Fic: "Slipping In Between" (Evan Lysacek/Johnny Weir)
Title: Slipping In Between
Pairing: Evan Lysacek/Johnny Weir
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,476
Beta: reet
Disclaimer: This story is completely fictional. The events described in it never happened.
Warning: Silly schmoop! :P
Summary: It’s always you and my big dreams... Evan finds that being in love with Johnny Weir is a hard habit to break.
Author's Notes: For x2xbandgeekx2x - I wrote this as a go nr. 2 at your Christmas gift, but it wasn’t ready in time to be posted along with go nr.1. The story has a similar mood like The Ten First Times. I hope you'll enjoy this one as well. :)
Inspired by the song Konstantine by Something Corporate. All quoted lyrics, as well as the title, are from the song.
When the first star you see may not be a star
Evan has been in love with Johnny Weir for a very, very long time. He remembers the exact moment he looked at Johnny and realized that the feeling in his stomach had nothing to do with the fact that he was about to skate at Junior Worlds for the first time.
Johnny’s hair stood out in spikes in a slightly silly way, but then again, that’s what all the boys did to their hair at that time, because it was in. His eyes were what caught Evan’s attention, though, because with those eyes he smiled at Evan when they shook hands at the first Team USA meeting, his cheeks turning rosy when Evan cracked a smile in return.
When, after Johnny’d won the gold and Evan silver, Johnny turned to him at the closing banquet and, eyes shining, asked if Evan wanted to come for a walk with him and a few others later, to watch the stars above Sofia, Evan said yes, of course.
He didn’t get to see much of the stars, though, not those in the sky, anyway. Instead, he watched snowflakes catch in Johnny’s eyelashes, watched the trickles down his cheeks as he blinked them away and they melted on his skin, watched Johnny’s lips so long until Johnny noticed...
Johnny stopped then, reached out to close his fingers around Evan’s wrist to hold him back until they were behind everybody in their little group. And then Johnny kissed him, only a quick peck at first, a smile when Evan didn’t freak out. Then a soft brush of mouths, a tip of tongue lingering against Evan’s lower lip hesitantly, a clumsy clack of teeth...
“You have stars in your eyes,” Evan whispered dumbly when they parted, a little out of breath, and looked at Johnny’s face.
Johnny laughed. “That’s just the street-lamp,” he said with a glance towards the one flickering closest to them. “C’mon, let’s catch up with them,” he added and slid his hand from where it still held Evan’s wrist into Evan’s palm.
I can't imagine all the people that you know
And the places that you go
When the lights are turned down low
It doesn’t take Evan long to realize that what happened with Johnny, that night in Sofia, was... well. Evan is hesitant about calling it outright wrong, because it didn’t feel so, but he’s pretty sure that kissing other boys - and particularly boys who are your significant competitors - is something that he should be cautious about.
He tries not to think about it, the way Johnny’s heat dissolved the cold of the night, the way everything inside him tightened when they kissed. The fantasies come uninvited, though, of Johnny’s eyes running down his naked body, followed by his hands and mouth. It scares Evan just how pleasant thoughts like these are, how easy.
The next time they run across one another, at US Nationals - with Johnny trying his luck as Senior already, Evan still in Juniors - Evan’s mother makes a remark that fortifies Evan’s suspicion that he better keep his mind, let alone his fingers!, off Johnny Weir.
“I don’t know what his parents were thinking, to let the boy grow up like this,” she says and her tone alone makes Evan wince.
“Like what?” he asks, feigning cluelessness, when, in fact, he thinks he already knows what his mom means.
“Like...” his mother gestures vaguely with her hand, “...a girl,” she finally says and scrunches up her nose in disgust, as if Johnny’s very existence was bothering her. She then smiles sweetly at the official passing them by. “I’m so proud that you’re normal,” she adds and pats his shoulder affectionately, unaware of the way Evan freezes under her touch.
Suddenly, Evan finds himself thinking about what boys like Johnny do that might make them look so despicable to his mother and probably quite a few others. They hang around in bars, sleep around, dress up in women’s clothes...
He wonders if Johnny does any of that - not the bar-thing, of course, because he’s not old enough, but he wonders just how many other boys Johnny has kissed and if there’s been more than kisses already.
