(Untitled)
2010 Winter Games Kink Meme
Part 2
I never really expected this to take off so well, let alone end up with 4000+ comments. Now it's time for part 2!
The rules have been re-vamped for this. Please be sure to read them.
If you do not follow the rules, this may result in your post being removed.
1. We are all here to have a little fun. Am I right?
( Read more... )
Frank beckons him over. As Johnny tried running through Evan's short program a few times, his expression had gone from surprise to confusion, and then his mouth settled into a hard line. Johnny skates over and feels the familiar dread of knowing you're about to feel seriously bad about yourself.
"Evan, what's going on?" Frank says in a low voice.
Okay, that's not so bad. Galina probably would have opened with "Everything you are doing is shit, what is happening to you?" And yet, Frank is looking at him all sincere and worried, and it's making his stomach twist.
"It's just nerves," Johnny says. It's a stupid excuse, but there's no real good excuse for suddenly skating terribly three days before the most important figure skating competition of the season.
Frank's brow furrows. "I was worried yesterday," he says. "But I trusted that you knew what you were doing."
"It would have been worse if I hadn't taken yesterday off," Johnny says before he can think through it. "Trust me."
Frank considers this for a moment, the lines in his forehead creasing. "Evan, is there something wrong? Because if there is, I need to know about it. I know you can do this and you know you can this, but if your head's not there your talent won't be either."
Johnny almost snorts, because Lysacek doesn't have talent. All he has obstinate single-track stubbornness. But this would probably not be the best time to say it.
He shakes his head. "I'm fine," he says. Well. "I'm going to be fine. I'm just... I just got spooked about living up to expectations. I'll get over it."
Frank studies him for a long moment, and Johnny tries to keep his face as blank of any emotion or thought as possible so that he looks authentic. Finally, Frank says, "Alright, get out there and try again."
Reply
The worst part comes at the end of practice. Frank takes him aside by the elbow and tells him quietly that if he skates like that at Worlds, he’s going to be letting down the country. The fucking country. And the way he says it isn’t even angry, just sad and a little hurt, like Johnny-Evan-is ruining everything on purpose.
And then he says, "For heaven’s sake, if you skate like that in a few days you might even place below Weir."
Johnny startles, and the back of his neck starts to prickle.
"Excuse me?"
"I’m just saying, you need to pull it together," Frank says.
"No, but what do you mean I could place below Weir?"
Frank raises his eyebrows a little and shrugs. "I know it’s hard to hear, but I’m just telling it to you straight."
"You don’t think..." Johnny clears his throat and tries again, working hard to keep his voice under control. "You don’t think Weir has a chance at the podium? It’s been a good season for him."
And Frank laughs. Just a little, but still, he actually laughs. Johnny can feel the tips of his ears going red, from a combination of embarrassment and anger.
"I don’t think you need to worry about that," Frank says. "You just focus on what’s happening with you." He gives him an encouraging arm pat. "I expect to see better tomorrow, Evan."
"Yeah, sure," Johnny says, hardly listening anymore. He retreats to the locker room to get back into Evan’s casual clothes, his blood pounding in his ears.
Sometimes it annoys him the way the press plays up his rivalry with Evan, but it’s still a rivalry. And the thing about rivalries is that the other person needs to consider you a rival too. A threat. Competition. Johnny used to fucking wipe the floor with Evan Lysacek every year, does he remember that? And now, sure, Evan has a stupid gold medal to impress women and all Johnny got was a crown of roses, but he’s still one of the top-ranked skaters in the world and one of the top three in the country, and Evan’s coach laughed.
His fingers are shaking on his skate laces. Actually laughed, like the idea of Johnny doing well was ridiculous.
He can’t help but imagine what else has been said about him at past training sessions. "Bad day today, Evan, looking a little like Weir out there." He yanks one skate off and thinks about all the times he’s been doing badly in training and pulled it together thinking of what Evan’s face will look like when he loses, and it makes him so furious he nearly throws the skate against the wall. Instead he takes a deep breath and focuses on the hope that Evan managed to go back to the girl on his lunch break. Maybe this can all be over soon, and Johnny can go back to training on his own rink with his own people and not ever think about how Evan Lysacek sees him again.
Reply
Johnny’s always loved the media. Sure, they can take quotes out of context and no one’s managed to write an article about him in the last five years without including the word "flamboyant", but despite that, Johnny likes talking to the press. He wanders over, and sure enough the reporters stick their microphones in his face excitedly.
"Mr. Lysacek, do you think you’re ready for the Worlds competition?"
Boring. "Yeah," Johnny says. "I mean, I’ve been training really hard." He can’t help but remember all the nights he’s spent with Tara doing Evan Lysacek impressions until they were both laughing too hard to breathe.
"How has your stay in Tokyo been so far?"
"It’s been great. I love Japan." Incredibly boring. Viacheslav Romanov would do much better than this. Still, the question’s bound to come up eventually. It always does for him.
"Are you at all worried about facing your rival, Johnny Weir?"
And there it is. Johnny doesn’t smirk, because it would be out of character. But he feels like smirking.
