warbigbang 2011: fall better part 3
part 2
Q: What do you think when you fall down?
A: I think, get up!
October 2009
Nate lies on his couch and flicks idly through the channels. The NBC coverage of NHK Trophy is due to start in a few minutes, so he picks the channel and goes to the kitchen to fix himself something to eat.
He’s considering ordering pizza - after all, he can allow himself an indulgence once a few months, and besides, watching NHK means watching Brad compete for gold and he needs comfort food for that - and he’s already picked up the phone when the coverage finally starts. He doesn’t pay much attention to it at first, but then the words “Colbert” and “injury” register in his brain.
He tries to put the phone down, but he’s standing in the middle of the kitchen, so it just drops down to the floor. They’re replaying the accident when he gets back to the living room and he watches Brad fall down in slow motion. The commentators are trying to analyze it, talking about the take-off, the wrong landing and whatnot, but Nate stops paying attention to the words.
His first impulse is to call Brad, but of course he’s not going to pick up. So he calls his coach instead.
“Nate.” Patterson picks up after the first signal. He sounds concerned.
“I’m watching NBC,” Nate says and he realizes with dismay that his voice is shaking.
Patterson curses under his breath. “Nate, try not to freak out too much, all right? I’ll call you if I find out anything.”
“Okay,” Nate whispers, ending the call. He sits on the floor and leans back against the couch, waiting.
In the end it’s Mike who calls him.
“He’s in a hospital. They say there’s going to be a surgery,” he says without preamble. Nate is glad for it. He doesn’t need mollycoddling.
“Do you know how serious it is?” Nate asks and wants to laugh, because how stupid was that question? They’re going to operate, of course it’s fucking serious. It sure as hell looked serious. He feels sick.
“Couldn’t find out any details. The official statement will be out later.”
“Okay. Thanks for telling me.”
“No problem, kid.” Mike hangs up.
Nate stays on the floor, looking blankly at the TV screen where the competition continues as if nothing has happened. He’s not sure how much time has passed when he finally goes to bed, dinner forgotten.
---
People always say the time slows down before an accident. Brad begs to differ. There is no slow motion, his whole life doesn’t flash before his eyes. He doesn’t even know the moment he launches into the jump that it’s going to end like this - it all happens too fast. One second he’s skating his routine and the next he’s lying on the cold ice.
He doesn’t even feel any pain at first. He’s still feeling a little dazed from the fall, but he’s pretty sure that he felt something pop in his knee and that’s definitely not good. Pops are bad. Whole careers have ended because of them.
He tries to get up and his leg just won’t cooperate. His knee gives out the moment he tries to put his weight on it, and that’s the moment he realizes that something is seriously wrong. The paramedics are with him right away, checking him for any other injuries.
It’s probably a bit absurd that Brad’s first coherent thought, as he lies on his back staring up into the bright lights of the skating rink, is damn, there goes my backup climber career.
They take him to a hospital after that and the next few hours pass in a blur of people in lab coats poking at him and throwing around words like torn ACL, grade III sprain and surgery.
It’s that last word that makes the blood in his veins run cold.
---
Nate tosses and turns for most of the night. The next day he wakes up with a splitting headache.
He makes breakfast, a bowl of cereal, and eats without appetite. His mom calls him when he’s doing the dishes, sounding worried.
“Are you all right?” she asks.
“I’m not the one who’s in a hospital right now, am I?”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I know, Mom. I’ll be fine.”
“Good,” she says. “And… Nate, please be careful.”
“I am,” he tells her and for the first time it really strikes him what she must feel like, watching him skate during all those competitions, falling down on the jumps. He’s not unbreakable. Nobody is.
Patterson is already waiting for him when Nate arrives at the rink five minutes late, because he was distracted and had to go back after he left his skates in the apartment. He’s a mess, there’s no other way to put it. The real low comes probably when he trips over his own foot during a step sequence, which is just, really.
Eventually his coach seems to have had enough of this, because he beckons him over to the side.
“What’s the matter, Nate?” he asks.
“Sorry, I just -- I can’t focus properly.”
“Is this about the accident yesterday?” Patterson asks quietly. “I know it looked bad, but you know that injuries happen. If you’re worried you’re going to hurt yourself --”
It could be true, from the logical point of view, but as soon as Nate hears the words, he realizes that the problem lies in an entirely different place.
“It’s not that, it’s just. . .It’s Brad,” Nate says and presses a hand to his forehead. It really is so simple and on the other hand it’s not simple at all, because the truth is just this: he is in love with Brad. And it’s not just a crush, a silly infatuation. Over the last few months Brad became almost a permanent fixture in Nate’s life and Nate didn’t really notice until now. It’s a bit scary and he’s not quite sure what to do about it. He slumps against the wall, suddenly feeling tired.
He sure as hell picked a dramatic moment to have his big revelation. Some trumpet noises would be fitting.
“I thought you might be afraid of injuring yourself now,” Patterson says cautiously. “But I guess this is not the case.”
Nate shakes his head mutely.
“I’m sure it won’t make him feel better if you break both of your legs, though.”
“Yeah, I guess not,” Nate laughs weakly.
“Well, I might as well let you go home now,” Patterson says. “Since I doubt you’d get much training done now anyway.”
“I can try --” Nate starts to protest, but Patterson cuts him off.
“Go. I want you to get your shit together by tomorrow. Call him, visit him, if you think that will help.”
Sometimes Nate thinks his coach is too perceptive for his own good.
“What, and that’s it?” he asks incredulously.
“What more do you want me to say? Nate, you’re both adults. It’s your life and I trust you can make a right decision.”
Nate really hopes so too.
Later that day, he takes a bus to the hospital and changes his mind at the last possible moment, because maybe he shouldn’t just drop by unannounced. Brad is probably with his family and they might not want Nate around right now.
He sits down on the front steps instead and takes his phone out. Brad answers after the first signal.
“Nate?”
It feels really good to hear Brad’s voice. Nate isn’t sure when his life turned into a sappy romcom, but it kind of makes him want to bang his head against the wall. Not literally, because the wall looks hard, but it’s the sentiment that counts.
“Yes, hi. I just wanted to ask how you are feeling. Saw the fall yesterday, it looked nasty.”
“My knee is currently the size of a watermelon, but I’ll live.” Nate can practically hear Brad shrug.
“Oh, well, that’s good. Do you know if you’ll…” He falls silent, because he doesn’t really want to end this question, but Brad seems to know what Nate is thinking.
“The doc said maybe I could come back next year.” Brad pauses and adds, “I’m going to have surgery.”