Somehow, these things don’t really fit Johnny and the softness with which he moves and talks and smiles. And if that makes Johnny abnormal, being soft and beautiful... well. No matter how hard he tries, Evan can’t see the wrong in that, especially not since the judges seem to appreciate it, awarding Johnny for his grace and elegance, even if his don’t yet compare to those of the Senior top three.
The remembrance of his mother’s words makes Evan feel uneasy and a little scared, like a kid doing something forbidden, when he lingers in the hallway leading to Johnny’s room after the banquet. And then Johnny’s there, with a surprised smile and a bright light in his eyes, and the uneasiness is almost entirely gone to be replaced by that nervous tingle he felt back in Sofia.
When they’re in Johnny’s room suddenly, kissing, Evan panics for a brief moment when he remembers what he thought about earlier, the things Johnny might or might not have done with others... But the exhilaration Johnny’s fingers fill him with as they crawl under his shirt and ghost over his chest and stomach is stronger than the worries. It feels so good that Evan forgets all about what might or might not have been with someone else, because now Johnny is with him.
I’m slipping in between you and your big dreams
There have always been problems, of course, simply because they are figure skaters. And because figure skaters are, believe it or not, athletes - or wait, they’re worse than any other athletes, with the exception of, maybe, male gymnasts.
Evan remembers Johnny throwing his Louis Vuitton purse at him after Evan had won bronze at Worlds in 2005 and yelling obscenities on the account of his triple axel technique. But it was alright, because that’s what Evan is used to - Johnny always gets a little bit too emotional, almost as if all the feelings couldn’t fit into his little body.
Being a drama-queen is almost a requirement in figure skating, Evan knows, and he is happy that he’s dating Johnny rather than Sasha Cohen who, rumor has it, tends to throw her pointy designer stilettos and other objects more dangerous than pieces of Vuitton luggage when her placement doesn’t satisfy her.
But, frankly, it’s not the times when Johnny throws things that scare Evan. It’s moments like that night in Torino, after the long program. That night, Johnny weeps in his arms, shudders wrecking all through him, so hard Evan’s afraid they might tear Johnny apart and, with him, something in Evan’s heart.
“I c-can’t take this, Evan,” Johnny whispers when he’s ran out of tears. Evan’s fallen into a momentary slumber - his body is exhausted, not to mention heavily medicated - but Johnny’s voice wakes him. He doesn’t open his eyes, though, doesn’t speak; he lets Johnny believe he is asleep.
“I can never skate my best when you’re around,” Johnny sighs and runs a finger over Evan’s forehead, just below his hairline. “Because - “ a deep sigh again and Johnny lays his head onto his chest. “Because I’m so afraid I’ll lose you if I’m too good.”
We don’t have much room to live
There has always been someone to hide something from: the family, the federation, the fellow skaters on the tour, the fans, the media. Evan had never known how to handle these, not until Frank made him memorize and practice answers to questions that would always come, over and over again, until Evan’s mind knew the lines as well as his muscles knew the moves of his programs.
Now Evan can deal with most of them - federation, fans, media. He can answer their questions and react to whatever they throw at him almost as automatically as he can do his straight line step sequence.
The lines feel odd on his tongue at first, like they’re not his - well, in fact, they really aren’t. But he gets used to them, eventually, to their taste and shape and sound, and, at some point, he almost believes that he means the words that come out of his mouth. It’s much like skating - he just has to switch off his heart the way he switches off his mind when he skates, because it’s easier that way.
Johnny gets a little grumpy over it, of course, but he has lines of his own, too, and he always forgives Evan, because he sees through the charade.
You’ve got to get out
You can’t stand to see me shaking
In the end, it’s not Johnny beating him that makes Evan break up with him. He ends it just after Nationals, just after he’s won Nationals for the first time. Evan can’t let it happen, can’t let Johnny break himself because of him.
He realizes it as he’s watching Johnny try and suppress the tears as he takes his bows, then lose it in the kiss & cry. He just can’t stand it.
And you don’t want to be here in the future
So you say
The present’s just a pleasant
Interruption to the past
He spends a night with Johnny the following season, right after Johnny beats him at Cup of China. He wishes he could believe it’s real, but he knows better than that and can almost taste the revenge on Johnny’s tongue, the stubbornness that says you won’t break me.
