Fan Fiction - Krasobruslení - Povídkové cykly
After the opening night of this year’s Champions on Ice tour, Evan finds himself surrounded by people once again – people with flashing cameras, people with markers hoping to get an autograph from him, people staring at him with eager eyes.
He smiles uncertainly. Being the centre of attention makes him nervous. It may not seem that way when he skates, but he is fairly shy, the boy-next-door kinda guy. He appreciates the support and interest, he understands that staying in touch with fans is important, but frankly, he’d much rather just go to the bus straight away and take a nap during the drive to the hotel. The crowd is loud and humming with energy, people are pushing excitedly in their attempts to get close to their favourite skaters. Evan almost wishes he had a big hunky ugly bodyguard to guide him out and away.
The person who comes to his rescue in the end is neither big, nor hunky, nor ugly – in fact, he is quite little, quite thin and quite pretty. Johnny eases his way through the packed lounge, smiling in all directions, stopping to say a sentence or two to a fan every once in a while, as if he didn’t mind all the people in the slightest. He probably really doesn’t, Evan realizes. Johnny even seems to enjoy all the attention. Either way, Evan is relieved when he feels a familiar arm wrap around his waist, as Johnny singsongs a cheerful Hey Evan! and flashes one of his trademark bright smiles at the group of chattering girls standing right in front of them. Johnny’s fingers rest an inch above Evan’s hip, calm and reassuring. Johnny knows that Evan doesn’t particularly like crowds.
“Hey guys. Did you enjoy the show?” Evan hears Johnny say to the cluster of fans around them. He lifts his right arm and places it carefully around Johnny’s shoulders. It feels good to have something – someone – to hold on to. Johnny looks up at him briefly and the gentle glow in his eyes, combined with a tiny, private smile meant just for Evan, does some really weird things to Evan’s insides. All of a sudden, he feels all tingly and the warmth of that short smile seeps through his entire body, as if he’d taken a gulp of hot tea. A second later, Johnny is already looking back into the cameras, sporting a smug, self-assured expression. Someone compliments his scarf and Johnny fondly declares his love for all things Vuitton.
It only takes a few minutes and Johnny is already leading Evan away, a crowd of satisfied fans raving over ‘that sweet Johnny Weir’ left behind them.
They slip through the door at the opposite end of the lounge and head towards the back-exit.
“Gosh, Evan, you really suck at this whole publicity thing,” Johnny states and shakes his head, as if it was incomprehensible to him.
“Well, I guess I’m lucky to have a little attention-whore for a friend,” Evan replies as he nudges Johnny's shoulder, feeling light and free now.
“Evan, I just rescued you from all those crazy fans, you know,” Johnny points out. He steps forward and turns to face Evan, blocking his way in the narrow corridor. “One would expect you’d be a little nicer than that, show a bit of gratitude.” Johnny raises his eyebrows and pierces Evan with an expectant gaze.
Evan stops in front of Johnny, grinning.
“Thank you,” he says and he means it.
“Hmmhm.” Johnny looks contemplative. “That was a neat effort, Evan, but I think I deserve more reward than a simple ‘thank you’. After all, I saved your ass, which I daresay is… rather valuable and not entirely bad looking, either. Not as sexy as mine but still…” Johnny says and Evan can’t miss the playful glint in his eyes.
“Okay... Thank you, fair knight Johnny, for saving my ass – no, my life! – out there!” Evan even adds a little bow this time. He straightens himself and looks at Johnny to see him shake his head and fold his arms in front of his chest.
“Still not good enough, I’m afraid.”
“What do you want then? Name the price… My soul? My firstborn?” Evan offers, amused.
“No,no, no. I have no interest whatsoever in your babies.” Johnny gestures dismissively with his hand. Then he’s quiet for a moment, looking Evan straight in the eye. “I want… just you.” With that, Johnny steps forward and – standing up on his toes – he gently brushes his lips against Evan’s.
Evan blinks in surprise, but doesn’t pull back, for Johnny’s mouth feels nice on his and it’s not like he hasn’t been fantasizing about this – kissing Johnny Weir – almost every night since Torino.
He tilts his head to fit their lips together more comfortably and lifts his hand to stroke at Johnny’s neck and hair.
The next moment, he’s being pushed backwards and Johnny traps him between the wall and himself, his lithe form pressed against Evan’s body. Warm hands travel to his face and Johnny kisses him for real this time – hot and urgent and hungry.
Evan doesn’t care that the door they’d walked through earlier suddenly opens, he doesn’t even notice the flash of a camera going off several times. He forgets his antipathy towards public attention because having Johnny kiss him like that is so good; it makes his heart pound and his mind cloud over with lust.
It’s Sasha Cohen’s shriek of Oh my god, what are you two THINKING?! that snaps Evan back to reality. He watches the petite Sasha usher the photographer out of the door with all her power and suddenly it dawns on him – the photo of him kissing Johnny Weir is bound to be all over the media by tomorrow morning. He doesn’t even dare to imagine the amount of attention this will draw to him.
“Fuck,” he whispers.
“Good idea,” he hears Johnny chuckle. “My room, midnight,” Johnny informs Evan with an impish grin and sets off down the corridor once again.
Děkuji Tereze a Kath za beta-read. / Thanks for beta-reading, Teri and Kath.