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2010 Winter Games Kink Meme
Figure Skating Post!
Only figure skating/ice dancing prompts/fills go here!
Part 1 is here.
Part 2 is here.
Other Sports and Crossovers are here.
Speed Skating is here.
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It’s entirely possible that Evan sleeps with his medal the way young children do stuffed animals. It would probably serve as nice reassurance when he wakes up from nightmares about only giving 100% of his effort.
Right now, though, the fact that it’s hanging out of Evan’s gym bag, casually enough that it can’t possibly be casual at all, is just making Johnny feel very tired, and more than a little irritated. It’s been two years, surely the novelty has worn off.
By the time Evan emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, looking like the orange swamp monster trying his hand at underwear modeling, Johnny has tucked himself into the double bed, facing away from the medal. He shuts his eyes quickly, feigning sleep, listening to the noises of Evan moving around the room.
Soon, the noises stop completely, and after a few minutes Johnny rolls over and snaps, “What?”
Evan mumbles, “I could sleep on the floor, if you wanted.”
The last thing Johnny needs in the morning is Evan passive-aggressively falling asleep over his Powerbar and using his atrocious under-eye circles for sympathy votes.
“I said it was fine, didn’t I?”
He did, if not in so many words, but Evan stares at the bed with something approaching actual emotion - dread, probably, but it’s hard to differentiate with him - and doesn’t move.
“Were you hoping for a more…congenial welcome to our bed? Sorry to disappoint,” Johnny says as sweetly as he can, and whether Lysacek understands the words or not, he definitely reads the tone. His face turns blotchier than usual, and he starts to stammer out a reply but stops when Johnny rolls his eyes and flops back over onto his side.
Finally, the mattress dips with Evan’s weight, and the overhead light shuts off, then turns on and shuts off two more times before staying off.
They’re both lying there so rigidly that the sheets don’t even rustle, a careful foot between them. It reminds Johnny of siblings on a long car trip, this is my side and this is yours, cross the line on pain of wedgie.
“Sorry,” Evan says quietly.
Johnny sighs, letting the tension leak out of his muscles. “It’s fine,” he says, primarily in the interest of getting Evan to shut up and sleep, but to his surprise, he even kind of means it. He’s not bitter over Vancouver anymore, not really; he’s happy with his life now.
He wouldn’t have a problem with Evan at all now, except he’s not sure he can forgive putting winning before maintaining any sense of personal integrity. Actually, he might be able to forgive it if Evan hadn’t done it at the expense of other people, including but not limited to Johnny, or if he wasn’t participating actively in propagating the “kiss the USFSA’s ass” school of figure skating.
“How do you sleep at night?” he murmurs, and laughs a little at the absurdity of the double meaning created by improbable context.
“Badly,” Evan replies, and Johnny laughs harder. “I have to fall asleep at the right time, under the right conditions.”
“If you fall asleep before you count 500 sheep, you have to wake yourself up and start all over?” Johnny is only half-kidding - in the little time he’s spent around Evan, he has learned that Evan has enough compulsions to give Howard Hughes a run for his money.
The mattress shakes a little with Evan’s silent laughter, startling Johnny. “Something like that,” Evan agrees.
Johnny guesses he couldn’t have fake-dated Tanith without adaptively developing a sense of humor about himself - Tanith is cranky before coffee, and Ben is goofy right up until he’s sharply sarcastic.
Still, it’s weird, realizing that Evan laughs, bathes himself, and generates body heat. In Johnny’s head, he’s always been like neoconservatism - connected with certain people, but mostly just a smug, stupid set of principles - more of a concept than anything.
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