lol quoi
Stéphane grabbed Johnny’s hands, turning them over in his own.
He was nervous.
They were nervous.
After all, Stéphane was going to introduce Johnny to his family and all.
“Mon cheri, it will be fine,” The Swiss man kept saying, bringing the other’s hands up to his face, mouth lightly kissing various fingers, pressing his smile against Johnny’s knuckles to try and reassure him. Johnny himself had that anxious, unsure grin on his face, brows slightly knitted in disbelief every time Stéphane spoke. He shouldn’t doubt his lover, no, but…
Stéphane had never really talked about any distant relatives outside his parents, and even then, he never said much. In that respect, they were opposite; first there was Johnny, who was always talking or found with Patti and his family at his side. And then there was Stéphane, the Swiss champion who was usually alone and only accompanied by adoring fans, chic scarves, and suitcases.
Johnny dared to look into those deep brown eyes of his lover, and go figure - he resembled a begging dog, eyes vast and slowly drawing the Russophile in. Ah, but Stéphane had used this trick many a time on Johnny, and the latter was not as so dumb as to fall for it after the first time.
He leaned in, forehead touching the brunette’s, before saying, “The only reason I’m doing this is because I want to see if your relatives are just as crazy as you are. Got it?” Instantly, Stéphane lit up, releasing Johnny’s hands and placing his own on either side of the American’s face.
“Of course,” The Swiss man whispered breathlessly. A grin spread on his lips like wildfire, and Johnny couldn’t help but find himself smiling too; the two were both grinning like dorks as they kissed, nothing too saucy, but enough to satisfy both until the reunion party was over.
When parted, hands laced together and with a finale exhale from both of them, their clasp tightened significantly. Stéphane pushed open the twin heavy oak doors leading to the party room, and lightly tugged Johnny inside.
And Johnny could not believe what he saw.
Could not believe what he saw.
He felt his jaw drop, literally, and stumbled a bit. Pretty blue eyes went as wide as if hearing Plushenko had placed last in a competition.
In front of the Russophile was, not even joking, a herd of zebras, all corralled into the room. They all lifted their heads simultaneously as Stéphane opened the door, and at the sight of him, all slowly began to gravitate towards the pair of figure skaters.
Beyond puzzled and dumbfounded and at a loss for both English and Russian words, Johnny whipped towards the Swiss man and just stared at him.
But Stéphane was… serious? He had opened his arms as the zebras slowly moved towards him. “I am home, my family!”
Soon they were surrounded by zebras, and Johnny felt all of them nudging very uncomfortable and personal areas. The brunette saw this and beamed.
“They seem to like you!” He was thrilled. Johnny wasn’t, though.
“This is a joke, right? Right?” He was laughing nervously while he continued to push the striped horses away.
Stéphane took on a confused look. “Whatever do you mean? Why would this be a joke?” He was giving that look again, that sort of hurt look he gets when someone doubts him in serious situations, and Johnny covered his mouth.
Oh god.
Oh god.
He was being serious.
The American blanked out for a few good moments, before his mouth curved upwards in a weird fashion. “Right. Right.” He kept repeating those words and looked down, and began to pet the nearest animal, body moving robotically.
There was some sort of a shriek shrill at the back of the room, and everyone, zebras included, immediately looked that way.
There was a pause as the crowd of mammals parted, and an elegant, multicolored zebra spread and refolded large blue wings, pushing its way to the front. It was blue, orange, white… and… and…
“Mommy!”
----
That was when Johnny woke up from his bed, quite upright, choking and in a cold sweat. Holy shit balls, was that a creepy dream.
Something rustled next to him in the bed, and Johnny threw off the covers, shaking his lover awake.
“Steph! Stéphane!” He hissed, his voice on the edge of hysteria.
There was a moan of protest from the other man, but the brunette turned around enough for a bleary chocolate eye to open and stare questioningly at Johnny. “…Hmm?”
The American bent his head down closer and whispered hurriedly, “Stéph… I have a question.”
“Oui…?” Stéphane tried to stifle his yawn.
“You…” Johnny laughed a fake laugh, like one he would use for some press conferences, except this laugh was so obviously faked that Johnny stopped immediately and quickly apologized. “This is going to sound crazy, I know, but I’m serious when I ask this.”
Stéphane was listening, but just barely.
Johnny inhaled slowly, before inquiring, “You aren’t related to any zebras… right?”
The other’s eyes were both opened now, before cracking a small grin. “W-what makes you say that?”
“Some dream I had that people probably get while on LSD or something.”
“Ahaha, that is peculiar.”
And then the other fell back on side, pulling the covers over his head, trying to go back to his slumber…
…but Stéphane hadn’t answered Johnny.
“S-so… you aren’t related to any right, Stéph?”
No answer.
“Stéphane?”
Silence.
Johnny spent the whole night staring at the ceiling and imagining if Stéphane got his artistry from his mother’s side.