“Fuck,” Nate says quietly, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Nate? Nate Fick?” somebody asks and he looks up. There’s a middle-aged woman standing in front of him. He thinks she looks familiar.
“Wait a second, I’ll call you back,” he tells Brad and ends the call.
“I thought I recognized you,” says the woman. “Susan Colbert. I’m Brad’s mom.”
“Oh, right,” Nate says, scrambling to his feet. He remembers her from some competitions, but he’s not sure if he’s ever talked to her. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. I’ve heard only good things about you from my son. Are you here to visit Brad?”
“Kind of? I was just talking to him,” he says sheepishly, gesturing with his phone.
“Oh, just go upstairs,” she tells him, propelling him through the door.
“I don’t want to interrupt,” Nate protests weakly, but she waves him off.
“Nonsense, Brad will be thrilled to see you. Sarah is with him right now, but he’s suffered from too much attention from the women in this family already and I fear eventually it’s going to end in homicide.”
“Oh, then I have no choice but to go,” Nate laughs. Mrs. Colbert directs him to Brad’s room and he runs up the stairs quickly.
The door is ajar and he knocks lightly on the frame. Brad is sitting on the bed, talking to a pretty brunette next to him. He looks up when Nate comes into the room.
“Hey,” says Nate.
“Were you just downstairs when you were talking to me?” Brad asks incredulously.
“I thought you might be busy,” Nate answers, blushing slightly. Brad looks pointedly around and down at his leg.
“We were planning a trip to the Himalayas just now, but we can stop if you’re already here.”
The girl swats his head. “Don’t mind my brother, he has no manners. Hi, I’m Sarah,” she introduces herself.
“Nate. Don’t worry, I’m used to it. I ran into your mom downstairs and she told me that Brad was getting ready to commit murder, so I came here to check if everyone was still alive.”
“Very funny, Fick,” Brad says.
“All right, I’ll leave you two alone.” Sarah stands up and picks up her bag from the small bedside table. “Do you know where’s the nearest Starbucks? I’m dying for coffee.”
“Turn right after you go through the main gate, it’s just at the end of the road,” Nate informs her. “Is everyone in your family a Starbucks junkie?” he asks Brad when Sarah is gone.
“Pretty much,” Brad agrees.
Nate sits in the only chair in the room and looks at Brad. He doesn’t say anything and the silence starts to get a little awkward.
“I don’t really know why I came here,” he admits. “I guess I just wanted to see if --”
“Nate, if you ask me if I’m all right, you’re going to find yourself on this bed with at least ten broken bones,” Brad informs him seriously.
“Okay, I won’t ask. At least I can be sure you didn’t hit your head,” Nate laughs.
“No, but seriously, what are you doing here? I thought you had practice at this time.”
“Bryan let me go early. I wasn’t in the best shape today,” Nate says, grimacing. “I’m under strict orders to get my shit together by tomorrow.”
“You’d better. At least now you have one competitor less to worry about.”
“Don’t say that!” Nate exclaims.
“I’m just kidding. You know I’m still going to kick your sorry ass next year.”
“In your dreams.” It’s easy, trading barbs with Brad like this. They fall into a pattern and for a moment it feels like nothing has changed. It’s almost enough for Nate to believe that maybe it really hasn’t.
---
“And you’re supposed to use those damn crutches, not stick them into your closet the moment you’re home. Colbert, are you even listening to me?” Doctor Tim Bryan pauses his lecture to frown at Brad.
“Yes, I’m listening,” Brad tells him, looking down at his leg. His knee itches like a motherfucker.
“You’re going to seriously fuck it up if you don’t follow the rehab plan, so just try to act like a sensible person, if you’re capable of it.”
“Yes, I know,” Brad says impatiently. “We went over this already.”
“I’m just trying to make sure it actually got through to you.”
“It did.”
“Fine. You’re free to go then.”
Brad hauls himself to his feet. His mom is coming to pick him up, so at least he won’t have to bother with taking the subway.
His building has an elevator, but he refuses to use it and takes the stairs. His arms hurt when he finally stops at the fourth floor. Suddenly, he envies the pairs skaters and that’s definitely not the right train of thought.
Eloise runs to him when he opens the door and wrestles his bag through it. He refused his mom’s offer to help him and she stared at him disapprovingly, but didn’t argue too much - he’ll probably have to call her later.
He bends down to pet the cat, but she hisses at him when she sees his leg and backs up slowly. Funny, that’s how she reacted to Nate when he first came here.
Huh, that’s a weird thought, the last time Nate was here was over a year ago. Maybe he did hit his head after all.
---
from: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
to: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 3:47 PM
subject: congratulations
Saw Skate Canada. Nice skate. Guess that means GPF for you?
PS: Interesting choice of email address.
___
from: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
to: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:10 PM
subject: re: congratulations
Thanks, yeah, just got the official confirmation. But I’m not thinking about skating today, so please stop talking about it.
PS: Fuck off, I’ve had this email since junior high. You can’t blame the 13 year old me.
___
from: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
to: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:16 PM
subject: just curious
Didn’t you mean “fick off”?
___
from: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
to: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:24 PM
subject: re: just curious
I won’t even deign to reply to that.
___
from: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
to: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:27 PM
subject: re: re: just curious
I have your email sitting in my inbox - with a subject “RE: just curious”, I might add - so I think you’ve just contradicted yourself.
___
from: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
to: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:35 PM
subject: you think you’re funny
…but you really are not.
How are you?
___
from: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
to: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:37 PM
subject: I know I’m funny
I’m contemplating a career in running track and I’ve taken up mountain biking in my spare time. What do you think?
Also, I think my cat misses you.
___
from: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
to: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:41 PM
subject: [no subject]
The things your cat would miss about me the most are my ankles for her to scratch. And possibly my shoelaces.
Aw, was that your clever way of admitting you miss me?
___
from: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
to: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
draft saved at: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:42 PM (13 minutes ago)
subject: re: [no subject]
You should come over when you’re back
from: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
to: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
draft saved at: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:45 PM (10 minutes ago)
subject: re: [no subject]
When are you coming back? We could grab coffee together
from: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
to: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
draft saved at: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:51 PM (4 minutes ago)
subject: re: [no subject]
yes
from: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
to: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:55 PM
subject: re: [no subject]
You wish.
---
Fick wins Nationals
Colbert still recovering from injury
By Ray Griego | Posted: Jan 21, 07:37p ET | Updated: Jan 21, 07:37p ET
After the most disappointing season in his career, Nate Fick returned to win gold at the National Championships. He performed two routines, which may not have been the most challenging on the technical side, but the judges seemed to like the artistic value. It seems that Fick is once again trying to live up to the image created during his junior years. The question is, how much of his success today was owed to the absence of competition?
