General Incivility (1/5) Johnny Weir/Evan Lysacek
Title: General Incivility
Fandom: Skating RPS (Johnny Weir/Evan Lysacek)
Disclaimer: This is obviously not really about Johnny Weir or Evan Lysacek, this is speculation based on what characters modeled after them might be like. If you happen to be either one of them, please don't read this.
Warnings: There isn't actually any sex in this fic. I'm sorry.
The idea and general outline are based very, very loosely on the idea of Pride and Prejudice, but you won't find very much of that story here. It does, however, mean there are two couples, and at least one misunderstanding. This is set at some vague point in the future when Johnny's retired. I apologize in advance for all the skating details that are undoubtedly wrong. The details about Japan are based on when I lived there, so those are probably wrong by now, too.
Thank you very much to nova33 for the lovely beta. All remaining mistakes are mine. And thank you to all the usual suspects for excellent cheerleading when I SWORE I wasn't really writing this. 40k (...how did that HAPPEN?)
"Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?" - Pride and Prejudice
The best part about being retired was that Johnny got to sleep in and then spend the day cleaning if there was nothing else scheduled. The worst part was how often there was nothing else scheduled, but whatever; Johnny was getting used to it. Lots of days he went skating and he had appointments and meetings and appearances. Some days he just... didn't.
The phone interrupted him in the middle of scrubbing the inside of his cabinets, trying to eliminate the stain where Paris had spilled vanilla extract and it had soaked into the wood a little bit. Johnny hit the speaker button and said, "Talk to me, darling," and then stuck his head back in the cabinet.
"Oh. Johnny? It's um. It's Adam?"
Johnny had known that from the ridiculous baby voice and the mild lisp that made him want to steal Adam and play dress-up with him forever. "Hey, honey," Johnny said. "What's up? If you hear weird noises I'm cleaning."
There was a tiny pause. "Well. Okay," Adam said. "So, I heard you're going to be at NHK next week? Is that, um, true?"
Adam didn't need the kind of 'media training' Johnny had been repeatedly sent to, because he looked like the lead singer of a boy band and everything he said sounded like an interview in Tiger Beat. But he needed a little practice getting to the end of his sentences, in Johnny's opinion. "I've been asked to do some commentary and interviews and stuff," Johnny said. His voice echoed a little weirdly in the empty cabinet. "I'll be there for a few days, at least."
"Oh, great," said Adam, sounding relieved. "That's great, that's... Stéphane's not going to be there."
Johnny had spent a lot of time with Adam in Korea, and he was pretty sure if he waited long enough Adam would start making sense. "Sure," he said. It was a good thing he'd switched from bleach to vinegar, because he was breathing a lot of fumes in the confined space. He pushed himself onto his toes so he could really get his shoulder into scrubbing.
"And normally I'd just ask Stéphane, because I think he'd probably know, but he won't be there and I'm freaking out a little bit."
"You can ask me whatever," Johnny said. He stopped scrubbing long enough to put his hand on his hip and frown at his phone. "This isn't about sex, is it? Because I can talk you through the basics, but honestly you should probably ask your parents."
"I'm twenty-one!" Adam protested. "I've totally had sex."
Johnny cycled through the other questions people usually called him about in a panic. "Well, if you're wondering about blow jobs-"
"Johnny! God."
Johnny pushed on relentlessly. "-or anal sex or whatever, I can recommend some websites, but I'm not showing you myself."
He could actually hear Adam blushing over the phone. "No, I- Augh. No!"
"You may be twenty-one, but you look about twelve, angelface, and I'm not going to debauch you. Call me in five or six years. Not that you aren't the prettiest, you know how I feel about your hair, but I just can't do it, I'm sorry."
"Would you please stop being an asshole?" Adam asked, halfway between aggravated and embarrassed. Johnny smirked at the phone a little. "I totally managed to forget that this is why I always call Stéphane, not you."
"You love me," said Johnny confidently, because he hadn't missed Adam's totally adorable crush during Festa.
Adam sighed. "Fine," he said. "Can I just ask you, please?"
"You're the one dithering around," Johnny said.
"Well it's more... I mean. You've um... You've hit on people, right?"
