Fan Fiction - Krasobruslení - Drabbles
A ještě poznámka: tohle bylo snad poprvé, co se Johnny na nějaké soutěži v Kanadě neumístil na sedmém místě.
Johnny took his seat at the table, smiling at the numerous representatives of international press in front of him. He had skated poorly, but then again, so had everyone else, so it didn’t really matter, and he was happy that he broke the 7th in Canada Curse.
The first questions were all aimed at Stéphane, and Johnny used the few moments to unlace his skates under the table and slip his feet out of them, rubbing them together to return some feeling into his numb toes.
Johnny usually got bored rather quickly in press conferences… and this time the reporters focused on the Swiss for way too long. He played with his hair first, curling it around his index finger, then stared at one of the reporters until she blushed and bowed her head, then he turned his full attention to Stéphane and his cute leettle Frrench accent.
The good thing about press conference tables is that they go all the way down to the floor, completely hiding one’s lower body. Therefore, nobody could see the foot in a white knee-sock that found its way to where Stéphane was sitting. The foot pushed up one leg of Stéphane’s pants and teased at his calf, toes tickling at the muscle. Many did notice, though, when the winner of the Men’s event suddenly stumbled over his own words and shot a quick glance at a very smug-looking Johnny Weir to his left, a cute leettle blush coloring his cheeks.