New Fic: Blades of Glory
Fandom: Blades of Glory
Title: The First Time
Pairing: Jimmy MacElroy/Chazz Michael Michaels
Rating: PG13
Author: rentgirl 2
Summary: The first time he saw him skate, Chazz was sure he could hear angels singing.
Many thanks to gothphyle for not only the beta work, but for sitting through more viewings of Blades of Glory than we care to talk about. It is greatly appreciated. Also, special thanks to culturevulture7 for her help with my many and ridiculously ignorant skating questions. I'm grateful for her kindness.
Comments and feedback are always welcome.
The first time he saw him skate, he was sure he could hear angels singing.
Seated on a rough wooden bench, seventeen-year-old Chazz Michaels stopped
lacing his skates to openly stare at the small blond boy floating across the
rink.
Garbed in silver and sparkling blues, the child shone; his every movement
was a study in controlled elegance. There on the ice, wrapped in the
unassuming guise of a little kid, was the textbook perfection that Chazz
feared he could never achieve.
Chazz nudged the girl sitting next to him. “Do you know who that is?” he
asked, indicating the boy with a jerk of his chin.
“Good, isn’t he? I saw him at the junior division competition last week.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty good,” Chazz conceded, “for a baby,” then gaped in
amazement as the baby leapt into the air with the sort of easy grace that he
could only dream of possessing. “What’s his name?”
The girl stood and pushed out onto the ice. “Jimmy MacElroy.”
His own practice forgotten, Chazz sat and watched Jimmy MacElroy’s
lighter-than-air routine. How, he wondered, did a little kid learn to skate
like that? Or maybe a guy didn’t learn to skate like that, maybe he was
just born with the ability.
The thought both cheered and saddened Chazz.
***********
The first time he competed against MacElroy, Chazz was sure he could hear
poetry whispering through the air.
At twenty-two, Chazz already possessed the cocky arrogance that came with
knowing he’d made his mark on the sport. For the past two years the press
had been touting him as a sexy, crowd pleasing, powerhouse of a skater. The
routine he’d just finished (with a nearly perfect score, thank you very
much) proved that he was all that and a bag of pork rinds.
Steeped in confidence, Chazz leaned against the rail to watch MacElroy’s
first senior division performance.
Thirteen-year-old MacElroy skimmed across the ice, a willowy blur of
burgundy and gold, and Chazz stopped breathing. The kid’s routine should have looked ridiculous to Chazz. He was all ice and no fire; each motion was measured and dainty, almost ladylike. Yeah, MacElroy’s routine should have been a laugh riot.
Instead, it made Chazz’s throat burn and his chest ache with words he wouldn’t
say and thoughts he couldn’t dare let himself acknowledge.
When MacElroy’s perfect performance came to a spectacular finish, the crowd
rose to its feet on a surge of applause. Chazz pretended the prickly
feeling around his heart was hate.
***********
A burst of relief flooded him the first time he hit Jimmy MacElroy.
Finally, finally, he thought gleefully, as he pulled MacElroy down from the medal stand. Chazz couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t wanted to get his hands on that spoiled daddy’s boy. Even when MacElroy had been an eight-year-old show off, Chazz had longed to, well, maybe not punch the kid but at least give that doll-perfect blond hair a couple of tugs.
This was supposed to be his gold medal moment, damn it, not a moment to
share with Baby Boy MacElroy. Still, watching the flush of fury cross
Jimmy’s face almost made up for it.
Chazz’s headbutt landed with a satisfying crunch and he nearly laughed out
loud when blood spurted from a cut near MacElroy’s mouth. Suddenly, they
were down, pressed together and rolling on the ice.
MacElroy’s strength surprised him. The body underneath Chazz was lean,
muscular, and despite the delicate appearance on ice, unmistakably
masculine.
Before Chazz could analyze the weirdly pleasing sensation of MacElroy’s hair
brushing against his skin, the sneaky bastard grabbed the ribbon around
Chazz’s throat and began choking him.
Then they both looked up into the eerily silent crowd to watch the bottom
fall out of their world.
****************
The first time Chazz peered into a store window to see Jimmy MacElroy
working a cash register, he almost barfed.
