Vancouver 2010 (Week One) -- JR Celski/Apolo Ohno
Title: Vancouver 2010 (Week One)
Pairing: JR Celski/Apolo Ohno. Also mentioned: Jordan Malone, Tucker Fredericks
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not real, all fiction (some tweets and actual events used for inspiration. I know nothing about these athletes.
Notes: About 1900 words. Birthday fic for parka_girl, who wanted iPods and scars (also dancing, but I couldn't work it in.) Takes place from Friday (Feb. 12) to Tuesday night (Feb. 16).
You never thought you'd be here. Not really, not after Michigan and the qualifier and everything else, the surgery and the crutches and the hours on the bike before you could even think about putting on your skates again. Not after the nightmares and the flashbacks during your first practice, pulling the blade out of your leg and watching the blood on the ice, and you couldn't look away. You still can't, somehow, and you wake up shivering and open the pictures on your phone again, and you know people think it's weird, but somehow it helps. Your fingers brush over the scar, still raised and a little red, and it soothes you in a way, reminds you of how far you've come and that you're really here, in Vancouver. In the Village, even, not just as a spectator, but for real, and even without the nightmares, you know you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.
It's tomorrow, everything you've been waiting for, working for since you were eleven and laying on the floor watching the 2002 races with your parents and you knew as soon as you saw Apolo race that you didn't want to do anything else. He's the reason you're here, really; before your parents and your brothers and all the doctors and trainers, there was Apolo. You've been training with him for weeks now and you're still kind of afraid to talk to him, because every time you do, you say something stupid or you can't think of anything to say. So you end up just kind of standing there and blushing, or pretending you have more rehab to go to and running away -- well, walking away, you're not supposed to run much yet -- and you know you're being an idiot but you don't really know what else to do. You turn over (you forgot, no lying on your left side yet) pulling the covers up, and you listen to Jordan's breathing and try to sleep.
Before you know it, the lights are on and Jordan's pulling your blanket off and you feel like you didn't sleep at all and it's today, it's here, and you can't think about anything else. Your phone keeps going off, texts and tweets and phone calls from basically everyone you've ever met, and you have to turn it off before you even get out of the room. You meet up with your family, eat, warm up, all the normal pre-race stuff, but you can't stop moving, hand running back and forth over your leg, foot jiggling, and you don't know if this is Olympic nerves or because this is your first actual race since your accident or some combination of both. Whatever it is, you feel like you're gonna throw up from the time you get out of bed until just before you get out on the ice.
Once you get out there, though, everything else just kind of goes away, your goggles on and the last song from your iPod running through your head as you warm up. You've done this before, more times than you can count, and no matter what happens, you'll be okay. And then it's starting and you can't see anything besides the ice in front of you, coming up to meet you on the turns, and you're skating harder than you ever have, and then it's over and you finished, you're not hurt, and Apolo's coming over to you, picking you up and it's only then that you realize what you just did. Where you are and how far you've come.
***
The rest of the night and the next day pass in a blur, medal ceremony and interview after interview, and you think Apolo tackles you at some point in there, but you may just be imagining it. You watch Tucker's races and you still can't turn your phone on without it going off every five seconds. When you get back to your room, all you want to do is listen to some music, but you can't find your iPod. You think Tucker's taken it at first, then Jordan, but they both swear they didn't, and when none of your brothers have it the next morning, you're forced to admit it's lost. You tweet about it, something stupid, and then go off to do another interview and don't really think about it until you get back and Jordan says Apolo was looking for you.
"Um. Why?"
"He didn't say. Don't y'all have some super-secret relay strategy meeting? How to knock over South Koreans or something?"
"You think we'd have one of those and not invite you?" You didn't know Jordan all that well before this, but you like him a lot.
"I guess not. See you later?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna go see what he wants, I guess." You have no idea what this is about, but it's not late yet, and it's not like you're gonna turn down another chance to be completely lame around Apolo.
"Okay. Heats and semis tomorrow, don't forget."
"Yes, mom." You grab your phone and keys and get a cab over to Apolo's before you can talk yourself out of it. You really don't know what to expect, but you need to find out.
***
When you get up to Apolo's room -- suite, really, maybe the entire floor -- and knock, he's alone, which somehow surprises you. (You thought maybe he was surrounded by handlers and publicists and whatever else famous people have at all non-training times, which, you now realize, is completely ridiculous. And yet.)
