[oneshot] meet the pressure
Title: meet the pressure
Pairing: ohno/celski if you squint
Rating: pg
Genre: slice-of-life, gen
Warnings: swearing
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: After Apolo’s DQ and a little bit beyond.
Apolo’s coming off the ice when he spots JR’s face in the throng of people outside the rink, small and white and crowded in behind photographers who are snapping pictures of him from every angle. He knows they need quotes and his standard doesn't-give-a-fuck smirk, and usually he’s already used to this shit and deals with it with as much (as little) grace as he can muster, but today is different. He can’t even sit down from the agitation and he jams the silicon covers onto his skates with unnecessary force.
“Now you know what it feels like, being on the reverse side of a DQ, huh?” one of the Canadian supporters calls snidely from the bleachers in front of them, and JR dodges forward, catches Apolo’s arm in time just as he’s lurching towards the stands, a dangerous look on his face.
“Hey,” JR says, his voice firm even in its gentle lilting quality, and it steadies him against the thoughts roiling in the back of his head, stinging like those bits of ice that bite into his skin whenever he hits the ground after a particularly nasty fall.
JR manages to shove him into a chair; he’s too tired and pissed off to do anything except slouch there, breathing heavily with a scowl on his face. “Don’t let it get to you,” JR murmurs, and Apolo’s head snaps to the side to glare at him.
“How can I not?” he snaps, fists clenching and unclenching when the camera pans away from them. JR grabs his arm hard, and it’s only then that Apolo realizes he’s shaking ever so slightly, negative energy thrumming through his body with every new shift of his gaze.
“Calm down,” JR says louder, the hand on his arm clamping a little tighter. “You still have another race tonight, we need you.” His eyes are earnest and there’s a certain sturdiness in his expression that’s never been there before, and a vague, startling thought crosses Apolo’s mind that the Games have made JR like this, have made him mature in a way that was never possible at the World Championships or any other competition.
“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses, even though he knows JR’s completely right. “There’ll always be another race, another semi, another final.” He takes his helmet off and swipes a quick hand through sweaty hair. “I don’t need you lecturing me about it, okay?”
JR’s face crumples a little and Apolo almost thinks he’s going to let it go, but then his brow furrows in intense concentration. “Get over yourself,” he says quietly, and it stuns Apolo, the way his voice is laced with such seriousness. “We all know you didn’t deserve that DQ but you can’t skate with this attitude, you’re just going to end up like Hosuk did in the B group finals, you know? And this time it’s a relay, it’s not a simple individual race, and we’re depending on you.” He gives Apolo’s shoulder a shake, gripping it as tight as he can. “We need you out there.”
Apolo closes his eyes, and on the backs of his lids he can picture the rink, can see the push and jumble of bodies, Travis and Jordan and JR skating inside the cones and waiting for the next leg. He breathes hard through his nose when he opens them again and JR has a small smile on his face. “Thanks,” he mutters, crossing his legs.
“What kind of protégé would I be if I didn’t tell it to you straight? Go channel all that anger into subtle interview answers,” he says; Apolo cracks a nasty grin and JR laughs, shaking his head. “It is what you do best.”
- - - - -
After he gets water and talks to a few NBC reporters, the resentment is still simmering just underneath the surface of his calm exterior. JR seems to think it’ll be good motivation for the next race. “God,” he sighs, “I want to win so badly but with the line-ups the other teams have I don’t know if we’re going to make it.”
Apolo knows it’s probably true but he smacks JR on the arm anyway. “Didn’t know you were so defeatist,” he smirks. “But at least if they win, we’ll know it’s not because some fucking ref cheated their way to the gold.”
JR shrugs and straps his helmet on. When they skate onto the ice, it’s to loud calls of USA! USA! and Apolo’s grin is feral now, the excitement building up in his blood with an almost tangible fervor. “I can tell you one thing though,” he yells, and JR turns back to look at him curiously. “I know we’re going to medal,” and the cocky texture of his voice cuts through the roar of the crowd. “I can feel it, so congratulations ahead of time on your second.” Jordan lets out a loud whoop as they round the smooth edge of the rink and JR’s beam looks like it’s about to split his face in half.
After that, everything passes in blurs and splashes of color; Travis’s unsteady expression when he almost trips over another skater, JR spinning around in tight circles and waiting for the next skater to come up and take his place, himself bunched up in front with Korea and Canada, the pure look of elation on the others’ faces when China slips coming off the last turn and they snatch that elusive bronze.
There’s screaming all across the stadium but everything’s going in slow motion for him, and he feels like he’s suddenly gone deaf. Katherine’s jumping up and down behind the wall of the rink and they skate into it with small thuds against the cushioning, Jaesu yelling something at them that he can’t hear. It’s stupid that he doesn’t even care that Canada won; it was a perfect race for them so he knows better than to have complaints about it. In the middle of all the chaos, JR skates off with the flag, waving at the cheering fans and tying it around his neck again like a cape.
“That your new fashion statement?” he rasps when JR gets back to the sliding door of the rink. The younger skater’s so giddy that he can barely even speak, just mumbles something incoherent and smiles. “It was a good last race, huh?”
“Yeah,” JR says. In the background, Jordan’s pumping the air with his fist. “Yeah.” The burn in Apolo’s legs is sweetly satisfying.