Chazz had been skating in a piece of shit children’s production for about
six months when the show swung back into Denver for its second limited engagement. His buddy, Gary, stopped at a local skate shop and discovered Jimmy MacElroy stocking shelves. Being a true friend, Gary called Chazz from the store’s parking lot.
In his haste to witness MacElroy dirtying his lily-white hands on retail,
Chazz ducked out on rehearsal. Filled with a giddy
anticipation that he hadn’t experienced since losing the right to skate
competitively the year before, Chazz stood outside the skate shop.
He was still deciding exactly what put down he was going to lay on the
precious MacElroy heir when he caught a glimpse of Jimmy through the glass.
The excitement in Chazz’s belly gave way to the burn of anger.
This wasn’t right, damn it. Chazz pressed his fist against his abdomen,
willing the sudden roll of nausea to ease up.
It just wasn’t right.
Jimmy MacElroy was a shimmering peacock, not a drab wren. He was a blue ice
angel, not an earth brown salesclerk. Jimmy was a champion, as close to an
equal as Chazz had ever competed against, not a bag boy in a bait-and-skate
shop.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this for either of them. They were destined
to spar, to win, to lose, to try again. They were supposed to skate.
Sick and defeated, Chazz walked away.
********************
The first time he put Jimmy’s dream before his own, Chazz thought he might
die.
Their mutual desire to compete and all consuming need to skate had helped
build a shaky bridge between them. Coach and Jesse had refereed more than
instructed in the early days, keeping the two of them from hurting each
other too severely as they moved toward a workable truce.
Sooner than Chazz would have thought possible, the truce gave way to
friendship. Jimmy, for all his keep-it-clean issues, was easy enough to be
with. The guy was a wicked hard worker on the ice, a great listener at the
breakfast table and a good sport about waiting his turn for the john.
Chazz wasn’t sure when it happened, but he found himself wanting to be the
recipient of Jimmy’s undivided attention. He looked forward to the times
during practice when their minds would meet and a moment of “This is so
right!” would buzz between them. He began to hunger for that blatant look
of adoration in Jimmy’s bright blue eyes. Somehow, Jimmy’s approval had
become essential to him.
Not that Jimmy had a clue, of course.
A dude didn’t want something so girlie from another dude. Or at least he
shouldn’t. Chazz was pretty certain on that point.
So when Jimmy made his dream of dating Katie Van Waldenburg known, Chazz
pushed away the weird feelings swirling around inside him and made it
happen. He dialed the phone, coached the call, picked the outfit and pushed
a bemused Jimmy out the door.
The Land Rover hadn’t made it out of the driveway before the ache in his
heart had driven Chazz down to the Berber. Sweet Jesus, what had he just
done?
Did he really want Jimmy looking at Katie like she was the special one? Did
he want Jimmy laughing with her? Did he want Katie’s filthy Van Waldenberg
hands on his Jimmy?
Painful pressure spread from his head to his chest and, for a moment, Chazz
couldn’t breathe. How had he, the self-professed Lone Wolf, let his
feelings get this out of control?
He laid down on the living room floor and wondered how anything could hurt
this bad without actually killing a guy.
********************
The first time he kissed Jimmy MacElroy’s lips, Chazz Michael Michaels heard
the angels sing.
Then Jimmy sighed his sweet, glossy mouth open and Chazz heard poetry
whispering through the air. When Jimmy eagerly pressed his elegantly
masculine body against him, Chazz was flooded with relief because
finally, finally they'd gotten it right.
As they skimmed across the Berber to their bedroom, Chazz knew deep in his
heart that they were forever destined to spar, to win, to lose, to try
again. This moment, as they gracefully tumbled onto Jimmy’s bunk, was
Chazz’s true gold medal moment and it was meant to be shared with Jimmy.
During the hours that followed, Jimmy proved over and over that he was
Chazz’s equal in all things. He was Chazz’s icy-hot blue angel.
Toward morning, as they clung together on the narrow bed, Jimmy looked up at
him with blatant adoration and absolute approval sparkling in his bright
eyes. Chazz’s throat burned and his chest ached with words he could finally
say and thoughts he was at last brave enough to acknowledge.
“I love you, man,” he whispered into Jimmy’s soft, strawberry scented hair.
“I know, Chazz,” Jimmy yawned. “Me, too.”
And as he fell asleep in Jimmy’s arms for the first time, Chazz realized
that at last their dream was the same.
