The Plan for a_nice_reminder
Author: walover165
Title: The Plan
Recipient: a_nice_reminder
Skaters/Pairings: Johnny Weir/Stéphane Lambiel, Galina, Viktor Petrenko
Rating: possibly a light R for some situations
Wordcount: 4, 341
Warnings: None
Prompt: 1. As Johnny's body is wearing down but he doggedly continues to compete, Galina enlists the retired Stephane to choreograph for him (and hopefully give Johnny incentive to retire and spend his time on a ~relationship~ instead)
Disclaimer: The events portrayed in this story are fictional and do not reflect on the actual people written about.
A/N: I’d like to apologise in advance to my recipient, as I changed my mind on the prompt about three times before I was finally able to write one. I hope it’s what you wanted.
Summary: Galina and Viktor decide that they need to take desperate measures to convince Johnny to retire.
Galina and Viktor stood side-by-side, watching Johnny skate his warm-up laps.
It was obvious that Johnny was no longer fit to skate competitively. The horrible fall he’d taken during the group finale at Medallists on Ice during the off-season was still having an effect on him now. His hip was stiff and his leg barely moveable.
Galina and Viktor had both subtly dropped hints that now was a great time to retire, now, when he was a World Champion. But Johnny had refused and was burning to go on. He didn’t want people saying his championship was lucky. He didn’t want people saying that the only reason he won was because Lysacek had retired and Plushenko was suspended. He wanted to win again in his own right.
Galina watched Johnny intently as he started a series of single axels. His landings were slightly awkward and off. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Viktor flinching with every landing. Johnny might make it through this season, but he was certainly dreaming if he was thinking of going on to Sochi. But this season could come at a terrible cost to his body if they weren’t careful.
Johnny kept insisting on a full Soviet-style regime; punishing training day in, day out, six days a week. The new programs were slowly starting to come together. But Galina watched him skate and knew that he couldn’t go on, that he should have retired at the end of last season.
They watched as Johnny fell off a lutz. Galina nudged Viktor, who was already moving, skating steadily across to Johnny to help him up and point out the error that Johnny had made.
Galina watched the two men in her life interact and frowned. Viktor was lucky. He had escaped his amateur career with no serious injury, and had no injury to bother him in shows, in practice. Of course, he suffered from pain in his hips and knees - all skaters did. But Johnny…Johnny wasn’t going to be so lucky. He hadn’t had too many big injuries, but the hip one was going to take a long time to heal properly.
Galina made an annoyed clucking sound with her tongue. Johnny was being very stupid. She’d have to come up with some kind of plan.
*
Later that night she sat in the study of the home Viktor shared with her daughter, Nina. Viktor came in and closed the door, bringing red wine for Galina and cognac for himself as they sat down to have a serious discussion about Johnny.
“He’s going to do himself a serious injury if he’s not careful,” Galina shook her head. Viktor scowled into his cognac.
“Worse, it’ll be a permanent one,” he growled. “I don’t want to see him like Yagudin, a hip replacement that young.”
“Have you talked to him?” Galina’s voice was sharp.
Viktor snorted. “I’ve tried everything,” he replied. “I’ve tried hints, I’ve tried openly talking about it, I’ve tried threats and bribes and even my most sickly sweet cajoling tone.” Viktor wrinkled his nose. “Short of sleeping with him, there’s not much else I can try, and I don’t think even that would work.”
Galina’s eyes narrowed.
“That might be the answer to our problems.”
Before Viktor had the chance to ask, they were interrupted by his wife.
“All right in here mama, sweetheart?” Nina stuck her head in the door, smiling. “Why the long faces?”
“Just talking business, honey,” Viktor answered, and Nina left.
“Exactly.” Galina looked triumphant.
“What?” Viktor was confused. “What are you talking about?”
“When you married Nina,” Galina explained, “You lost something. You lost some of that spark.” At Viktor’s indignant look she added, “You could still skate as well as ever, but you weren’t the same as you were before.”
Viktor thought about it for a moment.
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Yeah, I guess I did…what are you thinking?”
“Perhaps,” Galina said with a grin, “Perhaps it is time for Johnnik to get married.”
The corner of Viktor’s mouth lifted in a wry grin. “How do you mean, Galina?”
“I mean, let us find him a partner. Let’s encourage him to date. Let’s get him to have something to focus on other than his skating…”
Viktor’s eyes lit up and he laughed and laughed.
“Genius,” he grinned at Galina. “Absolute genius. But the question is, who?”
Galina looked stumped. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It has to be someone that Johnny already knows and trusts. Someone that we already trust.”
They both fell silent.
“We could try that Meekins fellow,” Viktor suggested. “Didn’t Johnny used to go out with him?”
“I do not think that’s such a good idea. We want something that’s likely to last.”
Viktor and Galina sat for while, deep in thought, until their glasses were empty.
“We shall sleep on it,” Galina announced after a while. “Even if we do find a boy for him very soon, it is unlikely that he will retire before the season.”
Viktor hummed his agreement and said his goodnight.
Galina left, and Viktor turned to his laptop, powering it up. He was warm, sleepy, and the cognac was making him feel good, so he decided to investigate that strange place his daughter had discovered some more.
The fans here were a little bit crazy - okay, they were a lot crazy - but their community had been humming through Viktor’s mind since Galina had suggested hooking Johnny up with someone. They both knew it had to be a fellow skater, but the question was, who?
Humming Johnny’s program music under his breath, Viktor scrolled down the page, eyeing it carefully.
Swangoose - Evan/Johnny. No way, not Lysacek. Lysacek would sooner break Johnny’s heart than mend it, and while Galina and Viktor wanted Johnny to retire, they couldn’t let it happen like that.
