Fan Fiction - Hanson, Krasobruslení - This Glassy Surface
that warms me as I wait
I need you now
~Hanson: Need You Now~
It’s almost November before he sees Johnny again, after weeks of daily phone conversations. Some of those are brief, on busy days when he barely manages to get a moment to himself. But he still calls, even if it’s just to say good night.
Sometimes, though, the calls are deliciously long, when he has hours on him on the tour bus, the kids already asleep, Natalie immersed in chatter with Kate or working on one of her scrapbooks. He never stops to think twice about them, these calls, it’s just talking, after all.
When they return to New York for a mere few days, just to get some rest, some time away from the chaos of the road, Taylor’s almost afraid he might not be able to catch Johnny; Johnny seems to spend all his time training these days, seems almost as busy – or even more – than Taylor himself.
Therefore, when he finally hears the hey, I got a little time off – wanna come?, it doesn’t take him long to decide; he wants to see Johnny, wants to see his smile again and recharge his batteries on it. It makes Taylor feel guilty, of course, when he admits to himself that he misses Johnny, but it still doesn’t stop him. He drops everything – calls the friends he was going to go bar-hopping with that evening – and drives down to Wayne.
It’s pouring when he arrives at Johnny’s and the raindrops are heavy and cold on his neck when he runs from his car to Johnny’s apartment building, head bowed.
Johnny comes to open the door wearing simple sweats and a t-shirt. Taylor notices that he looks a little worn-out, a little lost with neither skating nor fashion to hide behind. He’s just... just Johnny. Taylor actually finds himself staring, enthralled by what seems to be a more private, a more intimate version of the person he’s seen so many times before.
“Come in,” Johnny smiles and indicates with a light toss of his head. “I got caught in the rain earlier, too,” he adds, taking in Taylor’s hair and jacket “Let me,” he says quickly and helps Taylor shrug out of the wet jacket, then hangs it up neatly on a hook in the hallway.
“Thanks,” Taylor says and runs a hand through his hair, shakes out the droplets of water, then looks up to find Johnny watching him intently. “What?” he grins.
“Nothing,” Johnny shakes his head and returns the smile. “It’s nice to see you,” he says, then snorts when the triteness of the phrase strikes him. “I mean... Really.”
His voice softens at the last word and Taylor watches his eyes travel, all the way down to his feet, then back to his face. He nearly blushes. The gaze makes him remember these few times he and Johnny talked long into the night, when Johnny didn’t have to get up to skate the following morning. He remembers the words, hot and lush, words that made desire coil inside him until there was nothing else on his mind but Johnny; his mouth, his hands, his body.
He meets Johnny’s look now, feels it draw him in closer... “Can I...?” he starts to ask with a slightly awkward gesture towards Johnny. He feels like he should ask permission, like he can’t expect anything from Johnny without asking first, because he cannot give himself fully in return.
“Yes,” Johnny whispers as if he could read Taylor’s mind, as if he knew exactly the sensation tugging at Taylor’s insides. Maybe he does know, Taylor realizes, maybe he feels it, too, because in the next instant Johnny is in his arms, kissing him hard and hungry, just the way Taylor wants to kiss and be kissed, with fingers almost painfully tugging at his hair and his body flush against Taylor’s.
They end up in the bedroom quickly, kissing and kissing and Taylor feels like he’s losing himself in the taste of Johnny’s lips.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he pants when they part so he can pull Johnny’s t-shirt over his head. “I’ve missed you,” he adds, more quietly.
Johnny meets his eyes and cups his face in his hands, holding him still while he looks at him, almost as if he wanted to memorize the moment. Then he bows his head, fingers working on the buttons of Taylor’s shirt, and Taylor watches him from above, long dark eyelashes against flushed cheeks, a gentle smile on his lips. The softness in his fingers and his expression is quite overwhelming. Taylor wants to say something, but cannot find the right words, because what he’s allowed to say is not enough.
They kiss some more and undress each other completely, needy but somehow calmer than ever before. Taylor notices the purple bruises on Johnny’s hips and knees and elbows, runs his fingers over them ever so lightly, tracing their contours.
