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2010 WINTER OLYMPIC GAMES KINK MEME
Welcome to all winter athletes! This Winter Games is screaming for fic. Lots and lots of fic. So let's give them what they want! The set up is easy! Just (anonymously) post your favorite pairing, threesome, groupsome, etc., and a kink. All prompts are welcome, not just the kinky ones. If someone is interested, ( Read more... )
Welcome to all winter athletes! This Winter Games is screaming for fic. Lots and lots of fic. So let's give them what they want! The set up is easy! Just (anonymously) post your favorite pairing, threesome, groupsome, etc., and a kink. All prompts are welcome, not just the kinky ones. If someone is interested, ( Read more... )
“What?” Evan says, not ready to deal with any existential questions.
“You’re free,” Johnny makes a motion like his hands are birds fluttering around the rink. “You can do whatever you want, whatever jump, whatever spin, anything you want. No one is telling you how to skate or what to do. So what do you want to do?”
“Um,” Evan says.
Johnny waits while Evan tries to think, gliding beside him. He runs through his list of jumps, trying to decide if there’s anything in particular he wants to do. But just thinking about it makes him feel tense and unhappy again.
“I guess… there isn’t anything.”
Johnny tilts his head, “Maybe you don’t want to skate at all? Maybe you really are burned out.”
“No,” Evan looks down, watching their feet gliding forward together. Left, right, left, right- There is something.
He isn’t sure how to ask. It will probably put Johnny on the defensive. Remind him of some of Evan’s more… douchy past behavior. “Maybe we could, uh, run through your short program? You know, both of us. Together.”
“Together? Why?” The words are clipped, suspicious. Evan immediately regrets bringing it up.
Why? “Because I want to?” he tries.
Johnny snorts and shakes his head. “Okay, great, but you need to give me a little more than that. What do you want out of it? To compete?”
“No,” he says quickly, because he’s pretty sure it’s not that. He’s always had competition, rivalry. If that was all he needed out of life he never would have gone on this ridiculous trip in the first place.
“I guess I want this,” Evan tries, waving between them to indicate their feet, still moving in step. “I’ve felt so off lately, it feels good to be in sync.”
Johnny considers that, giving him an odd look and then says, “Okay, I get it, sort of, but no programs, let’s go off-script, okay?”
“Off-script?” Evan repeats. Johnny skates over to the side and grabs his bag from the bench, pulling out a thick black CD wallet. He flips through the pages until he finds what he wants, popping the disk into the old boom box by the side of the rink.
Evan doesn’t recognize the song. It’s not in English, some kind of dance music, upbeat and fast.
Johnny takes a long glide across the ice, passing Evan and does a double Lutz, tentative, like he’s not sure he really wants to.
He comes back around, turning his palms up and sort of bowing to Evan like he’s handing off the ice. “Your turn.”
Evan nods and sets off, taking the same path as Johnny did and doing his own Lutz, echoing his movements.
They trade off like that for a few turns, sometimes copying one another and sometimes changing the jump, moving progressively harder. Evan feels good, his confidence coming back, but Johnny’s expression seems to be getting progressively darker.
When Johnny does a triple Axel and comes back for the handoff looking downright angry, Evan skates after him rather than taking his turn. He reaches out with his hand, wiggling his fingers and wagging his eyebrows like an idiot until Johnny rolls his eyes and takes it. Evan pulls him into a slow spin, their hands out at arms length.
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“Hey.” Johnny echos, sounding reluctant.
Evan holds on, making him skate around the rink with him. He leads for a lap and then drifts back so Johnny’s the one pulling him along while he follows.
Halfway around the rink, Johnny turns and pulls to a stop, forcing Evan to break too. He doesn’t manage it in time and ends up plowing into him, grabbing onto Johnny’s shoulders to steady them both. Johnny laughs and Evan can feel his breath against his cheek, their faces close like dancers posing at the end of a routine. Evan’s stomach tightens, but it’s not anxiety for once.
