Our Sense of Direction for vandonovan
Author: nova33
Title: Our Sense of Direction
Recipient: vandonovan
Skaters/Pairings: Evan Lysacek/Stéphane Lambiel
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 4, 704
Warnings: None.
Prompt: Evan and Stéphane broing around, genuinely enjoying each other's company.
Disclaimer: The events portrayed in this story are fictional and do not reflect on the actual people written about.
A/N: Thanks to A for discussion and the beta, and for K for the last-minute beta and helpful suggestions. Title taken from Patrick Wolf’s “Get Lost.”
Summary: “I was hoping you might want to choreograph something for me,” Evan says, and holds in a breath as he waits for an answer, tapping his fingers on his thigh.
“Oh,” Stéphane says. “That is not what I expected.”
Evan’s had the number stored in his phone for years, ever since he’d sat down next to Stéphane on the bus and said jokingly, “Maybe one day you can choreograph something for me.”
And Stéphane had said, “If you would like, certainly,” with a wide smile on his face. He had clasped Evan’s hand between his and said, “It is my birthday promise to you.”
The phone rings and rings, and just when Evan’s starting to think he dialed the wrong number, “Allo?”
“Stéphane?” Evan says. He hates talking on the phone. He wishes he’d gotten someone else to do this for him, to talk to Stéphane’s people.
“Oui?” Stéphane doesn’t sound different at all, and it jars Evan a little. He wonders if he sounds any different; maybe just wearier.
“It’s Evan. Evan Lysacek.”
“Oh, hello!” Stéphane says, like he and Evan talk all the time. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” Evan says easily, sitting down on his bed and stretching out. “How about you?”
“Very good, very good,” Stéphane says, and he sounds a little distracted. There’s a clatter in the background and voices, muffled through the phone line.
“Am I interrupting something?” Evan asks. “I can call back another time.”
“No, no,” Stéphane says. “It is good to hear from you.” Stéphane sounds more genuine than Evan would be if an old acquaintance called him out of the blue. Evan would just be confused and probably come off rude as a result. “I am just with my family, enjoying the summer at home. It is very beautiful here.” Stéphane’s talked to Evan about his home before, Evan’s pretty sure, and even though he can’t remember the name of it, he remembers the fondness in Stéphane’s voice every time he discussed it. Evan has pride in where he comes from, but Stéphane mostly just has love.
“It’s really, really hot here,” Evan says, because he’s not sure what else to say. The weather always seems safe. “What are you up to these days?”
“I have choreographed here and there,” Stéphane says. “Sometimes I skate in shows all over, to keep in practice. It is not so easy, anymore.”
Evan can hear the smile in Stéphane’s voice and grins, thinking of Mirai giving him grief the last time they caught up. “It is definitely harder these days.”
“But I hear you are in the shows, still! Always skating,” Stéphane says, and Evan doesn’t think he’s imagining the wistful tone.
“Yeah,” Evan says. “That’s actually what I was calling you about.”
There’s a pause. “Yes?”
“I was hoping you might want to choreograph something for me,” Evan says, and holds in a breath as he waits for an answer, tapping his fingers on his thigh.
“Oh,” Stéphane says. “That is not what I expected.”
“You promised me,” Evan blurts out, and realizes how intense he sounds and laughs a little. “On my birthday, remember? A birthday promise, you said.”
“I remember, yes,” Stéphane says. “It would be lovely to choreograph for you, Evan. And a promise is a promise.”
“It’ll be great to see you again, Stéphane,” Evan says, and he really means it.
***
Stéphane arrives in LA on an unseasonably cool day, and he has a scarf wrapped around his neck and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head.
“Hey,” Evan says, raising one hand in a little half-wave and walking over to Stéphane. “How are you?”
Stéphane pulls him into a quick hug and squeezes, just quickly, and then pulls back. “Very well, though I do not like those plane trips very much. You would think I would be used to it by now, but no, I am not,” he says, shaking his head.
Evan laughs. “I never really liked flying.”
“It is very crowded,” Stéphane says, crinkling his nose up. “So many people and so much noise and people are very rude.”
“People are very rude,” Evan agrees, holding the door open for Stéphane as they walk out to the parking lot. He’s surprised at how easy conversation with Stéphane actually is. “Which hotel are you staying at?”
“I do not remember,” Stéphane says, sliding into the front seat. “But we can go to the rink first, now, and then find my hotel later.”
Evan sits down and starts the car. “You want to go to the rink? You just got off an international flight.”
“Just to watch you skate,” Stéphane says. “I have some ideas already, of course-”
“Of course,” Evan says, grinning, as they pull out of the parking lot.
“-but I would like to see your movement now. It has been a very long time since I saw you skate.”
“Yeah,” Evan says, and tries to remember the last time he saw Stéphane skate. “I saw you at that one show, the one you did with Johnny?”
“I have done very many shows with Johnny,” Stéphane says, looking sideways at Evan as he unwinds his scarf.
“You did some pairs stuff together, I think,” Evan says. “There may have been a Gaga vs Britney number.”
Stéphane laughs. “That was a very fun routine,” he says. “The whole show was good, I thought.”
“Yeah, it was,” Evan says, because it had been. He’d watched from the seats like any other spectator and had felt restless the whole time, wishing he was part of a show where everyone seemed to be having so much fun. “Were you and Johnny…?” Stéphane takes too long to answer, just looks at Evan, and he feels like he’s crossed a line. “Sorry, it’s not my business.”
“No, I am just surprised that you would ask,” Stéphane says, fluttering a hand in his direction. “Johnny and I are very good friends. We were then, also.”
“Okay,” Evan says, and keeps his eyes on the road.
“Were you and Johnny?” Stéphane says, trying to mimic Evan’s accent.
“What?” Evan exclaims, shocked. “No! Why would you - how could you possibly-”
“There was always very much tension between you,” Stéphane explains reasonably.
“Johnny wouldn’t have told you?” Evan asks, and feels like he’s composed himself enough that he can look over at Stéphane.
Stéphane shakes his head. “Do you think he would have?”
Evan thinks about it for a second. “No, probably not.”
“There,” Stéphane says. “Neither of us has slept with Johnny Weir. It is good to know.”
“Definitely,” Evan agrees, laughing.