Johnny/Plushy. What? Viktor got a giggle out of that one. Although he could picture it in his mind’s eye, and it wasn’t an unpleasant image. Still, bedroom adventures or not, Zhenya was off the market for a permanent relationship. He emailed the link to Yana.
Johnny/Drew. But they’d already decided that wouldn’t work. Johnny needed a fresh start, not an attempt at mending a relationship that had already gone sour.
Johnny/Brian. Viktor stuffed his fist in his mouth to stop himself laughing. That boy was in denial about his sexuality in the first place, as if he’d agree to hook up with Johnny!
Johnny/Viktor/Nina. This time Viktor choked on his cognac and spent five minutes coughing before he could see straight. It didn’t help that he also had to spend another five minutes imagining the most disgusting things possible to get the rather nice mental images out of his head.
Johnny/Adam. Okay, these were plain getting ridiculous. Viktor scrolled aimlessly down the page and was just about to exit it when a name caught his eye as he hummed the difficult section of Johnny’s long music.
Zebraswan - Johnny/Stéphane.
Almost at once Viktor scrabbled for his mobile and called Galina, praying that she wasn’t driving and was able to pick up.
“Da?”
“What about Stéphane?”
“What?”
“Stéphane!” Viktor said breathlessly down the line. “Stéphane Lambiel! Johnny knows him, trusts him and I always thought there was something there. Stéphane’s choreographing now, we could bring him in under that pretence!”
There was a moment’s silence, then Galina said tersely, “That’s my boy. Call him.”
They hung up and Viktor quickly did the time-change math. It was too early to call him in Europe. Could he email him? No, better to call him.
Viktor grinned and poured himself another cognac as he settled in to wait.
*
About a week later, Viktor was trying to help Johnny fix his lutz when one of the rink doors opened and Stéphane waltzed through.
(Viktor did a mental victory dance at the sight of Johnny’s slightly stunned expression).
Stéphane sat down and laced up his skates with the same ease that he had done for years before his retirement, before stepping out onto the ice beside Galina.
Viktor turned to Johnny to tell him to go over but Johnny hadn’t even waited for Viktor’s permission, skating straight over. Viktor felt pleased with himself as he watched the two of them chatting happily.
“It’s been too long, Stéphane!”
“I know, I know!” Stéphane beamed at him. “So when Viktor call me and say you are looking for choreographer, I say yes straightaway!”
Johnny half-glanced at Viktor but didn’t say anything; Viktor was very glad because he’s always been a bad liar.
Galina stepped forward and cleared her throat. “Now, you listen the music, see what Johnnik has already, and see what needs doing.” She took another step and slipped, crashing straight into Johnny. Viktor caught her and stood her up again and they both looked up to see that Johnny had been sent flying into Stéphane.
The two men were blushing very slightly and giggling breathlessly as they pulled apart.
“You all right, Galina?”
“Da, da,” she answered briskly. “Go on, Johnnik.” She and Viktor exchanged quick winks.
Johnny skated off, with Stéphane’s eyes fixed on him.
*
That evening, Galina suggested that they all go to dinner to discuss Johnny’s choreography, and the direction it was going. However, no sooner had they got into the carpark of the rink than Viktor checked his phone and said rather forlornly that it appeared that both Victoria and Nina were sick, so he was needed at home. Galina pronounced that she would help him, and so Stéphane and Johnny were left standing in the carpark together.
“I…I suppose we could still have dinner,” Johnny shrugged with an attempt at nonchalance. “Besides, if we discuss the choreography without them, they can’t veto it until they see how it looks.”
Stéphane beamed again. “That sounds like an excellent idea! Where is a good place for dinner? I am starving!”
Johnny took him to a small café that he frequented regularly. The waitress recognised both Johnny and Stéphane and got them a small table in the corner, away from any prying eyes.
Johnny watched with envy as Stéphane tucked into a steak with some chips.
“I hate you,” he told Stéphane forlornly. “Do you realise how many calories are in that? I’d have to do another weeks’ worth of workouts just to get rid of it!”
Stéphane smiled widely and speared a chip on his fork, extending it to Johnny.
“No way!”
“You worry too much about your weight, Johnny,” Stéphane said cheerfully. Inside, he was closely inspecting Johnny’s body. Johnny looked thin and gaunt, and in pain. A single chip would not even come close to getting Johnny back to a proper Johnny weight, but it was worth a try just to get Johnny to eat it. He noticed that Johnny was picking very sparsely at his salad.
Johnny sighed and looked at the grin on Stéphane’s face and the chip - possibly the largest one on the plate - hovering in front of his mouth. When Stéphane had that look in his eye, he always ended up getting what he wanted. Johnny decided that it wasn’t worth fighting. Best get it over with.
He leaned forward slightly and parted his lips, surprised when Stéphane moved the fork so that the chip slid into his mouth slowly. Johnny met Stéphane’s gaze and was a little surprised to see that Stéphane was blushing.
He couldn’t possibly be thinking about…
No. He’s your friend. Your very best friend. You can’t ruin that.
Stéphane watched Johnny take the chip off his fork with a sensual flick of his tongue and chew it slowly. He tried to tell himself that he was only watching so intently to make sure Johnny actually ate the chip, but unfortunately his heart knew better. For so long now he’d waited, and he finally had what he wanted just an arm’s length away.
But now there was also the problem of their professional relationship, and suddenly Stéphane regretted accepting Viktor’s offer to be Johnny’s choreographer.
*
The new choreography was coming together quite well. Johnny and Stéphane had worked together in a skating sense before, so this wasn’t really much different with the occasional interruption of Galina shouting, “Do not like” and Viktor suggesting points-heavy alternatives.