"Um. Jordan said you were looking for me?"
"Yeah, come in." He opens the door all the way, letting you in and somehow you're nervous.
You sit on the bed because all the chairs are covered with clothes. "So, um, what's up? Jordan said if there's a secret relay strategy meeting that you should invite him too," and you're cringing on the inside, because really, sound a little lamer, JR.
He laughs, sitting down next to you and reaching into his bag. "No, just ... this is yours, right?"
You look down and he's holding your iPod in his hand. "Um, yeah, it is, thanks, where did you find it?"
"I think you put it next to my bag instead of in yours after the warmup. I didn't know whose it was until I was looking through the pictures and saw your leg."
You can feel your cheeks flush and you're suddenly glad that's all the pictures you had on there. "Yeah, I guess that'd be a tip-off. Sorry."
"Sorry? If I'd come through that, I'd have a t-shirt made or something. Is it okay?"
You kind of can't believe you're sitting on Apolo's bed and talking about your leg. "Uh, yeah, it felt really good Saturday. Wanna see?" Oh god, what did you just say. And why did you just offer to, like, take off your pants? Seriously. Something is wrong with you.
Apolo laughs, because why wouldn't he? You say a lot of ridiculous things, especially around him, but that has to be the worst. And you're just about to take the iPod and run for it when he says, "Yeah, sure. Why not?" and oh god. You're just glad you went with the team trackpants and not your jeans, and since you offered, you roll the left pantleg up to the middle of your thigh, and there it is.
As you roll the leg up, you can hear Apolo inhale, almost gasping. "Jesus, kid."
You grin a little, oddly pleased that you've finally impressed Apolo. "I know, right?"
He reaches across you, more tentative than you've ever seen him, fingers above your leg. "Can I ...?"
No way is this happening. "Um. Sure?"
And then Apolo's running his fingers over your leg, barely touching the raised surface, like he's worried about hurting you, like after all your leg's been through he could do anything else to it. It almost tickles at first and then he pulls his hand away and you realize you don't want him to stop. Don't want him to move away from you and don't want to leave, and you grab his hand as he pulls back and kiss him before you realize what you're doing.
It's a stupid impulse at first, one of those things you do without thinking and regret later, and you think for a second that you've ruined the entire relay team, but you only think that for a second because that's how long it takes for it to register that Apolo's actually kissing you back. His hand moves back to your leg, and you open your mouth a little, eyes closed and relaxing into him, and this cannot be your life.
But somehow it is, and you let him pull you closer, hand sliding up your leg, over your scar and onto your hip, gripping tightly and you really hope there aren't bruises tomorrow. You just go with it, moving closer until you're basically on Apolo's lap, pressing against him until you hear him make a soft noise against your mouth, and this really shouldn't be as easy as it is. As simple, and it's like you've been doing this for months instead of ... minutes? Whatever, you've lost track of time. You move your hands to his back, then up, twisting your fingers in his hair as he sucks at your lower lip, biting it gently at first and then harder, until you're almost moaning, and god, you never want this to end.
As soon as you think that, of course, Apolo's phone goes off. You find it before he does, looking at the screen and laughing before you hand it over. Because of course it's Jordan, trying to figure out where you are since you're not answering your phone and there's the relay semis tomorrow. You look at the time and, yeah, you should've been back in the Village a long time ago. You pull back from Apolo, and this is the part you didn't want to happen.
"So, um." You roll the leg of your pants down -- you thought you'd done that before, but you must have been distracted -- and you're kind of afraid to actually look at Apolo.
"You should probably get back before Jordan has a heart attack or something." It's not really what you wanted to hear, but you know he's right.
"Yeah, I. I guess so," and you're back to feeling like an idiot around Apolo.
He hands you your iPod, which you'd basically forgotten about, and then doesn't let go of your hand, and it's only then that you actually look him in the eyes.
"See you tomorrow?" It's a stupid question, because of course you will, but he's looking at you and biting his lip, and somehow you've actually made Apolo nervous. You kind of want to laugh, again, and you can't believe how lucky you are.
You lean in one more time, kissing him quickly before you go and then once again after he walks you to the door (no, seriously, what?). By the time you get back to the Village, your face hurts from grinning. You know you look like an idiot, and Jordan keeps asking what took you so long. You don't really have an answer, but you don't care. You have everything else you want.
