Funny Business, II
Funny Business, II
Johnny Weir/Stephane Lambiel; G; 550.
The first few days were hard for Stephane. Training, training, training, avoiding Weir, training. He'd barely seen the American for the past three days since the first.
And now here he was, Johnny Weir, asleep on the lounge in the lobby of the ice rink centre.
Stephane was unsure if he should wake the American up. Had he slept much? Was he exhausted? Did he get, well, bitchy, after he wakes up? Because Stephane did not want to find out what Bitchy Ice Princess would do when he's...well, a bitch.
It was almost a relief when Weir's eyelashes fluttered open.
The first thing Johnny saw when he opened his eyes were big brown eyes looking directly back at him. He yelped.
"What?! Lambiel! Oh my God you scared me! I don't care how pretty you think you are but you can't creep up on me like that!"
"Sorry! I'm really sorry. Really! I didn't intend on waking you. I..." Lambiel's accent was really quite something. Especially when he's rambling like this... Johnny rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and stood up so at least he was face to face with Lambiel.
"You think I'm pretty?"
Johnny blinked. "What? I thought I said - you may think YOU'RE pretty, not -"
"I don't think I'm pretty." The Swiss stated matter-of-factly, tilting his head to the side.
"Oh, well, I don't think you're -" How was Johnny supposed to say this without it being anymore awkward in practice than it already is? He already knew Lambiel was avoiding him…
"That's okay. I was just joking." the Swiss was smiling. Bastard.
What on earth was he doing? Teasing someone who just woke up and could be pissed off at him in any second! Johnny Weir certainly did not look happy at the moment. Stephane gulped. He ran a stray hand through his hair and turned to leave, he needed to get out-
"Hey wait up," the other boy said, grabbing his bags at the foot of the couch and bouncing towards him. Stephane paused. "I'll head home with you. You live at Galina’s right?"
"For the moment. I’m looking to find somewhere else to stay."
"Look, listen, you're pretty much unfamiliar to this place, right? I could take you out maybe? After practice? Show you around?"
"Okay, sure, but," Stephane was squirming, "I don't want, well, how do I say this? Funny business?" He could feel his cheeks flaming.
The American looked stunned for a moment before he burst out laughing. "Funny business? Is that what you call it? I promise there will be no funny business. Trust me, you're not my type."
Stephane didn't know whether or not he should be offended.
"You said I was pretty!"
Johnny cringed inwardly. Him and his big mouth!
"Friday at 7?"
"…I suppose."
"I promise I won't call you pretty or make a pass on you or any funny business!"
It was Lambiel’s turn to laugh. It sounded nice. Not his type? Yeah, right.
"Okay."
"It's Johnny by the way."
"...I know your name."
"No, I mean you can call me Johnny. Instead of like, Weir…Johnny sounds much nicer than Weir."
"Oh. Okay. Call me Stephane."
"Stephane. Stephane. Steph. Can I call you Steph?"
"...No."
"Stephie??"
"No!"
This is the moment Johnny Weir became Johnny and Stephane Lambiel became just Stephane.
Johnny Weir/Stephane Lambiel; G; 550.
The first few days were hard for Stephane. Training, training, training, avoiding Weir, training. He'd barely seen the American for the past three days since the first.
And now here he was, Johnny Weir, asleep on the lounge in the lobby of the ice rink centre.
Stephane was unsure if he should wake the American up. Had he slept much? Was he exhausted? Did he get, well, bitchy, after he wakes up? Because Stephane did not want to find out what Bitchy Ice Princess would do when he's...well, a bitch.
It was almost a relief when Weir's eyelashes fluttered open.
The first thing Johnny saw when he opened his eyes were big brown eyes looking directly back at him. He yelped.
"What?! Lambiel! Oh my God you scared me! I don't care how pretty you think you are but you can't creep up on me like that!"
"Sorry! I'm really sorry. Really! I didn't intend on waking you. I..." Lambiel's accent was really quite something. Especially when he's rambling like this... Johnny rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and stood up so at least he was face to face with Lambiel.
"You think I'm pretty?"
Johnny blinked. "What? I thought I said - you may think YOU'RE pretty, not -"
"I don't think I'm pretty." The Swiss stated matter-of-factly, tilting his head to the side.
"Oh, well, I don't think you're -" How was Johnny supposed to say this without it being anymore awkward in practice than it already is? He already knew Lambiel was avoiding him…
"That's okay. I was just joking." the Swiss was smiling. Bastard.
What on earth was he doing? Teasing someone who just woke up and could be pissed off at him in any second! Johnny Weir certainly did not look happy at the moment. Stephane gulped. He ran a stray hand through his hair and turned to leave, he needed to get out-
"Hey wait up," the other boy said, grabbing his bags at the foot of the couch and bouncing towards him. Stephane paused. "I'll head home with you. You live at Galina’s right?"
"For the moment. I’m looking to find somewhere else to stay."
"Look, listen, you're pretty much unfamiliar to this place, right? I could take you out maybe? After practice? Show you around?"
"Okay, sure, but," Stephane was squirming, "I don't want, well, how do I say this? Funny business?" He could feel his cheeks flaming.
The American looked stunned for a moment before he burst out laughing. "Funny business? Is that what you call it? I promise there will be no funny business. Trust me, you're not my type."
Stephane didn't know whether or not he should be offended.
"You said I was pretty!"
Johnny cringed inwardly. Him and his big mouth!
"Friday at 7?"
"…I suppose."
"I promise I won't call you pretty or make a pass on you or any funny business!"
It was Lambiel’s turn to laugh. It sounded nice. Not his type? Yeah, right.
"Okay."
"It's Johnny by the way."
"...I know your name."
"No, I mean you can call me Johnny. Instead of like, Weir…Johnny sounds much nicer than Weir."
"Oh. Okay. Call me Stephane."
"Stephane. Stephane. Steph. Can I call you Steph?"
"...No."
"Stephie??"
"No!"
This is the moment Johnny Weir became Johnny and Stephane Lambiel became just Stephane.