Johnny had a lot of trouble with one particular part of his straight-line sequence. It required a lot of very fast footwork on his toepicks, en pointe like a ballerina, but Johnny just couldn’t balance on his toepicks and do the steps at the same time. No matter how many times Stéphane showed it to Johnny, he just couldn’t get it.
“Do it with him, show him,” Galina called out, and Stéphane stood next to Johnny and, very gently and shyly, put his hands on Johnny’s waist. He gently helped Johnny rise onto his toepicks and then they began the sequence at a slower pace than usual.
Johnny found himself enjoying the feel of Stéphane’s hands at his waist, the soft puffs of his breaths beside him, warm in the coolness of the rink. Stéphane was always gentle with him, handling him like he was an ancient matryoshka doll, completely fragile and breakable. When Stéphane held him, it was as though the world had stopped for the Swiss man and existed only in this moment, holding Johnny’s waist through the choreography.
Oh, stop it, Johnny. You’re getting sentimental and sappy and over-hopeful in your old age. He doesn’t think of you that way.
Stéphane beamed at him when they reached the end of the sequence.
“I think you have it, Johnny! Do it again, so I can see!”
Johnny went back and started again, and Galina and Viktor watched with knowing smiles as Johnny danced across the ice towards Stéphane.
*
By the time the season rolled towards the start, Johnny and Stéphane were practically inseparable, and Galina and Viktor had used every method they could think of to hook them up. Galina “accidentally” locked them in the change-rooms together (she was quite miffed when this didn’t work: “It always worked with others, especially you, Viktor”). Viktor had tried to get them both drunk at his house one night (unfortunately Stéphane could hold his liquor better than Johnny, and if anything, alcohol only made Stéphane more gentlemanly). Both had pushed them together (literally), made up excuses so that the two of them would have dinner together, sat them next to each other whenever they carpooled or caught a plane, even dropped outright hints.
But for all this, Stéphane and Johnny appeared to be good friends and good friends only, and Galina and Viktor were starting to despair.
Still, there was nothing for it. Galina’s rules had been in place for as long as she’d been coaching, and she wasn’t about to break them now just because she wanted Johnny to retire.
“Your sex ban is starting,” she told him imperiously one morning. “From tomorrow, no more sex for the rest of season. Save your strength.”
Johnny’s face fell comically as it always did when Galina made this announcement. But Galina noted with interest that Stéphane’s face had fallen slightly too.
With that in mind, she idly suggested dinner for the two of them “to make sure Johnnik does not get into trouble on his last night of freedom.”
The swiftness of the acceptance made Galina rethink her despair.
*
Johnny was nervous when he opened the door to Stéphane that evening.
He tried to tell himself that this was no different to the dozens of other dinners he and Stéphane had had through the pre-season, of which there had been surprisingly a lot. He tried to forget that this would be the last night he was allowed to have sex for the rest of the season.
But when Stéphane showed up on his doorstep in a beautiful soft purple shirt with the top two buttons undone and carrying a little bunch of flower-shaped washcloths, well…
Johnny was only human, after all.
And Stéphane was so nice. He was sweet-tempered most of the time, and although he had his diva bitch moments, who didn’t? Johnny had seen practically every skater on the circuit have a diva bitch moment, from Plushenko to Lysacek, so nothing really surprised him. And Stéphane was very romantic. He liked to spoil Johnny even though they were just friends, so Johnny could only imagine what it would be like if they were together.
Stéphane knew him inside out, and Johnny knew Stéphane the same way.
This wasn’t the same as with Drew. With Drew it had been the wildly beating hearts, the falling headfirst, the learning about each other after they got together. No, this was different - the slow, cautious build-up, the tentative feeling out of each other, the way they shared little pieces of information at a time until they finally, finally got to this point.
Dinner was very quiet. Johnny was working up the nerve to give Stéphane his heart, and Stéphane was wondering why the normally bubbly and chatty Johnny was so dull tonight. Both, rather wildly, ended up blaming the dinner. Salad was not conducive to good conversation.
Johnny wasn’t quite sure what happened after that. He was reasonably certain that they had bumped at some point while doing the dishes, and he definitely knew that Stéphane had kissed him and then lifted him to take him into the bedroom. The kiss wasn’t something he was likely to forget in a hurry.
Stéphane had Johnny on the bed and was unbuttoning his shirt. Johnny looked up at Stéphane’s face, feeling incredibly nervous, but at the same time, he’d never felt so safe. He took a deep breath, and dropped his barriers, allowing Stéphane into the space occupied by his fragile heart.
Stéphane managed to get Johnny’s shirt off and began kissing along his collarbone. Johnny looked down and his gaze was met by Stéphane’s, warm, intense and caring. Smiling, Johnny pulled Stéphane closer, and closed his eyes, concentrating on just feeling.
*
Johnny woke up the next morning to the unfamiliar feel of someone lying in bed beside him. For half a second he wondered what was going on, and then he remembered. It was Stéphane beside him, and Johnny smiled to himself.
He slipped out of bed and quickly folded their clothes neatly and put them in the laundry basket. Then he slipped into the shower and started washing, singing happily to himself. Idly, he wondered if it was too soon to invite Stéphane to live with him. Probably.
When he got out of the shower, Stéphane was no longer in the bed. Johnny could hear noises from the kitchen, though, so he wasn’t worried. He quickly pulled on some clothes and headed towards the kitchen, a bright happy smile on his face. He felt good. And for the first time in months his hip wasn’t bothering him.
Stéphane was standing in the kitchen eating a bowl of muesli. He was dressed in his clothes from last night (which made Johnny wince) and was staring off into space.
