Fic: It's no use Worrying about Time (Johnny Weir/Adam Rippon)
Remember how my laptop died last year? Well, it revived. And I found this fic.
Title: It's no use Worrying about Time
Pairing: Johnny Weir/Adam Rippon
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Start a new life, reconnect with your past one.
Word Count: 1,850
Disclaimers: All made up, never happened.
Notes: 2014 Olympic Season. Title from "Animals" by Frank O'Hara.
Johnny, comfortably sprawled on the floor of his New York City apartment, patiently waits for his mother to join him.
It’s his first night under the roof of his new apartment, and he’s surprised at how thrilling the prospect of starting a new chapter of his life is.
After spending the last couple of years being pulled away from city to city by the numerous projects that consumed his life, he finally decided he had enough money saved and enough satisfying exhaustion to settle down.
He’d searched and searched (a-la Carrie Bradshaw and Mr. Big in the first Sex and the City film) for the perfect apartment, visiting as many as twenty, until he’d found The One (and he didn’t even have to redo the closet).
His father and brother weren’t able to help him move in, so he hired movers (despite loving his friends he knew he couldn’t trust them with handling his things) and spent six long hours running around the apartment, making sure that everything was in its place. Finally, the apartment was as close to perfect as it would ever be.
“Johnny, why are you sitting on the floor?”
Patti’s staying the night, and Johnny couldn’t be happier. It’s been a while since he last spent time alone with his mother, and he’s glad he won’t have to spend his first night in the apartment alone. It’s not that he’s scared, exactly. It’s just that for the first time in his life, Johnny realizes that he truly feels like an adult - no coach, no strict regimens, only his own rules. Having his mother with him makes him feel less old.
“I don’t want to get the couch dirty. I just spent an hour polishing things and I’m all sweaty and gross.”
Patti nods her head understandingly. “Why don’t you go shower, then? It’s getting late.”
“Yes mama,” Johnny says, mockingly sweet. “And then we’ll cuddle?”
“And then we’ll cuddle.”
*~*
Weeks go by, and Johnny grows accustomed to his new apartment. He hosts a small housewarming party that goes on into the wee hours of the night. Thankfully nothing is broken and no one vomits on his upholstery. It’s mostly an intimate event -close friends only - but a couple of people bring dates, much to Johnny’s chagrin. Being a graceful host, he is cordial with the strangers and even takes a liking to one or two. After all, one can never have too many friends in New York City.
*~*
He lands a job writing a monthly column for a local magazine. He mostly tells people that it happened out of nowhere and that he hadn’t even tried to find the job in the first place, but in reality he had sent his resume and a detailed proposal to the editors in hope of being given the opportunity to actually write for a living.
It’s not the same as skating or designing costumes and women’s fashion, but writing is yet another art that Johnny wants to master. He works hard on his column, often staying up all night and refusing invitations to dinner parties and the like (unless, of course, he can justify the outings as research opportunities). For the most part, his work is well-received by critics and audiences alike, although he is sure that somewhere in a dark corner of the internet (or Colorado) someone is bitching about the quality (or authenticity) of his work.
Being a writer brings Johnny a newfound notoriety that has all sorts of people seeking him out in public. People who’d never heard of him not only profess their love for his column but admit to watching his greatest performances on twitter. A sophisticated mother of two gushes at him at the MAC counter at Bloomingdales and insists that he give her his e-mail address so she can invite him over for dinner and drinks one day. Men buy him drinks at bars and he has a casual fling or two, but never anything serious. He’s busy working and enjoying life too much to bother with trying to find a steady boyfriend.
*~*
He flies to Sochi in February, not as a competitor but as a spectator. The media hounds him for his opinions on the skaters, but he mostly has nice things to say. There are a lot of newer skaters that he doesn’t know well. He declines an interview request from NBC but spends lots of time chatting with Russian reporters.
When he makes his way to the arena on the night of the men’s short program, he is surprised at the feeling rising in his chest. He hasn’t really thought about competing in at least two years, and he’s sure that retiring was one of the best decisions he’s ever made, but a part of him misses the thrill of competition, the cheers, the lights; the fanfare.
Adam Rippon, the current US Champion, skates in the second to last warm-up group that night. Johnny hasn’t seen him in at least a year and a half, and he notices that he’s lost some of the schoolboy charm that made him so popular with fans years before. He’s grown leaner, stronger, and developed an air of quiet confidence that is captivating.
He’s always liked Adam, found him genuinely sweet and polite, unlike most of the American skaters. Yet this is the first time that he finds himself biting his lower lip in anticipation and delight as Adam skates with graceful prowess on the ice. His jumps have improved, that’s for sure. And his smile, that expression of pure joy that often leaves skaters after years of politicized scoring and disappointment - that smile is still intact.
