nodded.

I wished I could explain to him the amount of mental exhaustion I force onto people. It's not that I didn't want MacGyver to think of me as more than a job. It's that I needed MacGyver to know me, fully experience all of the turmoil I could put him through. Before he decided to stay. Before I believed he's staying. Before I fell.