Johnny’s scent is so familiar as he breathes him in, as is his dick inside him... It makes Evan wish he’d never said goodbye. But he knows that the past doesn’t matter anymore, it’s not important what he should or shouldn’t have done - either way, he would have lost Johnny.
We’ve been drinking and it doesn’t get me anywhere
Evan doesn’t quite understand why he keeps doing it. Probably because he’s been in love with Johnny Weir for a very, very long time... and it’s hard to break the habit. He lets Johnny in whenever he knocks at his door - at Nats, Worlds, on tour and at those Champs Camps the federation has decided to turn into an annual event...
Sometimes, they get drunk and Evan thinks that that’s at least some excuse. But on other nights, they’re sober and the only thing that makes Evan feel dizzy is the fact that Johnny’s with him again.
Maybe, baby, you could keep me up in bed
Evan wishes he could blame alcohol on that particular night, but he hasn’t had a single drop. He’s not sure what makes him say it, because the words that come out of his mouth are not what he practiced earlier - words like no and this has to stop and you can’t keep using me.
“Stay with me,” he says against the hairs on Johnny’s nape, against his skin, which is still all flushed after sex. “Until the morning,”
Johnny doesn’t even turn around to look at him before he gets up, gets dressed and leaves.
And you don’t want to look much closer
‘Cause you’re afraid to find out all the hope
That you had sent into the sky by now had... crashed
And it did because of me
At some point, Evan realizes that it’s all very easy, in fact. All he has to do is switch off his mind (like when he skates) and his heart (like when he talks to the media). He’s had years of practice in both, he should be able to do it.
It takes a while, but, finally, one night in fall 2008, he fucks Johnny and simply leaves right after, without a trace of emotion. It doesn’t fill him with victory, though, like he thought it would. It makes him fell empty.
'Cause we both know what its like to be alone
He still watches Johnny after that, though. He watches him at competitions, observing closely, not when Johnny’s skating, because that would be most unwise, but when he’s off the ice.
He watches Johnny talk to people. Johnny talks to:
- the Russians (all and any Russians - Johnny’s not picky when it comes to that particular nation),
- the ice dancers (well, not all of them, only Tanith and Melissa and Denis),
- the fans (Johnny isn’t picky about those, either, or tries not to be. Evan suspects the Russians are still his faves, though.),
- the other men.
Johnny is picky about who of the other men he talks to, Evan notices. Very picky. Evan sees him talk to Lambiel once, twice, thrice... Johnny never comes knocking on Lambiel’s door, though, not at any of the events Evan also competes in, anyway. Actually, Johnny doesn’t come knocking on anyone’s doors these days. Not that Evan has been paying that much attention. He has switched off his mind and heart, after all.
And then you bring me home
Then Johnny knocks at his door again. Evan lets him in, because he’s in no danger, right? Mind and heart switched off.
And we’ll go to sleep but this time not alone
“Can I stay?” Johnny asks, barely a whisper against Evan’s neck. “Until the morning?”
Evan doesn’t quite understand why he does it. Probably because he’s been in love with Johnny Weir for a very, very long time - so long he’s used to it by now, so long that the habit is stronger than the one of trying to switch the feeling off.
He pulls Johnny closer and inhales his scent, still the same, always the same.
Because we all need a little more room to live
It’s not until after Vancouver that Evan tells his family. His mother stares at him as if he’d just told her he’s a mass murderer and it makes Evan worry a little... or a lot. But the sensation of Johnny’s fingers crawling into his palm to give him a firm squeeze is stronger than that and, suddenly, what might or might not happen with his family isn’t the number one important thing.
It’s always you and my big dreams
“- and then you’re gonna be the 2014 Olympic Champion,” Johnny’s saying, his breath forming white puffs in the cold.
Evan laughs, a little nervously because here he is, with a fresh twenty-ten World gold medal around his neck under all his clothes, holding hands with the twenty-ten Olympic Champion. In the middle of the fucking city.
It’s also the middle of the fucking night, true, but the feeling is still a little... new. Evan thinks he’ll get used to it, though.
“What?” Johnny lifts an eyebrow, eyes aglow in the light of the street-lamps. “They will look great above our fireplace!”
~ fin
-----
One more note: There's one inaccuracy in this story. Evan actually also competed in the Senior category at US Nationals in 2002. I only found out later and didn't feel like changing it anymore. Evan placed 12th, Johnny was 5th.