*~*
Johnny’s always been friendly with Adam’s mother, so he sends her a congratulatory text message. It turns out she’s sitting only a couple of sections away. He seeks her out and congratulates her in person. She is thrilled to see him, and invites him to have breakfast with her and Adam as soon as they are free. Johnny readily accepts.
*~*
On Thursday night, Adam Rippon does not become the men’s Olympic Champion, but he is close. Nevertheless, his performance brings the audience to their feet more than thirty seconds before it is complete. Even Johnny becomes a little emotional; he knows more than anyone how great it feels to finally deliver the performance of your dreams when it counts the most.
*~*
“So how does it feel?” Johnny knows that is an unoriginal question, but he can’t help himself.
Adam pokes at his food and shrugs. “I want to say amazing but I don’t think that quite cuts it, you know?”
They were supposed to be joined by Adam’s mother, but she caught a cold after Thursday night’s frenzy and decided to stay in her hotel room to rest.
Johnny finds that it is still reasonably easy to talk to Adam. Adam is very direct and friendly and has a great sense of humor. He’s not too bad to look at, either. Johnny always found his mop of curls to be a little too Cabbage Patch kid for him, but now they only look well-kept and classy.
“You’re looking at me funny,” Adam says.
Johnny is taken aback. “You’ve just grown up so fast,” he replies. “I feel old.”
“Don’t you always feel old?” Adam teases. It’s true. Johnny has been complaining about old age since he turned twenty-one.
“I’m almost thirty, Adam. That’s my scary age. That’s the age I am in my nightmares.”
“Well, you look great,” Adam says. “I’m being serious, okay? Age has treated you well. I mean, have you seen how Evan Lysacek looks these days?”
Johnny only laughs.
“I used to kind of have a crush on you,” Adam admits, changing the subject.
“I doubt that,” Johnny says. “Wasn’t I always too old for you?”
“No, I did. We all did. Stevie, Eliot and I used to pretend we were going to steal you from whoever your boyfriend was at the time.”
“That’s very flattering, Adam.”
“I remember they were jealous when I got to spend so much time with you in Korea. I always hoped that you would kiss me or something.”
“All I did was tickle, pull your hair, and buy you lattes,” Johnny says, suddenly reminiscing. “I’m sure you were disappointed.”
“No, not exactly. I mean, I hoped that you would, you know, but I enjoyed the tickling, even if it gave me a hard-on.” He flashes his winning smile, and Johnny cracks up because it’s terribly charming.
*~*
Johnny kisses Adam because he wants to. He hasn’t kissed anyone in at least a month.
Adam’s lips are cold and he trembles slightly when Johnny tugs his body closer to his own, but he accepts the kiss. In fact, he returns it. Out of habit, they both glance around but it is clear that they are alone.
“It’s cold,” Adam says.
Johnny kisses him again, this time on the cheek, and says, “Let’s go inside, then.”
Johnny’s hotel is not far away. The lobby is almost empty as most people are away at the hockey match between the United States and Canada. They quickly make their way to Johnny’s room.
Johnny helps Adam remove his clothes, and Adam protests when it’s time for his scarf to come off.
“Who says you can’t sleep with someone while wearing a scarf?” he says.
“You won’t be cold for much longer,” Johnny answers, untying the scarf slowly. “Besides, I think it’s only acceptable to keep your scarf on during sex if your name is Chuck Bass.”
"Okay then,” Adam says, and Johnny feels him shiver as he brushes his hand on his cheek, studying him. His lips are on Adam’s then, and Adam pries oven his mouth hungrily.
“This is the kiss I’ve been waiting years for,” Adam sighs when they finally take a breath. “I know it sounds dumb, but it’s true.” He sounds younger, less-confident, unlike the Adam that Johnny witnessed on the ice just two nights ago. “I really hope this isn’t a pity-fuck.”
Johnny doesn’t answer; instead he runs his hands along Adam’s bare skin, working his way to the fly of Adam’s jeans.
"I’m doing this because I want to,” Johnny says.
“Good,” Adam responds quietly, taking a couple of steps backward and flopping himself onto Johnny’s bed with quiet enthusiasm.
*~*
Johnny goes back to New York before the Games are over - he has an event to attend, and he doesn’t care much for hockey or speed skating.
He doesn’t get the chance to see Adam again, but he doesn’t mind. His job keeps him busy as do his friends.
It’s not until he’s planning his birthday party (the dreaded 3-0) that he thinks of Adam. He writes his name on the invitations list no problem.
Paris makes fun of him. “I didn’t know you were inviting kids to the party,” he says.
Johnny only rolls his eyes and continues jotting down names on his every-growing list.