The defending champion, Brad Colbert, was forced to withdraw after a knee injury at the beginning of the season. Colbert already won the Nationals twice and was hoping to repeat the achievement this year.
[click to read more]
Comments
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Dustin77 | yeah, I still call bullshit | +13
18 minutes ago
Fick’s junior years? How about senior national champion two years ago? Do your research, dude.
___
---
June 2010
Brad’s mom officially declares him an idiot -- not in those exact words, but the sense remains the same -- for ignoring his doctor’s orders, but Brad will go crazy if he has to rest even for one day longer. He knows the risk; he’ll take it easy at first.
At least that’s what he promises her on the phone.
His coach doesn’t object to him going back to the training. Not that Brad thought he would. According to Ferrando it takes more than a knee injury, even one demanding a surgery, to render the skater incapable of practicing.
Doc Bryan is the worst. Unlike Susan Colbert, he doesn’t mince his words and has no inhibitions against telling Brad exactly what he thinks about him. But Brad can be a stubborn motherfucker when he puts his mind to something and eventually the decision is made in his favor.
He tells Nate on the phone. Nate is silent for a moment, but eventually sighs and says he hopes that Brad knows what he’s doing. He sounds concerned and Brad finds himself reassuring him that it’s going to be be all right, he’s ready for it.
“Fine. When you need me to bring you painkillers just let me know, I’m here for you,” Nate says. It’s probably meant to be a joke, but somehow it doesn’t come out quite that way.
“Sure,” Brad replies and hangs up.
It feels good to be back on the ice after so much time. No, that’s not true - it feels fucking fantastic.
---
July 2010
Something falls down with a heavy thud in the locker room. Nate peers around the edge of the doorframe, unsure if he should come in.
Brad is sitting on the floor, his eyes squeezed shut. It’s clear the he’s hurting and Nate hates the fact that there’s nothing he can do to help him.
“Don’t just stand there, come in and close the fucking door,” Brad snaps.
“It’s your leg again, isn’t it?” Nate says. He continues when Brad doesn’t answer. “I really think you should talk to someone about it.”
Brad ignores him, and starts gathering his things, throwing them carelessly in his duffel bag.
“Brad,” Nate sighs. “Stop ignoring me, please.”
“Well, what the fuck do you want me to do?” Brad snaps. “Stop skating and wallow in misery because my knee hurts from time to time?”
“It’s not just from time to time, Brad! I have eyes, I see you after practice every day. You’re pushing yourself too hard and you’re just going to make this worse, you know it.”
Brad drops his bag and advances on Nate, backing him towards the wall.
“So what, you want me to quit? Right, maybe then you wouldn’t have to worry about competition anymore, is that it? News flash for you, that’s not happening.”
Nate staggers back as if Brad actually shoved him and his back hits the wall. He wants to say something, but the words are stuck in his throat. He can’t, Brad would never - not Brad.
Eventually he feels anger replace the hurt and straightens up, pushing Brad back and speaking in fast sentences. He doesn’t raise his voice, because he’s not sure what he would do if he lost control now.
“Is it so hard to understand that I don’t want to see you hurt? That I might actually fucking care?” Brad doesn’t answer, so Nate says, “You know what, it doesn’t matter.”
He strides to his locker and throws his things in haphazardly, kicking his shoes off and pulling on his skates. He doesn’t look up when Brad exits the room, the doors closing after him with a soft click.
They barely talk to each other during the following week, save for a terse hello when they happen to pass by each other in the hallway. If Nate were honest he’d be forced to admit he was trying to avoid Brad and Brad made it easier by avoiding Nate in turn.
He supposes they’re being childish, giving each other silent treatment instead of talking about it, but he can’t help feeling a little pang of hurt whenever he thinks about Brad’s words.
It lasts about a week, during which Nate gets so tired of the situation that he starts looking for a way to end it, for something to do or say. An opportunity happens when he meets Brad in the locker room again. It feels like going back in time. He wants it to go differently this time.
Brad sits on a bench, stretching his leg out in front of himself with a barely visible wince. He hasn’t noticed Nate yet.
Nate turns around quietly and exits the room. They keep ice packs in a freezer near the locker room for unfortunate accidents. He grabs one and doubles back to the room.
“Hey, catch,” he says quietly. Brad looks up and grabs the cold packet reflexively, pressing it to his knee.
“Thanks,” he answers. He looks unsure of what to say next, so Nate smiles tentatively and shrugs his shoulders.
“You’re welcome,” says Nate. Brad looks relieved and Nate realizes that maybe he’s been as tired with their argument as Nate has.
“Look, Nate,” Brad begins when Nate approaches his own locker and starts changing into his practice clothes. “I’m sorry for what I said last week. It was unfair and I shouldn’t have done it, so.”
“Hey, it’s all right,” Nate tells him. He takes off his shirt and bends down to pick a new one, a plain black t-shirt. Brad’s eyes rest on his chest maybe just a little longer than is considered polite and he turns his head, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. You were right, it was none of my business,” Nate continues.
“It’s nice,” Brad says abruptly. “To know that you care,” he explains at Nate’s puzzled look.
“Oh. Okay. Is it - are we all right now?” Nate asks hopefully.
“Yes. Yeah, we’re all right,” Brad says with a small smile.
---
Brad likes skating at the empty rink, when the lights are dimmed and he’s alone with his thoughts. His coach left some time ago, treating him with another motivational speech at the end. Brad is in a good mood - he’s going back to form, slowly, but steadily, and his leg feels fine today.
He senses somebody watching him and sure enough, Nate is there, leaning against the boards and observing him with a small smile.
“Hi,” he says when he sees Brad looking at him.
“Hi yourself,” Brad replies, skating closer. “What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t have practice today.”
“I don’t. But the rink was supposed to be empty right now, so I could ask you the same question.”
“It’s peaceful here,” Brad says, shrugging. “Or was, until you showed up.”
“Very funny,” Nate tells him, elbowing him in the side playfully. “Well, since I already interrupted your peace and quiet, mind if I join you?”
“Oh, if you must…” Brad answers mock-sufferingly.
Nate just rolls his eyes and steps onto the ice. He glides across the rink to stand in the middle. His moves look so smooth and effortless that Brad almost envies him sometimes - it looks like it comes so naturally to him, like he can forget about endless hours of practicing every single element to look just right. He takes the whole frustration and pain out of it and makes it into something beautiful.
Wow. Brad really has it bad.
Nate picks up speed and launches himself into a huge jump, landing steadily on one foot. He grins triumphantly and skates up to Brad.