They arrive at Evan’s rink and Stéphane rewraps his scarf as Evan digs his skates and a practice clothes out of the trunk. He hasn’t practiced in days, and he’s glad that Stéphane wanted to go to the rink; it’s been too long.
“I would like you to do very many jumps,” Stéphane says later, watching him from the bench, arms folded on the boards as he watches Evan skate.
“Okay,” Evan says, feeling loose-limbed and relaxed, panting slightly as he skates over to Stéphane. “Right now?”
Stéphane laughs and shakes his head. “No, no - for the routine! Many jumps, and perhaps I can teach you how to spin properly.”
“I spin just fine,” Evan says, and Stéphane shakes his head again.
“I will show you how it is really done.” Stéphane pats Evan’s arm. “Do not worry, there is hope for you yet.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Evan says sarcastically, and goes to skate a few more laps, finishing with a series of spins close to the boards. He throws his arms in the air and shoots Stéphane a triumphant look, but Stéphane just looks at him sadly, trying to hold back a smile.
“Yes, we have very many things to work on,” Stéphane says. “Now come, I am very tired and would like to sleep. And maybe later eat something. Tomorrow I will fix your many problems.”
***
“You should stay with me,” Evan says as they drive to Stéphane’s hotel.
“I have already booked my hotel for the whole time,” Stéphane says, tossing his hair out of his eyes and looking over at Evan.
“Well, afterwards, then,” Evan says.
“Do you think it will take you so long to learn the choreography?” Stéphane asks, arching an eyebrow.
“Probably,” Evan shrugs. “I’m not a very fast learner.”
Stéphane smiles at him. “Very well. Afterwards, then.”
***
They fall into a routine during the first week. In the morning Evan picks Stéphane up and they head to the rink, and Stéphane tries to get Evan to look more graceful and feel the music coming from his soul - or something like that - and Evan does everything Stéphane tells him and tries to make it work. He likes the routine a lot, actually, and he would think that Stéphane had found his true calling in choreography if it weren’t for the fact that even watching Stéphane skate idly around Evan’s rink in an old sweater and loose jeans is mesmerizing.
In the afternoon Evan shows Stéphane around LA. Mostly they just spend a lot of time at the beach, and Stéphane forces Evan to go swimming with him and participate in pickup games of volleyball. Stéphane isn’t particularly good at it, but he definitely enjoys throwing himself around in the sand.
On Friday afternoon Stéphane moves in to Evan’s apartment. “It is very clean,” Stéphane says, looking around, and Evan tries to see his apartment through Stéphane’s eyes. It seems very, very plain, all clean surfaces and stark colours. Evan isn’t really one for interior decorating, and he mostly likes having everything in its own place.
“Thanks,” Evan says, and then goes to make dinner as Stéphane unpacks. He’s grilling a couple of salmon fillets when Stéphane walks back into the kitchen, leaning against the island and watching Evan.
Stéphane says, “I believe you spend too much time alone, Evan.”
Evan turns the heat down and looks over his shoulder at Stéphane. “I do spend a lot of time alone,” he starts, not sure if he’s going to protest or explain, but Stéphane nods, cutting him off.
“You should have more fun, I think. Tonight we will go out dancing.”
“Stéphane,” Evan says, “I can’t really dance.”
“There was a television show, no? It was all about dancing!” Stéphane smiles reassuringly. “You were not so bad then.”
“Oh, not so bad,” Evan mutters, going to chop some broccoli. “I can drop you off somewhere, but I don’t think I’ll go out.”
“Evan,” Stéphane says seriously, “you must have more fun! What is your life? It is just skating, non?”
“Well, mostly,” Evan says, trying to think of other things he does. “I teach classes sometimes.”
“Sometimes,” Stéphane says, and he rolls his eyes pointedly.
“Fairly often,” Evan says weakly, but he gets the feeling he’s already lost. “I don’t even know where to go dancing.”
“I am sure we can find somewhere,” Stéphane says, leaning back and looking smug.
They do end up finding somewhere, primarily because Stéphane seems to be able to effortlessly find the trendiest clubs. He drags Evan into a little hole-in-the-wall place, and promptly heads out to the dance floor as Evan goes to get a drink.
He sits at the bar and watches Stéphane dance for a while. Stéphane doesn’t seem to care if he’s dancing with a man or a woman, hardly takes any notice, really - he just seems so relaxed and comfortable and happy that Evan can’t help but be jealous.
Eventually Stéphane finds his way over to Evan, laughing, and takes a sip of Evan’s drink. “You must come dance!” Stéphane says, and he’s close to Evan, breath tickling Evan’s ear.
“I’m happy here,” Evan says, even though he’s pretty much miserable. He hates clubs.
“No, no!” Stéphane says, and grabs Evan’s hands, tugging him out to the dance floor. Stéphane is surprisingly strong and Evan can’t help but follow, but when they get out into the throng of people Evan just sort of stands there, trying to move slightly with the beat.
“You must be looser!” Stéphane says, possibly too loudly, and Evan flushes a little bit.
“Stéphane,” Evan starts, and tries to pull away, to go back to the bar and enjoy another drink, but Stéphane just pulls him in closer and settles his hands on Evan’s hips, applying enough pressure to make Evan move the way he wants.
“Relax!” Stéphane says, and he’s pressing up against Evan, sweaty and warm, and Evan gives in to the pull of Stéphane’s hands, hot against his skin where his shirt has ridden up, closing his eyes and getting lost in the music.
***
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Evan asks as they walk in the front door. Stéphane had a lot to drink, and Evan has no idea how well Stéphane holds his alcohol.
“You are actually very sweet,” Stéphane says, appraising. “I believe perhaps Johnny was not entirely right about you.”
“Thanks?” Evan says, and then Stéphane pushes up on his toes to give Evan a kiss on the cheek, and Evan blinks down at him.
“Goodnight, Evan,” Stéphane says, and then steps into his room and shuts the door. Evan stands at the doorway for a second before walking down the hall to his room.
***
“Stéphane,” Evan says, sitting down next to Stéphane on the bench the next day after practice. “What do you want to do?” Because Evan knows Stéphane has done a few shows here and there, choreographed for a few old friends, but he seems sort of aimless.
“I believe an answer will come with time,” Stéphane says, sounding very zen, and Evan gets the impression he’s been giving that answer since he retired.
