Fic: Right-Hand Woman (skating RPF, Meryl Davis & Jeremy Abbott)
Here's my annual post-Nats thinky fic. thexpuzzler wrote the slash fic I originally thought I should write and did it better than I could. So I took a different angle.
Title: Right-Hand Woman
Author: mosca
Fandom: figure skating RPF
Characters: Meryl Davis & Jeremy Abbott (Tanith/Charlie and Jeremy/Drew)
Rating: PG-13 for some adult themes and language.
Continuity: Takes place just before the 2010 US Nationals awards dinner. Part of the Team Detroit 'verse.
Summary: Meryl has a pretty dress, two national titles, and some high-maintenance friends.
Word Count: about 1,100.
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.
Notes: Thanks to annaalamode for looking this over very late at night. This is the actual dress and suit.
Tanith and Charlie broke up, which is the reason Meryl didn't want them to go out in the first place. Now, her two best friends are each other's exes. Charlie said they were going to stay friends, and maybe they'd get back together after the Olympics, after Tanith retired, when Tanith moved back to Detroit like she said she was going to. But definitely shouldn't, even if she missed her friends and loved the city. Tanith had dreams that weren't Michigan-sized, like Meryl did, but sometimes boys made Tanith forget.
Meryl didn't want Charlie to be one of those boys. She didn't want him to be all head-fucked and brokenhearted like he was going to be at the worst possible time. She was going to have to rein him in and apologize for him to their coaches. Well, he'd covered for her more than a few times, so she shouldn't resent him. She was the one having her fun in college, making friends, going to parties, calling him Saturday mornings from unfamiliar dorm rooms to let him know she'd be late to practice. While he was afraid of what other guys would think of him, afraid of girls the way he pretended not to be, so he stayed home and played video games when he could have had anyone he wanted.
He'd wanted Tanith since he was about thirteen, since it had been precocious and weird. Meryl had made fun of him, and all the while she'd been trying to be Tanith, to be that beautiful. The prom queen was always the blonde, and the brunette was her right-hand woman, an easy role for Meryl. It meant she didn't have to say much. She never even thought about dyeing her hair.
She took her pink party dress out of the garment bag. She loved the pleats, the drop waist, the way it looked soft and architectural at the same time. Jeremy had gone with her to pick it out a couple of days after Christmas. He'd refused to get a suit for himself. "Maybe I won't make the team," he'd said. "And then my new clothes will make me sad."
She'd gotten her strapless bra in place and the peach-colored lace thong that she saved for when she needed to feel sexy, and she'd rolled her stockings up one calf when someone knocked on the door in a panic. She ran to the door trailing her empty panty hose leg behind her. Charlie had an average of one emergency per social event: he popped buttons, forgot how to tie a tie, got vain about near-invisible pimples and needed her to put concealer on them the way she did so nobody could tell he was wearing makeup. In these crises, he placated her with coffee, and she forgave him.
But it was Jeremy, and there was no coffee. "Oh my God, I need your help, I had this suit, this perfect two-time-national-champion suit, Armani Exchange single-button stand collar, like, gunmetal gray and the pants just a little too small, and then. I forgot to pack it. Because I am a fucking idiot. So my mom ran out and rented me this, and it's enormous, and I was wondering if you could, I don't know, pin it or something."
Meryl looked him over. It was a hideous dark suit with a white shirt and a plain black tie. He looked like a gunman in a jewel heist in a '70s caper movie. It was a definite insult to Jeremy's fashion sense. She got out her box of pins and double-sided tape. She could only do so much.
"I look like I'm going to the prom," Jeremy said as she pinned back his shirt.
She snickered. "Did you go to yours?"
He shrugged, and she almost stuck him. "Too busy skating."
"Definitely."
"Hey, maybe we could go together. To the awards dinner. Our moms could take pictures." He stage-whispered, "The federation likes it when I'm standing near girls."
"You should stand next to Johnny Weir. Everyone looks straight compared to him."
"Ow. Mean." He looked down at his clothes. "This is hopeless."
She stood up. She was going to be late if she didn't finish getting ready. She said so but told him he could stay. As he zipped her into her dress, she said, "Did you actually give someone the kiss-off in an exhibition program?"
"Sort of, I mean, we broke up a while ago, right before I moved, but I ran into him here and he was all, let's talk about it, maybe we could try again, maybe the long distance will be okay, and I sort of... caved. In the waking up next to my ex way, the night after I won. Which is not, you know, possibly not the best way to celebrate." He made a lopsided, self-deprecating face. "And then that song came on when I was on the plane home, and I started doing choreography in my head, and when I got back my trainer said I had a little bit of a ligament strain and needed to lay off the big jumps for a couple of days, so I used the ice time to play around with that song. And then it was like, fuck this, fuck him, I'm the national champion. You know?"
"Yep." Meryl was giving up on her hair, which was flying away. She was pretty much going to have to ponytail it.
"You actually do know," Jeremy said.
"Charlie and I are saving our hate sex revenge program for when we really need it," she said, applying mascara.
"Please tell me that will be in my lifetime. Because I really need to see that."
"I'll have to talk to Charlie," she said. "He seems shockingly non-bitter." Screw it, she was just going to do a little lip gloss and get this over with. She was ready, she was not a train wreck, she had a pretty dress and cute shoes and an adorable gay date in a bad suit. Kind of like the one Winter Formal she'd actually gotten to go to in high school.
She linked arms with Jeremy, and they walked out into the hallway, squeezing awkwardly through the hotel room door. "I feel like I need a wrist corsage," she said.
"It's kind of short notice," Jeremy said.
"And you know what else? Drew Meekins is an attention slut who sleeps with guys who are better skaters than he'll ever be so he can feel good about himself. And I know we're in the hallway and everyone can hear me, but whatever. I like taking sides."