Johnny pulls away, pushing off of Evan so they both drift away from one another. “Hey, let’s try a lift,” he says.
“Um. . .”
“I don’t mean over your fucking head, just boost me up on your hip.”
He moves back in close, grabbing Evan’s hands. “Yeah, like this,” he says, getting Evan to put his left hand flat under his stomach, and pull him up with the other one under his right thigh. Evan can feel Johnny’s muscles beneath the thin fabric of his clothes, shifting and tightening as he tenses to hold himself in place.
They try it stationary a few times, Johnny arching his back and practicing stepping back to the ice smoothly. Eventually, Johnny breaks free to pick up some speed. He waits until Evan is matching him before skating in close, telegraphing his movements. It’s an easy lift, and Evan manages to pick Johnny up and circle twice before setting him down again cleanly. Johnny uses his momentum to do an exaggerated twirl and throws kisses to imaginary fans in the stands. Evan rubs his hand over his side and stomach, still feeling the echo of Johnny’s body everywhere he was pressed against him.
When Johnny returns, Evan says, “how about a throw?” without really thinking about it.
Johnny hesitates and Evan immediately wants to take it back. He has a vision of himself letting go wrong and Johnny crashing to the ice, shattering his ankle, never to skate again.
“Forget it!” he says.
“No, no, I want to, I trust you.” Except he doesn’t really sound like he does.
“Um, double loop?” Evan asks. Johnny looks vaguely disappointed, but nods and comes closer so Evan can practice positioning his hands. It’s easier this time, Johnny’s weight starting to feel familiar, if still making his skin feel strange and hypersensitive everywhere he touches.
They should really be practicing this off the ice first, but Evan starts to feel more confident as they work up to the full throw, the moves locking into his muscle memory. Eventually, Johnny pushes away and asks, “ready?” and Evan nods. He skates around quickly and when Johnny comes back to him, Evan picks him up like he’s done it a thousand times. He gives him slightly too much height, and Johnny stumbles a little on the landing, but it still feels downright magical. Evan finds himself smiling broadly.
“Triple this time!” Johnny shouts as he circles back, moving so quickly that Evan doesn’t have time to second-guess. He just opens his arms, and then Johnny’s there, and he’s throwing him upward into a perfect midair spin. This time the landing is clean.
Johnny comes back clapping his hands excitedly and says “Hey, maybe that’s what you want. Maybe you want to do pairs!”
Evan considers it. He does like skating like this. Relaxed, like it’s only about testing what they can do together. Then again, being dependant on someone else in a competition sounds amazingly stressful. But, at least, then he’d always have a partner around. Being on an actual team might be nice. It could be a good retirement strategy. He could find someone to tour with and spend a few years just having fun without the constant pressure of medaling.
A clatter of voices interrupts Evan’s thoughts, teenagers coming in with rented skates. Their private time must be up.
Evan doesn’t want to leave, but Johnny’s already headed off the ice, grabbing his skate guards. “Come on, I’ve got to get back. I still need to get ready to leave tomorrow.”
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“Oh, yeah, and about a dozen other things,” Johnny says, finding a shirt and pulling it over his head.
“Why are you even traveling now? Aren’t you cutting it a little close to the wire? You’ll lose so much practice time.”
Johnny sighs and says, “Yeah, well, there’s some prep stuff for my exhibition in the summer that I want to do.”
“So are you going to Torino straight from there?”
Johnny throws his bag over his shoulder. “Something like that,” he says, turning to leave.
Despite his claim that he has things to do, when they get back, Johnny goes straight to his laptop. He brings up Ice Partner Search and proceeds to harass Evan about the pairs idea.
“What about her?”
“Her profile is in Cyrillic. We probably couldn’t even talk to one another.”
“It’s called body language, Evan. You both speak the international language of skating. Wait, what about this one? Look she’s got a video!”
“Will you please stop bringing up 15-year-old girls? It’s starting to get creepy.”
