Ice Princess fic: In the Shadows, In the Light (Gen/Ann)
This is the only new fandom I wrote for Yuletide. The moment I saw rsadelle's prompt, which wasn't until close to the end of the writing period, I knew I wanted to write her a Gen/Ann story. I sat down that very night, rewatched the movie, and wrote the first draft of this. I love the movie, which is ridiculous and adorable and fun, and I hope I captured some of that joy here.
Title: In the Shadows, In the Light
Author: escritoireazul
Characters/Pairings: Gen Harwood/Ann, Casey Carlyle
Author's Note: This is a transformative work of fiction set after the movie.
Written for: rsadelle as a Yuletide 2015 treat
Word count: 1,600
Rating: all ages
Read at AO3
Summary: Gen Harwood gave up figure skating to have a regular life. Now she just has to figure out what that means.
Your life plays out on the shadows of the wall
You turn the light on to erase it all
You wonder what it's like to not feel worthless
So open all the blinds and all the curtains
"No One" Aly & AJ
Casey flirting was the most awkward thing Gen had ever seen, and it seemed impossible that her brother was even worse, but he was. There were times Gen wanted to bury her face in her hands from second hand embarrassment. (There were times when she did exactly that, and was only saved because it set Ann to laughing. She was luminous when she laughed.)
It was a good thing that Casey more than made up for it with her grace on the ice.
…
The first time Gen thought she might still have a life after skating was watching Casey at regionals, Ann squished, surprisingly pleasantly, up against one side, her mother on the other, gripping her hand tight even though there’s butter and salt from the popcorn on her fingers.
After Casey’s long program, Ann wrapped her in an exuberant embrace, and it was awkward, and weird, and a little bit wonderful. She pushed that aside, though, because there was Casey to congratulate and her mother to hug oh so tight.
But Ann was right there next to her through it all, friendly and smiling, and after everything else was done, she found herself laughing with Ann, head on her shoulder a moment, and then together they walked out of the rink, away from Gen’s old life.
Toward the new one, maybe. She hoped.
…
The first time Gen kissed Ann, they were holed up in her mom’s office at the top of the rink, waiting for Casey to finish an afternoon practice, sitting on the floor because the big glass windows that overlooked the ice were weird. Gen had always hated them, and her all-seeing mother. Ann wore a thick sweater, oversized, the ends covering her fingers. She had to shove them up so she could mark Gen’s practice test.
She used red pen. It was kind of terrible, the first time. Not so bad now.
Ann looked up at Gen, and grinned, shoved the paper at her way too enthusiastically for math. That smile was great, though; it made her whole face light up, her eyes bright, and she looked absolutely beautiful.
Then Gen actually looked at the paper, not Ann’s big smile, and snatched it away to stare at it. For the first time, ever, there were no red marks on it at all.
“Perfect score,” Ann said, bumping her leg against Gen’s.
“Yeah.” She was a little dazed, and couldn’t stop staring at it. When she realized what she was doing, her cheeks got hot, and she dropped the test onto the floor between them. “No big deal though. It’s not like it’s calculus or whatever you were studying earlier.”
“Hey, no. Shut up.” Ann scooped up the discarded paper. “Big deal. Huge deal. You did great, Gen. We should celebrate.” She gave a decisive nod. “Ice cream. As soon as your mother’s done torturing Casey. She can have, I don’t know, frozen yogurt. Is that allowed? Or maybe frozen tofu. That’s a thing, right?”
Brian never made a big deal over Casey’s achievements. Brian only cared about how hot she was, and that she had a lot more free time now that she wasn’t competing - oh, and he seemed to care a lot about who she was hanging out with now.
Specifically, Ann.
She had heard “math geek” and “loser” and “nerd” more in the last few months than she had in her whole life. Which said something about the bubble she’d lived in, a combination of (a) spending ninety-nine percent of her time either on the ice or working out so she’d be better next time she was on the ice and (b) being one of the beautiful, popular people, but also said something about Brian, and how he viewed the world, and how she didn’t want to, not anymore. Not after Casey, and now Ann.
What the hell had she ever seen in him in the first place?
Ann beamed at her, genuinely excited about something as small as a single good grade on one math test, and Gen’s nerves twisted. She had a great smile, full lips a nice color even without make-up, and her cheeks were lightly flushed; her eyes sparkled as she beamed at Gen.