“You love choreographing, right?” Evan says. “You’re really good at it.”
“Thank you,” Stéphane says graciously, tracing patterns on the wood of the boards with his finger.
“You could choreograph more often. Or even do more shows. I’m sure there are plenty of people who’d love to have you.”
“Hmm,” Stéphane says skeptically, and Evan tries once more.
“I could even talk to the producers of this show. They’ve seen what you’ve done with me in such a short amount of time, I’m sure they’d love to have you on.”
“I do not need your charity, Evan,” Stéphane says, and he doesn’t sound angry, exactly, but he’s still not looking at Evan.
“It’s not charity, Stéphane,” Evan starts. “I just want to help.”
“Perhaps I do not need your help,” Stéphane says, standing up.
“I just think - it seems like you’re wasting your life!” Evan exclaims.
Stéphane freezes. “I think we are finished for today,” he says stiffly.
“What? But I still don’t have that last bit down,” Evan says, standing and following Stéphane towards the change room.
Stéphane whirls on him, pressing a hand against his chest. “Sometimes it is not about you, Evan,” he says, and he looks more serious than Evan has ever seen him. Even when Stéphane is working he still has fun, like he can’t imagine anything more exciting than running through the same routine over and over. “I am - très fatigue, et je ne-” Stéphane stops and shakes his head, sighing. “And I do not want to have this discussion with you. I am happy with my life, even if you are not happy with yours.” He turns and stalks to the change room, and Evan goes to unlace his skates on the bench.
***
Practice the next day is a nightmare. Evan didn’t get enough sleep at all, too worried and restless, and he’d woken up in the middle of the night to clean the kitchen. He’d made enough dinner for both of them and had eaten alone in front of the TV, leaving a plate out for Stéphane on the counter. At around one he’d woken up with a jolt and had put the untouched plate in the fridge, swiping down the counters one last time. Stéphane had just locked himself in his room and played his music loudly all evening.
Evan feels like all the progress he’s made with Stéphane’s choreography - learning how to feel the music and trying to make his movements less stiff - is completely ruined in one practice session. Stéphane stands with his hands on his hips and barks orders at him.
“You are doing too much of this,” Stéphane says, and throws his arms around in an ungainly way, putting on a ridiculous face. It would almost make Evan laugh if he wasn’t feeling awful about Stéphane being angry with him; he thinks that Stéphane may be a friend, a real one, and he’s not sure how to fix things with him. “It is not graceful, it is ugly. The way you skate it is just…ugly!” Stéphane mutters something under his breath and then tips his head back, looking up at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry,” Evan says, and he hopes that Stéphane understands that he’s not just sorry about his skating. “I’ll try harder.”
“You always try so hard, Evan!” Stéphane says, and skates closer to him. “Always so much effort, but so little of this.” Stéphane pats at his chest, right about his heart. “It is as though you do not want to be here, as though it means nothing to you. This program, it is about hope, it is not about perfection, non?” Evan nods. “Do you understand?” Stéphane says, and pushes slightly at his chest in emphasis.
“Yes,” Evan says. “Hope. Beauty. Not perfection.”
“Exactly,” Stéphane says after a moment. “Do not be so afraid of making a mistake.” Stéphane starts to skate to the door.
“You shouldn’t be, either,” Evan says, and Stéphane almost looks like he’s going to turn around for a second, but instead he keeps skating. “You can make mistakes, too, Stéphane,” Evan says, but Stéphane just steps off the ice and sits down on the bench to unlace his skates, not making eye contact. “You’ll still be a great choreographer even if it isn’t always perfect.”
“The whole thing, twice more,” Stéphane says, and Evan stands for a moment, shifting his weight from side to side and watching Stéphane, before skating to the centre of the ice for his starting pose.
***
When Stéphane locks himself in his room again that night, Evan steals his phone from his bag and finds Johnny’s number.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” Evan says. “It’s, uh. It’s Evan. Evan Lysacek.”
There’s a long silence. “Hi,” Johnny says. “Why are you calling me? Actually, how do you even have my number?”
“I stole it from Stéphane’s phone,” Evan says, wincing about how bad it sounds.
Johnny snorts. “Of course you did. Wait. Stéphane’s with you?”
“He’s staying in my apartment,” Evan says. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Stéphane and I haven’t talked for a while,” Johnny says, and he says it casually, like he’s still sure he and Stéphane are good friends even if it’s been a while since they spoke. Evan feels a sharp pang of jealousy at Johnny’s certainty.
“He’s choreographing for me,” Evan says, trying to keep his voice low. “But now he’s mad at me.”
“Were you being a dick?” Johnny asks wryly, and Evan frowns.
“No! At least, I don’t think so?”
“That’s not particularly reassuring,” Johnny says sarcastically, and Evan remembers why he always hated talking to Johnny, after they stopped being friends.
“I just asked him what he wanted to do. If he wanted to skate more or choreograph more or whatever, because he obviously still loves skating, but he seems so…”
“Restless?” Johnny suggests. “He’s always been a bit like that. But I definitely think he wishes he were skating more.”
“Then why isn’t he?” Evan exclaims. “Anyone would have him, he’s an amazing skater.”
“This coming from the guy who couldn’t even remember his name when we were competing?”
“He was my competitor,” Evan says. “And now he’s…” He stops. Stéphane is his friend, but he’s not totally sure if he’s still Stéphane’s. Or if he ever was, because maybe Stéphane was just humouring him.
“He’s your friend, right? It’s okay, Evan, you can say it. You’re allowed to have them,” Johnny says, and for once he sounds a little sympathetic. “Stéphane likes big gestures. He likes being shown he’s appreciated.” Johnny pauses. “He also likes cuddling, but you might get guy cooties, so.”
“Shut up,” Evan says, laughing, and he can hear the smile in Johnny’s voice when he responds.
“A big gesture,” Johnny says. “You can do it.”
“Thanks,” Evan says sincerely.
“Anything for Stéphane!” Johnny says brightly. “Bye, Evan.”
“Bye,” Evan says, hanging up the phone and leaning back against the couch. A big gesture.
***
Evan wakes Stéphane up the next morning with breakfast in bed and two tickets to a movie premiere.
“Evan?” Stéphane says blearily as Evan sets the tray down on the bedside table.
