CATS 20th Anniversary Tour

Chapter Five: Goin' Courtin'

Written by Mistostar

Danielle was brushing out her long strawberry blonde hair when a tentative knock sounded at the bedroom door. Glancing over at Fiona, who was still asleep, Danielle sighed and, after walking over to the door, opened the door until the chain stopped it to reveal Dakota and Quintin on the other side of the door.

"Hey, guys," Danielle greeted the two taller men before closing the door enough to unchain the door and allow the two to enter the room.

"How's she doin'?" Dakota asked, glancing over at Fiona.

"I'm fine," Fiona answered, propping herself up on one elbow, facing the three dancers standing near the door.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dakota asked, crossing the room to sit next to Fiona.

"Yes," Fiona said, smiling weakly at the tall dark man.

Danielle motioned for Quintin to follow her out of the room while the couple talked. "What?" Quintin asked, once they were in the hallway.

"I just wanted to leave them alone for a little while," Danielle explained, guiding Quintin down the hall and out into the cool New York air.

"Where are we going?" Quintin asked Danielle.

"My grandmama's French restraunt," Danielle replied, looping her arm through Quintin's.

"I didn't know you had relatives in New York," Quintin said, opening the door to the restraunt for Danielle.

"You didn't ask," Danielle stated simply, waving to her grandmother, who was in the kitchen, and guiding Quintin towards the back of the restraunt.

"*Ma petite-fille*!" Francoise Burgoiuse cried in a thick French accent, hugging her granddaughter.

"*Grand'm�re*! How are you?" Danielle cried, kissing her grandmother on both cheeks.

"Much better now that you are here," Francoise replied, guiding Danielle and Quintin to a corner booth after grabbing two menus. "Now, before we talk any further, you must introduce me to your tall friend here."

"Grandmama, this is Quintin. He plays Rum Tum Tugger for the Tour," Danielle said, indicating the tall gentleman who hadn't left her side for a moment.

"What 'Tour'?" Francoise asked, bewilderment in her blue eyes.

"I'm sorry, Grandmama. I forgot to tell you. Fiona and I made the final cut for the CATS tour," Danielle told her grandmother, motioning for Quintin to sit down.

"Oh, Danielle! I'm so happy for you!" Francoise cried, giving her granddaughter a congratulatory hug.

"*Merci*," Danielle replied, hugging Francoise back.

"I will leave you two alone now. I will send Pierre in a few minutes," Francoise said before turning and heading for the kitchen.

"*Merci*!" Quintin called after the retreating Frenchwoman.

"I didn't know you knew French," Danielle told the tall lanky dancer.

"*Tant soit peu*," Quintin replied, holding his hand up and putting his thumb and forefinger about half an inch apart to show that he knew very little.

"*Salutations*!" Pierre Fauteux greeted the couple a few minutes later.

"Hello, Pierre," Danielle greeted her twenty-five-year-old brother. "Pierre, this is Quintin. Quintin, this is my older brother, Pierre."

"Hello, Quintin," Pierre said, extending his hand to Quintin.

"Hello, Pierre," Quintin returned, taking the slightly older man's hand and pumping it enthusiastically.

"Now, what would you like?" Pierre asked Danielle, pulling out his order pad.

"Do you trust me?" Danielle asked Quintin.

"Explicitly," Quintin answered.

"Two orders of *escargot* and a bottle of 1937 Merlot." Danielle told her brother.

"How did I know you were going to order that?" Pierre teased his sister.

"That's what I always order," Danielle teased right back as Pierre collected the menus.

"Except for the wine, of course," Pierre tossed over his shoulder as he headed towards another table where a patron was signaling for him.

"I swear, I'm fine, Dak," Fiona told him as she sat up and stretched.

"I know, I know," Dakota sighed and ran one broad hand through his shaggy black hair. "I'm just so worried about you."

