Fic: With You Someone New (skating, Oksana Domnina and Johnny)
cf33 asked me to write the next 24 hours of Sugar, and it turned into a story in its own right. This story is a direct sequel to "Sugar" and will make more sense if you've read it recently.
Title: With You Someone New
Author: mosca
Fandom: figure skating RPF
Characters/Pairings: Oksana Domnina, Johnny Weir; Brian Joubert/the entire skating community
Rating: PG-13 for subject matter.
Continuity: Sequel to "Sugar." Takes place the night after the 2007 Worlds gala, with spoilers for the competition.
Summary: A night out with ghosts.
Word Count: About 1,200.
Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction. The characters herein are based on real people, but the words and events are completely made up. They are not intended to be mistaken for fact, and no libel is intended. This original work of fan fiction is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License; attribution should include a link to this Livejournal post. All rights reserved. All wrongs reversed. You tell me the world is getting rid of her demons, I say baby, what have you been smoking?
Notes: Thanks to callmesandy for reading this over and informing me that it was a story. Title is from "Hey Jupiter" by Tori Amos.
Oksana said she wasn't going to meet anyone downstairs at eight for any kind of night out, but it's 7:57 and her father is still dead. She is tired of her book but not tired enough to sleep, and she tried watching TV but she can't understand the Japanese shows and the ones in English are too much effort. She hasn't gotten ready for bed yet, too lazy even for that, so all she has to do is sling her purse over her shoulder and go downstairs. Just one drink will make her sleepy, and then she'll be able to call it an early night.
Everyone kisses her on the cheek and tells her how happy they are that she decided to come along. Three different people say, "Max said you weren't coming," and from that she knows he meant it to mean, She said she's staying in bed, but she'll give in.
They're waiting for a few people, the ones who are always late, choosing outfits and fixing their makeup, the ones Oksana is usually among, but she doesn't care how she looks today. If she lapses into tears, which she has been doing without warning and will be prone to if she drinks, she doesn't want runny clown mascara. She sniffs and rubs her nose -- possibly one of those lapses coming on. Max throws his arm around her and whispers, "I'm sorry to put pressure on you. You don't have to go if it'll be too difficult."
She shrugs. "I'm already here. I might as well."
They're still waiting on Jana when the tribe of Americans passes by, loud as a parade float. "Last chance, Weir," one of them calls out. "Or are you going to stand us up again?" She's so proud of understanding this, she can't make sense of Vanya's reply, although from his self-satisfied grin she can tell it's not something taught on her language tapes.
He catches her eavesdropping, and gathers up his words. "It's... a private joke," he says. He speaks Russian well, much better than Oksana speaks English, but his accent always surprises her, the way it turns familiar words round and bright, like a mess of toys left all over the floor. He says, "I do like some of my countrymen," and he takes Oksana's hand to twirl her around, singsonging, "But I'd rather be with you-ou-ou" until she's forced to smile.
They go to a restaurant with a long, low table for all of them. Poor Vanya has to negotiate with the waitress, who's struggling with her English, and then explain the menu to everybody. The waitress brings plate after plate of snacks and keeps refilling their drinks. The others are planning to do karaoke, but Oksana is ready for bed. She kisses everyone good night and goes outside to look for a taxi.
She hasn't seen any taxis five minutes later, and she's getting cold. She's about to go back inside, but Vanya comes out of the restaurant, saying, "The waitress asked what you did, and she said, no taxis come near here, you have to call on the phone. So she did the phone. It's in ten minutes, the taxi arrives."
"Thanks," Oksana says.
"Do you want to go inside and wait?" Vanya says.
"I want to stay here," Oksana says. There's too much noise, and she'll cry, wishing to want to have fun.
"May I wait with you?" he says.
"I'd rather be alone," Oksana says.
"No, I meant, um, I can't say it right," he says. "I want to go back to the hotel. May I go in the taxi with you?"
She sighs. "You don't want to go to the karaoke bar?"
"I didn't sleep last night," he says. "And today has been... I don't know the word."
"Then of course," she says.
Now is when people usually ask her how she's feeling, if she's hanging in there, if there's anything they can do. If she understands that her father is watching over her, wishing she would cheer up. It might be that Vanya is self-centered, but she doesn't think that's what it is. She thinks he's making sure he doesn't ask questions she's tired of.
Instead, he tells her about his day, eating sushi and shopping. He went with one of the American ice dancers, a girl who seems bland and pretty. Oksana envies him his beautiful day in Tokyo. She was stuck performing in the gala, something of an insult when she and Max had skated so poorly. A new pair of shoes would have been a better consolation prize for fifth place.