“Before you yell at me some more about how ugly I am,” Evan says, “I got two tickets to a red carpet event, and I was wondering if you’d like to come.”
“I only said that your skating was ugly,” Stéphane says, sitting up. “And then, only sometimes.”
“Gee, thanks,” Evan says, and he plays with the hem of his shirt as he waits for Stéphane’s response to the invitation. Stéphane is sort of a mess first thing in the morning, tangled in his sheets with his hair sticking up in every direction. Somehow he still manages to make it look good.
“I would love to go with you to this event.” He peers at the tickets on the tray. “Is it terribly exciting?”
Evan actually has no idea. He just called his agent to see if there was anything even remotely interesting going on that she could possibly swing him tickets to, and he’d taken the first thing that had come up. He doesn’t really get many offers these days. “Uh…I think it’s an indie film premiere, or something?” He shrugs. “It seemed interesting.”
“This is very nice of you,” Stéphane says, sliding the tray into his lap and biting into a piece of toast.
“It’s no problem,” Evan says. “So, um. I’ll see you in a bit.” He takes the tickets with them and tacks them to the bulletin board in his front hall.
Practice goes considerably better that day, and by the time it’s time to leave for the premiere, Evan’s almost looking forward to it. He hates those kind of events, but he likes spending time with Stéphane, especially when Stéphane isn’t telling him how terrible his skating is and how he doesn’t feel music in his soul.
The movie itself isn’t half bad, but Stéphane loves it and loves the after party even more. Evan sits at the bar and watches as Stéphane dances with two very tall, very blonde models, both of whom seem utterly charmed by him. Stéphane looks over at him and smiles, and Evan sets his drink down and heads out to the dance floor. He is determined to have more fun.
Stéphane somehow manages to charm the models into loving Evan, too, and Evan’s showing off some of the moves he learned on Dancing With the Stars to one of the girls when he feels Stéphane’s arm around his waist. “Having fun suits you, Evan,” Stéphane says, breath tickling Evan’s ear.
Evan just grins down at him. “Thanks,” he says, and then turns back to the model to dip her backwards, grinning widely.
A few songs later he and Stéphane are standing off to the side and catching their breath. “What are you going to do once you’re finished in LA?” Evan tries to sound casual, but he can tell by Stéphane’s sigh that it hasn’t fooled him.
“I do not know, Evan,” Stéphane says. “And that is fine with me. It will come with time.”
“You just seem so restless, Stéphane!” Evan says, exasperated. “When was the last time you skated in a show? When you actually performed for people?” Evan’s favourite part of performing is the triumph he feels after going through a perfect routine, knowing that people appreciate it, but he knows that Stéphane just loves being able to perform, to have his costume and his music and his routine come together perfectly.
“It is not important,” Stéphane says stiffly.
“Stéphane,” Evan says, because he hates it when he upsets people. He especially hates it when he upsets Stéphane.
“I will give you an answer if you will come dancing with me again,” Stéphane says, and he looks defiant, ready for a fight. “Just with me.”
“Okay,” Evan says.
***
They go out to another club a few nights later, another one that Stéphane randomly finds, and Evan watches as Stéphane makes a beeline for the dance floor. It’s a stage in its own way, he guesses; it’s obvious to him how many people are watching Stéphane as he dances, but Evan wonders if Stéphane’s aware of it.
He’s jealous of how graceful Stéphane is, how natural just moving seems to be for him, and he’s suddenly sad that he doesn’t get to see Stéphane skate more often. Sure, he sees him skate at practice, but that’s just Stéphane doing lazy circles and barking orders at Evan.
“Stéphane,” Evan says loudly into Stéphane’s ear, trying to be heard over the steady thump of the bass. He’s sweaty and gross, but he pulls Stéphane close anyway. “I just had an idea.”
“Is this something new for you, mon ami?” Stéphane says, grinning wickedly at him, still moving with the music.
“No, listen,” Evan says. “We should start our own ice show.”
“What?” Stéphane says, and now he’s stopped dancing, turning to face Evan. “You are crazy.”
“I think we could do it,” Evan says. “I have the pull and you could choreograph and we could - we could call Johnny. It would be awesome.”
Stéphane sighs. “Evan, it is not always so easy,” he shouts, trying to be heard above the music. “You can not simply hope for something and then,” he snaps his fingers, “Voila, it is finished and perfect and what you wanted all along.”
“I really like skating,” Evan says, because he’s a little drunk and sometimes simple is best. “And so do you.”
“Oui,” Stéphane says slowly.
“It could be your whole life, every day, just skating and helping other people be the best that they can be.”
“Perhaps, but Evan-”
“No, listen! Or, okay, come with me,” Evan says, and he pulls Stéphane along with him out of the club and onto the sidewalk, dialing as they walk.
“Are you seriously calling me again?” is the first thing Johnny says when he picks up, but he must have saved the number under Evan’s name to be able to answer like that, so he can’t mind too much.
“Stéphane doesn’t think it’s a good idea for us to have our own ice show,” Evan says, and puts Johnny on speaker. “You should tell him it would be awesome.”
“It would be totally awesome, bro,” Johnny says enthusiastically in his best surfer dude voice. “No, but seriously. Stéphane, don’t think for a second that I’m going to let you choreograph for me,” Johnny says, sounding haughty, “But I cannot wait to see what you’ve done with that one.”
“He’s been really helpful,” Evan says. “I’ve learned a lot.” He looks over at Stéphane. “It’s been fun.”
“Well I’m glad to hear it,” Johnny says, and Stéphane leans up to kiss Evan, smiling against his lips. Evan blinks down at Stéphane, who is chuckling a little, looking slightly sheepish.
“It is lovely to talk to you again, Johnny,” Stéphane says. “But now I am afraid we have many other plans for the night.”
There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and then, “Stéphane, you didn’t,” Johnny says, sounding horrified, but Stéphane just laughs a little more and says, “Au revoir!” into the phone before clicking it off.
“I believe you owe me many more dances,” Stéphane says, grinning as he slips Evan’s phone into his back pocket.
“Um,” Evan says, letting himself be tugged along, because he’s not sure he owes Stéphane any dances, but he wouldn’t mind it all the same.
“It is like I said,” Stéphane says as they get back inside, “Having fun, it looks very good on you.”
