A/N: I just thought I should start something a bit different, with an actual plotline. Here’s my actual story for the Tryan pairing. Don’t like it? TFB. You shouldn’t be here if you don’t like slash.

For those of you that DO though, please enjoy! This is merely the beginning. :)

Warning: I use some pretty derogatory language here, and I’m gay myself, so understand that use of the word f*g or f*ggot is not meant to offend people. I use it all the time, even to describe myself. It’s just words, and I don’t understand why people flip out about it. So don’t. Thanks.

Disclaimer: I don’t own HSM, it belongs to Disney, and the song (Feedback) belongs to Janet Jackson. And I don’t own Dora the Explorer. Haha…

“I’m sorry… what!?” Ryan inquired loudly. “I must have misunderstood… we’re doing a Janet Jackson piece??” The dance instructor stared down the flustered Evans boy. She would not let some spoiled child openly object her. This was her studio.

“Yes, and if you have a problem, you can just leave right now,” she stated, looking down her nose and speaking in her heavily foreign accent. Ryan’s face twisted up into a malignant scowl, and he stepped back into place as she began to explain the steps.

It was much more urbanized of a dance, one of those deals with street dancing and such. Ryan couldn’t comprehend the beauty of these relatively vulgar moves. Where were the pirouettes? Where was the pas-de-bourree?

And WHAT IN THE WORLD was that thing she just did with her hips!?

He snorted derisively as the teacher continued her explanation of how timing was everything, and hitting the moves in time with the bass was very important.

It would be a long day.

A week later

Ryan pulled out his white I-pod as he sat on the floor of his personal studio. His mouth twitched slightly downward in a contemplative look as he plugged it into the stereo and pressed play, standing up.

He still couldn’t believe the lyrics, and rolled his eyes excessively at the first few lines, walking in circles with his arms crossed. But eventually the bass pulled at his hands, and he couldn’t help but sway his hips in time with the music. He sighed angrily to himself, giving in. He had been working on the dance for a week, and still was having trouble with it.

He danced the routine he had learned in class. “Do you like ma style?” the stereo sang to him, and his hips spun in time with the next line. “Yeah that’s sexy, sexy, sexy.”

He may be used to ballet, but the boy knew how to move in other ways. Better ways.

The words repeated themselves, and he added something new each repetition. His hands moved up and tugged at his own shirt, pulling his own body in different directions before twining over his head, which was facing sideways, eyes closed. His hips twisted to the rhythm. He smiled slightly to himself.

“Lemme show you how, yeah that’s sexy, sexy, sexy…”

He spun on one foot, landing the twirl so his legs were spread apart and he faced the mirror, a grin on his face. “So here’s a demonstration,” he whispered, continuing the choreography, moving his hips and hands in the way he was told, ignoring the next couple lines.

“Though it’s on display,” he pulled his shirt up so his toned stomach was showing, “Don’t be scared to touch it,” he dragged his other hand sensually over his skin, and hooked his thumb in his sweatpants, still gyrating to the beat. Choreography was lost now, and he let his innocent self go.

“So come and get it, babe,” he said out loud, doing another spin, hands over his head, facing away from the mirror to the door, hips banging to the beat as the next line began.

He suddenly stopped dancing when he saw Troy Bolton in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Ryan was screaming in his head, but he couldn’t do anything. His body was frozen in place, legs spread, sweatpants low on his waist, and hands still over his head.

Troy didn’t speak for nearly a minute… and then he broke down laughing. Ryan’s face turned into a scowl again. He unfroze, and pulled his body into a normal stance.

“What are you doing here!?” he asked angrily, eyebrow raised and temper rising.

“You are SO gay,” Troy responded, still cracking up, leaning on the doorway for support. Ryan’s brow furrowed even further, and he repressed the urge to lash out.

“I’d like to see you dance better!” Ryan retorted furiously after a momentary pause, not refuting the basketball star’s statement. “Now answer my question, what the hell are you even doing here!?”

Troy couldn’t breathe. The music was still going too, and the beat was starting to pull at Ryan again, despite his absolute anger. Pursing his lips, Ryan ignored the other boy and turned to face the mirror again.

“Strum me like a guitar,” Ryan muttered, actually pretending to strum a guitar, hips still banging to the beat, yet not as uninhibited as before. He now knew he had an audience.

He jumped up and spun, landing steadily. “Blow out my amplifier,” he did a body roll with the beat. Dancing like this was all about contrast between smooth movements and sharper ones. His hips spun, and he continued his dance.

“When you hear some feedback, keep goin take it higher,” he whispered, closing his eyes and trying to forget about the jerk that was cracking up behind him. “Crank it up-ah, give it to me, come on, crank it up, give it to me come on…” he mouthed the words.

“I’m gonna feedback, feedback,” his body moved and paused as fast as the music, giving a shutter, strobe-light type effect. “Uh, f-f-feedback, feedback,” his jerky motions fitting the music perfectly.