“Good morning, kitten,” Johnny smiled, and kissed Stéphane’s cheek.
“Hm?” Stéphane looked at Johnny and bit his lip. “Johnny, I, ah…”
“Yes, kitten?” Johnny smiled wider and began to make himself breakfast.
“Johnny, this is not - how you say? Is not serious.”
Johnny dropped his spoon.
“W-what?” He whirled around to look at Stéphane, who at least had the grace to look ashamed.
“I mean, we have to work together. I am choreographer, you are skater, we have to have a professional relationship, no?”
Johnny felt the world tilting on its axis. The floor was rocking.
“And I like you Johnny, but not that way,” Stéphane added.
Johnny’s world went black.
*
When he came to, he found Stéphane crouched over him on the kitchen floor, his face pale as he shook Johnny’s shoulder.
“Johnny, Johnny…”
“Get away from me,” Johnny snarled, shoving Stéphane hard. He scrambled to his feet.
Stéphane stood up slowly. “Are you all right Johnny?”
“Don’t act all concerned,” Johnny snapped. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
“What is wrong?”
“Wrong? You have the nerve to ask me what’s wrong? I really thought we were going somewhere, Stéphane. I thought maybe we could have something more between us. Obviously I thought wrong. Now get the fuck out!”
Stéphane looked shocked, but did as Johnny asked and left without a backward glance.
Johnny sank to the floor again against his fridge, crying silently.
*
When Galina and Viktor first saw Johnny get out of the car, their first instinct was to grin and high-five each other. It was obvious to them both that Johnny had got laid last night, and since he’d been having Stéphane over for dinner, it must mean that they’d gotten together.
But the smiles were wiped off their faces when Johnny came out onto the ice.
His face was pale, and blotchy, half-hidden under some foundation. His eyes were red-rimmed.
He’d been crying.
But as soon as he’d warmed up he turned to Galina and said, “I think we should start off with some quads, don’t you? Let’s go.” And he’d turned and skated off into a crossover without waiting for her answer.
Nothing Galina or Viktor said or did made a difference. Johnny insisted on being trained twice as hard as he was before. Even when he fell on the quad, he just got back up and went to do it again. Even when Galina and Viktor suggested they take a break, Johnny just shook his head and kept practicing.
Galina and Viktor watched and looked at each other, each feeling guilty and unhappy.
Their plan hadn’t helped Johnny at all. In fact, it only appeared to have made his life worse.
*
Johnny was doing Cup of Russia and NHK Trophy again this year, and about a week before Russia his coaches had had enough.
Galina and Viktor sat him down in the locker room after practice.
“Johnnik, we need to make apology. We have done something to hurt you.”
Johnny waited, calm and steady.
“We think you need to retire,” Galina continued. “But you are not listening. So we make plan to get you boyfriend, make you want retirement.”
“We chose Stéphane because we thought he might be right for you,” Viktor said quietly.
“Did Stéphane know?” Johnny’s voice was too calm, too steady.
“No,” Galina answered.
“I see. Well, you chose wrong.” Again with the calmness. “Thankyou for telling me. I’m going to get back to the ice now.”
Galina and Viktor looked at each other in surprise and alarm. They had expected Johnny to throw a fit, to scream or yell, or even to just looked pissed off. But he hadn’t reacted at all.
“Johnnik,” Viktor called out and Johnny stopped and turned to face him. “Johnnik, I have to say - I would not have done this if I thought it wouldn’t work. I chose Stéphane because I thought - because to me it seemed - that you two loved each other already.”
Johnny went a little pale at that, but just nodded smoothly and walked out.
Viktor looked at his mother-in-law in despair.
“What have we done?”
*
If there was one Grand Prix that Johnny really, really wanted to win, it was Russia. But there was also another skater that always really, really wanted to win Russia too, and unfortunately for Johnny Evgeni Plushenko was the greatest skater alive, so Johnny had to be content with silver.
Everyone loved his new programs and even Zhenya, whose Baryshnikov program was already being hailed one of the best ever after just one performance, had said that he liked them. Zhenya had said a lot of other things too, most of them quite cross and protective at how tired and thin Johnny looked.
And that was how Johnny found himself sitting in Zhenya’s living room, a glass of vodka in his hands, bawling his eyes out and telling Zhenya the whole sorry tale.
At first, Evgeni had looked murderous, like he wasn’t sure who to kill first.
But when Johnny had finished his story, he looked far more relaxed and thoughtful.
“That’s not right,” Johnny told him indignantly. “You’re supposed to be flying into a platinum-level rage and threatening to castrate Stéphane with a quad.”
Evgeni laughed. “Not this time. Johnnik, maybe you should try again. I have talked to Stéphane and he told me he had done something stupid, but before now I didn’t know what. Now I do. Talk to him.”
“What else did he say?” Johnny asked, feeling stupidly hopeful, but Evgeni just laughed again, lifted his cat into his lap and started stroking it.
“Johnnik, my friend, you will have to find out yourself.”
*
Johnny stood outside Stéphane’s hotel room door and knocked.
When it opened, Johnny just stood there and looked at Stéphane, at the way he had bags under his eyes, at his messy hair and tired face.
Johnny wanted to step forward and kiss away the sleepiness. He wanted to run his fingers through that hair and smooth it out. But most of all, he wanted to step forward into Stéphane’s arms and never let go.
He stood there for so long staring that Stéphane murmured, in a nervous tone, “Please, please say something, Johnny.”
So Johnny said the first thing that came to his mind.
“I think,” he said slowly, “I think I’m going to retire.” He reached out to take Stéphane’s hand.
Stéphane looked up at him with a hopeful expression on his face, and Johnny smiled.
Retirement wouldn’t be so bad after all.