-END-
Title: Our Sense of Direction
Recipient: vandonovan
Skaters/Pairings: Evan Lysacek/Stéphane Lambiel
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 4, 704
Warnings: None.
Prompt: Evan and Stéphane broing around, genuinely enjoying each other's company.
Disclaimer: The events portrayed in this story are fictional and do not reflect on the actual people written about.
A/N: Thanks to A for discussion and the beta, and for K for the last-minute beta and helpful suggestions. Title taken from Patrick Wolf’s “Get Lost.”
Summary: “I was hoping you might want to choreograph something for me,” Evan says, and holds in a breath as he waits for an answer, tapping his fingers on his thigh.
“Oh,” Stéphane says. “That is not what I expected.”
Evan’s had the number stored in his phone for years, ever since he’d sat down next to Stéphane on the bus and said jokingly, “Maybe one day you can choreograph something for me.”
And Stéphane had said, “If you would like, certainly,” with a wide smile on his face. He had clasped Evan’s hand between his and said, “It is my birthday promise to you.”
The phone rings and rings, and just when Evan’s starting to think he dialed the wrong number, “Allo?”
“Stéphane?” Evan says. He hates talking on the phone. He wishes he’d gotten someone else to do this for him, to talk to Stéphane’s people.
“Oui?” Stéphane doesn’t sound different at all, and it jars Evan a little. He wonders if he sounds any different; maybe just wearier.
“It’s Evan. Evan Lysacek.”
“Oh, hello!” Stéphane says, like he and Evan talk all the time. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” Evan says easily, sitting down on his bed and stretching out. “How about you?”
“Very good, very good,” Stéphane says, and he sounds a little distracted. There’s a clatter in the background and voices, muffled through the phone line.
“Am I interrupting something?” Evan asks. “I can call back another time.”
“No, no,” Stéphane says. “It is good to hear from you.” Stéphane sounds more genuine than Evan would be if an old acquaintance called him out of the blue. Evan would just be confused and probably come off rude as a result. “I am just with my family, enjoying the summer at home. It is very beautiful here.” Stéphane’s talked to Evan about his home before, Evan’s pretty sure, and even though he can’t remember the name of it, he remembers the fondness in Stéphane’s voice every time he discussed it. Evan has pride in where he comes from, but Stéphane mostly just has love.
“It’s really, really hot here,” Evan says, because he’s not sure what else to say. The weather always seems safe. “What are you up to these days?”
“I have choreographed here and there,” Stéphane says. “Sometimes I skate in shows all over, to keep in practice. It is not so easy, anymore.”
Evan can hear the smile in Stéphane’s voice and grins, thinking of Mirai giving him grief the last time they caught up. “It is definitely harder these days.”
“But I hear you are in the shows, still! Always skating,” Stéphane says, and Evan doesn’t think he’s imagining the wistful tone.
“Yeah,” Evan says. “That’s actually what I was calling you about.”
There’s a pause. “Yes?”
“I was hoping you might want to choreograph something for me,” Evan says, and holds in a breath as he waits for an answer, tapping his fingers on his thigh.
“Oh,” Stéphane says. “That is not what I expected.”
“You promised me,” Evan blurts out, and realizes how intense he sounds and laughs a little. “On my birthday, remember? A birthday promise, you said.”
“I remember, yes,” Stéphane says. “It would be lovely to choreograph for you, Evan. And a promise is a promise.”
“It’ll be great to see you again, Stéphane,” Evan says, and he really means it.
***
Stéphane arrives in LA on an unseasonably cool day, and he has a scarf wrapped around his neck and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head.
“Hey,” Evan says, raising one hand in a little half-wave and walking over to Stéphane. “How are you?”
Stéphane pulls him into a quick hug and squeezes, just quickly, and then pulls back. “Very well, though I do not like those plane trips very much. You would think I would be used to it by now, but no, I am not,” he says, shaking his head.
Evan laughs. “I never really liked flying.”
“It is very crowded,” Stéphane says, crinkling his nose up. “So many people and so much noise and people are very rude.”
“People are very rude,” Evan agrees, holding the door open for Stéphane as they walk out to the parking lot. He’s surprised at how easy conversation with Stéphane actually is. “Which hotel are you staying at?”
“I do not remember,” Stéphane says, sliding into the front seat. “But we can go to the rink first, now, and then find my hotel later.”
Evan sits down and starts the car. “You want to go to the rink? You just got off an international flight.”
“Just to watch you skate,” Stéphane says. “I have some ideas already, of course-”
“Of course,” Evan says, grinning, as they pull out of the parking lot.
“-but I would like to see your movement now. It has been a very long time since I saw you skate.”
“Yeah,” Evan says, and tries to remember the last time he saw Stéphane skate. “I saw you at that one show, the one you did with Johnny?”
“I have done very many shows with Johnny,” Stéphane says, looking sideways at Evan as he unwinds his scarf.
“You did some pairs stuff together, I think,” Evan says. “There may have been a Gaga vs Britney number.”
Stéphane laughs. “That was a very fun routine,” he says. “The whole show was good, I thought.”
“Yeah, it was,” Evan says, because it had been. He’d watched from the seats like any other spectator and had felt restless the whole time, wishing he was part of a show where everyone seemed to be having so much fun. “Were you and Johnny…?” Stéphane takes too long to answer, just looks at Evan, and he feels like he’s crossed a line. “Sorry, it’s not my business.”
“No, I am just surprised that you would ask,” Stéphane says, fluttering a hand in his direction. “Johnny and I are very good friends. We were then, also.”
“Okay,” Evan says, and keeps his eyes on the road.
“Were you and Johnny?” Stéphane says, trying to mimic Evan’s accent.
“What?” Evan exclaims, shocked. “No! Why would you - how could you possibly-”
“There was always very much tension between you,” Stéphane explains reasonably.
“Johnny wouldn’t have told you?” Evan asks, and feels like he’s composed himself enough that he can look over at Stéphane.
Stéphane shakes his head. “Do you think he would have?”
Evan thinks about it for a second. “No, probably not.”
“There,” Stéphane says. “Neither of us has slept with Johnny Weir. It is good to know.”
“Definitely,” Evan agrees, laughing.