“Come on, skate with me,” he says, still smiling.
“Seriously?” Brad raises his eyebrows. “What now, are you considering a career in pairs skating? I wouldn’t mind though, less competition for me,” he says. Nate thwacks him on the arm.
“Hilarious, Brad. Yes, I’m serious, now come on,” he laughs. Brad lets him take his hand and drag him to the middle of the ice.
“I’m not doing a throw jump with you, don’t even think about it. Also, you’re the flower.”
Nate doesn’t answer, just takes both of Brad’s hands and starts skating backwards, slowly at first, but then picking up speed. They move around the rink just holding hands and it’s really so stupid, like they’re small children, and it’s fun.
Brad stops in one place, forcing Nate to move in circle around him. Nate catches on immediately and lets go of one of Brad’s hands. It’s like the most half-assed attempt at a death spiral ever and Nate ends up on his ass quick enough. They both start laughing at the same moment.
“I’ll have you know, I’m awesome at pairs skating,” Nate says, getting up and brushing ice shavings from his pants.
“Right, I’m sure you’re going to win gold next year,” Brad tells him.
“I am!” Nate confirms. “I’m glad you agree.” He’s still smiling and Brad realizes what he just said.
“Oh no, you don’t. I’m going to kick your ass during the Nationals, you know it.”
“Too late, Colbert! You already admitted I’m the best.” Nate skates off to the exit and Brad speeds up to catch up with him. They race each other to the rink boundary and they get there at the same time. Nate turns around, starting to say something, but he trips on the uneven ice surface near the board. He stumbles backwards and Brad catches him around the waist. He doesn’t let go immediately, just looks at him and Nate’s lips are parted and Brad can feel his quick breath on his face, so he just kisses him.
---
Brad is kissing him and holy shit, Brad is kissing him and for a while that is the only coherent thought Nate can manage.
He raises his hands and grips Brad's forearms, kissing him back. It's messy and rushed, even frantic, and maybe it’s not the best kiss Nate could imagine, but it still feels kind of perfect. Nate fervently hopes they will have time to practice.
Nate groans and lets his head fall back when he feels Brad’s thigh sliding between his own legs. His fingers touch Brad’s abdomen lightly and he can feel the firm muscles flexing under his palm. He could move his hand just a few inches lower and - yeah, it’s too soon, they’re not at that point yet, but maybe - maybe someday they will be.
“Brad,” he gasps, pulling away to catch his breath.
“Fuck, Nate,” Brad pants, grabbing his hips and pulling him even closer. “Do you know how long I wanted --”
“No, wait, wait!” Nate turns away and squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t think with Brad pressed against him like that and he desperately needs to clear his head. Brad grunts, pressing his lips to the side of Nate’s neck, but Nate pushes him back.
“No, wait, I’m serious,” he says, stepping away. “It’s just --” he pauses and takes a deep breath, looking Brad straight in the eyes. “Are you sure? Because I can't do this if you’re not sure.”
Brad looks at him and cups his cheek gently. Nate closes his eyes and slowly breathes out.
“I don’t want to act as if nothing happened,” he tells Brad quietly.
“Yeah, I know,” Brad answers. They are both silent for a moment and eventually Brad admits, “I want this - us - to work out, too.”
Nate smiles, relieved, and tangles his fingers in Brad’s shirt.
“Okay,” he says quietly. He pulls Brad closer and rests his forehead against Brad’s. They stay like that for a while, unmoving. The only sound he can hear is their breathing.
“I’ll still be competing. You know this,” Brad says after a moment.
“I know. I know it won’t be easy.” Nate looks up at him. “But we’ll figure it out, right?”
Brad kisses him slowly in answer and thinks that they really will.
-end
---
...except that it doesn’t really end there
January 2011
“We’re here with Nate Fick, two times national champion and all that. Nate totally kicked ass, ow, Walt, what was that for?” Ray winces, rubbing his shin.
“Ray, please, just try to remember that you're on national TV,” Walt says, rolling his eyes. He seems like exactly Ray’s opposite and Nate really has no idea how they ended up being best friends. Maybe it’s true what they say about opposites attracting.
“Right, I’ll behave,” Ray says, turning back to the camera. He’s always like that, they all used to wonder how his boss puts up with him, but apparently Ray’s commentaries get the best ratings, so nobody really minds. “So Nate was awesome last year and now he’s defending the title. What are your feelings before the short program?”
“Thanks, Ray. I’m fine,” Nate says.
“What, and that’s it? Come on, aren’t you nervous?”
“I think I’m saving the nerves for after the skate,” he laughs.
“Oh, fine. So, Brad Colbert is back to the competition,” Ray announces, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Yes, I’m aware of this,” Nate replies impassively. “I even saw him at the rink today.”
“Well, do you think he’s got a shot at the medal this season?”
“Why not? He’s always been a great skater and he’s back to form. Anything can happen. And we’re probably going to celebrate either way,” he says, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.
Ray looks at him with wide eyes. “Did you just seriously --”
“What? I didn’t say anything. We spend a lot of time together at the rink and we have a great relationship. As friends.”
---
“Seriously?” Brad asks him the minute the doors close after him. “Did you seriously just out us on national TV?”
“I did no such thing. You shouldn’t over-interpret things you hear,” Nate says dryly, coming closer and wrapping his arms around Brad’s waist. “Did you mind?” he asks a moment later.
“No,” Brad tells him. “Do you know you’re trending on Twitter?”
“Really? Wait, since when do you know what’s trending on Twitter?”
“Since Ray saw it fit to inform me. Repeatedly. You don’t want to see my inbox right now.”
Nate sits on the couch (it’s still as comfortable as it was three years ago) and picks up Brad’s laptop from the coffee table. Eloise the cat hops onto his lap and purrs happily.
That figuring it out thing? Turns out they’re pretty good at it.
---
twirlsntwizzles heeeee, fick for the win! #fickmeitsgood
4 minutes ago via web
ninjasareawesome omg they’re gonna get married and have little ice babies together #fickmeitsgood
2 minutes ago via TweetDeck
twirlsntwizzles @ninjasareawesome geez, dude, that was a disturbing mental image
1 minute ago via web in reply to ninjasareawesome
pooky oh my god, fick actually pulled an eisenberg on national TV #fickmeitsgood
half a minute ago via web
kilts_on_ice @ninjasareawesome NOW THERE’S TWO LESS LONELY PEOPLE IN THE WORLD TONIGHT
20 seconds ago via web in reply to ninjasareawesome
end notes
Q: What do you think when you fall down?