Pairing: Evan Lysacek/Johnny Weir
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,476
Beta: reet
Disclaimer: This story is completely fictional. The events described in it never happened.
Warning: Silly schmoop! :P
Summary: It’s always you and my big dreams... Evan finds that being in love with Johnny Weir is a hard habit to break.
Author's Notes: For x2xbandgeekx2x - I wrote this as a go nr. 2 at your Christmas gift, but it wasn’t ready in time to be posted along with go nr.1. The story has a similar mood like The Ten First Times. I hope you'll enjoy this one as well. :)
Inspired by the song Konstantine by Something Corporate. All quoted lyrics, as well as the title, are from the song.
When the first star you see may not be a star
Evan has been in love with Johnny Weir for a very, very long time. He remembers the exact moment he looked at Johnny and realized that the feeling in his stomach had nothing to do with the fact that he was about to skate at Junior Worlds for the first time.
Johnny’s hair stood out in spikes in a slightly silly way, but then again, that’s what all the boys did to their hair at that time, because it was in. His eyes were what caught Evan’s attention, though, because with those eyes he smiled at Evan when they shook hands at the first Team USA meeting, his cheeks turning rosy when Evan cracked a smile in return.
When, after Johnny’d won the gold and Evan silver, Johnny turned to him at the closing banquet and, eyes shining, asked if Evan wanted to come for a walk with him and a few others later, to watch the stars above Sofia, Evan said yes, of course.
He didn’t get to see much of the stars, though, not those in the sky, anyway. Instead, he watched snowflakes catch in Johnny’s eyelashes, watched the trickles down his cheeks as he blinked them away and they melted on his skin, watched Johnny’s lips so long until Johnny noticed...
Johnny stopped then, reached out to close his fingers around Evan’s wrist to hold him back until they were behind everybody in their little group. And then Johnny kissed him, only a quick peck at first, a smile when Evan didn’t freak out. Then a soft brush of mouths, a tip of tongue lingering against Evan’s lower lip hesitantly, a clumsy clack of teeth...
“You have stars in your eyes,” Evan whispered dumbly when they parted, a little out of breath, and looked at Johnny’s face.
Johnny laughed. “That’s just the street-lamp,” he said with a glance towards the one flickering closest to them. “C’mon, let’s catch up with them,” he added and slid his hand from where it still held Evan’s wrist into Evan’s palm.
I can't imagine all the people that you know
And the places that you go
When the lights are turned down low
It doesn’t take Evan long to realize that what happened with Johnny, that night in Sofia, was... well. Evan is hesitant about calling it outright wrong, because it didn’t feel so, but he’s pretty sure that kissing other boys - and particularly boys who are your significant competitors - is something that he should be cautious about.
He tries not to think about it, the way Johnny’s heat dissolved the cold of the night, the way everything inside him tightened when they kissed. The fantasies come uninvited, though, of Johnny’s eyes running down his naked body, followed by his hands and mouth. It scares Evan just how pleasant thoughts like these are, how easy.
The next time they run across one another, at US Nationals - with Johnny trying his luck as Senior already, Evan still in Juniors - Evan’s mother makes a remark that fortifies Evan’s suspicion that he better keep his mind, let alone his fingers!, off Johnny Weir.
“I don’t know what his parents were thinking, to let the boy grow up like this,” she says and her tone alone makes Evan wince.
“Like what?” he asks, feigning cluelessness, when, in fact, he thinks he already knows what his mom means.
“Like...” his mother gestures vaguely with her hand, “...a girl,” she finally says and scrunches up her nose in disgust, as if Johnny’s very existence was bothering her. She then smiles sweetly at the official passing them by. “I’m so proud that you’re normal,” she adds and pats his shoulder affectionately, unaware of the way Evan freezes under her touch.
Suddenly, Evan finds himself thinking about what boys like Johnny do that might make them look so despicable to his mother and probably quite a few others. They hang around in bars, sleep around, dress up in women’s clothes...
He wonders if Johnny does any of that - not the bar-thing, of course, because he’s not old enough, but he wonders just how many other boys Johnny has kissed and if there’s been more than kisses already.
