Hey there! Here's a new AU Full House story that I cooked up one day. In it, Stephanie is ten years old. The Coreys are 16, and they're vampires as well – except they feed on the bad guys and not the good guys. The story takes place after the episode "Crushed" in Season Five, but then goes AU from there.

Disclaimer: Genius Jeff Franklin owns Full House. I own the stories, ficlets, oneshots, drabbles, crossovers and poems I cook up from time to time.

The Dance, Love and Passion

She Always Takes It With A Heart Of Stone
‛Cause All She Does Is Throw It Back To Me
I've Spent A Lifetime
Looking For Someone
Don't Try To Understand Me
Just Simply Do The Things I Say

Love Is A Feeling
Give It When I Want It
‛Cause I'm On Fire
Quench My Desire
Give It When I Want It
Talk To Me Woman
Give In To Me
Give In To Me

-Michael Jackson, Give in to Me

The place was a dance studio at Frasier Street Elementary School. It was 7 AM.

Dance studios were invariably full of contradictions. Bare architecture contrasted with rich tapestries of artistic expression. Simple dress served not to distract from intricate swirls of music and movement. Meticulous choreography carried the intention of appearing light and carefree.

It was the type of place where people came to work their fingers, their toes, their whole bodies to the bone- in order to achieve the appearance of effortless perfection.

On this particular day, at this particular time, there was only one dancer left.

Stephanie was the sort of person who sometimes needed solitude to concentrate her abilities and polish her skills to the point where they attained the brilliant shine she was forever seeking. Being ten years old, and working by herself for 3 hours, she barely had a moment to dance the way she really wanted to.

She would often stay after all the other students had gone, and just let her feet take her where they would. It was almost like a meditative state, or a prayer…a way to bring herself back to her center and contemplate the issues and problems in her life without actually thinking on a conscious level.

Today Stephanie had two things particular on her mind – well, two people in particular, to be precise.

Sometimes her dances were plaintive or wistful, joyful or abstract…

This dance was different. She wanted to soar and spin and bend her body into the most impossible positions.

An incident, an experience, a raging symphony of long-hidden emotion and underlying passion that had recently been unleashed…

It was the Coreys – Corey Feldman and Corey Haim – making her dance tonight.

Steph's blond hair twirled around her face as she spun on her heels, remembering the encounter. Those were the hottest, hardest, most sensual and consumingly passionate experiences of her life – all in one soul-shocking night. They had been showing her what her first kiss would feel like. And, it felt good, too. When she'd had to leave on Sunday morning (afternoon, more like) it had almost become nine (and likely ten, eleven, and twelve) until she was able to still their clever, seeking hands…she could hardly wait to feel those hands again.

As if the frantic dancing and memories of that night in the Coreys' bed weren't enough to make Stephanie feel uncomfortably hot, there also seemed to be a problem with the air conditioning today. Sweat glimmered on the dancer's skin. The maintenance man in this building was obviously a complete demon…

Sighing, Stephanie swiped a towel across her face and headed for the small instructor's dressing room, where she usually kept her things during her workday. The dance had made her feel refreshed inside, but her skin was positively burning. She idly imagined an ice cold glass of water and a breezy linen dress, or maybe just a pleasantly chilly can of soda from the vending machine in the hall on her way out.

She certainly didn't have any thoughts of supposedly deep dark brown and green eyes that would only make the flames grow larger, burning her to a white-hot crisp.

Oh, not at all…

They'd been watching her for twenty minutes, and already they had realized a number of things.

For one, the three of them were more similar than they'd ever realized. Here she was, an hour after her day supposedly ended, working her sweet little body off to move just that much closer to her artistic ideal. How was that so different from the hours they spent poring over movie scripts and memorizing the lines for their characters?

They crossed their arms, grinning. Sometimes people really didn't appreciate the amount of creativity that went into the work they did.

Another thing they'd noticed was how…beautiful she looked in her dance clothes. She wore what seemed to be a black shirt and tight black shorts, with a filmy blue skirt clinging around her hips and the top of her thighs. They wanted to put their hands…well, everywhere.

She didn't know they were there, of course. They had wanted to surprise her, after all. They hadn't even spoken since their first scorching night together after their movie premiere. They had always enjoyed observing people, especially when the people weren't aware of the Coreys' presence. You could learn a lot from what people did when they thought nobody was looking.

They'd been careful to make sure no one saw them enter the building, being very sneaky and using the mercifully unlocked fire exit to get in.

Regardless of the stifling heat in the building, it was her fluid, primal movements that caused the fire to spark in them. Watching her flex and twirl in those form-fitting clothes induced vivid recollections of how she'd felt, her naked body pulsing and gyrating beneath them one at a time, driving their rhythm over the breaking point and tearing their world-famous control (which they'd worked so long and so hard to get over the years) to shreds…

There was something about Stephanie that made them lose control, but only in the movies. She made them pay attention to their work and memorize their lines. She made them take their work seriously. She was now their drug, their addiction. Heroin and cocaine were nothing to them now – they were a brief dalliance in a moment of weakness.

They couldn't help but grin at the analogy. Stephanie Judith Tanner being a drug and an addiction – how silly!

Then they looked at each other, and smirking still, left the dance studio, their heads brimming with an idea...