A: I think, get up!
October 2009
Nate lies on his couch and flicks idly through the channels. The NBC coverage of NHK Trophy is due to start in a few minutes, so he picks the channel and goes to the kitchen to fix himself something to eat.
He’s considering ordering pizza - after all, he can allow himself an indulgence once a few months, and besides, watching NHK means watching Brad compete for gold and he needs comfort food for that - and he’s already picked up the phone when the coverage finally starts. He doesn’t pay much attention to it at first, but then the words “Colbert” and “injury” register in his brain.
He tries to put the phone down, but he’s standing in the middle of the kitchen, so it just drops down to the floor. They’re replaying the accident when he gets back to the living room and he watches Brad fall down in slow motion. The commentators are trying to analyze it, talking about the take-off, the wrong landing and whatnot, but Nate stops paying attention to the words.
His first impulse is to call Brad, but of course he’s not going to pick up. So he calls his coach instead.
“Nate.” Patterson picks up after the first signal. He sounds concerned.
“I’m watching NBC,” Nate says and he realizes with dismay that his voice is shaking.
Patterson curses under his breath. “Nate, try not to freak out too much, all right? I’ll call you if I find out anything.”
“Okay,” Nate whispers, ending the call. He sits on the floor and leans back against the couch, waiting.
In the end it’s Mike who calls him.
“He’s in a hospital. They say there’s going to be a surgery,” he says without preamble. Nate is glad for it. He doesn’t need mollycoddling.
“Do you know how serious it is?” Nate asks and wants to laugh, because how stupid was that question? They’re going to operate, of course it’s fucking serious. It sure as hell looked serious. He feels sick.
“Couldn’t find out any details. The official statement will be out later.”
“Okay. Thanks for telling me.”
“No problem, kid.” Mike hangs up.
Nate stays on the floor, looking blankly at the TV screen where the competition continues as if nothing has happened. He’s not sure how much time has passed when he finally goes to bed, dinner forgotten.
---
People always say the time slows down before an accident. Brad begs to differ. There is no slow motion, his whole life doesn’t flash before his eyes. He doesn’t even know the moment he launches into the jump that it’s going to end like this - it all happens too fast. One second he’s skating his routine and the next he’s lying on the cold ice.
He doesn’t even feel any pain at first. He’s still feeling a little dazed from the fall, but he’s pretty sure that he felt something pop in his knee and that’s definitely not good. Pops are bad. Whole careers have ended because of them.
He tries to get up and his leg just won’t cooperate. His knee gives out the moment he tries to put his weight on it, and that’s the moment he realizes that something is seriously wrong. The paramedics are with him right away, checking him for any other injuries.
It’s probably a bit absurd that Brad’s first coherent thought, as he lies on his back staring up into the bright lights of the skating rink, is damn, there goes my backup climber career.
They take him to a hospital after that and the next few hours pass in a blur of people in lab coats poking at him and throwing around words like torn ACL, grade III sprain and surgery.
It’s that last word that makes the blood in his veins run cold.
---
Nate tosses and turns for most of the night. The next day he wakes up with a splitting headache.
He makes breakfast, a bowl of cereal, and eats without appetite. His mom calls him when he’s doing the dishes, sounding worried.
“Are you all right?” she asks.
“I’m not the one who’s in a hospital right now, am I?”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I know, Mom. I’ll be fine.”
“Good,” she says. “And… Nate, please be careful.”
“I am,” he tells her and for the first time it really strikes him what she must feel like, watching him skate during all those competitions, falling down on the jumps. He’s not unbreakable. Nobody is.
Patterson is already waiting for him when Nate arrives at the rink five minutes late, because he was distracted and had to go back after he left his skates in the apartment. He’s a mess, there’s no other way to put it. The real low comes probably when he trips over his own foot during a step sequence, which is just, really.
Eventually his coach seems to have had enough of this, because he beckons him over to the side.
“What’s the matter, Nate?” he asks.
“Sorry, I just -- I can’t focus properly.”
“Is this about the accident yesterday?” Patterson asks quietly. “I know it looked bad, but you know that injuries happen. If you’re worried you’re going to hurt yourself --”
It could be true, from the logical point of view, but as soon as Nate hears the words, he realizes that the problem lies in an entirely different place.
“It’s not that, it’s just. . .It’s Brad,” Nate says and presses a hand to his forehead. It really is so simple and on the other hand it’s not simple at all, because the truth is just this: he is in love with Brad. And it’s not just a crush, a silly infatuation. Over the last few months Brad became almost a permanent fixture in Nate’s life and Nate didn’t really notice until now. It’s a bit scary and he’s not quite sure what to do about it. He slumps against the wall, suddenly feeling tired.
He sure as hell picked a dramatic moment to have his big revelation. Some trumpet noises would be fitting.
“I thought you might be afraid of injuring yourself now,” Patterson says cautiously. “But I guess this is not the case.”
Nate shakes his head mutely.
“I’m sure it won’t make him feel better if you break both of your legs, though.”
“Yeah, I guess not,” Nate laughs weakly.
“Well, I might as well let you go home now,” Patterson says. “Since I doubt you’d get much training done now anyway.”
“I can try --” Nate starts to protest, but Patterson cuts him off.
“Go. I want you to get your shit together by tomorrow. Call him, visit him, if you think that will help.”
Sometimes Nate thinks his coach is too perceptive for his own good.
“What, and that’s it?” he asks incredulously.
“What more do you want me to say? Nate, you’re both adults. It’s your life and I trust you can make a right decision.”
Nate really hopes so too.
Later that day, he takes a bus to the hospital and changes his mind at the last possible moment, because maybe he shouldn’t just drop by unannounced. Brad is probably with his family and they might not want Nate around right now.
He sits down on the front steps instead and takes his phone out. Brad answers after the first signal.
“Nate?”
It feels really good to hear Brad’s voice. Nate isn’t sure when his life turned into a sappy romcom, but it kind of makes him want to bang his head against the wall. Not literally, because the wall looks hard, but it’s the sentiment that counts.
“Yes, hi. I just wanted to ask how you are feeling. Saw the fall yesterday, it looked nasty.”
“My knee is currently the size of a watermelon, but I’ll live.” Nate can practically hear Brad shrug.
“Oh, well, that’s good. Do you know if you’ll…” He falls silent, because he doesn’t really want to end this question, but Brad seems to know what Nate is thinking.
“The doc said maybe I could come back next year.” Brad pauses and adds, “I’m going to have surgery.”
“Fuck,” Nate says quietly, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Nate? Nate Fick?” somebody asks and he looks up. There’s a middle-aged woman standing in front of him. He thinks she looks familiar.