“Oh, no, no, check out this cutie. Goals include ‘Going all the way to the top!!!’ Look at all the exclamation points, that’s a match made in heaven.”
“Uh, he’s a dude?”
“Yeah, but he’s also your age, old beggars can’t be choosers.”
“He’s an ice dancer.”
“What, you won’t dance if there aren’t stars involved? Oh, no, this is the one! Says she’s ‘known for my exceptional work ethic.’ Oh, and check out that outfit, I like the tassels.”
“Um, Australia?”
“She checked ‘willing to relocate.’”
“This is so stupid.”
Johnny gets bored eventually and leaves Evan alone with the computer. He watches some videos of a senior-level woman from Berlin who’s actually pretty impressive. He tries to picture practicing with her on the ice everyday, but it’s hard to imagine.
There’s a crashing sound behind him and he turns around to find Johnny wrestling a huge vacuum cleaner out of the closet. He already has an array of cleaning products out, spray bottles and dust cloths piled up on the floor.
“Cleaning time, come on, this place is a mess.”
“What, now? You’re leaving tomorrow, why does it matter?”
Johnny takes a deep breath like Evan is seriously testing his sanity. “But if we do it now, then I can come home to a clean place and it’s one less thing to worry about while I’m gone.”
“You worry about the cleanliness of your apartment while you’re gone?”
Johnny takes another breath. “Evan, humor me. I’m not asking for 150% here, just pick up your shit and go buff the mirror in the bathroom or something.”
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Johnny’s bedroom is a bit of a mess. He has his suitcases out already and there are clothes sorted into various piles on the bed. Evan spends a few minutes shifting stuff around so he can clean the tops of the tables and the dresser. It looks like Johnny has been moving things around at random as he searches for clothing to pack, so he spends a few minutes putting obviously out of place items back in their proper spot. Or what he thinks is their proper spot. He gets some satisfaction out of imagining the OCD fit Johnny will probably throw when he sees the room.
He opens the nightstand to sweep in a pile of hair accessories, and then stops.
Okay, Evan knows that looking through Johnny’s bedside drawers is a bad idea, and really, he was prepared to run across lube or sex toys or whatever. But not this. He knows it’s none of his business, but, well, it’s actually making him kind of livid.
He goes straight into the living room where Johnny is on his knees, apparently dusting the bottom of the coffee table.
“What. The. Hell.” Evan says, startling him. He holds up the offending packet between his thumb and forefinger, trying not to touch it anymore than necessary.
Johnny gives him a confused look and then rolls his eyes. “What? You cannot be serious, you went through my drawers?”
“You-You- Worlds. Two weeks. You’re smoking when- two weeks!”
Johnny sighs and looks away. “Jesus, Evan, figure it out already. I’m not going to fucking Worlds.”
Oh.
He throws the pack of cigarettes on the ground next to where Johnny’s sitting. The top flips open, spilling cigarettes across the floor and into his lap.
“Why the hell not?” Evan asks
Johnny brushes the cigarettes away, rearranging his legs so he’s sitting cross-legged. “I need a break, okay? It’s time to change some things up. Reassess. Reevaluate.”
“Reevaluate?” Evan repeats. “Now who’s speaking in clichés?”
“What, you’re the only one that gets to take time off now?” Johnny snaps.
“Do you even want to skate anymore?” Evan means for it to come out casual and cutting, but even to his own ears he just sounds sad.
“I-” Johnny grimaces and starts to pick up the cigarettes, collecting them in his hands. “I don’t know, alright? Sometimes. Sometimes all I want is to keep skating and I’m terrified of what’s going to happen when I can’t anymore, but…” his voice wavers. “God, honestly, most of the time now I just can’t wait for it to be over. Even when I actually work at it-” Johnny stops like he’s getting choked up. He tries to cover for it by getting up off the floor and sitting down on the couch, arranging the cigarettes in a pile on the coffee table.
“I’m not you, Evan.” Johnny continues, focusing on what his hands are doing. “I’ve peaked. What’s the point of putting in the time when I’m just going to fuck it up anyway? Why even-” his voice breaks and he stops again, closing his eyes to keep from crying. A few tears leak out anyway.