-END-
Title: The Plan
Recipient: a_nice_reminder
Skaters/Pairings: Johnny Weir/Stéphane Lambiel, Galina, Viktor Petrenko
Rating: possibly a light R for some situations
Wordcount: 4, 341
Warnings: None
Prompt: 1. As Johnny's body is wearing down but he doggedly continues to compete, Galina enlists the retired Stephane to choreograph for him (and hopefully give Johnny incentive to retire and spend his time on a ~relationship~ instead)
Disclaimer: The events portrayed in this story are fictional and do not reflect on the actual people written about.
A/N: I’d like to apologise in advance to my recipient, as I changed my mind on the prompt about three times before I was finally able to write one. I hope it’s what you wanted.
Summary: Galina and Viktor decide that they need to take desperate measures to convince Johnny to retire.
Galina and Viktor stood side-by-side, watching Johnny skate his warm-up laps.
It was obvious that Johnny was no longer fit to skate competitively. The horrible fall he’d taken during the group finale at Medallists on Ice during the off-season was still having an effect on him now. His hip was stiff and his leg barely moveable.
Galina and Viktor had both subtly dropped hints that now was a great time to retire, now, when he was a World Champion. But Johnny had refused and was burning to go on. He didn’t want people saying his championship was lucky. He didn’t want people saying that the only reason he won was because Lysacek had retired and Plushenko was suspended. He wanted to win again in his own right.
Galina watched Johnny intently as he started a series of single axels. His landings were slightly awkward and off. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Viktor flinching with every landing. Johnny might make it through this season, but he was certainly dreaming if he was thinking of going on to Sochi. But this season could come at a terrible cost to his body if they weren’t careful.
Johnny kept insisting on a full Soviet-style regime; punishing training day in, day out, six days a week. The new programs were slowly starting to come together. But Galina watched him skate and knew that he couldn’t go on, that he should have retired at the end of last season.
They watched as Johnny fell off a lutz. Galina nudged Viktor, who was already moving, skating steadily across to Johnny to help him up and point out the error that Johnny had made.
Galina watched the two men in her life interact and frowned. Viktor was lucky. He had escaped his amateur career with no serious injury, and had no injury to bother him in shows, in practice. Of course, he suffered from pain in his hips and knees - all skaters did. But Johnny…Johnny wasn’t going to be so lucky. He hadn’t had too many big injuries, but the hip one was going to take a long time to heal properly.
Galina made an annoyed clucking sound with her tongue. Johnny was being very stupid. She’d have to come up with some kind of plan.
*
Later that night she sat in the study of the home Viktor shared with her daughter, Nina. Viktor came in and closed the door, bringing red wine for Galina and cognac for himself as they sat down to have a serious discussion about Johnny.
“He’s going to do himself a serious injury if he’s not careful,” Galina shook her head. Viktor scowled into his cognac.
“Worse, it’ll be a permanent one,” he growled. “I don’t want to see him like Yagudin, a hip replacement that young.”
“Have you talked to him?” Galina’s voice was sharp.
Viktor snorted. “I’ve tried everything,” he replied. “I’ve tried hints, I’ve tried openly talking about it, I’ve tried threats and bribes and even my most sickly sweet cajoling tone.” Viktor wrinkled his nose. “Short of sleeping with him, there’s not much else I can try, and I don’t think even that would work.”
Galina’s eyes narrowed.
“That might be the answer to our problems.”
Before Viktor had the chance to ask, they were interrupted by his wife.
“All right in here mama, sweetheart?” Nina stuck her head in the door, smiling. “Why the long faces?”
“Just talking business, honey,” Viktor answered, and Nina left.
“Exactly.” Galina looked triumphant.
“What?” Viktor was confused. “What are you talking about?”
“When you married Nina,” Galina explained, “You lost something. You lost some of that spark.” At Viktor’s indignant look she added, “You could still skate as well as ever, but you weren’t the same as you were before.”
Viktor thought about it for a moment.
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Yeah, I guess I did…what are you thinking?”
“Perhaps,” Galina said with a grin, “Perhaps it is time for Johnnik to get married.”
The corner of Viktor’s mouth lifted in a wry grin. “How do you mean, Galina?”
“I mean, let us find him a partner. Let’s encourage him to date. Let’s get him to have something to focus on other than his skating…”
Viktor’s eyes lit up and he laughed and laughed.
“Genius,” he grinned at Galina. “Absolute genius. But the question is, who?”
Galina looked stumped. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It has to be someone that Johnny already knows and trusts. Someone that we already trust.”
They both fell silent.
“We could try that Meekins fellow,” Viktor suggested. “Didn’t Johnny used to go out with him?”
“I do not think that’s such a good idea. We want something that’s likely to last.”
Viktor and Galina sat for while, deep in thought, until their glasses were empty.
“We shall sleep on it,” Galina announced after a while. “Even if we do find a boy for him very soon, it is unlikely that he will retire before the season.”
Viktor hummed his agreement and said his goodnight.
Galina left, and Viktor turned to his laptop, powering it up. He was warm, sleepy, and the cognac was making him feel good, so he decided to investigate that strange place his daughter had discovered some more.
The fans here were a little bit crazy - okay, they were a lot crazy - but their community had been humming through Viktor’s mind since Galina had suggested hooking Johnny up with someone. They both knew it had to be a fellow skater, but the question was, who?
Humming Johnny’s program music under his breath, Viktor scrolled down the page, eyeing it carefully.
Swangoose - Evan/Johnny. No way, not Lysacek. Lysacek would sooner break Johnny’s heart than mend it, and while Galina and Viktor wanted Johnny to retire, they couldn’t let it happen like that.