“Wait a second, I’ll call you back,” he tells Brad and ends the call.
“I thought I recognized you,” says the woman. “Susan Colbert. I’m Brad’s mom.”
“Oh, right,” Nate says, scrambling to his feet. He remembers her from some competitions, but he’s not sure if he’s ever talked to her. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. I’ve heard only good things about you from my son. Are you here to visit Brad?”
“Kind of? I was just talking to him,” he says sheepishly, gesturing with his phone.
“Oh, just go upstairs,” she tells him, propelling him through the door.
“I don’t want to interrupt,” Nate protests weakly, but she waves him off.
“Nonsense, Brad will be thrilled to see you. Sarah is with him right now, but he’s suffered from too much attention from the women in this family already and I fear eventually it’s going to end in homicide.”
“Oh, then I have no choice but to go,” Nate laughs. Mrs. Colbert directs him to Brad’s room and he runs up the stairs quickly.
The door is ajar and he knocks lightly on the frame. Brad is sitting on the bed, talking to a pretty brunette next to him. He looks up when Nate comes into the room.
“Hey,” says Nate.
“Were you just downstairs when you were talking to me?” Brad asks incredulously.
“I thought you might be busy,” Nate answers, blushing slightly. Brad looks pointedly around and down at his leg.
“We were planning a trip to the Himalayas just now, but we can stop if you’re already here.”
The girl swats his head. “Don’t mind my brother, he has no manners. Hi, I’m Sarah,” she introduces herself.
“Nate. Don’t worry, I’m used to it. I ran into your mom downstairs and she told me that Brad was getting ready to commit murder, so I came here to check if everyone was still alive.”
“Very funny, Fick,” Brad says.
“All right, I’ll leave you two alone.” Sarah stands up and picks up her bag from the small bedside table. “Do you know where’s the nearest Starbucks? I’m dying for coffee.”
“Turn right after you go through the main gate, it’s just at the end of the road,” Nate informs her. “Is everyone in your family a Starbucks junkie?” he asks Brad when Sarah is gone.
“Pretty much,” Brad agrees.
Nate sits in the only chair in the room and looks at Brad. He doesn’t say anything and the silence starts to get a little awkward.
“I don’t really know why I came here,” he admits. “I guess I just wanted to see if --”
“Nate, if you ask me if I’m all right, you’re going to find yourself on this bed with at least ten broken bones,” Brad informs him seriously.
“Okay, I won’t ask. At least I can be sure you didn’t hit your head,” Nate laughs.
“No, but seriously, what are you doing here? I thought you had practice at this time.”
“Bryan let me go early. I wasn’t in the best shape today,” Nate says, grimacing. “I’m under strict orders to get my shit together by tomorrow.”
“You’d better. At least now you have one competitor less to worry about.”
“Don’t say that!” Nate exclaims.
“I’m just kidding. You know I’m still going to kick your sorry ass next year.”
“In your dreams.” It’s easy, trading barbs with Brad like this. They fall into a pattern and for a moment it feels like nothing has changed. It’s almost enough for Nate to believe that maybe it really hasn’t.
---
“And you’re supposed to use those damn crutches, not stick them into your closet the moment you’re home. Colbert, are you even listening to me?” Doctor Tim Bryan pauses his lecture to frown at Brad.
“Yes, I’m listening,” Brad tells him, looking down at his leg. His knee itches like a motherfucker.
“You’re going to seriously fuck it up if you don’t follow the rehab plan, so just try to act like a sensible person, if you’re capable of it.”
“Yes, I know,” Brad says impatiently. “We went over this already.”
“I’m just trying to make sure it actually got through to you.”
“It did.”
“Fine. You’re free to go then.”
Brad hauls himself to his feet. His mom is coming to pick him up, so at least he won’t have to bother with taking the subway.
His building has an elevator, but he refuses to use it and takes the stairs. His arms hurt when he finally stops at the fourth floor. Suddenly, he envies the pairs skaters and that’s definitely not the right train of thought.
Eloise runs to him when he opens the door and wrestles his bag through it. He refused his mom’s offer to help him and she stared at him disapprovingly, but didn’t argue too much - he’ll probably have to call her later.
He bends down to pet the cat, but she hisses at him when she sees his leg and backs up slowly. Funny, that’s how she reacted to Nate when he first came here.
Huh, that’s a weird thought, the last time Nate was here was over a year ago. Maybe he did hit his head after all.
---
from: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
to: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 3:47 PM
subject: congratulations
Saw Skate Canada. Nice skate. Guess that means GPF for you?
PS: Interesting choice of email address.
___
from: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
to: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:10 PM
subject: re: congratulations
Thanks, yeah, just got the official confirmation. But I’m not thinking about skating today, so please stop talking about it.
PS: Fuck off, I’ve had this email since junior high. You can’t blame the 13 year old me.
___
from: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
to: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:16 PM
subject: just curious
Didn’t you mean “fick off”?
___
from: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
to: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:24 PM
subject: re: just curious
I won’t even deign to reply to that.
___
from: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
to: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:27 PM
subject: re: re: just curious
I have your email sitting in my inbox - with a subject “RE: just curious”, I might add - so I think you’ve just contradicted yourself.
___
from: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
to: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:35 PM
subject: you think you’re funny
…but you really are not.
How are you?
___
from: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
to: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:37 PM
subject: I know I’m funny
I’m contemplating a career in running track and I’ve taken up mountain biking in my spare time. What do you think?
Also, I think my cat misses you.
___
from: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
to: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:41 PM
subject: [no subject]
The things your cat would miss about me the most are my ankles for her to scratch. And possibly my shoelaces.
Aw, was that your clever way of admitting you miss me?
___
from: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
to: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
draft saved at: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:42 PM (13 minutes ago)
subject: re: [no subject]
You should come over when you’re back
from: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
to: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
draft saved at: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:45 PM (10 minutes ago)
subject: re: [no subject]
When are you coming back? We could grab coffee together
from: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
to: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
draft saved at: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:51 PM (4 minutes ago)
subject: re: [no subject]
yes
from: Brad Colbert (bcolbert@gmail.com)
to: Nate Fick (fickyeah@hotmail.com)
date: Sat, Nov 21, 2009 at 6:55 PM
subject: re: [no subject]
You wish.
---
Fick wins Nationals
Colbert still recovering from injury
By Ray Griego | Posted: Jan 21, 07:37p ET | Updated: Jan 21, 07:37p ET
After the most disappointing season in his career, Nate Fick returned to win gold at the National Championships. He performed two routines, which may not have been the most challenging on the technical side, but the judges seemed to like the artistic value. It seems that Fick is once again trying to live up to the image created during his junior years. The question is, how much of his success today was owed to the absence of competition?