They arrive at Evan’s rink and Stéphane rewraps his scarf as Evan digs his skates and a practice clothes out of the trunk. He hasn’t practiced in days, and he’s glad that Stéphane wanted to go to the rink; it’s been too long.
“I would like you to do very many jumps,” Stéphane says later, watching him from the bench, arms folded on the boards as he watches Evan skate.
“Okay,” Evan says, feeling loose-limbed and relaxed, panting slightly as he skates over to Stéphane. “Right now?”
Stéphane laughs and shakes his head. “No, no - for the routine! Many jumps, and perhaps I can teach you how to spin properly.”
“I spin just fine,” Evan says, and Stéphane shakes his head again.
“I will show you how it is really done.” Stéphane pats Evan’s arm. “Do not worry, there is hope for you yet.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Evan says sarcastically, and goes to skate a few more laps, finishing with a series of spins close to the boards. He throws his arms in the air and shoots Stéphane a triumphant look, but Stéphane just looks at him sadly, trying to hold back a smile.
“Yes, we have very many things to work on,” Stéphane says. “Now come, I am very tired and would like to sleep. And maybe later eat something. Tomorrow I will fix your many problems.”
***
“You should stay with me,” Evan says as they drive to Stéphane’s hotel.
“I have already booked my hotel for the whole time,” Stéphane says, tossing his hair out of his eyes and looking over at Evan.
“Well, afterwards, then,” Evan says.
“Do you think it will take you so long to learn the choreography?” Stéphane asks, arching an eyebrow.
“Probably,” Evan shrugs. “I’m not a very fast learner.”
Stéphane smiles at him. “Very well. Afterwards, then.”
***
They fall into a routine during the first week. In the morning Evan picks Stéphane up and they head to the rink, and Stéphane tries to get Evan to look more graceful and feel the music coming from his soul - or something like that - and Evan does everything Stéphane tells him and tries to make it work. He likes the routine a lot, actually, and he would think that Stéphane had found his true calling in choreography if it weren’t for the fact that even watching Stéphane skate idly around Evan’s rink in an old sweater and loose jeans is mesmerizing.
In the afternoon Evan shows Stéphane around LA. Mostly they just spend a lot of time at the beach, and Stéphane forces Evan to go swimming with him and participate in pickup games of volleyball. Stéphane isn’t particularly good at it, but he definitely enjoys throwing himself around in the sand.
On Friday afternoon Stéphane moves in to Evan’s apartment. “It is very clean,” Stéphane says, looking around, and Evan tries to see his apartment through Stéphane’s eyes. It seems very, very plain, all clean surfaces and stark colours. Evan isn’t really one for interior decorating, and he mostly likes having everything in its own place.
“Thanks,” Evan says, and then goes to make dinner as Stéphane unpacks. He’s grilling a couple of salmon fillets when Stéphane walks back into the kitchen, leaning against the island and watching Evan.
Stéphane says, “I believe you spend too much time alone, Evan.”
Evan turns the heat down and looks over his shoulder at Stéphane. “I do spend a lot of time alone,” he starts, not sure if he’s going to protest or explain, but Stéphane nods, cutting him off.
“You should have more fun, I think. Tonight we will go out dancing.”
“Stéphane,” Evan says, “I can’t really dance.”
“There was a television show, no? It was all about dancing!” Stéphane smiles reassuringly. “You were not so bad then.”
“Oh, not so bad,” Evan mutters, going to chop some broccoli. “I can drop you off somewhere, but I don’t think I’ll go out.”
“Evan,” Stéphane says seriously, “you must have more fun! What is your life? It is just skating, non?”
“Well, mostly,” Evan says, trying to think of other things he does. “I teach classes sometimes.”
“Sometimes,” Stéphane says, and he rolls his eyes pointedly.
“Fairly often,” Evan says weakly, but he gets the feeling he’s already lost. “I don’t even know where to go dancing.”
“I am sure we can find somewhere,” Stéphane says, leaning back and looking smug.
They do end up finding somewhere, primarily because Stéphane seems to be able to effortlessly find the trendiest clubs. He drags Evan into a little hole-in-the-wall place, and promptly heads out to the dance floor as Evan goes to get a drink.
He sits at the bar and watches Stéphane dance for a while. Stéphane doesn’t seem to care if he’s dancing with a man or a woman, hardly takes any notice, really - he just seems so relaxed and comfortable and happy that Evan can’t help but be jealous.
Eventually Stéphane finds his way over to Evan, laughing, and takes a sip of Evan’s drink. “You must come dance!” Stéphane says, and he’s close to Evan, breath tickling Evan’s ear.
“I’m happy here,” Evan says, even though he’s pretty much miserable. He hates clubs.
“No, no!” Stéphane says, and grabs Evan’s hands, tugging him out to the dance floor. Stéphane is surprisingly strong and Evan can’t help but follow, but when they get out into the throng of people Evan just sort of stands there, trying to move slightly with the beat.
“You must be looser!” Stéphane says, possibly too loudly, and Evan flushes a little bit.
“Stéphane,” Evan starts, and tries to pull away, to go back to the bar and enjoy another drink, but Stéphane just pulls him in closer and settles his hands on Evan’s hips, applying enough pressure to make Evan move the way he wants.
“Relax!” Stéphane says, and he’s pressing up against Evan, sweaty and warm, and Evan gives in to the pull of Stéphane’s hands, hot against his skin where his shirt has ridden up, closing his eyes and getting lost in the music.
***
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Evan asks as they walk in the front door. Stéphane had a lot to drink, and Evan has no idea how well Stéphane holds his alcohol.
“You are actually very sweet,” Stéphane says, appraising. “I believe perhaps Johnny was not entirely right about you.”
“Thanks?” Evan says, and then Stéphane pushes up on his toes to give Evan a kiss on the cheek, and Evan blinks down at him.
“Goodnight, Evan,” Stéphane says, and then steps into his room and shuts the door. Evan stands at the doorway for a second before walking down the hall to his room.
***
“Stéphane,” Evan says, sitting down next to Stéphane on the bench the next day after practice. “What do you want to do?” Because Evan knows Stéphane has done a few shows here and there, choreographed for a few old friends, but he seems sort of aimless.
“I believe an answer will come with time,” Stéphane says, sounding very zen, and Evan gets the impression he’s been giving that answer since he retired.