The taxi appears, with white lace on the seats and white gloves on the driver, who finds them amusing and wants to teach them Japanese. He leaves them at the hotel's main entrance, where there are fans camped out, waiting for autographs. Skating is popular enough in Russia, but Japan is wild.
While Oksana and Vanya are outside in the cold hugging teenage girls, Brian comes out to join them. "I've been looking for you all night," Brian tells Vanya. Twice in a row -- Vanya must have done something special, or Brian has met with unusual failure.
Oksana tries to follow their conversation, but they're using a mixture of French and English, and they don't say much before they find a more isolated place to stand. Oksana can read the body language, though. Brian begging, Vanya resisting, not the normal order of things. Oksana smiles at the fans. "I'm sorry," she says. "I have to talk to my friend." Vanya has brought her home safely, and she wants to do the same for him.
"I'm sorry to interrupt you," Brian says loudly and slowly as she comes within earshot, saying it for her and not for Vanya. "Have a good night." He kisses Oksana's cheeks but doesn't touch Vanya, just looks at him sadly as he heads for the line of fans.
Vanya shrugs. "I'm too tired."
She laughs. "He has a lot of energy."
"So you... you have been there?"
"Yeah," Oksana says. "And Max, too."
Vanya smiles curiously at her. "Brian is really, um... he convinces everyone, doesn't he?"
"He didn't have such a hard time with Max," Oksana says.
"Really," Vanya says, his voice flat, not overexcited, only gathering information.
"He doesn't tell many people," Oksana says. "It bothers his family, you know, so he feels guilty, it's not how he wants to be seen. And with you, I think, he wouldn't have any way of saying it without admitting he has a little crush."
"A little what?" Vanya says. "I... I don't know that word."
"When you think you're in love?" Oksana says. "When you're not in love, but almost, like a teenager."
"Oh!" he says. He repeats it after her a few times, so he won't lose it, and he teaches her the English word, which sounds violent.
"Don't tell him I told you," Oksana says.
"I won't," Vanya says. "I... I don't want to... I don't want a boyfriend now. And I don't want to be like Brian to him."
Oksana locks her mouth with an invisible key. Vanya snatches the imaginary key away from her and tosses it toward the crowd of Japanese girls. "Not to the fans!" Oksana shrieks, grabbing his fist. And she stops, and covers her mouth, because she realizes she's laughing, not lightly in her throat but through her whole body.
Title: With You Someone New
Author: mosca
Fandom: figure skating RPF
Characters/Pairings: Oksana Domnina, Johnny Weir; Brian Joubert/the entire skating community
Rating: PG-13 for subject matter.
Continuity: Sequel to "Sugar." Takes place the night after the 2007 Worlds gala, with spoilers for the competition.
Summary: A night out with ghosts.
Word Count: About 1,200.
Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction. The characters herein are based on real people, but the words and events are completely made up. They are not intended to be mistaken for fact, and no libel is intended. This original work of fan fiction is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License; attribution should include a link to this Livejournal post. All rights reserved. All wrongs reversed. You tell me the world is getting rid of her demons, I say baby, what have you been smoking?
Notes: Thanks to callmesandy for reading this over and informing me that it was a story. Title is from "Hey Jupiter" by Tori Amos.
Oksana said she wasn't going to meet anyone downstairs at eight for any kind of night out, but it's 7:57 and her father is still dead. She is tired of her book but not tired enough to sleep, and she tried watching TV but she can't understand the Japanese shows and the ones in English are too much effort. She hasn't gotten ready for bed yet, too lazy even for that, so all she has to do is sling her purse over her shoulder and go downstairs. Just one drink will make her sleepy, and then she'll be able to call it an early night.
Everyone kisses her on the cheek and tells her how happy they are that she decided to come along. Three different people say, "Max said you weren't coming," and from that she knows he meant it to mean, She said she's staying in bed, but she'll give in.
They're waiting for a few people, the ones who are always late, choosing outfits and fixing their makeup, the ones Oksana is usually among, but she doesn't care how she looks today. If she lapses into tears, which she has been doing without warning and will be prone to if she drinks, she doesn't want runny clown mascara. She sniffs and rubs her nose -- possibly one of those lapses coming on. Max throws his arm around her and whispers, "I'm sorry to put pressure on you. You don't have to go if it'll be too difficult."
She shrugs. "I'm already here. I might as well."
They're still waiting on Jana when the tribe of Americans passes by, loud as a parade float. "Last chance, Weir," one of them calls out. "Or are you going to stand us up again?" She's so proud of understanding this, she can't make sense of Vanya's reply, although from his self-satisfied grin she can tell it's not something taught on her language tapes.