"I understand," Fiona laid a comforting hand on one broad shoulder. "There's no need to hover over me," she pushed the covers back, swung her long, slender, dancer's legs over the side of the bed and stood up. "See? I'm fine. Whoa," she placed one hand on his shoulder to steady herself.

"No, you're not fine," he grasped her waist and gently pulled her down to sit on the bed next to him. "Now you just lay down here while I go rustle up some soup for you."

"Okay," she complacently laid back against the pillow and he pulled her covers up. "Make sure it's split pea, okay?"

"Okay," he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before leaving the room. She stared at the door for a moment, then grabbed her sketchpad and began sketching. He found her sketching when he entered with a room service cart. "I thought I told you to lay there quietly," he chided as he gently pulled the pad out of her hands and slid a tray with a bowl of soup and crackers on it into her lap. "Here's your soup."

"Thanks," Fiona picked up the spoon and began to slowly eat the soup.

"You're welcome," he grinned down at her, then switched his navy blue gaze to the sketchpad he held. "Hey, it's me," he riffled through the other sketches. "A lot of these are of me."

Fiona nodded and swallowed. "Yeah."

"Why?" Dakota set the sketchpad aside and sat down at the foot of the bed, ignoring the other tray of food on the cart.

"You're a fascinating subject," Fiona studied him through lowered lashes, suddenly shy.

"Hmm," he studied her thoughtfully before grabbing his tray and beginning to eat the ham and cheese sandwhich, applesauce and well- done fries on it.

"Hey, Em," Sharon said, trying to get her friend's attention.

"Yeah?" Emma asked, her voice ice cold.

"Why don't you go after Jeremy Langdon?" Sharon asked, trying to cheer up the depressed dancer/singer. "He's Quin's understudy most of the time."

"But, I want Quin!" Emma cried throwing her pillow across the room, where it hit the wall just above Sharon's head, causing Sharon to yelp with surprise and scramble to the foot of her bed.

"I know you do, dear," Sharon said, tossing the pillow back at Emma, who caught it deftly.

"And I'm *not* about to let some little French girl take him away from me!" Emma cried, raising a red-nailed fist in the air rebelliously.

"Where's Eliot?" Loren asked Hank A.K.A. Skimbleshanks.

"Talking to the *missus*," Hank answered, not looking up from his Star Trek book. "You'd think, after all his experience, he'd learn to bring the wife and kids along."

"Come on, Hank. You know this is no kind of a life for a wife and kids," Loren admonished the younger man.

"I know," Hank said.

"It makes me wish I had my own family," Loren answered.

"Cheer up, big guy. You'll see your kids as soon as the divorce proceedings are over," Hank told the slightly taller dancer.

"I know," Loren answered, turning his back to Hank, so that he couldn't see his tears.

Knowing his best friend, Hank closed the subject for now, but knew that it would come up again later.

"Dani?" Fiona asked tentatively later that night, once Rebecca and Angela were asleep.

"Hmm?" Danielle asked, turning over so that she could look at her sick friend.

"Could we go for a walk? I need to talk to you," Fiona asked, tossing back her blankets and standing up.

"Are you sure you're up to it?" Danielle asked, standing up as well.

"I don't care. I need to vent," Fiona answered stubbornly, walking over to her bureau and pulling out a pair of sweats.

"Okay," Danielle said reluctantly as she pulled a pair of sweats out of her own bureau.

"What time did you get Dani back?" Dakota asked Quintin as Danielle and Fiona were getting ready for their walk.

"About half an hour ago. Why?" Quintin asked, turning over to look at his new friend.

"I can hear movement upstairs," Dakota answered, pointing towards the ceiling and the room Danielle, Fiona, Rebecca, and Angela shared.

"You wanna see what's up?" Quintin asked, moving his blankets and sheets to the foot of his bed.

"Sounds good to me." Dakota said, pushing down his own covers and pulling on a t-shirt since he was already wearing a pair of sweatpants.

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