“That’s nothing,” Johnny says, but doesn’t push Taylor’s hands away. “I’ve been training very hard,” he continues as if that explained everything. “The Grand Prix starts soon.”
Taylor doesn’t know anything about the Grand Prix – not the figure skating kind, anyway. He doesn’t know how important an event it is, but the bruises don’t look like nothing to him.
“Will I hurt you?”
“Huh?” Johnny blinks, confused. “You mean when you fuck me?” he then asks, following the movements of Taylor’s fingers across his bruised flesh with his eyes. “No,” he shakes his head in surprise, as if nobody had ever thought about such a thing before. It makes Taylor wonder what kind of people Johnny’s been with.
Johnny sounds convincing when he says he isn’t in pain, but Taylor still makes sure to be careful, just in case. He takes his time with the preparation, resists the urge to listen to Johnny when he breathes a hot fuck me into his ear, ignores the pressure straining in his groin.
When he finally pushes himself into Johnny, facing him rather than taking him from behind like the previous times, Taylor’s heart is pounding and it takes a lot of concentration and self-control not to grind hard, because he’s been thinking about this for one night too many, wanting it one bit too much.
He doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t matter, because Johnny comes a moment before him with a breathless whimper of oh yes, Taylor, muffled against the side of his neck, the spasms that overtake him pushing Taylor towards completion.
They lie motionless for a few moments after and Taylor can feel Johnny’s heartbeat slow, beat by beat, until it becomes steady again and Johnny’s breath has evened out. Taylor feels the words, many of them, sprout in his head, but none of them seem quite right. So he just kisses Johnny instead, kisses his forehead, his closed eyelids, his cheekbones and his jaw, which is going to need a razor soon – it’s a bit scruffy under Taylor’s lips. Finally, he drops a kiss onto Johnny’s mouth and it curls into a smile, lazy, satisfied. Johnny opens his eyes and they smile at Taylor, too.
They shower, Johnny insists on it, because I don’t like being sticky and because Taylor is sticky, too, the smell of sex and sweat and Johnny clinging to his skin like glue. Taylor doesn’t really mind, but Natalie might, he figures.
“I want to show you something,” Johnny then says, dressed in his comfortable sweat pants and tee once again. “I haven’t showed it to anyone yet, it just arrived today.”
He disappears into his closet and comes out carrying a garment bag. He hangs it up on the top of the door and carefully unzips the bag, then pulls it off to reveal...
“This is my new long program costume,” Johnny explains and blushes, smoothing out the velvet of the pants with one hand. “I designed it. The ice-debut is tomorrow, but I wanted to... I wanted to show you.” He glances at Taylor.
Johnny’s clearly very excited about the costume, Taylor can tell, but there’s also insecurity in his eyes all of a sudden, as if he was afraid Taylor might say something scathing.
“Will you put it on for me?” Taylor asks and Johnny lights up immediately. He gives Taylor a wink and disappears once again, taking the costume with him. A few moments later, he comes out of the walk-in closet, and stands on his toes to avoid stepping on the fabric of the pants.
Taylor takes a few moments to examine the costume, the way it clings to Johnny’s body like a second skin. He motions with his finger for Johnny to turn around and Johnny complies, slowly turning to give Taylor a 360° view. A faint flush never leaves his cheeks and Taylor finds it stunning that someone who seems so confident on ice and who can – Taylor knows from experience – be rather shameless in bed, can be so bashful at times. He wishes he could tell Johnny just how gorgeous he is, lift the self-consciousness and doubt off him, but he doesn’t quite dare.
“It’s very... naked,” he says instead and marvels at the muscles of Johnny’s back covered only by thin, skin-colored fabric.
Johnny turns back to him.
“You think?” he asks, eyes snapping to his right shoulder. “Is it tasteless?” His forehead crinkles up as he turns towards the mirror and studies his reflection.
“No. It’s beautiful,” Taylor assures and gets up, coming to stand behind Johnny. “Your heart is broken,” he points out when Johnny turns around in his arms. He fingers the red sparkly stones on Johnny’s chest. “Who broke your heart, Johnny?”