“He’s not a kid,” he says. “None of us are.” It’s the first time he doesn’t even wince at the thought.
Title: It's no use Worrying about Time
Pairing: Johnny Weir/Adam Rippon
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Start a new life, reconnect with your past one.
Word Count: 1,850
Disclaimers: All made up, never happened.
Notes: 2014 Olympic Season. Title from "Animals" by Frank O'Hara.
Johnny, comfortably sprawled on the floor of his New York City apartment, patiently waits for his mother to join him.
It’s his first night under the roof of his new apartment, and he’s surprised at how thrilling the prospect of starting a new chapter of his life is.
After spending the last couple of years being pulled away from city to city by the numerous projects that consumed his life, he finally decided he had enough money saved and enough satisfying exhaustion to settle down.
He’d searched and searched (a-la Carrie Bradshaw and Mr. Big in the first Sex and the City film) for the perfect apartment, visiting as many as twenty, until he’d found The One (and he didn’t even have to redo the closet).
His father and brother weren’t able to help him move in, so he hired movers (despite loving his friends he knew he couldn’t trust them with handling his things) and spent six long hours running around the apartment, making sure that everything was in its place. Finally, the apartment was as close to perfect as it would ever be.
“Johnny, why are you sitting on the floor?”
Patti’s staying the night, and Johnny couldn’t be happier. It’s been a while since he last spent time alone with his mother, and he’s glad he won’t have to spend his first night in the apartment alone. It’s not that he’s scared, exactly. It’s just that for the first time in his life, Johnny realizes that he truly feels like an adult - no coach, no strict regimens, only his own rules. Having his mother with him makes him feel less old.
“I don’t want to get the couch dirty. I just spent an hour polishing things and I’m all sweaty and gross.”
Patti nods her head understandingly. “Why don’t you go shower, then? It’s getting late.”
“Yes mama,” Johnny says, mockingly sweet. “And then we’ll cuddle?”
“And then we’ll cuddle.”
*~*
Weeks go by, and Johnny grows accustomed to his new apartment. He hosts a small housewarming party that goes on into the wee hours of the night. Thankfully nothing is broken and no one vomits on his upholstery. It’s mostly an intimate event -close friends only - but a couple of people bring dates, much to Johnny’s chagrin. Being a graceful host, he is cordial with the strangers and even takes a liking to one or two. After all, one can never have too many friends in New York City.
*~*
He lands a job writing a monthly column for a local magazine. He mostly tells people that it happened out of nowhere and that he hadn’t even tried to find the job in the first place, but in reality he had sent his resume and a detailed proposal to the editors in hope of being given the opportunity to actually write for a living.
It’s not the same as skating or designing costumes and women’s fashion, but writing is yet another art that Johnny wants to master. He works hard on his column, often staying up all night and refusing invitations to dinner parties and the like (unless, of course, he can justify the outings as research opportunities). For the most part, his work is well-received by critics and audiences alike, although he is sure that somewhere in a dark corner of the internet (or Colorado) someone is bitching about the quality (or authenticity) of his work.
Being a writer brings Johnny a newfound notoriety that has all sorts of people seeking him out in public. People who’d never heard of him not only profess their love for his column but admit to watching his greatest performances on twitter. A sophisticated mother of two gushes at him at the MAC counter at Bloomingdales and insists that he give her his e-mail address so she can invite him over for dinner and drinks one day. Men buy him drinks at bars and he has a casual fling or two, but never anything serious. He’s busy working and enjoying life too much to bother with trying to find a steady boyfriend.
*~*
He flies to Sochi in February, not as a competitor but as a spectator. The media hounds him for his opinions on the skaters, but he mostly has nice things to say. There are a lot of newer skaters that he doesn’t know well. He declines an interview request from NBC but spends lots of time chatting with Russian reporters.
When he makes his way to the arena on the night of the men’s short program, he is surprised at the feeling rising in his chest. He hasn’t really thought about competing in at least two years, and he’s sure that retiring was one of the best decisions he’s ever made, but a part of him misses the thrill of competition, the cheers, the lights; the fanfare.
Adam Rippon, the current US Champion, skates in the second to last warm-up group that night. Johnny hasn’t seen him in at least a year and a half, and he notices that he’s lost some of the schoolboy charm that made him so popular with fans years before. He’s grown leaner, stronger, and developed an air of quiet confidence that is captivating.
He’s always liked Adam, found him genuinely sweet and polite, unlike most of the American skaters. Yet this is the first time that he finds himself biting his lower lip in anticipation and delight as Adam skates with graceful prowess on the ice. His jumps have improved, that’s for sure. And his smile, that expression of pure joy that often leaves skaters after years of politicized scoring and disappointment - that smile is still intact.