She kept smiling even as Gen leaned in, movement jerky, and pressed their mouths together. Ann gasped, and jerked a little, but before Gen could pull back and apologize, she started kissing Gen back, and her hands grabbed Gen’s wrists. Her fingers were cold. She tasted a little like mint chapstick. The kiss was awkward, they moved at different times, in different directions. Gen was stretched out a little too far, and she felt off balance, tipped past center, and doing things she’d never done before.
It was a really great kiss.
Gen sat back, and pressed her fingers against her mouth. She felt different. She felt the same. Everything was strange and tangled up inside, and kind of wonderful.
Ann twisted her fingers together. Her whole face was flushed red now, but she was still grinning.
“So, yeah,” she said after a minute. “Celebrating. That’s one way to do it.” Her smile got even bigger.
“Pretty much the best way,” Gen told her, and probably shouldn’t have been surprised when Ann scooted closer and kissed her again.
…
Eastern Sectional Championships basically came out of nowhere, which surprised the hell out of Gen. There was a time - and not that long ago, she’s not talking, like, a decade, it was just last year -- when she knew the details of every figure skating event, from showcase to competition, better than her own class schedule.
Now, though, she had been so caught up in pulling up her grades and trying out all the clubs at school and building a relationship with her mom as a mother and not a coach - and so caught up in Ann, right there by her side every step of the way - that she lost track of time, until one night at their weekly family + Casey and Joan dinner, when Casey asked if she was going to come watch. Ann was, Casey said, and sure enough, there was that little smirk of hers.
Gen rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile. Just hearing Ann’s name made her happy. “What, you need a cheering section or something?” she teased, and Casey beamed at her. She was still a complete dork, but she was Gen’s dork, or something like that. “I guess I could go, see how Tiffany and Nikki look. I don’t get to see them very often now.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Casey said. “Your real friends, I know, I know.”
“That’s mean,” Joan said, and Casey laughed.
“We’re joking, Mom. It’s what friends do.”
“Friends should be nice,” she said, but she smiled. Even at her most strident, it was clear how much she loved Casey. Gen was glad of that, and only, sometimes, a little jealous. It had been a tricky transition from coach-mom to mom-mom, especially because her mom was still so busy with the rink and Casey’s training. But Casey deserved good things, and her close relationship with her mom was only one of them.
Casey shook off any melancholy that threatened. She liked her life. She had chosen it, fought for it, sacrificed for it, and even if it wasn’t the one she’d worked for her whole life, it was hers and it was good.
…
Ann and Gen squeezed into the very back seat of the big van, so they would have room for cardboard and markers and glitter pens.
“Casey needs a slogan,” Ann said, tapping the end of the blue marker against her cheek. “Something catchy for our signs.”
“If only the Jumping Shrimp was still available,” Gen said, and reached over the seat in front of her to gently tug on Nikki’s hair.
“Copyrighted!” Nikki sang out, and twisted around so she could grin at them.
Ann frowned. “Do you mean trademarked? I think that’s probably too short to be copyrighted, unless you only mean the design of the artwork-“
Nikki rolled her eyes and flopped back against the seat. “Your friends are so weird,” she told Casey, who sat in between Nikki and Tiffany on the bench seat. They had bottled water and celery sticks for snacks. Gen and Ann had Twizzlers, Doritos (ranch, the best flavor ever), and soda.
So, basically, Gen and Ann were the real winners.
“Casey at Bat?” Ann suggested. “No, that doesn’t make any sense.” Gen shrugged, confused, and Ann went on, “It’s from a sports poem, but it’s about baseball. And now I can’t get it out of my head, that’s all I can think about.”
“Weird,” Nikki muttered, and this time, when Gen tweaked her hair, she wasn’t gentle at all.
“Short and simple, then,” Gen decided, and started to write Let’s Go, Casey in black on neon pink poster board. The road wasn’t super bumpy, but keeping her lines straight was difficult. “We really should have done this last night.”
“Yeah,” Ann agreed. Her cheeks turned pink. Gen shifted a little, smug, both about the truly excellent make-out that had distracted them, and that she could so easily tease Ann about it after. “Next time, we’ll do better.”
“Uh huh, whatever you say.”
“You two are so cute it’s gross,” Casey said. She had one arm hooked over the back of the seat, and she wouldn’t stop smiling. At them. At Nikki and Tiffany. At everyone. It was absolutely ridiculous, and, sadly, pretty sweet.
“Oh, shut up,” Gen said, grinning.
…
Casey took the gold, Nikki the silver, and Gen wrapped her arms around Ann as they shrieked and cheered.
“Nationals, baby!” she cried. “Casey’s going all the way.”