It’s meant to be only a joke, but Johnny tenses for a moment, averts his eyes.
“Nobody,” he says, shaking the momentary discomfort, and his smile returns. Taylor decides not to push it and Johnny quickly changes the topic. “You promised to show me something, too,” he lifts an eyebrow expectantly.
“I did,” Taylor nods. Johnny made him promise he’d play and sing a little for him the next time they met, arguing that Taylor’s seen him perform a couple of times already. “My guitar’s in the car. I’ll go fetch it.”
“Good boy,” Johnny laughs and gives Taylor a wink. “Take the umbrella! It’s in the hallway,” he calls out a second later when Taylor’s already on his way towards the door.
Johnny’s back in his regular clothes when Taylor returns, the costume carefully tucked and zipped in its garment bag again.
They settle down on the couch, Johnny leans down comfortably on one side, legs bent, the balls of his feet rested on Taylor’s thigh. Taylor smiles when he remembers how Johnny freaked out about his feet several months ago, pleased to see him this comfortable now.
He reaches into the strings of his guitar, gives them a few random strokes before he decides on a song. He can feel Johnny’s eyes on him, intent, watching. Whenever he looks up from the guitar, he finds Johnny’s gaze on him – on his fingers when it’s an instrumental part, on his lips when he’s singing.
After a few minutes Johnny’s no longer leaning back, he’s sitting up straight, and Taylor is amazed, once again, that he can do this, completely draw people’s attention just with a melody. It’s the same sensation he experiences every time he’s on stage, but different, somehow, because he’s not playing for a crowd of unknown faces this time, but for someone... someone special.
He lets his eyes slide shut, suddenly all too aware of himself – of the way he sometimes misses a note or misplaces a finger on a string, of all the little imperfections in his performance. The music sucks him in, dissolves the worries on his mind, and he lets himself sink into it, feeling it, every chord he plays and every syllable he sings.
“Wow,” he hears Johnny’s whisper when he finishes and opens his eyes, gives him a smile. Johnny’s eyes are all bright and Taylor wonders if it’s a trick of the light or if it really could be because of him.
“Thank you,” he bows his head in appreciation. “Let me play one more for you,” he says and Johnny nods eagerly. “A special one,” he adds and Johnny looks at him curiously.
Taylor takes a breath, a moment to recall the exact chords and lyrics, and then begins, pressing the strings, luring the right sounds out of them. He keeps his eyes open this time, watches Johnny’s expression go from clueless to surprised to thrilled as he recognizes the tune.
“Ohmygod,” Johnny whispers under his breath and covers his mouth with his hands, staring at Taylor as the verses flow from his lips. Ooh, I’m overdue, gimme some room, I’m comin’ through. I’ve paid my dues, I’m in the mood, me and my girls gonna shake the room.
Johnny bites his lip and wrings his fingers together as Taylor stretches out the wanna get dirrty of the chorus before he comes to the end of the shortened version of the song.
“Oh my god,” Johnny repeats and then, in a blurt of fanboy excitement: “I love you.”
Johnny freezes the moment the words fall out of his mouth and stares at Taylor, the shock and anxiety written all over his face.
The words resonate in Taylor’s mind, sharp and clear, and he knows he should know better than to believe they mean anything more than a simple thank you. But there’s a part of him that wonders, even wishes... He ponders if Johnny would take the words back if he could and frowns when he concludes that Johnny might want to.
The frown makes Johnny break out in panic and he’s muttering a frantic mantra of I’m sorry, I’m sorry before Taylor even realizes what’s going on. He leans forward and cuts him off with a whisper of no and a kiss, open-mouthed and gentle, one hand curling around Johnny’s nape to caress and soothe.
He puts the guitar aside and pulls Johnny into his arms, closer and closer until he can hear his heartbeat again, and showers him with kisses, because that – Taylor notes with a pang of guilt – is the only thing he can offer in return.
* Your heart is broken. Who broke your heart, Johnny? - that line I shamelessly stole from an unknown Russian fan who actually asked that at Cup of Russia. :)
* The "special" song Taylor plays for Johnny is, of course, Dirrty by Christina Aguilera. Hanson have actually played the song live once.