“You love choreographing, right?” Evan says. “You’re really good at it.”
“Thank you,” Stéphane says graciously, tracing patterns on the wood of the boards with his finger.
“You could choreograph more often. Or even do more shows. I’m sure there are plenty of people who’d love to have you.”
“Hmm,” Stéphane says skeptically, and Evan tries once more.
“I could even talk to the producers of this show. They’ve seen what you’ve done with me in such a short amount of time, I’m sure they’d love to have you on.”
“I do not need your charity, Evan,” Stéphane says, and he doesn’t sound angry, exactly, but he’s still not looking at Evan.
“It’s not charity, Stéphane,” Evan starts. “I just want to help.”
“Perhaps I do not need your help,” Stéphane says, standing up.
“I just think - it seems like you’re wasting your life!” Evan exclaims.
Stéphane freezes. “I think we are finished for today,” he says stiffly.
“What? But I still don’t have that last bit down,” Evan says, standing and following Stéphane towards the change room.
Stéphane whirls on him, pressing a hand against his chest. “Sometimes it is not about you, Evan,” he says, and he looks more serious than Evan has ever seen him. Even when Stéphane is working he still has fun, like he can’t imagine anything more exciting than running through the same routine over and over. “I am - très fatigue, et je ne-” Stéphane stops and shakes his head, sighing. “And I do not want to have this discussion with you. I am happy with my life, even if you are not happy with yours.” He turns and stalks to the change room, and Evan goes to unlace his skates on the bench.
***
Practice the next day is a nightmare. Evan didn’t get enough sleep at all, too worried and restless, and he’d woken up in the middle of the night to clean the kitchen. He’d made enough dinner for both of them and had eaten alone in front of the TV, leaving a plate out for Stéphane on the counter. At around one he’d woken up with a jolt and had put the untouched plate in the fridge, swiping down the counters one last time. Stéphane had just locked himself in his room and played his music loudly all evening.
Evan feels like all the progress he’s made with Stéphane’s choreography - learning how to feel the music and trying to make his movements less stiff - is completely ruined in one practice session. Stéphane stands with his hands on his hips and barks orders at him.
“You are doing too much of this,” Stéphane says, and throws his arms around in an ungainly way, putting on a ridiculous face. It would almost make Evan laugh if he wasn’t feeling awful about Stéphane being angry with him; he thinks that Stéphane may be a friend, a real one, and he’s not sure how to fix things with him. “It is not graceful, it is ugly. The way you skate it is just…ugly!” Stéphane mutters something under his breath and then tips his head back, looking up at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry,” Evan says, and he hopes that Stéphane understands that he’s not just sorry about his skating. “I’ll try harder.”
“You always try so hard, Evan!” Stéphane says, and skates closer to him. “Always so much effort, but so little of this.” Stéphane pats at his chest, right about his heart. “It is as though you do not want to be here, as though it means nothing to you. This program, it is about hope, it is not about perfection, non?” Evan nods. “Do you understand?” Stéphane says, and pushes slightly at his chest in emphasis.
“Yes,” Evan says. “Hope. Beauty. Not perfection.”
“Exactly,” Stéphane says after a moment. “Do not be so afraid of making a mistake.” Stéphane starts to skate to the door.
“You shouldn’t be, either,” Evan says, and Stéphane almost looks like he’s going to turn around for a second, but instead he keeps skating. “You can make mistakes, too, Stéphane,” Evan says, but Stéphane just steps off the ice and sits down on the bench to unlace his skates, not making eye contact. “You’ll still be a great choreographer even if it isn’t always perfect.”
“The whole thing, twice more,” Stéphane says, and Evan stands for a moment, shifting his weight from side to side and watching Stéphane, before skating to the centre of the ice for his starting pose.
***
When Stéphane locks himself in his room again that night, Evan steals his phone from his bag and finds Johnny’s number.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” Evan says. “It’s, uh. It’s Evan. Evan Lysacek.”
There’s a long silence. “Hi,” Johnny says. “Why are you calling me? Actually, how do you even have my number?”
“I stole it from Stéphane’s phone,” Evan says, wincing about how bad it sounds.
Johnny snorts. “Of course you did. Wait. Stéphane’s with you?”
“He’s staying in my apartment,” Evan says. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Stéphane and I haven’t talked for a while,” Johnny says, and he says it casually, like he’s still sure he and Stéphane are good friends even if it’s been a while since they spoke. Evan feels a sharp pang of jealousy at Johnny’s certainty.
“He’s choreographing for me,” Evan says, trying to keep his voice low. “But now he’s mad at me.”
“Were you being a dick?” Johnny asks wryly, and Evan frowns.
“No! At least, I don’t think so?”
“That’s not particularly reassuring,” Johnny says sarcastically, and Evan remembers why he always hated talking to Johnny, after they stopped being friends.
“I just asked him what he wanted to do. If he wanted to skate more or choreograph more or whatever, because he obviously still loves skating, but he seems so…”
“Restless?” Johnny suggests. “He’s always been a bit like that. But I definitely think he wishes he were skating more.”
“Then why isn’t he?” Evan exclaims. “Anyone would have him, he’s an amazing skater.”
“This coming from the guy who couldn’t even remember his name when we were competing?”
“He was my competitor,” Evan says. “And now he’s…” He stops. Stéphane is his friend, but he’s not totally sure if he’s still Stéphane’s. Or if he ever was, because maybe Stéphane was just humouring him.
“He’s your friend, right? It’s okay, Evan, you can say it. You’re allowed to have them,” Johnny says, and for once he sounds a little sympathetic. “Stéphane likes big gestures. He likes being shown he’s appreciated.” Johnny pauses. “He also likes cuddling, but you might get guy cooties, so.”
“Shut up,” Evan says, laughing, and he can hear the smile in Johnny’s voice when he responds.
“A big gesture,” Johnny says. “You can do it.”
“Thanks,” Evan says sincerely.
“Anything for Stéphane!” Johnny says brightly. “Bye, Evan.”
“Bye,” Evan says, hanging up the phone and leaning back against the couch. A big gesture.
***
Evan wakes Stéphane up the next morning with breakfast in bed and two tickets to a movie premiere.
“Evan?” Stéphane says blearily as Evan sets the tray down on the bedside table.