~fin~
Title: The First Time
Pairing: Jimmy MacElroy/Chazz Michael Michaels
Rating: PG13
Author: rentgirl 2
Summary: The first time he saw him skate, Chazz was sure he could hear angels singing.
Many thanks to gothphyle for not only the beta work, but for sitting through more viewings of Blades of Glory than we care to talk about. It is greatly appreciated. Also, special thanks to culturevulture7 for her help with my many and ridiculously ignorant skating questions. I'm grateful for her kindness.
Comments and feedback are always welcome.
The first time he saw him skate, he was sure he could hear angels singing.
Seated on a rough wooden bench, seventeen-year-old Chazz Michaels stopped
lacing his skates to openly stare at the small blond boy floating across the
rink.
Garbed in silver and sparkling blues, the child shone; his every movement
was a study in controlled elegance. There on the ice, wrapped in the
unassuming guise of a little kid, was the textbook perfection that Chazz
feared he could never achieve.
Chazz nudged the girl sitting next to him. “Do you know who that is?” he
asked, indicating the boy with a jerk of his chin.
“Good, isn’t he? I saw him at the junior division competition last week.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty good,” Chazz conceded, “for a baby,” then gaped in
amazement as the baby leapt into the air with the sort of easy grace that he
could only dream of possessing. “What’s his name?”
The girl stood and pushed out onto the ice. “Jimmy MacElroy.”
His own practice forgotten, Chazz sat and watched Jimmy MacElroy’s
lighter-than-air routine. How, he wondered, did a little kid learn to skate
like that? Or maybe a guy didn’t learn to skate like that, maybe he was
just born with the ability.
The thought both cheered and saddened Chazz.
***********
The first time he competed against MacElroy, Chazz was sure he could hear
poetry whispering through the air.
At twenty-two, Chazz already possessed the cocky arrogance that came with
knowing he’d made his mark on the sport. For the past two years the press
had been touting him as a sexy, crowd pleasing, powerhouse of a skater. The
routine he’d just finished (with a nearly perfect score, thank you very
much) proved that he was all that and a bag of pork rinds.
Steeped in confidence, Chazz leaned against the rail to watch MacElroy’s
first senior division performance.
Thirteen-year-old MacElroy skimmed across the ice, a willowy blur of
burgundy and gold, and Chazz stopped breathing. The kid’s routine should have looked ridiculous to Chazz. He was all ice and no fire; each motion was measured and dainty, almost ladylike. Yeah, MacElroy’s routine should have been a laugh riot.
Instead, it made Chazz’s throat burn and his chest ache with words he wouldn’t
say and thoughts he couldn’t dare let himself acknowledge.
When MacElroy’s perfect performance came to a spectacular finish, the crowd
rose to its feet on a surge of applause. Chazz pretended the prickly
feeling around his heart was hate.
***********
A burst of relief flooded him the first time he hit Jimmy MacElroy.
Finally, finally, he thought gleefully, as he pulled MacElroy down from the medal stand. Chazz couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t wanted to get his hands on that spoiled daddy’s boy. Even when MacElroy had been an eight-year-old show off, Chazz had longed to, well, maybe not punch the kid but at least give that doll-perfect blond hair a couple of tugs.
This was supposed to be his gold medal moment, damn it, not a moment to
share with Baby Boy MacElroy. Still, watching the flush of fury cross
Jimmy’s face almost made up for it.
Chazz’s headbutt landed with a satisfying crunch and he nearly laughed out
loud when blood spurted from a cut near MacElroy’s mouth. Suddenly, they
were down, pressed together and rolling on the ice.
MacElroy’s strength surprised him. The body underneath Chazz was lean,
muscular, and despite the delicate appearance on ice, unmistakably
masculine.
Before Chazz could analyze the weirdly pleasing sensation of MacElroy’s hair
brushing against his skin, the sneaky bastard grabbed the ribbon around
Chazz’s throat and began choking him.
Then they both looked up into the eerily silent crowd to watch the bottom
fall out of their world.
****************
The first time Chazz peered into a store window to see Jimmy MacElroy
working a cash register, he almost barfed.
Chazz had been skating in a piece of shit children’s production for about
six months when the show swung back into Denver for its second limited engagement. His buddy, Gary, stopped at a local skate shop and discovered Jimmy MacElroy stocking shelves. Being a true friend, Gary called Chazz from the store’s parking lot.