Pairing: JR Celski/Apolo Ohno. Also mentioned: Jordan Malone, Tucker Fredericks
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not real, all fiction (some tweets and actual events used for inspiration. I know nothing about these athletes.
Notes: About 1900 words. Birthday fic for parka_girl, who wanted iPods and scars (also dancing, but I couldn't work it in.) Takes place from Friday (Feb. 12) to Tuesday night (Feb. 16).
You never thought you'd be here. Not really, not after Michigan and the qualifier and everything else, the surgery and the crutches and the hours on the bike before you could even think about putting on your skates again. Not after the nightmares and the flashbacks during your first practice, pulling the blade out of your leg and watching the blood on the ice, and you couldn't look away. You still can't, somehow, and you wake up shivering and open the pictures on your phone again, and you know people think it's weird, but somehow it helps. Your fingers brush over the scar, still raised and a little red, and it soothes you in a way, reminds you of how far you've come and that you're really here, in Vancouver. In the Village, even, not just as a spectator, but for real, and even without the nightmares, you know you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.
It's tomorrow, everything you've been waiting for, working for since you were eleven and laying on the floor watching the 2002 races with your parents and you knew as soon as you saw Apolo race that you didn't want to do anything else. He's the reason you're here, really; before your parents and your brothers and all the doctors and trainers, there was Apolo. You've been training with him for weeks now and you're still kind of afraid to talk to him, because every time you do, you say something stupid or you can't think of anything to say. So you end up just kind of standing there and blushing, or pretending you have more rehab to go to and running away -- well, walking away, you're not supposed to run much yet -- and you know you're being an idiot but you don't really know what else to do. You turn over (you forgot, no lying on your left side yet) pulling the covers up, and you listen to Jordan's breathing and try to sleep.
Before you know it, the lights are on and Jordan's pulling your blanket off and you feel like you didn't sleep at all and it's today, it's here, and you can't think about anything else. Your phone keeps going off, texts and tweets and phone calls from basically everyone you've ever met, and you have to turn it off before you even get out of the room. You meet up with your family, eat, warm up, all the normal pre-race stuff, but you can't stop moving, hand running back and forth over your leg, foot jiggling, and you don't know if this is Olympic nerves or because this is your first actual race since your accident or some combination of both. Whatever it is, you feel like you're gonna throw up from the time you get out of bed until just before you get out on the ice.
Once you get out there, though, everything else just kind of goes away, your goggles on and the last song from your iPod running through your head as you warm up. You've done this before, more times than you can count, and no matter what happens, you'll be okay. And then it's starting and you can't see anything besides the ice in front of you, coming up to meet you on the turns, and you're skating harder than you ever have, and then it's over and you finished, you're not hurt, and Apolo's coming over to you, picking you up and it's only then that you realize what you just did. Where you are and how far you've come.
***
The rest of the night and the next day pass in a blur, medal ceremony and interview after interview, and you think Apolo tackles you at some point in there, but you may just be imagining it. You watch Tucker's races and you still can't turn your phone on without it going off every five seconds. When you get back to your room, all you want to do is listen to some music, but you can't find your iPod. You think Tucker's taken it at first, then Jordan, but they both swear they didn't, and when none of your brothers have it the next morning, you're forced to admit it's lost. You tweet about it, something stupid, and then go off to do another interview and don't really think about it until you get back and Jordan says Apolo was looking for you.
"Um. Why?"
"He didn't say. Don't y'all have some super-secret relay strategy meeting? How to knock over South Koreans or something?"
"You think we'd have one of those and not invite you?" You didn't know Jordan all that well before this, but you like him a lot.
"I guess not. See you later?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna go see what he wants, I guess." You have no idea what this is about, but it's not late yet, and it's not like you're gonna turn down another chance to be completely lame around Apolo.
"Okay. Heats and semis tomorrow, don't forget."
"Yes, mom." You grab your phone and keys and get a cab over to Apolo's before you can talk yourself out of it. You really don't know what to expect, but you need to find out.
***
When you get up to Apolo's room -- suite, really, maybe the entire floor -- and knock, he's alone, which somehow surprises you. (You thought maybe he was surrounded by handlers and publicists and whatever else famous people have at all non-training times, which, you now realize, is completely ridiculous. And yet.)