“Crank it up-ah, give it to me, come on,” he heard somebody whisper from behind him. Turning around, scowl YET AGAIN back in place, he saw Troy repress a chuckle and walk further into the studio.

“NUH UH,” Ryan said loudly, holding out a hand to stop him. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“Well, at first I came to get help from Sharpay with what to wear to this charity event my mom is doing, but I couldn’t find her, the door was unlocked, and I heard music coming from this room.”

Ryan did not let the fact that he started the sentence with ‘Well, at first…’ go unnoticed, so he must be here for a different reason now. His mind refused to accept what he knew was coming. “But…?” he drawled, knowing the words before they came out of his mouth.

“But NOW I’m here to watch, and laugh, at your dancing.” Troy plastered on a smug smirk and guffawed in that dumb-ass, sports-jock way.

“Are you insinuating that I can’t dance?” Ryan spat disgustedly. Like this pampered basketball star knew anything about the art that is dance…

“You’re doing it wrong.” Troy chuckled again, low and throaty, and Ryan’s eye twitched, something that happened whenever he was close to releasing his temper.

“Please, show me how it actually IS done,” the blond said contemptuously, walking to the back of the room and examining the unmoving boy in the middle of his studio. Troy squatted next to the stereo, and picked up the i-pod. He restarted the song.

Waiting quietly, Troy stood in front of the mirror. The beat pulled at Troy as well, and Ryan began to chuckle quietly.

Troy began to do the ‘I don’t wanna be a chicken’ dance, and mocked Ryan, pulling up his shirt and rubbing his own stomach, swaying his hips jerkily, laughing the entire time until he collapsed on his ass, smiling stupidly, laughs still wracking his body. Ryan rolled his eyes and shook his head at the same time, stepping forward.

“You need to unclench, Mr. ‘I can dance better’,” he stated sardonically. “You’re hips are too tense.”

Troy lifted an eyebrow. “It was better than what YOU were doing.”

“What I was doing was choreographed, what you’re doing is that dance 3 year olds do when Dora the Explorer sings ‘We did it!’,” Ryan said demeaningly. Troy gave him a deadpan stare, and allowed the other boy to explain how it was actually done.

Ryan pulled Troy off of the floor so that they were standing face to face. Troy was slightly taller than him, but not by much.

“Let’s start with the basics,” Ryan stated, even though he was an amateur to the dance himself. “The hips.”

Troy lifted a single eyebrow.

“I’m not letting you leave until you get it right, so you better learn fast.” Troy scowled. “YOU CAME IN HERE!” Ryan responded angrily. “You don’t come into my studio unless you want to dance. And you’re going to dance.”

Ryan placed his hands on Troy’s hips, and started to maneuver them to the beat. Ryan wasn’t paying attention to Troy’s face, which was a good thing, considering it was incredulous. How’d the jock even get into this situation!? Ryan Evans, resident fag of East High, had his hands on the brunette’s waist, and was teaching him how to dance.

Troy slowly got the hang of the basic swaying back and forth, and Ryan let go, falling into the beat, and disregarding the choreography to the song, letting the beat take over. He spun into a spread eagle, bent over at the waist, and slowly pulled himself back up in a body roll before falling back into the hip movement, an awestruck Troy standing next to him.

“Alright Troy, show me what you’ve got,” Ryan said, turning around, cocking his head and pursing his lips in a stern, teacher-esque way. The family resemblance went further than the love of performing arts. Ryan could be worse than Sharpay when we wanted to be.

Troy’s face twisted into a look of disgust/horror. Ryan’s eyebrow twitched, and he remained unblinking.

“Strum me like a guitar,” the stereo spoke, and Troy mimicked Ryan’s previous motions, falling into the beat, hips hitting the bass perfectly. Ryan’s mouth quirked into the slightest of smiles. “Blow out my amplifier,” Troy spun around, and almost fell on his ass, but recovered with a somewhat-smooth body roll, and then he broke down into the sharp movements of the next 16 count, impressing Ryan even more.

“Okay, so you aren’t completely dense,” Ryan remarked with dry humor. “But still… Get out.” He wanted to finish the choreography. “And don’t come back unless you want to deal with an ACTUAL lesson,” Ryan said laughably, turning his back to Troy and heading to his I-pod.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow, same time?” Troy inquired. Ryan stopped walking, paused, and then spun on his heel, eyeing the brunette boy curiously, head cocked to the side, looking the basketball star up and down. What were his intentions?

He’d find out soon enough.

“Fine,” Ryan said grudgingly, turning around again. “But bring better clothes this time. Comfortable ones. You’re in for a rough ride, and you don’t want clothing holding you back…”

Troy smiled sadistically. Ryan had no idea.

The brunette left, and the smaller, stricter, and absolutely clueless Evans boy resumed his choreography, thinking over what he’d just done.

A/N: Yes. There’s more to come. Lots to come. Lots of music and dancing too, by the way. Hope you enjoyed this first chapter! Please review! :)

~Quinny