In his haste to witness MacElroy dirtying his lily-white hands on retail,
Chazz ducked out on rehearsal. Filled with a giddy
anticipation that he hadn’t experienced since losing the right to skate
competitively the year before, Chazz stood outside the skate shop.
He was still deciding exactly what put down he was going to lay on the
precious MacElroy heir when he caught a glimpse of Jimmy through the glass.
The excitement in Chazz’s belly gave way to the burn of anger.
This wasn’t right, damn it. Chazz pressed his fist against his abdomen,
willing the sudden roll of nausea to ease up.
It just wasn’t right.
Jimmy MacElroy was a shimmering peacock, not a drab wren. He was a blue ice
angel, not an earth brown salesclerk. Jimmy was a champion, as close to an
equal as Chazz had ever competed against, not a bag boy in a bait-and-skate
shop.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this for either of them. They were destined
to spar, to win, to lose, to try again. They were supposed to skate.
Sick and defeated, Chazz walked away.
********************
The first time he put Jimmy’s dream before his own, Chazz thought he might
die.
Their mutual desire to compete and all consuming need to skate had helped
build a shaky bridge between them. Coach and Jesse had refereed more than
instructed in the early days, keeping the two of them from hurting each
other too severely as they moved toward a workable truce.
Sooner than Chazz would have thought possible, the truce gave way to
friendship. Jimmy, for all his keep-it-clean issues, was easy enough to be
with. The guy was a wicked hard worker on the ice, a great listener at the
breakfast table and a good sport about waiting his turn for the john.
Chazz wasn’t sure when it happened, but he found himself wanting to be the
recipient of Jimmy’s undivided attention. He looked forward to the times
during practice when their minds would meet and a moment of “This is so
right!” would buzz between them. He began to hunger for that blatant look
of adoration in Jimmy’s bright blue eyes. Somehow, Jimmy’s approval had
become essential to him.
Not that Jimmy had a clue, of course.
A dude didn’t want something so girlie from another dude. Or at least he
shouldn’t. Chazz was pretty certain on that point.
So when Jimmy made his dream of dating Katie Van Waldenburg known, Chazz
pushed away the weird feelings swirling around inside him and made it
happen. He dialed the phone, coached the call, picked the outfit and pushed
a bemused Jimmy out the door.
The Land Rover hadn’t made it out of the driveway before the ache in his
heart had driven Chazz down to the Berber. Sweet Jesus, what had he just
done?
Did he really want Jimmy looking at Katie like she was the special one? Did
he want Jimmy laughing with her? Did he want Katie’s filthy Van Waldenberg
hands on his Jimmy?
Painful pressure spread from his head to his chest and, for a moment, Chazz
couldn’t breathe. How had he, the self-professed Lone Wolf, let his
feelings get this out of control?
He laid down on the living room floor and wondered how anything could hurt
this bad without actually killing a guy.
********************
The first time he kissed Jimmy MacElroy’s lips, Chazz Michael Michaels heard
the angels sing.
Then Jimmy sighed his sweet, glossy mouth open and Chazz heard poetry
whispering through the air. When Jimmy eagerly pressed his elegantly
masculine body against him, Chazz was flooded with relief because
finally, finally they'd gotten it right.
As they skimmed across the Berber to their bedroom, Chazz knew deep in his
heart that they were forever destined to spar, to win, to lose, to try
again. This moment, as they gracefully tumbled onto Jimmy’s bunk, was
Chazz’s true gold medal moment and it was meant to be shared with Jimmy.
During the hours that followed, Jimmy proved over and over that he was
Chazz’s equal in all things. He was Chazz’s icy-hot blue angel.
Toward morning, as they clung together on the narrow bed, Jimmy looked up at
him with blatant adoration and absolute approval sparkling in his bright
eyes. Chazz’s throat burned and his chest ached with words he could finally
say and thoughts he was at last brave enough to acknowledge.
“I love you, man,” he whispered into Jimmy’s soft, strawberry scented hair.
“I know, Chazz,” Jimmy yawned. “Me, too.”
And as he fell asleep in Jimmy’s arms for the first time, Chazz realized
that at last their dream was the same.
~fin~