Ann kissed her, right there in front of everybody, and Gen had never been so happy to give up a dream.
This entry was original posted at http://escritoireazul.dreamwidth.org/426713.html with
comments. Reply here or there.
Title: In the Shadows, In the Light
Author: escritoireazul
Characters/Pairings: Gen Harwood/Ann, Casey Carlyle
Author's Note: This is a transformative work of fiction set after the movie.
Written for: rsadelle as a Yuletide 2015 treat
Word count: 1,600
Rating: all ages
Read at AO3
Summary: Gen Harwood gave up figure skating to have a regular life. Now she just has to figure out what that means.
Your life plays out on the shadows of the wall
You turn the light on to erase it all
You wonder what it's like to not feel worthless
So open all the blinds and all the curtains
"No One" Aly & AJ
Casey flirting was the most awkward thing Gen had ever seen, and it seemed impossible that her brother was even worse, but he was. There were times Gen wanted to bury her face in her hands from second hand embarrassment. (There were times when she did exactly that, and was only saved because it set Ann to laughing. She was luminous when she laughed.)
It was a good thing that Casey more than made up for it with her grace on the ice.
…
The first time Gen thought she might still have a life after skating was watching Casey at regionals, Ann squished, surprisingly pleasantly, up against one side, her mother on the other, gripping her hand tight even though there’s butter and salt from the popcorn on her fingers.
After Casey’s long program, Ann wrapped her in an exuberant embrace, and it was awkward, and weird, and a little bit wonderful. She pushed that aside, though, because there was Casey to congratulate and her mother to hug oh so tight.
But Ann was right there next to her through it all, friendly and smiling, and after everything else was done, she found herself laughing with Ann, head on her shoulder a moment, and then together they walked out of the rink, away from Gen’s old life.
Toward the new one, maybe. She hoped.
…
The first time Gen kissed Ann, they were holed up in her mom’s office at the top of the rink, waiting for Casey to finish an afternoon practice, sitting on the floor because the big glass windows that overlooked the ice were weird. Gen had always hated them, and her all-seeing mother. Ann wore a thick sweater, oversized, the ends covering her fingers. She had to shove them up so she could mark Gen’s practice test.
She used red pen. It was kind of terrible, the first time. Not so bad now.
Ann looked up at Gen, and grinned, shoved the paper at her way too enthusiastically for math. That smile was great, though; it made her whole face light up, her eyes bright, and she looked absolutely beautiful.
Then Gen actually looked at the paper, not Ann’s big smile, and snatched it away to stare at it. For the first time, ever, there were no red marks on it at all.
“Perfect score,” Ann said, bumping her leg against Gen’s.
“Yeah.” She was a little dazed, and couldn’t stop staring at it. When she realized what she was doing, her cheeks got hot, and she dropped the test onto the floor between them. “No big deal though. It’s not like it’s calculus or whatever you were studying earlier.”
“Hey, no. Shut up.” Ann scooped up the discarded paper. “Big deal. Huge deal. You did great, Gen. We should celebrate.” She gave a decisive nod. “Ice cream. As soon as your mother’s done torturing Casey. She can have, I don’t know, frozen yogurt. Is that allowed? Or maybe frozen tofu. That’s a thing, right?”
Brian never made a big deal over Casey’s achievements. Brian only cared about how hot she was, and that she had a lot more free time now that she wasn’t competing - oh, and he seemed to care a lot about who she was hanging out with now.
Specifically, Ann.
She had heard “math geek” and “loser” and “nerd” more in the last few months than she had in her whole life. Which said something about the bubble she’d lived in, a combination of (a) spending ninety-nine percent of her time either on the ice or working out so she’d be better next time she was on the ice and (b) being one of the beautiful, popular people, but also said something about Brian, and how he viewed the world, and how she didn’t want to, not anymore. Not after Casey, and now Ann.
What the hell had she ever seen in him in the first place?
Ann beamed at her, genuinely excited about something as small as a single good grade on one math test, and Gen’s nerves twisted. She had a great smile, full lips a nice color even without make-up, and her cheeks were lightly flushed; her eyes sparkled as she beamed at Gen.
She kept smiling even as Gen leaned in, movement jerky, and pressed their mouths together. Ann gasped, and jerked a little, but before Gen could pull back and apologize, she started kissing Gen back, and her hands grabbed Gen’s wrists. Her fingers were cold. She tasted a little like mint chapstick. The kiss was awkward, they moved at different times, in different directions. Gen was stretched out a little too far, and she felt off balance, tipped past center, and doing things she’d never done before.