"I don’t know if I’d really call him my rival at this point," he says. "We compete a lot but we actually get along pretty well off the ice. He’s not a bad guy."
Someone snaps a picture right in his face, and he blinks at the afterimage. The woman who’d asked about Johnny shoves her microphone closer.
"In the past, Johnny Weir has been very critical of you."
"Yeah, I know," Johnny says, "but everyone’s pretty critical of him, aren’t they? Here’s the thing about Johnny Weir. He’s just this guy who skates, like we’re all guys who skate, but for some reason everyone acts like when he does it, it’s like extra girly or something. It’s equally girly for everyone. Which is to say," Johnny adds, for authenticity, "that it’s equally not girly, because it’s not. It’s about strength. And muscles. And stuff like that."
Everyone’s interested now, cameras flashing and questions overlapping. Johnny ignores the questions and plows on.
"I mean, you have to wonder," he says, "about these guys, these old figure skating guys who hate him so much. Because it’s not like he’s doing something that affects them, you know, he’s just doing his thing. You have to wonder why these guys find it so threatening." He pauses for effect. "All I’m saying is, it seems like some of these guys protest a little too much."
Now there’s a definite buzz of chatter, small though the group of reporters is.
"Excuse me, Mr. Lysacek," says one of them. "Are you implying-"
"I’m not implying anything," Johnny says. "I respect Weir as a competitor and as a teammate, and I’m looking forward to representing America with him and Adam Rippon at the World Championships. That’s all." He smiles, and walks away.
Reply
Reply
Reply
LOL!
And wow, mass update! Pot stirring! You rock. :D
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
He gets a call from Evan a few minutes later asking where he is. Evan Lysacek is pretty much the last person in the world he wants to see right now, but he does want to find out how Evan's practice went today, so they end up meeting in the lobby of Evan's hotel. Johnny can only hope that anyone who sees them together will find it perfectly in character for his new role as defender of Johnny Weir's reputation.
Evan, already sitting on an ornate armchair when Johnny gets there, looks just about as bad as Johnny feels, so that cheers him up a little. He slides into a chair across from him, trying to mentally work through all the layers of what he feels about Evan right now: echoes of their long-term rivalry, traces of the weird kind of peace that came from having to work together yesterday, and the fresh anger that's still making his chest kind of hurt.
Evan, for one, brightens at the sight of him. "Hey," he says. "That phrase sheet was really handy."
He wouldn't look like that if he knew about the mini press conference, so he doesn't know, so Johnny should be acting normal. Except he can't remember anymore what "normal" is supposed to be in this situation, so he just asks what he wants to know.
"Did you go try and find the girl?"
Evan's face darkens. "Yeah, I tried. She wasn't there, and no one there could tell me anything about her, not even her name or anything. I'm telling you, man, it's like a classic curse situation."
"Which you would know about from all the other times you've been cursed," Johnny says. He rubs the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Getting this fixed is clearly going to take some creative thinking.
"How was your practice, anyway?" he says, and Evan groans.
"Awful," he says. "I recognized a lot of what your coach was saying from the sheet-she said that one about embarrassment a lot. But there was a lot I didn't know, so she would just kind of yell stuff and I didn't answer and then she would give me these looks like I was being crazy, which I probably was because all the Russian stuff she was saying was probably stuff you'd be crazy not to answer. I started just making up meanings for things. 'бедствие' means 'banana'."
"That means 'disaster'," Johnny says, grimacing. "I bet she's tearing up our contract as we speak."
"I did my best," Evan says, sounding slightly uncomfortable, and Johnny figures it's because he's not used to his best not being gold-medal caliber. "How'd it go for you?"
Johnny tries to answer the way Evan did, to make it into a story where they can both laugh about how mutually awful they are at being each other, but he thinks If you skate like that in a few days you might even place below Weir and the words stick in his throat.
"About as well as you'd expect," he says tersely. There's a tall woman standing over by the front desk who's looking at them and frowning.
"We have got to get this fixed," Evan says. "Can we go to like-I don't know, a doctor? Or some kind of mystic temple?"
The woman is leaning over to talk to someone else, a man, and pointing. Johnny hopes they're Johnny Weir fans and not Evan Lysacek fans, because watching Evan try to deal with the Angels sounds like a lot more fun than him trying to deal with whatever godawful idiots Lysacek has for supporters.
"I don't know," Johnny says. "You're the one who knows all about classic curse situations. What exactly did she say to you?"
Evan's forehead creases as he tries to think. Must be hard for him. Johnny hopes he's not causing any permanent lines.
"It was definitely something about winning," he says. "Winning and, like… glory, and the difference between the two."
"So is that the lesson you're supposed to learn?" The woman is coming over now, walking smartly in professional heels, and taking out a legal pad and pen. Johnny notices that her friend has a camera slung around his neck. Shit.
Reply
"Mr. Lysacek! Mr. Weir!" The woman comes up to them, flipping to a clean page of her legal pad. "What a treat to see you here together. I take it your newfound reconciliation has something to do with this?"
Evan frowns. "What reconciliation?"
The woman laughs brightly. "Johnny-may I call you Johnny?-how do you feel about the allegations made in your defense by Evan Lysacek, previously considered your biggest rival?"