OH JESUS WHAT DID I CREATE
He was nervous.
They were nervous.
After all, Stéphane was going to introduce Johnny to his family and all.
“Mon cheri, it will be fine,” The Swiss man kept saying, bringing the other’s hands up to his face, mouth lightly kissing various fingers, pressing his smile against Johnny’s knuckles to try and reassure him. Johnny himself had that anxious, unsure grin on his face, brows slightly knitted in disbelief every time Stéphane spoke. He shouldn’t doubt his lover, no, but…
Stéphane had never really talked about any distant relatives outside his parents, and even then, he never said much. In that respect, they were opposite; first there was Johnny, who was always talking or found with Patti and his family at his side. And then there was Stéphane, the Swiss champion who was usually alone and only accompanied by adoring fans, chic scarves, and suitcases.
Johnny dared to look into those deep brown eyes of his lover, and go figure - he resembled a begging dog, eyes vast and slowly drawing the Russophile in. Ah, but Stéphane had used this trick many a time on Johnny, and the latter was not as so dumb as to fall for it after the first time.
He leaned in, forehead touching the brunette’s, before saying, “The only reason I’m doing this is because I want to see if your relatives are just as crazy as you are. Got it?” Instantly, Stéphane lit up, releasing Johnny’s hands and placing his own on either side of the American’s face.
“Of course,” The Swiss man whispered breathlessly. A grin spread on his lips like wildfire, and Johnny couldn’t help but find himself smiling too; the two were both grinning like dorks as they kissed, nothing too saucy, but enough to satisfy both until the reunion party was over.
When parted, hands laced together and with a finale exhale from both of them, their clasp tightened significantly. Stéphane pushed open the twin heavy oak doors leading to the party room, and lightly tugged Johnny inside.
And Johnny could not believe what he saw.
Could not believe what he saw.
He felt his jaw drop, literally, and stumbled a bit. Pretty blue eyes went as wide as if hearing Plushenko had placed last in a competition.
In front of the Russophile was, not even joking, a herd of zebras, all corralled into the room. They all lifted their heads simultaneously as Stéphane opened the door, and at the sight of him, all slowly began to gravitate towards the pair of figure skaters.
Beyond puzzled and dumbfounded and at a loss for both English and Russian words, Johnny whipped towards the Swiss man and just stared at him.
But Stéphane was… serious? He had opened his arms as the zebras slowly moved towards him. “I am home, my family!”
Soon they were surrounded by zebras, and Johnny felt all of them nudging very uncomfortable and personal areas. The brunette saw this and beamed.
“They seem to like you!” He was thrilled. Johnny wasn’t, though.
“This is a joke, right? Right?” He was laughing nervously while he continued to push the striped horses away.
Stéphane took on a confused look. “Whatever do you mean? Why would this be a joke?” He was giving that look again, that sort of hurt look he gets when someone doubts him in serious situations, and Johnny covered his mouth.
Oh god.
Oh god.
He was being serious.
The American blanked out for a few good moments, before his mouth curved upwards in a weird fashion. “Right. Right.” He kept repeating those words and looked down, and began to pet the nearest animal, body moving robotically.
There was some sort of a shriek shrill at the back of the room, and everyone, zebras included, immediately looked that way.
There was a pause as the crowd of mammals parted, and an elegant, multicolored zebra spread and refolded large blue wings, pushing its way to the front. It was blue, orange, white… and… and…
“Mommy!”
----
That was when Johnny woke up from his bed, quite upright, choking and in a cold sweat. Holy shit balls, was that a creepy dream.
Something rustled next to him in the bed, and Johnny threw off the covers, shaking his lover awake.
“Steph! Stéphane!” He hissed, his voice on the edge of hysteria.
There was a moan of protest from the other man, but the brunette turned around enough for a bleary chocolate eye to open and stare questioningly at Johnny. “…Hmm?”
The American bent his head down closer and whispered hurriedly, “Stéph… I have a question.”
“Oui…?” Stéphane tried to stifle his yawn.
“You…” Johnny laughed a fake laugh, like one he would use for some press conferences, except this laugh was so obviously faked that Johnny stopped immediately and quickly apologized. “This is going to sound crazy, I know, but I’m serious when I ask this.”
Stéphane was listening, but just barely.
Johnny inhaled slowly, before inquiring, “You aren’t related to any zebras… right?”
The other’s eyes were both opened now, before cracking a small grin. “W-what makes you say that?”
“Some dream I had that people probably get while on LSD or something.”
“Ahaha, that is peculiar.”
And then the other fell back on side, pulling the covers over his head, trying to go back to his slumber…
…but Stéphane hadn’t answered Johnny.
“S-so… you aren’t related to any right, Stéph?”
No answer.
“Stéphane?”
Silence.
Johnny spent the whole night staring at the ceiling and imagining if Stéphane got his artistry from his mother’s side.
OH JESUS WHAT DID I CREATE