Johnny/Plushy. What? Viktor got a giggle out of that one. Although he could picture it in his mind’s eye, and it wasn’t an unpleasant image. Still, bedroom adventures or not, Zhenya was off the market for a permanent relationship. He emailed the link to Yana.
Johnny/Drew. But they’d already decided that wouldn’t work. Johnny needed a fresh start, not an attempt at mending a relationship that had already gone sour.
Johnny/Brian. Viktor stuffed his fist in his mouth to stop himself laughing. That boy was in denial about his sexuality in the first place, as if he’d agree to hook up with Johnny!
Johnny/Viktor/Nina. This time Viktor choked on his cognac and spent five minutes coughing before he could see straight. It didn’t help that he also had to spend another five minutes imagining the most disgusting things possible to get the rather nice mental images out of his head.
Johnny/Adam. Okay, these were plain getting ridiculous. Viktor scrolled aimlessly down the page and was just about to exit it when a name caught his eye as he hummed the difficult section of Johnny’s long music.
Zebraswan - Johnny/Stéphane.
Almost at once Viktor scrabbled for his mobile and called Galina, praying that she wasn’t driving and was able to pick up.
“Da?”
“What about Stéphane?”
“What?”
“Stéphane!” Viktor said breathlessly down the line. “Stéphane Lambiel! Johnny knows him, trusts him and I always thought there was something there. Stéphane’s choreographing now, we could bring him in under that pretence!”
There was a moment’s silence, then Galina said tersely, “That’s my boy. Call him.”
They hung up and Viktor quickly did the time-change math. It was too early to call him in Europe. Could he email him? No, better to call him.
Viktor grinned and poured himself another cognac as he settled in to wait.
*
About a week later, Viktor was trying to help Johnny fix his lutz when one of the rink doors opened and Stéphane waltzed through.
(Viktor did a mental victory dance at the sight of Johnny’s slightly stunned expression).
Stéphane sat down and laced up his skates with the same ease that he had done for years before his retirement, before stepping out onto the ice beside Galina.
Viktor turned to Johnny to tell him to go over but Johnny hadn’t even waited for Viktor’s permission, skating straight over. Viktor felt pleased with himself as he watched the two of them chatting happily.
“It’s been too long, Stéphane!”
“I know, I know!” Stéphane beamed at him. “So when Viktor call me and say you are looking for choreographer, I say yes straightaway!”
Johnny half-glanced at Viktor but didn’t say anything; Viktor was very glad because he’s always been a bad liar.
Galina stepped forward and cleared her throat. “Now, you listen the music, see what Johnnik has already, and see what needs doing.” She took another step and slipped, crashing straight into Johnny. Viktor caught her and stood her up again and they both looked up to see that Johnny had been sent flying into Stéphane.
The two men were blushing very slightly and giggling breathlessly as they pulled apart.
“You all right, Galina?”
“Da, da,” she answered briskly. “Go on, Johnnik.” She and Viktor exchanged quick winks.
Johnny skated off, with Stéphane’s eyes fixed on him.
*
That evening, Galina suggested that they all go to dinner to discuss Johnny’s choreography, and the direction it was going. However, no sooner had they got into the carpark of the rink than Viktor checked his phone and said rather forlornly that it appeared that both Victoria and Nina were sick, so he was needed at home. Galina pronounced that she would help him, and so Stéphane and Johnny were left standing in the carpark together.
“I…I suppose we could still have dinner,” Johnny shrugged with an attempt at nonchalance. “Besides, if we discuss the choreography without them, they can’t veto it until they see how it looks.”
Stéphane beamed again. “That sounds like an excellent idea! Where is a good place for dinner? I am starving!”
Johnny took him to a small café that he frequented regularly. The waitress recognised both Johnny and Stéphane and got them a small table in the corner, away from any prying eyes.
Johnny watched with envy as Stéphane tucked into a steak with some chips.
“I hate you,” he told Stéphane forlornly. “Do you realise how many calories are in that? I’d have to do another weeks’ worth of workouts just to get rid of it!”
Stéphane smiled widely and speared a chip on his fork, extending it to Johnny.
“No way!”
“You worry too much about your weight, Johnny,” Stéphane said cheerfully. Inside, he was closely inspecting Johnny’s body. Johnny looked thin and gaunt, and in pain. A single chip would not even come close to getting Johnny back to a proper Johnny weight, but it was worth a try just to get Johnny to eat it. He noticed that Johnny was picking very sparsely at his salad.
Johnny sighed and looked at the grin on Stéphane’s face and the chip - possibly the largest one on the plate - hovering in front of his mouth. When Stéphane had that look in his eye, he always ended up getting what he wanted. Johnny decided that it wasn’t worth fighting. Best get it over with.
He leaned forward slightly and parted his lips, surprised when Stéphane moved the fork so that the chip slid into his mouth slowly. Johnny met Stéphane’s gaze and was a little surprised to see that Stéphane was blushing.
He couldn’t possibly be thinking about…
No. He’s your friend. Your very best friend. You can’t ruin that.
Stéphane watched Johnny take the chip off his fork with a sensual flick of his tongue and chew it slowly. He tried to tell himself that he was only watching so intently to make sure Johnny actually ate the chip, but unfortunately his heart knew better. For so long now he’d waited, and he finally had what he wanted just an arm’s length away.
But now there was also the problem of their professional relationship, and suddenly Stéphane regretted accepting Viktor’s offer to be Johnny’s choreographer.
*
The new choreography was coming together quite well. Johnny and Stéphane had worked together in a skating sense before, so this wasn’t really much different with the occasional interruption of Galina shouting, “Do not like” and Viktor suggesting points-heavy alternatives.
