Fic Repost: Le Roi Est Mort, Vive Le Roi
Title: Le Roi Est Mort, Vive Le Roi
Creator:
v_angelique
Universe: Figure Skating RPF
Type of work: 209-word ficlet
Contains: Consumption of alcohol, naughty language, and silliness
Summary: One night in Vancouver after the men's figure skating competition, Johnny Weir and Stéphane Lambiel stay up late and have their own celebration, no medal winners allowed.
Notes: Written for the
queerlygen "staying up late" challenge. My second figure skating fiction attempt!
"You're a fucker," Johnny laughs, tossing a Rollo at Stéphane's face. It bounces off his forehead and Stéphane scoffs as he fishes it out from under a fold of sheet and pops it into his mouth.
"Tais-toi," Stéphane mumbles around the sticky pull of caramel between his teeth.
"Fucker," Johnny repeats, grinning as he turns back to the TV. "What is this shit?" he sighs, getting up and going to the bar to mix himself another G&T.
"Canadian television," Stéphane replies succinctly.
Johnny snorts and brings Stéphane a drink in a plastic cup. "You're falling behind. Drink up, Lambiel. You'll make me look bad."
"And that," Stéphane intones, quite seriously, looking doe-eyed at Johnny over the rim of his cup, "would be a tragédie."
Johnny grins, swallows so fast he gets tonic bubbles up his nose, and puts the cup down on the nightstand, twirling around like a ballerina with his arms in exagerated port-de-bras. "It would! I'm Johnny, King of the Universe," he declares, flopping on the bed again and grabbing Stéphane's ankle with both hands, pretending to nibble it.
"You are King of... something," Stéphane agrees, his solemness only broken by the bare hint of a smirk.
Johnny grins and reaches for his drink.
Originally Posted at Dreamwidth |
comments | Comment at Dreamwidth
Creator:
v_angelique
Universe: Figure Skating RPF
Type of work: 209-word ficlet
Contains: Consumption of alcohol, naughty language, and silliness
Summary: One night in Vancouver after the men's figure skating competition, Johnny Weir and Stéphane Lambiel stay up late and have their own celebration, no medal winners allowed.
Notes: Written for the
queerlygen "staying up late" challenge. My second figure skating fiction attempt!
"You're a fucker," Johnny laughs, tossing a Rollo at Stéphane's face. It bounces off his forehead and Stéphane scoffs as he fishes it out from under a fold of sheet and pops it into his mouth.
"Tais-toi," Stéphane mumbles around the sticky pull of caramel between his teeth.
"Fucker," Johnny repeats, grinning as he turns back to the TV. "What is this shit?" he sighs, getting up and going to the bar to mix himself another G&T.
"Canadian television," Stéphane replies succinctly.
Johnny snorts and brings Stéphane a drink in a plastic cup. "You're falling behind. Drink up, Lambiel. You'll make me look bad."
"And that," Stéphane intones, quite seriously, looking doe-eyed at Johnny over the rim of his cup, "would be a tragédie."
Johnny grins, swallows so fast he gets tonic bubbles up his nose, and puts the cup down on the nightstand, twirling around like a ballerina with his arms in exagerated port-de-bras. "It would! I'm Johnny, King of the Universe," he declares, flopping on the bed again and grabbing Stéphane's ankle with both hands, pretending to nibble it.
"You are King of... something," Stéphane agrees, his solemness only broken by the bare hint of a smirk.
Johnny grins and reaches for his drink.
Originally Posted at Dreamwidth |
comments | Comment at Dreamwidth