Fan Fiction - Krasobruslení - Povídkové cykly
Ach a - Johnny Weir Christinu Aguileru opravdu zbožňuje.:D
Evan hated Christina Aguilera. He hated her music and he would never even think about dancing to one of her songs. Not until tonight, anyway.
Watching a slightly tipsy Johnny Weir writhe and sway and sing along to Genie in a Bottle almost made Evan wanna leave his table and join him on the dance floor.
Weir looks ridiculous, he tried to persuade himself. One didn’t wear rhinestones off ice. On ice, sparkly outfits were part of the sport. Off ice, however, it was just gay. But there was this something, something about those bedazzled snugly fitting jeans and the t-shirt that was a bit too see-through (even for a figure skater!), that made it impossible for Evan to look away and simply ignore Weir.
Johnny was beaming. No wonder, Evan thought. He would be beaming, too, if he’d just won a shiny gold medal like Weir did. Not that he wasn’t happy with his silver – he was content. But he didn’t like the way everybody kept swooning over Johnny and his gold – ooh Johnny, you’re so talented – that was a really beautiful jump combination you did there – Johnny, can I hold the medal? can I take a picture with you? It seemed that ever since the free skate Johnny was constantly surrounded by people – people talking to him, congratulating him, hugging him. Watching that gave Evan a funny feeling. He was quite horrified when the little voice in his head started suggesting that it wasn’t because of the medal or the attention.
Thankfully, they weren’t playing Aguilera anymore when Evan came to the conclusion that the time was ripe for him to get on the damn dance floor. Stéphane Lambiel – that pirouette spinning little piece of Swiss chocolate – had arrived on the dance floor, too, and was currently whispering something into Johnny’s ear in a mixture of soft, slow French and very bad English. Johnny was listening intently, head tipped to one side, glancing sidewise at Lambiel’s face, then running his eyes all the way down to his feet, then returning to his face.
“Oh!” Evan heard Johnny gasp and saw him blush at something Lambiel had just told him.
“I... I’m not sure. Je ne… suis pas sure.” Johnny stuttered and looked around nervously.
Evan determinedly stepped forward and coughed.
Lambiel looked up at him, clearly annoyed. For once, Evan was thankful for his height, for it significantly boosted his confidence when he faced the smaller Stéphane.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he began, smirking at the Swiss, “but our coaches wanted us – the Americans, I mean – to be back by…” Evan glanced at his watch, “… eleven.” He reached for Johnny’s arm and tugged him towards himself and away from Stéphane. “And since it’s already 10:35 and we still need to pick up our coats and get to the hotel… I’m afraid we – Johnny and I – will have to go.”
“I thought they said by mid-“ Johnny started, puzzled, but Evan just squeezed his bicep and started to pull him away.
“I’m sorry, Stéphane,” Evan turned back to the frowning boy and shrugged. “Maybe next time we will have more time. Enjoy the rest of the night!”
“Au revoir,” Lambiel called out to Johnny who kept glancing back over his shoulder while Evan led him towards the door.
“Bye!” he said and quickly waved his hand, then turned to Evan.
“What was that about, Evan?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow in a quite impressive way.
“You shouldn’t hang out with these French too much,” Evan murmured.
“Stéphane is not French. He’s from Switzerland,” Johnny pointed out.
“Whatever. He still speaks French.” It’s a naughty language, he added in his head.
“But why did you do that?” Johnny craned his neck to throw one more look into the dance room bathed in small moving lights.
“Because… we’re like… both American,” he said the first thing that came to his mind. “We’re on the same team. We have to take care of each other, okay?”
“Hmmhm.” Johnny seemed to consider the answer. It almost looked like he was going to buy it, which Evan was infinitely grateful for. He didn’t have a better explanation. In fact, he didn’t really know what exactly made him march to Johnny and steal him from Lambiel. The last thing he needed was a row of inquisitive questions concerning his behavior.
“Evan…” Johnny’s voice sounded curious, almost amused. Evan didn’t like that. “Why didn’t you get Ben*, too?”
*Ben = Benjamin Miller, třetí Američan, který se soutěže účastnil.