Johnny had a lot of trouble with one particular part of his straight-line sequence. It required a lot of very fast footwork on his toepicks, en pointe like a ballerina, but Johnny just couldn’t balance on his toepicks and do the steps at the same time. No matter how many times Stéphane showed it to Johnny, he just couldn’t get it.
“Do it with him, show him,” Galina called out, and Stéphane stood next to Johnny and, very gently and shyly, put his hands on Johnny’s waist. He gently helped Johnny rise onto his toepicks and then they began the sequence at a slower pace than usual.
Johnny found himself enjoying the feel of Stéphane’s hands at his waist, the soft puffs of his breaths beside him, warm in the coolness of the rink. Stéphane was always gentle with him, handling him like he was an ancient matryoshka doll, completely fragile and breakable. When Stéphane held him, it was as though the world had stopped for the Swiss man and existed only in this moment, holding Johnny’s waist through the choreography.
Oh, stop it, Johnny. You’re getting sentimental and sappy and over-hopeful in your old age. He doesn’t think of you that way.
Stéphane beamed at him when they reached the end of the sequence.
“I think you have it, Johnny! Do it again, so I can see!”
Johnny went back and started again, and Galina and Viktor watched with knowing smiles as Johnny danced across the ice towards Stéphane.
*
By the time the season rolled towards the start, Johnny and Stéphane were practically inseparable, and Galina and Viktor had used every method they could think of to hook them up. Galina “accidentally” locked them in the change-rooms together (she was quite miffed when this didn’t work: “It always worked with others, especially you, Viktor”). Viktor had tried to get them both drunk at his house one night (unfortunately Stéphane could hold his liquor better than Johnny, and if anything, alcohol only made Stéphane more gentlemanly). Both had pushed them together (literally), made up excuses so that the two of them would have dinner together, sat them next to each other whenever they carpooled or caught a plane, even dropped outright hints.
But for all this, Stéphane and Johnny appeared to be good friends and good friends only, and Galina and Viktor were starting to despair.
Still, there was nothing for it. Galina’s rules had been in place for as long as she’d been coaching, and she wasn’t about to break them now just because she wanted Johnny to retire.
“Your sex ban is starting,” she told him imperiously one morning. “From tomorrow, no more sex for the rest of season. Save your strength.”
Johnny’s face fell comically as it always did when Galina made this announcement. But Galina noted with interest that Stéphane’s face had fallen slightly too.
With that in mind, she idly suggested dinner for the two of them “to make sure Johnnik does not get into trouble on his last night of freedom.”
The swiftness of the acceptance made Galina rethink her despair.
*
Johnny was nervous when he opened the door to Stéphane that evening.
He tried to tell himself that this was no different to the dozens of other dinners he and Stéphane had had through the pre-season, of which there had been surprisingly a lot. He tried to forget that this would be the last night he was allowed to have sex for the rest of the season.
But when Stéphane showed up on his doorstep in a beautiful soft purple shirt with the top two buttons undone and carrying a little bunch of flower-shaped washcloths, well…
Johnny was only human, after all.
And Stéphane was so nice. He was sweet-tempered most of the time, and although he had his diva bitch moments, who didn’t? Johnny had seen practically every skater on the circuit have a diva bitch moment, from Plushenko to Lysacek, so nothing really surprised him. And Stéphane was very romantic. He liked to spoil Johnny even though they were just friends, so Johnny could only imagine what it would be like if they were together.
Stéphane knew him inside out, and Johnny knew Stéphane the same way.
This wasn’t the same as with Drew. With Drew it had been the wildly beating hearts, the falling headfirst, the learning about each other after they got together. No, this was different - the slow, cautious build-up, the tentative feeling out of each other, the way they shared little pieces of information at a time until they finally, finally got to this point.
Dinner was very quiet. Johnny was working up the nerve to give Stéphane his heart, and Stéphane was wondering why the normally bubbly and chatty Johnny was so dull tonight. Both, rather wildly, ended up blaming the dinner. Salad was not conducive to good conversation.
Johnny wasn’t quite sure what happened after that. He was reasonably certain that they had bumped at some point while doing the dishes, and he definitely knew that Stéphane had kissed him and then lifted him to take him into the bedroom. The kiss wasn’t something he was likely to forget in a hurry.
Stéphane had Johnny on the bed and was unbuttoning his shirt. Johnny looked up at Stéphane’s face, feeling incredibly nervous, but at the same time, he’d never felt so safe. He took a deep breath, and dropped his barriers, allowing Stéphane into the space occupied by his fragile heart.
Stéphane managed to get Johnny’s shirt off and began kissing along his collarbone. Johnny looked down and his gaze was met by Stéphane’s, warm, intense and caring. Smiling, Johnny pulled Stéphane closer, and closed his eyes, concentrating on just feeling.
*
Johnny woke up the next morning to the unfamiliar feel of someone lying in bed beside him. For half a second he wondered what was going on, and then he remembered. It was Stéphane beside him, and Johnny smiled to himself.
He slipped out of bed and quickly folded their clothes neatly and put them in the laundry basket. Then he slipped into the shower and started washing, singing happily to himself. Idly, he wondered if it was too soon to invite Stéphane to live with him. Probably.
When he got out of the shower, Stéphane was no longer in the bed. Johnny could hear noises from the kitchen, though, so he wasn’t worried. He quickly pulled on some clothes and headed towards the kitchen, a bright happy smile on his face. He felt good. And for the first time in months his hip wasn’t bothering him.
Stéphane was standing in the kitchen eating a bowl of muesli. He was dressed in his clothes from last night (which made Johnny wince) and was staring off into space.
“Good morning, kitten,” Johnny smiled, and kissed Stéphane’s cheek.