He catches her eavesdropping, and gathers up his words. "It's... a private joke," he says. He speaks Russian well, much better than Oksana speaks English, but his accent always surprises her, the way it turns familiar words round and bright, like a mess of toys left all over the floor. He says, "I do like some of my countrymen," and he takes Oksana's hand to twirl her around, singsonging, "But I'd rather be with you-ou-ou" until she's forced to smile.
They go to a restaurant with a long, low table for all of them. Poor Vanya has to negotiate with the waitress, who's struggling with her English, and then explain the menu to everybody. The waitress brings plate after plate of snacks and keeps refilling their drinks. The others are planning to do karaoke, but Oksana is ready for bed. She kisses everyone good night and goes outside to look for a taxi.
She hasn't seen any taxis five minutes later, and she's getting cold. She's about to go back inside, but Vanya comes out of the restaurant, saying, "The waitress asked what you did, and she said, no taxis come near here, you have to call on the phone. So she did the phone. It's in ten minutes, the taxi arrives."
"Thanks," Oksana says.
"Do you want to go inside and wait?" Vanya says.
"I want to stay here," Oksana says. There's too much noise, and she'll cry, wishing to want to have fun.
"May I wait with you?" he says.
"I'd rather be alone," Oksana says.
"No, I meant, um, I can't say it right," he says. "I want to go back to the hotel. May I go in the taxi with you?"
She sighs. "You don't want to go to the karaoke bar?"
"I didn't sleep last night," he says. "And today has been... I don't know the word."
"Then of course," she says.
Now is when people usually ask her how she's feeling, if she's hanging in there, if there's anything they can do. If she understands that her father is watching over her, wishing she would cheer up. It might be that Vanya is self-centered, but she doesn't think that's what it is. She thinks he's making sure he doesn't ask questions she's tired of.
Instead, he tells her about his day, eating sushi and shopping. He went with one of the American ice dancers, a girl who seems bland and pretty. Oksana envies him his beautiful day in Tokyo. She was stuck performing in the gala, something of an insult when she and Max had skated so poorly. A new pair of shoes would have been a better consolation prize for fifth place.
The taxi appears, with white lace on the seats and white gloves on the driver, who finds them amusing and wants to teach them Japanese. He leaves them at the hotel's main entrance, where there are fans camped out, waiting for autographs. Skating is popular enough in Russia, but Japan is wild.
While Oksana and Vanya are outside in the cold hugging teenage girls, Brian comes out to join them. "I've been looking for you all night," Brian tells Vanya. Twice in a row -- Vanya must have done something special, or Brian has met with unusual failure.
Oksana tries to follow their conversation, but they're using a mixture of French and English, and they don't say much before they find a more isolated place to stand. Oksana can read the body language, though. Brian begging, Vanya resisting, not the normal order of things. Oksana smiles at the fans. "I'm sorry," she says. "I have to talk to my friend." Vanya has brought her home safely, and she wants to do the same for him.
"I'm sorry to interrupt you," Brian says loudly and slowly as she comes within earshot, saying it for her and not for Vanya. "Have a good night." He kisses Oksana's cheeks but doesn't touch Vanya, just looks at him sadly as he heads for the line of fans.
Vanya shrugs. "I'm too tired."
She laughs. "He has a lot of energy."
"So you... you have been there?"
"Yeah," Oksana says. "And Max, too."
Vanya smiles curiously at her. "Brian is really, um... he convinces everyone, doesn't he?"
"He didn't have such a hard time with Max," Oksana says.
"Really," Vanya says, his voice flat, not overexcited, only gathering information.
"He doesn't tell many people," Oksana says. "It bothers his family, you know, so he feels guilty, it's not how he wants to be seen. And with you, I think, he wouldn't have any way of saying it without admitting he has a little crush."
"A little what?" Vanya says. "I... I don't know that word."
"When you think you're in love?" Oksana says. "When you're not in love, but almost, like a teenager."
"Oh!" he says. He repeats it after her a few times, so he won't lose it, and he teaches her the English word, which sounds violent.
"Don't tell him I told you," Oksana says.
"I won't," Vanya says. "I... I don't want to... I don't want a boyfriend now. And I don't want to be like Brian to him."
Oksana locks her mouth with an invisible key. Vanya snatches the imaginary key away from her and tosses it toward the crowd of Japanese girls. "Not to the fans!" Oksana shrieks, grabbing his fist. And she stops, and covers her mouth, because she realizes she's laughing, not lightly in her throat but through her whole body.