“Before you yell at me some more about how ugly I am,” Evan says, “I got two tickets to a red carpet event, and I was wondering if you’d like to come.”
“I only said that your skating was ugly,” Stéphane says, sitting up. “And then, only sometimes.”
“Gee, thanks,” Evan says, and he plays with the hem of his shirt as he waits for Stéphane’s response to the invitation. Stéphane is sort of a mess first thing in the morning, tangled in his sheets with his hair sticking up in every direction. Somehow he still manages to make it look good.
“I would love to go with you to this event.” He peers at the tickets on the tray. “Is it terribly exciting?”
Evan actually has no idea. He just called his agent to see if there was anything even remotely interesting going on that she could possibly swing him tickets to, and he’d taken the first thing that had come up. He doesn’t really get many offers these days. “Uh…I think it’s an indie film premiere, or something?” He shrugs. “It seemed interesting.”
“This is very nice of you,” Stéphane says, sliding the tray into his lap and biting into a piece of toast.
“It’s no problem,” Evan says. “So, um. I’ll see you in a bit.” He takes the tickets with them and tacks them to the bulletin board in his front hall.
Practice goes considerably better that day, and by the time it’s time to leave for the premiere, Evan’s almost looking forward to it. He hates those kind of events, but he likes spending time with Stéphane, especially when Stéphane isn’t telling him how terrible his skating is and how he doesn’t feel music in his soul.
The movie itself isn’t half bad, but Stéphane loves it and loves the after party even more. Evan sits at the bar and watches as Stéphane dances with two very tall, very blonde models, both of whom seem utterly charmed by him. Stéphane looks over at him and smiles, and Evan sets his drink down and heads out to the dance floor. He is determined to have more fun.
Stéphane somehow manages to charm the models into loving Evan, too, and Evan’s showing off some of the moves he learned on Dancing With the Stars to one of the girls when he feels Stéphane’s arm around his waist. “Having fun suits you, Evan,” Stéphane says, breath tickling Evan’s ear.
Evan just grins down at him. “Thanks,” he says, and then turns back to the model to dip her backwards, grinning widely.
A few songs later he and Stéphane are standing off to the side and catching their breath. “What are you going to do once you’re finished in LA?” Evan tries to sound casual, but he can tell by Stéphane’s sigh that it hasn’t fooled him.
“I do not know, Evan,” Stéphane says. “And that is fine with me. It will come with time.”
“You just seem so restless, Stéphane!” Evan says, exasperated. “When was the last time you skated in a show? When you actually performed for people?” Evan’s favourite part of performing is the triumph he feels after going through a perfect routine, knowing that people appreciate it, but he knows that Stéphane just loves being able to perform, to have his costume and his music and his routine come together perfectly.
“It is not important,” Stéphane says stiffly.
“Stéphane,” Evan says, because he hates it when he upsets people. He especially hates it when he upsets Stéphane.
“I will give you an answer if you will come dancing with me again,” Stéphane says, and he looks defiant, ready for a fight. “Just with me.”
“Okay,” Evan says.
***
They go out to another club a few nights later, another one that Stéphane randomly finds, and Evan watches as Stéphane makes a beeline for the dance floor. It’s a stage in its own way, he guesses; it’s obvious to him how many people are watching Stéphane as he dances, but Evan wonders if Stéphane’s aware of it.
He’s jealous of how graceful Stéphane is, how natural just moving seems to be for him, and he’s suddenly sad that he doesn’t get to see Stéphane skate more often. Sure, he sees him skate at practice, but that’s just Stéphane doing lazy circles and barking orders at Evan.
“Stéphane,” Evan says loudly into Stéphane’s ear, trying to be heard over the steady thump of the bass. He’s sweaty and gross, but he pulls Stéphane close anyway. “I just had an idea.”
“Is this something new for you, mon ami?” Stéphane says, grinning wickedly at him, still moving with the music.
“No, listen,” Evan says. “We should start our own ice show.”
“What?” Stéphane says, and now he’s stopped dancing, turning to face Evan. “You are crazy.”
“I think we could do it,” Evan says. “I have the pull and you could choreograph and we could - we could call Johnny. It would be awesome.”
Stéphane sighs. “Evan, it is not always so easy,” he shouts, trying to be heard above the music. “You can not simply hope for something and then,” he snaps his fingers, “Voila, it is finished and perfect and what you wanted all along.”
“I really like skating,” Evan says, because he’s a little drunk and sometimes simple is best. “And so do you.”
“Oui,” Stéphane says slowly.
“It could be your whole life, every day, just skating and helping other people be the best that they can be.”
“Perhaps, but Evan-”
“No, listen! Or, okay, come with me,” Evan says, and he pulls Stéphane along with him out of the club and onto the sidewalk, dialing as they walk.
“Are you seriously calling me again?” is the first thing Johnny says when he picks up, but he must have saved the number under Evan’s name to be able to answer like that, so he can’t mind too much.
“Stéphane doesn’t think it’s a good idea for us to have our own ice show,” Evan says, and puts Johnny on speaker. “You should tell him it would be awesome.”
“It would be totally awesome, bro,” Johnny says enthusiastically in his best surfer dude voice. “No, but seriously. Stéphane, don’t think for a second that I’m going to let you choreograph for me,” Johnny says, sounding haughty, “But I cannot wait to see what you’ve done with that one.”
“He’s been really helpful,” Evan says. “I’ve learned a lot.” He looks over at Stéphane. “It’s been fun.”
“Well I’m glad to hear it,” Johnny says, and Stéphane leans up to kiss Evan, smiling against his lips. Evan blinks down at Stéphane, who is chuckling a little, looking slightly sheepish.
“It is lovely to talk to you again, Johnny,” Stéphane says. “But now I am afraid we have many other plans for the night.”
There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and then, “Stéphane, you didn’t,” Johnny says, sounding horrified, but Stéphane just laughs a little more and says, “Au revoir!” into the phone before clicking it off.
“I believe you owe me many more dances,” Stéphane says, grinning as he slips Evan’s phone into his back pocket.
“Um,” Evan says, letting himself be tugged along, because he’s not sure he owes Stéphane any dances, but he wouldn’t mind it all the same.
“It is like I said,” Stéphane says as they get back inside, “Having fun, it looks very good on you.”
-END-