The defending champion, Brad Colbert, was forced to withdraw after a knee injury at the beginning of the season. Colbert already won the Nationals twice and was hoping to repeat the achievement this year.
[click to read more]
Comments
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Dustin77 | yeah, I still call bullshit | +13
18 minutes ago
Fick’s junior years? How about senior national champion two years ago? Do your research, dude.
___
---
June 2010
Brad’s mom officially declares him an idiot -- not in those exact words, but the sense remains the same -- for ignoring his doctor’s orders, but Brad will go crazy if he has to rest even for one day longer. He knows the risk; he’ll take it easy at first.
At least that’s what he promises her on the phone.
His coach doesn’t object to him going back to the training. Not that Brad thought he would. According to Ferrando it takes more than a knee injury, even one demanding a surgery, to render the skater incapable of practicing.
Doc Bryan is the worst. Unlike Susan Colbert, he doesn’t mince his words and has no inhibitions against telling Brad exactly what he thinks about him. But Brad can be a stubborn motherfucker when he puts his mind to something and eventually the decision is made in his favor.
He tells Nate on the phone. Nate is silent for a moment, but eventually sighs and says he hopes that Brad knows what he’s doing. He sounds concerned and Brad finds himself reassuring him that it’s going to be be all right, he’s ready for it.
“Fine. When you need me to bring you painkillers just let me know, I’m here for you,” Nate says. It’s probably meant to be a joke, but somehow it doesn’t come out quite that way.
“Sure,” Brad replies and hangs up.
It feels good to be back on the ice after so much time. No, that’s not true - it feels fucking fantastic.
---
July 2010
Something falls down with a heavy thud in the locker room. Nate peers around the edge of the doorframe, unsure if he should come in.
Brad is sitting on the floor, his eyes squeezed shut. It’s clear the he’s hurting and Nate hates the fact that there’s nothing he can do to help him.
“Don’t just stand there, come in and close the fucking door,” Brad snaps.
“It’s your leg again, isn’t it?” Nate says. He continues when Brad doesn’t answer. “I really think you should talk to someone about it.”
Brad ignores him, and starts gathering his things, throwing them carelessly in his duffel bag.
“Brad,” Nate sighs. “Stop ignoring me, please.”
“Well, what the fuck do you want me to do?” Brad snaps. “Stop skating and wallow in misery because my knee hurts from time to time?”
“It’s not just from time to time, Brad! I have eyes, I see you after practice every day. You’re pushing yourself too hard and you’re just going to make this worse, you know it.”
Brad drops his bag and advances on Nate, backing him towards the wall.
“So what, you want me to quit? Right, maybe then you wouldn’t have to worry about competition anymore, is that it? News flash for you, that’s not happening.”
Nate staggers back as if Brad actually shoved him and his back hits the wall. He wants to say something, but the words are stuck in his throat. He can’t, Brad would never - not Brad.
Eventually he feels anger replace the hurt and straightens up, pushing Brad back and speaking in fast sentences. He doesn’t raise his voice, because he’s not sure what he would do if he lost control now.
“Is it so hard to understand that I don’t want to see you hurt? That I might actually fucking care?” Brad doesn’t answer, so Nate says, “You know what, it doesn’t matter.”
He strides to his locker and throws his things in haphazardly, kicking his shoes off and pulling on his skates. He doesn’t look up when Brad exits the room, the doors closing after him with a soft click.
They barely talk to each other during the following week, save for a terse hello when they happen to pass by each other in the hallway. If Nate were honest he’d be forced to admit he was trying to avoid Brad and Brad made it easier by avoiding Nate in turn.
He supposes they’re being childish, giving each other silent treatment instead of talking about it, but he can’t help feeling a little pang of hurt whenever he thinks about Brad’s words.
It lasts about a week, during which Nate gets so tired of the situation that he starts looking for a way to end it, for something to do or say. An opportunity happens when he meets Brad in the locker room again. It feels like going back in time. He wants it to go differently this time.
Brad sits on a bench, stretching his leg out in front of himself with a barely visible wince. He hasn’t noticed Nate yet.
Nate turns around quietly and exits the room. They keep ice packs in a freezer near the locker room for unfortunate accidents. He grabs one and doubles back to the room.
“Hey, catch,” he says quietly. Brad looks up and grabs the cold packet reflexively, pressing it to his knee.
“Thanks,” he answers. He looks unsure of what to say next, so Nate smiles tentatively and shrugs his shoulders.
“You’re welcome,” says Nate. Brad looks relieved and Nate realizes that maybe he’s been as tired with their argument as Nate has.
“Look, Nate,” Brad begins when Nate approaches his own locker and starts changing into his practice clothes. “I’m sorry for what I said last week. It was unfair and I shouldn’t have done it, so.”
“Hey, it’s all right,” Nate tells him. He takes off his shirt and bends down to pick a new one, a plain black t-shirt. Brad’s eyes rest on his chest maybe just a little longer than is considered polite and he turns his head, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. You were right, it was none of my business,” Nate continues.
“It’s nice,” Brad says abruptly. “To know that you care,” he explains at Nate’s puzzled look.
“Oh. Okay. Is it - are we all right now?” Nate asks hopefully.
“Yes. Yeah, we’re all right,” Brad says with a small smile.
---
Brad likes skating at the empty rink, when the lights are dimmed and he’s alone with his thoughts. His coach left some time ago, treating him with another motivational speech at the end. Brad is in a good mood - he’s going back to form, slowly, but steadily, and his leg feels fine today.
He senses somebody watching him and sure enough, Nate is there, leaning against the boards and observing him with a small smile.
“Hi,” he says when he sees Brad looking at him.
“Hi yourself,” Brad replies, skating closer. “What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t have practice today.”
“I don’t. But the rink was supposed to be empty right now, so I could ask you the same question.”
“It’s peaceful here,” Brad says, shrugging. “Or was, until you showed up.”
“Very funny,” Nate tells him, elbowing him in the side playfully. “Well, since I already interrupted your peace and quiet, mind if I join you?”
“Oh, if you must…” Brad answers mock-sufferingly.
Nate just rolls his eyes and steps onto the ice. He glides across the rink to stand in the middle. His moves look so smooth and effortless that Brad almost envies him sometimes - it looks like it comes so naturally to him, like he can forget about endless hours of practicing every single element to look just right. He takes the whole frustration and pain out of it and makes it into something beautiful.
Wow. Brad really has it bad.