"Um. Jordan said you were looking for me?"
"Yeah, come in." He opens the door all the way, letting you in and somehow you're nervous.
You sit on the bed because all the chairs are covered with clothes. "So, um, what's up? Jordan said if there's a secret relay strategy meeting that you should invite him too," and you're cringing on the inside, because really, sound a little lamer, JR.
He laughs, sitting down next to you and reaching into his bag. "No, just ... this is yours, right?"
You look down and he's holding your iPod in his hand. "Um, yeah, it is, thanks, where did you find it?"
"I think you put it next to my bag instead of in yours after the warmup. I didn't know whose it was until I was looking through the pictures and saw your leg."
You can feel your cheeks flush and you're suddenly glad that's all the pictures you had on there. "Yeah, I guess that'd be a tip-off. Sorry."
"Sorry? If I'd come through that, I'd have a t-shirt made or something. Is it okay?"
You kind of can't believe you're sitting on Apolo's bed and talking about your leg. "Uh, yeah, it felt really good Saturday. Wanna see?" Oh god, what did you just say. And why did you just offer to, like, take off your pants? Seriously. Something is wrong with you.
Apolo laughs, because why wouldn't he? You say a lot of ridiculous things, especially around him, but that has to be the worst. And you're just about to take the iPod and run for it when he says, "Yeah, sure. Why not?" and oh god. You're just glad you went with the team trackpants and not your jeans, and since you offered, you roll the left pantleg up to the middle of your thigh, and there it is.
As you roll the leg up, you can hear Apolo inhale, almost gasping. "Jesus, kid."
You grin a little, oddly pleased that you've finally impressed Apolo. "I know, right?"
He reaches across you, more tentative than you've ever seen him, fingers above your leg. "Can I ...?"
No way is this happening. "Um. Sure?"
And then Apolo's running his fingers over your leg, barely touching the raised surface, like he's worried about hurting you, like after all your leg's been through he could do anything else to it. It almost tickles at first and then he pulls his hand away and you realize you don't want him to stop. Don't want him to move away from you and don't want to leave, and you grab his hand as he pulls back and kiss him before you realize what you're doing.
It's a stupid impulse at first, one of those things you do without thinking and regret later, and you think for a second that you've ruined the entire relay team, but you only think that for a second because that's how long it takes for it to register that Apolo's actually kissing you back. His hand moves back to your leg, and you open your mouth a little, eyes closed and relaxing into him, and this cannot be your life.
But somehow it is, and you let him pull you closer, hand sliding up your leg, over your scar and onto your hip, gripping tightly and you really hope there aren't bruises tomorrow. You just go with it, moving closer until you're basically on Apolo's lap, pressing against him until you hear him make a soft noise against your mouth, and this really shouldn't be as easy as it is. As simple, and it's like you've been doing this for months instead of ... minutes? Whatever, you've lost track of time. You move your hands to his back, then up, twisting your fingers in his hair as he sucks at your lower lip, biting it gently at first and then harder, until you're almost moaning, and god, you never want this to end.
As soon as you think that, of course, Apolo's phone goes off. You find it before he does, looking at the screen and laughing before you hand it over. Because of course it's Jordan, trying to figure out where you are since you're not answering your phone and there's the relay semis tomorrow. You look at the time and, yeah, you should've been back in the Village a long time ago. You pull back from Apolo, and this is the part you didn't want to happen.
"So, um." You roll the leg of your pants down -- you thought you'd done that before, but you must have been distracted -- and you're kind of afraid to actually look at Apolo.
"You should probably get back before Jordan has a heart attack or something." It's not really what you wanted to hear, but you know he's right.
"Yeah, I. I guess so," and you're back to feeling like an idiot around Apolo.
He hands you your iPod, which you'd basically forgotten about, and then doesn't let go of your hand, and it's only then that you actually look him in the eyes.
"See you tomorrow?" It's a stupid question, because of course you will, but he's looking at you and biting his lip, and somehow you've actually made Apolo nervous. You kind of want to laugh, again, and you can't believe how lucky you are.
You lean in one more time, kissing him quickly before you go and then once again after he walks you to the door (no, seriously, what?). By the time you get back to the Village, your face hurts from grinning. You know you look like an idiot, and Jordan keeps asking what took you so long. You don't really have an answer, but you don't care. You have everything else you want.