It was a really great kiss.
Gen sat back, and pressed her fingers against her mouth. She felt different. She felt the same. Everything was strange and tangled up inside, and kind of wonderful.
Ann twisted her fingers together. Her whole face was flushed red now, but she was still grinning.
“So, yeah,” she said after a minute. “Celebrating. That’s one way to do it.” Her smile got even bigger.
“Pretty much the best way,” Gen told her, and probably shouldn’t have been surprised when Ann scooted closer and kissed her again.
…
Eastern Sectional Championships basically came out of nowhere, which surprised the hell out of Gen. There was a time - and not that long ago, she’s not talking, like, a decade, it was just last year -- when she knew the details of every figure skating event, from showcase to competition, better than her own class schedule.
Now, though, she had been so caught up in pulling up her grades and trying out all the clubs at school and building a relationship with her mom as a mother and not a coach - and so caught up in Ann, right there by her side every step of the way - that she lost track of time, until one night at their weekly family + Casey and Joan dinner, when Casey asked if she was going to come watch. Ann was, Casey said, and sure enough, there was that little smirk of hers.
Gen rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile. Just hearing Ann’s name made her happy. “What, you need a cheering section or something?” she teased, and Casey beamed at her. She was still a complete dork, but she was Gen’s dork, or something like that. “I guess I could go, see how Tiffany and Nikki look. I don’t get to see them very often now.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Casey said. “Your real friends, I know, I know.”
“That’s mean,” Joan said, and Casey laughed.
“We’re joking, Mom. It’s what friends do.”
“Friends should be nice,” she said, but she smiled. Even at her most strident, it was clear how much she loved Casey. Gen was glad of that, and only, sometimes, a little jealous. It had been a tricky transition from coach-mom to mom-mom, especially because her mom was still so busy with the rink and Casey’s training. But Casey deserved good things, and her close relationship with her mom was only one of them.
Casey shook off any melancholy that threatened. She liked her life. She had chosen it, fought for it, sacrificed for it, and even if it wasn’t the one she’d worked for her whole life, it was hers and it was good.
…
Ann and Gen squeezed into the very back seat of the big van, so they would have room for cardboard and markers and glitter pens.
“Casey needs a slogan,” Ann said, tapping the end of the blue marker against her cheek. “Something catchy for our signs.”
“If only the Jumping Shrimp was still available,” Gen said, and reached over the seat in front of her to gently tug on Nikki’s hair.
“Copyrighted!” Nikki sang out, and twisted around so she could grin at them.
Ann frowned. “Do you mean trademarked? I think that’s probably too short to be copyrighted, unless you only mean the design of the artwork-“
Nikki rolled her eyes and flopped back against the seat. “Your friends are so weird,” she told Casey, who sat in between Nikki and Tiffany on the bench seat. They had bottled water and celery sticks for snacks. Gen and Ann had Twizzlers, Doritos (ranch, the best flavor ever), and soda.
So, basically, Gen and Ann were the real winners.
“Casey at Bat?” Ann suggested. “No, that doesn’t make any sense.” Gen shrugged, confused, and Ann went on, “It’s from a sports poem, but it’s about baseball. And now I can’t get it out of my head, that’s all I can think about.”
“Weird,” Nikki muttered, and this time, when Gen tweaked her hair, she wasn’t gentle at all.
“Short and simple, then,” Gen decided, and started to write Let’s Go, Casey in black on neon pink poster board. The road wasn’t super bumpy, but keeping her lines straight was difficult. “We really should have done this last night.”
“Yeah,” Ann agreed. Her cheeks turned pink. Gen shifted a little, smug, both about the truly excellent make-out that had distracted them, and that she could so easily tease Ann about it after. “Next time, we’ll do better.”
“Uh huh, whatever you say.”
“You two are so cute it’s gross,” Casey said. She had one arm hooked over the back of the seat, and she wouldn’t stop smiling. At them. At Nikki and Tiffany. At everyone. It was absolutely ridiculous, and, sadly, pretty sweet.
“Oh, shut up,” Gen said, grinning.
…
Casey took the gold, Nikki the silver, and Gen wrapped her arms around Ann as they shrieked and cheered.
“Nationals, baby!” she cried. “Casey’s going all the way.”
Ann kissed her, right there in front of everybody, and Gen had never been so happy to give up a dream.
This entry was original posted at http://escritoireazul.dreamwidth.org/426713.html with
comments. Reply here or there.