Nate picks up speed and launches himself into a huge jump, landing steadily on one foot. He grins triumphantly and skates up to Brad.
“Come on, skate with me,” he says, still smiling.
“Seriously?” Brad raises his eyebrows. “What now, are you considering a career in pairs skating? I wouldn’t mind though, less competition for me,” he says. Nate thwacks him on the arm.
“Hilarious, Brad. Yes, I’m serious, now come on,” he laughs. Brad lets him take his hand and drag him to the middle of the ice.
“I’m not doing a throw jump with you, don’t even think about it. Also, you’re the flower.”
Nate doesn’t answer, just takes both of Brad’s hands and starts skating backwards, slowly at first, but then picking up speed. They move around the rink just holding hands and it’s really so stupid, like they’re small children, and it’s fun.
Brad stops in one place, forcing Nate to move in circle around him. Nate catches on immediately and lets go of one of Brad’s hands. It’s like the most half-assed attempt at a death spiral ever and Nate ends up on his ass quick enough. They both start laughing at the same moment.
“I’ll have you know, I’m awesome at pairs skating,” Nate says, getting up and brushing ice shavings from his pants.
“Right, I’m sure you’re going to win gold next year,” Brad tells him.
“I am!” Nate confirms. “I’m glad you agree.” He’s still smiling and Brad realizes what he just said.
“Oh no, you don’t. I’m going to kick your ass during the Nationals, you know it.”
“Too late, Colbert! You already admitted I’m the best.” Nate skates off to the exit and Brad speeds up to catch up with him. They race each other to the rink boundary and they get there at the same time. Nate turns around, starting to say something, but he trips on the uneven ice surface near the board. He stumbles backwards and Brad catches him around the waist. He doesn’t let go immediately, just looks at him and Nate’s lips are parted and Brad can feel his quick breath on his face, so he just kisses him.
---
Brad is kissing him and holy shit, Brad is kissing him and for a while that is the only coherent thought Nate can manage.
He raises his hands and grips Brad's forearms, kissing him back. It's messy and rushed, even frantic, and maybe it’s not the best kiss Nate could imagine, but it still feels kind of perfect. Nate fervently hopes they will have time to practice.
Nate groans and lets his head fall back when he feels Brad’s thigh sliding between his own legs. His fingers touch Brad’s abdomen lightly and he can feel the firm muscles flexing under his palm. He could move his hand just a few inches lower and - yeah, it’s too soon, they’re not at that point yet, but maybe - maybe someday they will be.
“Brad,” he gasps, pulling away to catch his breath.
“Fuck, Nate,” Brad pants, grabbing his hips and pulling him even closer. “Do you know how long I wanted --”
“No, wait, wait!” Nate turns away and squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t think with Brad pressed against him like that and he desperately needs to clear his head. Brad grunts, pressing his lips to the side of Nate’s neck, but Nate pushes him back.
“No, wait, I’m serious,” he says, stepping away. “It’s just --” he pauses and takes a deep breath, looking Brad straight in the eyes. “Are you sure? Because I can't do this if you’re not sure.”
Brad looks at him and cups his cheek gently. Nate closes his eyes and slowly breathes out.
“I don’t want to act as if nothing happened,” he tells Brad quietly.
“Yeah, I know,” Brad answers. They are both silent for a moment and eventually Brad admits, “I want this - us - to work out, too.”
Nate smiles, relieved, and tangles his fingers in Brad’s shirt.
“Okay,” he says quietly. He pulls Brad closer and rests his forehead against Brad’s. They stay like that for a while, unmoving. The only sound he can hear is their breathing.
“I’ll still be competing. You know this,” Brad says after a moment.
“I know. I know it won’t be easy.” Nate looks up at him. “But we’ll figure it out, right?”
Brad kisses him slowly in answer and thinks that they really will.
-end
---
...except that it doesn’t really end there
January 2011
“We’re here with Nate Fick, two times national champion and all that. Nate totally kicked ass, ow, Walt, what was that for?” Ray winces, rubbing his shin.
“Ray, please, just try to remember that you're on national TV,” Walt says, rolling his eyes. He seems like exactly Ray’s opposite and Nate really has no idea how they ended up being best friends. Maybe it’s true what they say about opposites attracting.
“Right, I’ll behave,” Ray says, turning back to the camera. He’s always like that, they all used to wonder how his boss puts up with him, but apparently Ray’s commentaries get the best ratings, so nobody really minds. “So Nate was awesome last year and now he’s defending the title. What are your feelings before the short program?”
“Thanks, Ray. I’m fine,” Nate says.
“What, and that’s it? Come on, aren’t you nervous?”
“I think I’m saving the nerves for after the skate,” he laughs.
“Oh, fine. So, Brad Colbert is back to the competition,” Ray announces, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Yes, I’m aware of this,” Nate replies impassively. “I even saw him at the rink today.”
“Well, do you think he’s got a shot at the medal this season?”
“Why not? He’s always been a great skater and he’s back to form. Anything can happen. And we’re probably going to celebrate either way,” he says, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.
Ray looks at him with wide eyes. “Did you just seriously --”
“What? I didn’t say anything. We spend a lot of time together at the rink and we have a great relationship. As friends.”
---
“Seriously?” Brad asks him the minute the doors close after him. “Did you seriously just out us on national TV?”
“I did no such thing. You shouldn’t over-interpret things you hear,” Nate says dryly, coming closer and wrapping his arms around Brad’s waist. “Did you mind?” he asks a moment later.
“No,” Brad tells him. “Do you know you’re trending on Twitter?”
“Really? Wait, since when do you know what’s trending on Twitter?”
“Since Ray saw it fit to inform me. Repeatedly. You don’t want to see my inbox right now.”
Nate sits on the couch (it’s still as comfortable as it was three years ago) and picks up Brad’s laptop from the coffee table. Eloise the cat hops onto his lap and purrs happily.
That figuring it out thing? Turns out they’re pretty good at it.
---
twirlsntwizzles heeeee, fick for the win! #fickmeitsgood
4 minutes ago via web
ninjasareawesome omg they’re gonna get married and have little ice babies together #fickmeitsgood
2 minutes ago via TweetDeck
twirlsntwizzles @ninjasareawesome geez, dude, that was a disturbing mental image
1 minute ago via web in reply to ninjasareawesome
pooky oh my god, fick actually pulled an eisenberg on national TV #fickmeitsgood
half a minute ago via web
kilts_on_ice @ninjasareawesome NOW THERE’S TWO LESS LONELY PEOPLE IN THE WORLD TONIGHT
20 seconds ago via web in reply to ninjasareawesome
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