*~*
Johnny’s always been friendly with Adam’s mother, so he sends her a congratulatory text message. It turns out she’s sitting only a couple of sections away. He seeks her out and congratulates her in person. She is thrilled to see him, and invites him to have breakfast with her and Adam as soon as they are free. Johnny readily accepts.
*~*
On Thursday night, Adam Rippon does not become the men’s Olympic Champion, but he is close. Nevertheless, his performance brings the audience to their feet more than thirty seconds before it is complete. Even Johnny becomes a little emotional; he knows more than anyone how great it feels to finally deliver the performance of your dreams when it counts the most.
*~*
“So how does it feel?” Johnny knows that is an unoriginal question, but he can’t help himself.
Adam pokes at his food and shrugs. “I want to say amazing but I don’t think that quite cuts it, you know?”
They were supposed to be joined by Adam’s mother, but she caught a cold after Thursday night’s frenzy and decided to stay in her hotel room to rest.
Johnny finds that it is still reasonably easy to talk to Adam. Adam is very direct and friendly and has a great sense of humor. He’s not too bad to look at, either. Johnny always found his mop of curls to be a little too Cabbage Patch kid for him, but now they only look well-kept and classy.
“You’re looking at me funny,” Adam says.
Johnny is taken aback. “You’ve just grown up so fast,” he replies. “I feel old.”
“Don’t you always feel old?” Adam teases. It’s true. Johnny has been complaining about old age since he turned twenty-one.
“I’m almost thirty, Adam. That’s my scary age. That’s the age I am in my nightmares.”
“Well, you look great,” Adam says. “I’m being serious, okay? Age has treated you well. I mean, have you seen how Evan Lysacek looks these days?”
Johnny only laughs.
“I used to kind of have a crush on you,” Adam admits, changing the subject.
“I doubt that,” Johnny says. “Wasn’t I always too old for you?”
“No, I did. We all did. Stevie, Eliot and I used to pretend we were going to steal you from whoever your boyfriend was at the time.”
“That’s very flattering, Adam.”
“I remember they were jealous when I got to spend so much time with you in Korea. I always hoped that you would kiss me or something.”
“All I did was tickle, pull your hair, and buy you lattes,” Johnny says, suddenly reminiscing. “I’m sure you were disappointed.”
“No, not exactly. I mean, I hoped that you would, you know, but I enjoyed the tickling, even if it gave me a hard-on.” He flashes his winning smile, and Johnny cracks up because it’s terribly charming.
*~*
Johnny kisses Adam because he wants to. He hasn’t kissed anyone in at least a month.
Adam’s lips are cold and he trembles slightly when Johnny tugs his body closer to his own, but he accepts the kiss. In fact, he returns it. Out of habit, they both glance around but it is clear that they are alone.
“It’s cold,” Adam says.
Johnny kisses him again, this time on the cheek, and says, “Let’s go inside, then.”
Johnny’s hotel is not far away. The lobby is almost empty as most people are away at the hockey match between the United States and Canada. They quickly make their way to Johnny’s room.
Johnny helps Adam remove his clothes, and Adam protests when it’s time for his scarf to come off.
“Who says you can’t sleep with someone while wearing a scarf?” he says.
“You won’t be cold for much longer,” Johnny answers, untying the scarf slowly. “Besides, I think it’s only acceptable to keep your scarf on during sex if your name is Chuck Bass.”
"Okay then,” Adam says, and Johnny feels him shiver as he brushes his hand on his cheek, studying him. His lips are on Adam’s then, and Adam pries oven his mouth hungrily.
“This is the kiss I’ve been waiting years for,” Adam sighs when they finally take a breath. “I know it sounds dumb, but it’s true.” He sounds younger, less-confident, unlike the Adam that Johnny witnessed on the ice just two nights ago. “I really hope this isn’t a pity-fuck.”
Johnny doesn’t answer; instead he runs his hands along Adam’s bare skin, working his way to the fly of Adam’s jeans.
"I’m doing this because I want to,” Johnny says.
“Good,” Adam responds quietly, taking a couple of steps backward and flopping himself onto Johnny’s bed with quiet enthusiasm.
*~*
Johnny goes back to New York before the Games are over - he has an event to attend, and he doesn’t care much for hockey or speed skating.
He doesn’t get the chance to see Adam again, but he doesn’t mind. His job keeps him busy as do his friends.
It’s not until he’s planning his birthday party (the dreaded 3-0) that he thinks of Adam. He writes his name on the invitations list no problem.
Paris makes fun of him. “I didn’t know you were inviting kids to the party,” he says.
Johnny only rolls his eyes and continues jotting down names on his every-growing list.
“He’s not a kid,” he says. “None of us are.” It’s the first time he doesn’t even wince at the thought.