“Are you… is this it?” Evan asks. “Are you done for good?”
Johnny just shakes his head. “I don’t know, I don’t know. Why not? What’s the point?”
“When you fall off a horse-“ Evan starts.
“Oh, don’t you dare give me a fucking pep talk,” Johnny says, reaching over to grab a box of tissues nearby.
Evan sits down next to him while Johnny blows his nose and wipes his eyes. “Asshole,” he sniffs, pulling himself together.
“Sorry,” Evan says.
“Yeah, well, now you got to see me have a breakdown and cry, so I guess we’re even.”
“I didn’t cry,” Evan says.
Johnny snorts and shakes his head. “Don’t front, there was definitely some masculine lower lip quivering when you first got here.”
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Also: I love you anon. Have my babies.
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“What about this?” Johnny asks, holding up a blue-stripped cardigan that looks like it came from the Misses section. There’s a bow on the shoulder.
“Eh,” Evan says.
“This one?” he asks, holding up a red warm-up jacket with tasteful bedazzled accents.
“Better,” Evan says.
Johnny puts the cardigan in his suitcase and throws the warm-up jacket in the discard pile. “Great, thanks.”
It takes them a half hour just to narrow down his hats, going through a mountain of trendy knits and gigantic fur ones twice the size of Johnny’s head.
Evan wants to ask something, but he can’t seem to get up the courage. Oblivious, Johnny keeps flitting around the room, digging random pieces of clothing out the dresser and the closet, and adding them to the pile on the bed.
“Damn, I’m almost out of hair gel,” he says, sitting on the floor and sorting through a pile of bottles and tubes brought from the bathroom. “How did that even happen? I’ll have to run by a drug store before I leave tomorrow.”
“Johnny,” Evan starts. Come on, time to buckle down, bite the bullet. You can’t win the gold if you’re not even on the ice. “I was wondering- uh, so… what if I came with you?”
Johnny looks at him. “To the store?”
“Russia.”
Johnny’s mouth opens and closes a few times. Eventually, he manages to get out, “Evan, what? What? Did you imprint on me or something? No. Noo.”
Evan looks down at the ushanka in his hands and tries not to be disappointed. He must look crushed because Johnny makes a strangled sound and comes toward him, shuffling over on his knees.
He ducks his head down so his face is in Evan’s line of sight. “Ahhh, fuck, look. Evan, look at me. It’s been nice having you around-”
Johnny stops and repeats under his breath, “nice?” and then nods in agreement with himself. “Yeah, nice. It’s been nice, and, sure, it would be pretty hilarious to bring you along just so we could see Plushenko throw a hissy fit in the press, but I just. I just can’t.”
“Why,” Evan asks. His eyes are kind of burning. Maybe it’s the fur. He most definitely is not tearing up because stupid Johnny Weir won’t let him come with him to stupid Russia.
Johnny puts his head in his hands and pulls at his hair. “The thing is…” he sighs. “The thing is that I planned this trip in the first place so I could get away from you.”
“…you didn’t even know I’d be here until I showed up on Friday,” Evan points out.
“Not you you. I mean your image, your gold metal, your media blitz and your fucking orange face on Ellen and Leno and Letterman. I feel like I’m being haunted by the ghost of Olympics never to be, okay?”
“Ghost of… what?”
“I can’t stand your fucking success. I am a bitter, bitter person, and it is driving me insane.”
“Oh,” Evan says, looking down again.
“Look,” Johnny says, soft, leaning forward to put his hand on Evan’s shoulder. “I know you’re trying to figure stuff out now, and I’m flattered that you thought I could help, but I need to figure some things out too. And I don’t think I can do it with you being there.”
“I understand,” Evan says. He doesn’t.
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Evan's dorkiness is adorable and the way Johnny seems so worn down tugs at my heartstrings. I kinda just want to hug them both.
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