Pairing: ohno/celski if you squint
Rating: pg
Genre: slice-of-life, gen
Warnings: swearing
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: After Apolo’s DQ and a little bit beyond.
Apolo’s coming off the ice when he spots JR’s face in the throng of people outside the rink, small and white and crowded in behind photographers who are snapping pictures of him from every angle. He knows they need quotes and his standard doesn't-give-a-fuck smirk, and usually he’s already used to this shit and deals with it with as much (as little) grace as he can muster, but today is different. He can’t even sit down from the agitation and he jams the silicon covers onto his skates with unnecessary force.
“Now you know what it feels like, being on the reverse side of a DQ, huh?” one of the Canadian supporters calls snidely from the bleachers in front of them, and JR dodges forward, catches Apolo’s arm in time just as he’s lurching towards the stands, a dangerous look on his face.
“Hey,” JR says, his voice firm even in its gentle lilting quality, and it steadies him against the thoughts roiling in the back of his head, stinging like those bits of ice that bite into his skin whenever he hits the ground after a particularly nasty fall.
JR manages to shove him into a chair; he’s too tired and pissed off to do anything except slouch there, breathing heavily with a scowl on his face. “Don’t let it get to you,” JR murmurs, and Apolo’s head snaps to the side to glare at him.
“How can I not?” he snaps, fists clenching and unclenching when the camera pans away from them. JR grabs his arm hard, and it’s only then that Apolo realizes he’s shaking ever so slightly, negative energy thrumming through his body with every new shift of his gaze.
“Calm down,” JR says louder, the hand on his arm clamping a little tighter. “You still have another race tonight, we need you.” His eyes are earnest and there’s a certain sturdiness in his expression that’s never been there before, and a vague, startling thought crosses Apolo’s mind that the Games have made JR like this, have made him mature in a way that was never possible at the World Championships or any other competition.
“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses, even though he knows JR’s completely right. “There’ll always be another race, another semi, another final.” He takes his helmet off and swipes a quick hand through sweaty hair. “I don’t need you lecturing me about it, okay?”
JR’s face crumples a little and Apolo almost thinks he’s going to let it go, but then his brow furrows in intense concentration. “Get over yourself,” he says quietly, and it stuns Apolo, the way his voice is laced with such seriousness. “We all know you didn’t deserve that DQ but you can’t skate with this attitude, you’re just going to end up like Hosuk did in the B group finals, you know? And this time it’s a relay, it’s not a simple individual race, and we’re depending on you.” He gives Apolo’s shoulder a shake, gripping it as tight as he can. “We need you out there.”
Apolo closes his eyes, and on the backs of his lids he can picture the rink, can see the push and jumble of bodies, Travis and Jordan and JR skating inside the cones and waiting for the next leg. He breathes hard through his nose when he opens them again and JR has a small smile on his face. “Thanks,” he mutters, crossing his legs.
“What kind of protégé would I be if I didn’t tell it to you straight? Go channel all that anger into subtle interview answers,” he says; Apolo cracks a nasty grin and JR laughs, shaking his head. “It is what you do best.”
- - - - -
After he gets water and talks to a few NBC reporters, the resentment is still simmering just underneath the surface of his calm exterior. JR seems to think it’ll be good motivation for the next race. “God,” he sighs, “I want to win so badly but with the line-ups the other teams have I don’t know if we’re going to make it.”
Apolo knows it’s probably true but he smacks JR on the arm anyway. “Didn’t know you were so defeatist,” he smirks. “But at least if they win, we’ll know it’s not because some fucking ref cheated their way to the gold.”
JR shrugs and straps his helmet on. When they skate onto the ice, it’s to loud calls of USA! USA! and Apolo’s grin is feral now, the excitement building up in his blood with an almost tangible fervor. “I can tell you one thing though,” he yells, and JR turns back to look at him curiously. “I know we’re going to medal,” and the cocky texture of his voice cuts through the roar of the crowd. “I can feel it, so congratulations ahead of time on your second.” Jordan lets out a loud whoop as they round the smooth edge of the rink and JR’s beam looks like it’s about to split his face in half.
After that, everything passes in blurs and splashes of color; Travis’s unsteady expression when he almost trips over another skater, JR spinning around in tight circles and waiting for the next skater to come up and take his place, himself bunched up in front with Korea and Canada, the pure look of elation on the others’ faces when China slips coming off the last turn and they snatch that elusive bronze.
There’s screaming all across the stadium but everything’s going in slow motion for him, and he feels like he’s suddenly gone deaf. Katherine’s jumping up and down behind the wall of the rink and they skate into it with small thuds against the cushioning, Jaesu yelling something at them that he can’t hear. It’s stupid that he doesn’t even care that Canada won; it was a perfect race for them so he knows better than to have complaints about it. In the middle of all the chaos, JR skates off with the flag, waving at the cheering fans and tying it around his neck again like a cape.
“That your new fashion statement?” he rasps when JR gets back to the sliding door of the rink. The younger skater’s so giddy that he can barely even speak, just mumbles something incoherent and smiles. “It was a good last race, huh?”
“Yeah,” JR says. In the background, Jordan’s pumping the air with his fist. “Yeah.” The burn in Apolo’s legs is sweetly satisfying.