“Hm?” Stéphane looked at Johnny and bit his lip. “Johnny, I, ah…”
“Yes, kitten?” Johnny smiled wider and began to make himself breakfast.
“Johnny, this is not - how you say? Is not serious.”
Johnny dropped his spoon.
“W-what?” He whirled around to look at Stéphane, who at least had the grace to look ashamed.
“I mean, we have to work together. I am choreographer, you are skater, we have to have a professional relationship, no?”
Johnny felt the world tilting on its axis. The floor was rocking.
“And I like you Johnny, but not that way,” Stéphane added.
Johnny’s world went black.
*
When he came to, he found Stéphane crouched over him on the kitchen floor, his face pale as he shook Johnny’s shoulder.
“Johnny, Johnny…”
“Get away from me,” Johnny snarled, shoving Stéphane hard. He scrambled to his feet.
Stéphane stood up slowly. “Are you all right Johnny?”
“Don’t act all concerned,” Johnny snapped. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
“What is wrong?”
“Wrong? You have the nerve to ask me what’s wrong? I really thought we were going somewhere, Stéphane. I thought maybe we could have something more between us. Obviously I thought wrong. Now get the fuck out!”
Stéphane looked shocked, but did as Johnny asked and left without a backward glance.
Johnny sank to the floor again against his fridge, crying silently.
*
When Galina and Viktor first saw Johnny get out of the car, their first instinct was to grin and high-five each other. It was obvious to them both that Johnny had got laid last night, and since he’d been having Stéphane over for dinner, it must mean that they’d gotten together.
But the smiles were wiped off their faces when Johnny came out onto the ice.
His face was pale, and blotchy, half-hidden under some foundation. His eyes were red-rimmed.
He’d been crying.
But as soon as he’d warmed up he turned to Galina and said, “I think we should start off with some quads, don’t you? Let’s go.” And he’d turned and skated off into a crossover without waiting for her answer.
Nothing Galina or Viktor said or did made a difference. Johnny insisted on being trained twice as hard as he was before. Even when he fell on the quad, he just got back up and went to do it again. Even when Galina and Viktor suggested they take a break, Johnny just shook his head and kept practicing.
Galina and Viktor watched and looked at each other, each feeling guilty and unhappy.
Their plan hadn’t helped Johnny at all. In fact, it only appeared to have made his life worse.
*
Johnny was doing Cup of Russia and NHK Trophy again this year, and about a week before Russia his coaches had had enough.
Galina and Viktor sat him down in the locker room after practice.
“Johnnik, we need to make apology. We have done something to hurt you.”
Johnny waited, calm and steady.
“We think you need to retire,” Galina continued. “But you are not listening. So we make plan to get you boyfriend, make you want retirement.”
“We chose Stéphane because we thought he might be right for you,” Viktor said quietly.
“Did Stéphane know?” Johnny’s voice was too calm, too steady.
“No,” Galina answered.
“I see. Well, you chose wrong.” Again with the calmness. “Thankyou for telling me. I’m going to get back to the ice now.”
Galina and Viktor looked at each other in surprise and alarm. They had expected Johnny to throw a fit, to scream or yell, or even to just looked pissed off. But he hadn’t reacted at all.
“Johnnik,” Viktor called out and Johnny stopped and turned to face him. “Johnnik, I have to say - I would not have done this if I thought it wouldn’t work. I chose Stéphane because I thought - because to me it seemed - that you two loved each other already.”
Johnny went a little pale at that, but just nodded smoothly and walked out.
Viktor looked at his mother-in-law in despair.
“What have we done?”
*
If there was one Grand Prix that Johnny really, really wanted to win, it was Russia. But there was also another skater that always really, really wanted to win Russia too, and unfortunately for Johnny Evgeni Plushenko was the greatest skater alive, so Johnny had to be content with silver.
Everyone loved his new programs and even Zhenya, whose Baryshnikov program was already being hailed one of the best ever after just one performance, had said that he liked them. Zhenya had said a lot of other things too, most of them quite cross and protective at how tired and thin Johnny looked.
And that was how Johnny found himself sitting in Zhenya’s living room, a glass of vodka in his hands, bawling his eyes out and telling Zhenya the whole sorry tale.
At first, Evgeni had looked murderous, like he wasn’t sure who to kill first.
But when Johnny had finished his story, he looked far more relaxed and thoughtful.
“That’s not right,” Johnny told him indignantly. “You’re supposed to be flying into a platinum-level rage and threatening to castrate Stéphane with a quad.”
Evgeni laughed. “Not this time. Johnnik, maybe you should try again. I have talked to Stéphane and he told me he had done something stupid, but before now I didn’t know what. Now I do. Talk to him.”
“What else did he say?” Johnny asked, feeling stupidly hopeful, but Evgeni just laughed again, lifted his cat into his lap and started stroking it.
“Johnnik, my friend, you will have to find out yourself.”
*
Johnny stood outside Stéphane’s hotel room door and knocked.
When it opened, Johnny just stood there and looked at Stéphane, at the way he had bags under his eyes, at his messy hair and tired face.
Johnny wanted to step forward and kiss away the sleepiness. He wanted to run his fingers through that hair and smooth it out. But most of all, he wanted to step forward into Stéphane’s arms and never let go.
He stood there for so long staring that Stéphane murmured, in a nervous tone, “Please, please say something, Johnny.”
So Johnny said the first thing that came to his mind.
“I think,” he said slowly, “I think I’m going to retire.” He reached out to take Stéphane’s hand.
Stéphane looked up at him with a hopeful expression on his face, and Johnny smiled.
Retirement wouldn’t be so bad after all.
-END-