Somehow, these things don’t really fit Johnny and the softness with which he moves and talks and smiles. And if that makes Johnny abnormal, being soft and beautiful... well. No matter how hard he tries, Evan can’t see the wrong in that, especially not since the judges seem to appreciate it, awarding Johnny for his grace and elegance, even if his don’t yet compare to those of the Senior top three.
The remembrance of his mother’s words makes Evan feel uneasy and a little scared, like a kid doing something forbidden, when he lingers in the hallway leading to Johnny’s room after the banquet. And then Johnny’s there, with a surprised smile and a bright light in his eyes, and the uneasiness is almost entirely gone to be replaced by that nervous tingle he felt back in Sofia.
When they’re in Johnny’s room suddenly, kissing, Evan panics for a brief moment when he remembers what he thought about earlier, the things Johnny might or might not have done with others... But the exhilaration Johnny’s fingers fill him with as they crawl under his shirt and ghost over his chest and stomach is stronger than the worries. It feels so good that Evan forgets all about what might or might not have been with someone else, because now Johnny is with him.
I’m slipping in between you and your big dreams
There have always been problems, of course, simply because they are figure skaters. And because figure skaters are, believe it or not, athletes - or wait, they’re worse than any other athletes, with the exception of, maybe, male gymnasts.
Evan remembers Johnny throwing his Louis Vuitton purse at him after Evan had won bronze at Worlds in 2005 and yelling obscenities on the account of his triple axel technique. But it was alright, because that’s what Evan is used to - Johnny always gets a little bit too emotional, almost as if all the feelings couldn’t fit into his little body.
Being a drama-queen is almost a requirement in figure skating, Evan knows, and he is happy that he’s dating Johnny rather than Sasha Cohen who, rumor has it, tends to throw her pointy designer stilettos and other objects more dangerous than pieces of Vuitton luggage when her placement doesn’t satisfy her.
But, frankly, it’s not the times when Johnny throws things that scare Evan. It’s moments like that night in Torino, after the long program. That night, Johnny weeps in his arms, shudders wrecking all through him, so hard Evan’s afraid they might tear Johnny apart and, with him, something in Evan’s heart.
“I c-can’t take this, Evan,” Johnny whispers when he’s ran out of tears. Evan’s fallen into a momentary slumber - his body is exhausted, not to mention heavily medicated - but Johnny’s voice wakes him. He doesn’t open his eyes, though, doesn’t speak; he lets Johnny believe he is asleep.
“I can never skate my best when you’re around,” Johnny sighs and runs a finger over Evan’s forehead, just below his hairline. “Because - “ a deep sigh again and Johnny lays his head onto his chest. “Because I’m so afraid I’ll lose you if I’m too good.”
We don’t have much room to live
There has always been someone to hide something from: the family, the federation, the fellow skaters on the tour, the fans, the media. Evan had never known how to handle these, not until Frank made him memorize and practice answers to questions that would always come, over and over again, until Evan’s mind knew the lines as well as his muscles knew the moves of his programs.
Now Evan can deal with most of them - federation, fans, media. He can answer their questions and react to whatever they throw at him almost as automatically as he can do his straight line step sequence.
The lines feel odd on his tongue at first, like they’re not his - well, in fact, they really aren’t. But he gets used to them, eventually, to their taste and shape and sound, and, at some point, he almost believes that he means the words that come out of his mouth. It’s much like skating - he just has to switch off his heart the way he switches off his mind when he skates, because it’s easier that way.
Johnny gets a little grumpy over it, of course, but he has lines of his own, too, and he always forgives Evan, because he sees through the charade.
You’ve got to get out
You can’t stand to see me shaking
In the end, it’s not Johnny beating him that makes Evan break up with him. He ends it just after Nationals, just after he’s won Nationals for the first time. Evan can’t let it happen, can’t let Johnny break himself because of him.
He realizes it as he’s watching Johnny try and suppress the tears as he takes his bows, then lose it in the kiss & cry. He just can’t stand it.
And you don’t want to be here in the future
So you say
The present’s just a pleasant
Interruption to the past
He spends a night with Johnny the following season, right after Johnny beats him at Cup of China. He wishes he could believe it’s real, but he knows better than that and can almost taste the revenge on Johnny’s tongue, the stubbornness that says you won’t break me.