It takes Evan a second to process the sentence, so Johnny says quickly, "I didn't make any allegations. I was merely speculating."
"Speculating," the woman repeats, scribbling on her pad furiously. "And may I ask, what inspired you to speak out on your rival's behalf?"
Johnny glances over at Evan, who is looking between Johnny and the reporter with dawning alarm.
"It wasn't on his behalf," Johnny says. "I didn't do it for him. If you'll excuse me," he says, standing up and grabbing Evan's arm. Evan lets himself be pulled up and shuffled off to the side of the lobby. Johnny finds a door handle and pulls, and ends up inside one of those fancy hotel bathrooms, with marble counters and little pink soaps and dim lighting so you'll look attractive in the mirror.
"Johnny, what the hell is going on?" Evan says, pulling his arm out of Johnny's grip.
"Um," Johnny says. "Get your phone out."
Evan takes it out slowly, looking at Johnny the whole time like Johnny might bolt if he looks away.
"You should probably, um, just Google it," Johnny says. He feels the urge to apologize preemptively, but then he thinks of Frank saying I don't think you need to worry about it and his cheeks are burning again and he's not sorry anymore.
Evan's staring at his phone, his face growing more and more impassive. After a minute, he looks up at Johnny, his eyes narrow.
"You dick," he says.
"It's not like I lied about anything," Johnny says, and damn it, this is what Evan always does to him. With someone else he might be inclined to back down, but any time Lysacek talks to him in a voice like that it just makes him want to hit back even harder.
"Except about being me," Evan says, his voice hard. "You let everyone think you're me."
The problem is that the only thing Johnny can really think of to say is You owe me, and saying that would require a lot of explanation about things like how gold medals make you feel when you're in sixth place, and coaches laughing at your chances, and some fucking jock getting adored by everyone in the skating world while they're worried that you're sending the wrong message to children, like being you is the worst thing that could happen to a kid.
He clenches one hand into a fist at his side and says, "Yeah, Evan, I let everyone think I was you. And I said stuff you should have said anyway. So, you're welcome."
"You can't just-" Evan pauses, and takes in a deep, shaky breath. "God, you are so-you have no idea about how things work in the real world, do you? You can't just pretend to be me and suggest that people are gay, there are standards you have to-fuck, Johnny, what the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Are people upset?" Johnny says.
Reply
"It wasn't about making people upset," he says. "It was about evening the playing field."
"It was about that you're a vindictive little nutjob," Evan spits. "You're in my body. Do you understand how-I mean, you know the things I could do in your body?" The wording brings Johnny back with a jolt to his breathless moment in the shower, and despite himself he feels a flush creeping up his cheeks.
"I could hold a press conference too," Evan says, stepping closer. "I could say I was gay. I could say I was retiring from skating. I could say I was having a secret love affair with Tim Gunn. I could say anything."
"I can't believe you know who Tim Gunn is," Johnny blurts, and Evan shoves him, hands on his chest. Johnny stumbles, more out of surprise than anything else. Then he shoves back, because he's not sure what else to do, and Evan stumbles more and Johnny realizes that he's taller. He takes a few steps forward and tries out how that feels, his long body close to Evan's. It's weird, but being in this body kind of makes him feel manly, with Evan's stubble and height and his weird musky smell. He steps forward again and grasps Evan's shoulders, pushing him up against the wall. Evan jerks forward, Johnny pushes him back again and Evan lashes out and kicks him in the ankle. Johnny moves closer, their chests almost touching, and leans in to speak right against Evan's ear.
"I'm sorry I messed with your perfect fucking reputation," he hisses. "I hope you get dragged through the mud."
He draws back a little, and Evan says, "Fuck you." But there's something in the way he says it, a little strained, and his face is flushed and it's Johnny's body, so he knows. He's so startled he drops Evan's shoulders and takes a step back and says, "Oh my God, you get turned on by yourself? Wait, I mean, of course you do. Of course."
"I'm not-no!" Evan splutters, his face going even redder. "That's-I wouldn't-"
"You are seriously unbelievable," Johnny says. "This is really what I should be telling the press, holy shit." Evan looks so horrified Johnny almost laughs. "You get turned on by yourself. I mean, when you jerk off, are you, like, thinking about yourself? No, wait, you're thinking about your medal, right? I bet you've jerked off with it," he says, and whoa, okay, when did this turn from making fun of Evan into dirty talk, because Johnny's kind of getting turned on too from thinking about this.
"Shut the fuck up, Johnny," Evan growls. "Look, just-just stop saying provocative things as me, alright? I'm going up to my room."
"To do what?" Johnny says, half trying to get on his nerves and half seriously curious.
"Shut up," Evan says again, which is definitely an answer. Whoa. Johnny's mouth goes dry, thinking of Evan's hands working his body.
He swallows. "I could help you out with that, if you want."
Evan looks about ready to strangle him. "I really hate you," he says, and walks out, and it makes Johnny feel better than anything else that's happened all day.
Reply
Reply
Reply
THIS FIC GETS BETTER AND BETTER!! <33333333
Reply
Leave a comment