Jeremy kissed her cheek. "You are the best prom date."
Title: Right-Hand Woman
Author: mosca
Fandom: figure skating RPF
Characters: Meryl Davis & Jeremy Abbott (Tanith/Charlie and Jeremy/Drew)
Rating: PG-13 for some adult themes and language.
Continuity: Takes place just before the 2010 US Nationals awards dinner. Part of the Team Detroit 'verse.
Summary: Meryl has a pretty dress, two national titles, and some high-maintenance friends.
Word Count: about 1,100.
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.
Notes: Thanks to annaalamode for looking this over very late at night. This is the actual dress and suit.
Tanith and Charlie broke up, which is the reason Meryl didn't want them to go out in the first place. Now, her two best friends are each other's exes. Charlie said they were going to stay friends, and maybe they'd get back together after the Olympics, after Tanith retired, when Tanith moved back to Detroit like she said she was going to. But definitely shouldn't, even if she missed her friends and loved the city. Tanith had dreams that weren't Michigan-sized, like Meryl did, but sometimes boys made Tanith forget.
Meryl didn't want Charlie to be one of those boys. She didn't want him to be all head-fucked and brokenhearted like he was going to be at the worst possible time. She was going to have to rein him in and apologize for him to their coaches. Well, he'd covered for her more than a few times, so she shouldn't resent him. She was the one having her fun in college, making friends, going to parties, calling him Saturday mornings from unfamiliar dorm rooms to let him know she'd be late to practice. While he was afraid of what other guys would think of him, afraid of girls the way he pretended not to be, so he stayed home and played video games when he could have had anyone he wanted.
He'd wanted Tanith since he was about thirteen, since it had been precocious and weird. Meryl had made fun of him, and all the while she'd been trying to be Tanith, to be that beautiful. The prom queen was always the blonde, and the brunette was her right-hand woman, an easy role for Meryl. It meant she didn't have to say much. She never even thought about dyeing her hair.
She took her pink party dress out of the garment bag. She loved the pleats, the drop waist, the way it looked soft and architectural at the same time. Jeremy had gone with her to pick it out a couple of days after Christmas. He'd refused to get a suit for himself. "Maybe I won't make the team," he'd said. "And then my new clothes will make me sad."
She'd gotten her strapless bra in place and the peach-colored lace thong that she saved for when she needed to feel sexy, and she'd rolled her stockings up one calf when someone knocked on the door in a panic. She ran to the door trailing her empty panty hose leg behind her. Charlie had an average of one emergency per social event: he popped buttons, forgot how to tie a tie, got vain about near-invisible pimples and needed her to put concealer on them the way she did so nobody could tell he was wearing makeup. In these crises, he placated her with coffee, and she forgave him.
But it was Jeremy, and there was no coffee. "Oh my God, I need your help, I had this suit, this perfect two-time-national-champion suit, Armani Exchange single-button stand collar, like, gunmetal gray and the pants just a little too small, and then. I forgot to pack it. Because I am a fucking idiot. So my mom ran out and rented me this, and it's enormous, and I was wondering if you could, I don't know, pin it or something."
Meryl looked him over. It was a hideous dark suit with a white shirt and a plain black tie. He looked like a gunman in a jewel heist in a '70s caper movie. It was a definite insult to Jeremy's fashion sense. She got out her box of pins and double-sided tape. She could only do so much.
"I look like I'm going to the prom," Jeremy said as she pinned back his shirt.
She snickered. "Did you go to yours?"
He shrugged, and she almost stuck him. "Too busy skating."
"Definitely."
"Hey, maybe we could go together. To the awards dinner. Our moms could take pictures." He stage-whispered, "The federation likes it when I'm standing near girls."
"You should stand next to Johnny Weir. Everyone looks straight compared to him."
"Ow. Mean." He looked down at his clothes. "This is hopeless."
She stood up. She was going to be late if she didn't finish getting ready. She said so but told him he could stay. As he zipped her into her dress, she said, "Did you actually give someone the kiss-off in an exhibition program?"
"Sort of, I mean, we broke up a while ago, right before I moved, but I ran into him here and he was all, let's talk about it, maybe we could try again, maybe the long distance will be okay, and I sort of... caved. In the waking up next to my ex way, the night after I won. Which is not, you know, possibly not the best way to celebrate." He made a lopsided, self-deprecating face. "And then that song came on when I was on the plane home, and I started doing choreography in my head, and when I got back my trainer said I had a little bit of a ligament strain and needed to lay off the big jumps for a couple of days, so I used the ice time to play around with that song. And then it was like, fuck this, fuck him, I'm the national champion. You know?"
"Yep." Meryl was giving up on her hair, which was flying away. She was pretty much going to have to ponytail it.
"You actually do know," Jeremy said.
"Charlie and I are saving our hate sex revenge program for when we really need it," she said, applying mascara.
"Please tell me that will be in my lifetime. Because I really need to see that."
"I'll have to talk to Charlie," she said. "He seems shockingly non-bitter." Screw it, she was just going to do a little lip gloss and get this over with. She was ready, she was not a train wreck, she had a pretty dress and cute shoes and an adorable gay date in a bad suit. Kind of like the one Winter Formal she'd actually gotten to go to in high school.
She linked arms with Jeremy, and they walked out into the hallway, squeezing awkwardly through the hotel room door. "I feel like I need a wrist corsage," she said.
"It's kind of short notice," Jeremy said.
"And you know what else? Drew Meekins is an attention slut who sleeps with guys who are better skaters than he'll ever be so he can feel good about himself. And I know we're in the hallway and everyone can hear me, but whatever. I like taking sides."
Jeremy kissed her cheek. "You are the best prom date."