Johnny’s scent is so familiar as he breathes him in, as is his dick inside him... It makes Evan wish he’d never said goodbye. But he knows that the past doesn’t matter anymore, it’s not important what he should or shouldn’t have done - either way, he would have lost Johnny.
We’ve been drinking and it doesn’t get me anywhere
Evan doesn’t quite understand why he keeps doing it. Probably because he’s been in love with Johnny Weir for a very, very long time... and it’s hard to break the habit. He lets Johnny in whenever he knocks at his door - at Nats, Worlds, on tour and at those Champs Camps the federation has decided to turn into an annual event...
Sometimes, they get drunk and Evan thinks that that’s at least some excuse. But on other nights, they’re sober and the only thing that makes Evan feel dizzy is the fact that Johnny’s with him again.
Maybe, baby, you could keep me up in bed
Evan wishes he could blame alcohol on that particular night, but he hasn’t had a single drop. He’s not sure what makes him say it, because the words that come out of his mouth are not what he practiced earlier - words like no and this has to stop and you can’t keep using me.
“Stay with me,” he says against the hairs on Johnny’s nape, against his skin, which is still all flushed after sex. “Until the morning,”
Johnny doesn’t even turn around to look at him before he gets up, gets dressed and leaves.
And you don’t want to look much closer
‘Cause you’re afraid to find out all the hope
That you had sent into the sky by now had... crashed
And it did because of me
At some point, Evan realizes that it’s all very easy, in fact. All he has to do is switch off his mind (like when he skates) and his heart (like when he talks to the media). He’s had years of practice in both, he should be able to do it.
It takes a while, but, finally, one night in fall 2008, he fucks Johnny and simply leaves right after, without a trace of emotion. It doesn’t fill him with victory, though, like he thought it would. It makes him fell empty.
'Cause we both know what its like to be alone
He still watches Johnny after that, though. He watches him at competitions, observing closely, not when Johnny’s skating, because that would be most unwise, but when he’s off the ice.
He watches Johnny talk to people. Johnny talks to:
- the Russians (all and any Russians - Johnny’s not picky when it comes to that particular nation),
- the ice dancers (well, not all of them, only Tanith and Melissa and Denis),
- the fans (Johnny isn’t picky about those, either, or tries not to be. Evan suspects the Russians are still his faves, though.),
- the other men.
Johnny is picky about who of the other men he talks to, Evan notices. Very picky. Evan sees him talk to Lambiel once, twice, thrice... Johnny never comes knocking on Lambiel’s door, though, not at any of the events Evan also competes in, anyway. Actually, Johnny doesn’t come knocking on anyone’s doors these days. Not that Evan has been paying that much attention. He has switched off his mind and heart, after all.
And then you bring me home
Then Johnny knocks at his door again. Evan lets him in, because he’s in no danger, right? Mind and heart switched off.
And we’ll go to sleep but this time not alone
“Can I stay?” Johnny asks, barely a whisper against Evan’s neck. “Until the morning?”
Evan doesn’t quite understand why he does it. Probably because he’s been in love with Johnny Weir for a very, very long time - so long he’s used to it by now, so long that the habit is stronger than the one of trying to switch the feeling off.
He pulls Johnny closer and inhales his scent, still the same, always the same.
Because we all need a little more room to live
It’s not until after Vancouver that Evan tells his family. His mother stares at him as if he’d just told her he’s a mass murderer and it makes Evan worry a little... or a lot. But the sensation of Johnny’s fingers crawling into his palm to give him a firm squeeze is stronger than that and, suddenly, what might or might not happen with his family isn’t the number one important thing.
It’s always you and my big dreams
“- and then you’re gonna be the 2014 Olympic Champion,” Johnny’s saying, his breath forming white puffs in the cold.
Evan laughs, a little nervously because here he is, with a fresh twenty-ten World gold medal around his neck under all his clothes, holding hands with the twenty-ten Olympic Champion. In the middle of the fucking city.
It’s also the middle of the fucking night, true, but the feeling is still a little... new. Evan thinks he’ll get used to it, though.
“What?” Johnny lifts an eyebrow, eyes aglow in the light of the street-lamps. “They will look great above our fireplace!”
~ fin
-----
One more note: There's one inaccuracy in this story. Evan actually also competed in the Senior category at US Nationals in 2002. I only found out later and didn't feel like changing it anymore. Evan placed 12th, Johnny was 5th.