Johnny froze halfway through reaching for the vinegar. "That's a serious question?"
"Don't make fun of me," Adam whined. "Johnny. I need some advice. I don't know how to... I can't figure out... I have this crush."
"Please tell me it's not Stéphane," Johnny said. "He's just playing, he kisses everyone, he'll only break your heart." Johnny had figured that out after some seriously embarrassing moments, and he wouldn't put Adam through that on purpose.
"No! God, he's like my brother. It's um. It's a girl."
Really? Johnny wondered, but he knew a lot about people and expectations and assumptions so he managed not to blurt out his long-held suspicions about Adam and Jeremy. "A girl I know?"
"No," said Adam quickly. "You definitely don't know her."
It was really cute, the way Adam though the could lie. "So it's a skater," Johnny mused. "Hmmm. Is it Yu-na?"
"No," said Adam. "It's not her, it's... We're friends and I don't know if she likes me, but I like her, and I can't..." He trailed off.
Adam was friends with all the girls; it was something about looking like he could be on the cover of Lisa Simpson's Non-Threatening Boys Monthly magazine. Of course, Johnny was friends with the girls, too, but that was because they wanted to go shopping and gossip with him. "Give me a hint," Johnny said. He couldn't imagine why Adam thought asking Johnny was a good idea; Johnny had a reputation as the most disasterous dater in the USFSA, after the Drew Thing, and the Stéphane Thing. It was possible Adam had even heard about the Evan Thing, but Evan and Johnny had both worked really hard to make that rumor die, and most people thought it had never really happened. Johnny wasn't telling them differently.
"It's... Oh man, I really like her," Adam said. "Um. It's Mirai?"
Johnny cooed out loud, he couldn't help it. "Awww! That's adorable. Mazel tov, I'm sure you two will have a beautiful life together."
"No! Johnny! We're just friends, and she likes me as a friend and I've never really tried to ask anyone out but she's going to be in Nagoya and I may actually throw up when I see her, because she makes my stomach feel all weird, and I don't think throwing up on her is a very good way to get a date, and I need you to help me. You're totally... You're you, you do this kind of stuff!"
"In my entire life I've asked one girl out on a date, and that was on a bet," Johnny said. "And she said no."
Adam moaned. "That's not what I mean."
Johnny posed against the counter, even though Adam couldn't see him. "You mean will I, Johnny Weir, share my life-long expertise at sex appeal and flirtation with you? Will I help you put tab A in slot B at the appropriate moment?"
"Oh my god, oh my god," Adam mumbled.
"Will I ensure a sparkle-rainbow filled future complete with white dresses, crying parents, and an army of adorable skating multi-ethnic munchkins?" He paused just long enough for Adam to start protesting again, and then said benevolently, "Of course I will."
"I just don't want her to laugh at me."
"Mirai giggles at nearly everything," Johnny said. "Don't let it throw you off your game plan. Do you have a game plan?"
"No," said Adam miserably. "I don't know what to say. I haven't seen her in a couple of months but we text a lot and we skype and aim. But I kind of thought that was a bad way to be like, 'I really like you.'"
Johnny pursed his lips. "You're making me feel old," he said. "Stop it. Listen, I'll see you in Nagoya and I'll make sure you're fabulous and you'll tell Mirai you want to bear her children and everyone will live happily ever after."
Adam laughed. "You promise?"
"No worries at all," said Johnny. He was pretty sure that all Adam would ever have to do to get a date was smile and stutter, and he was equally sure that Mirai would say yes because she was a sweetheart. If it ended up being an awful date, well, the worst that could possibly happen was that they'd blush awkwardly at each other for an hour and then come home and... Johnny wasn't even sure. Adopt kittens to deal with their disappointment or something.
And if it worked out they would blind the world with so much cuteness that the USFSA would probably throw medals at them, just for funsies. "I get to be godfather," Johnny said, wrinkling his nose at his sponge. It was pretty gross, and the stain was still faintly visible. Paris was going to get a really stern talking to next time he came over, except he'd probably have done something else by then and Johnny would be distracted by a ripped bag or mud tracked on the carpet or something. "I get to spoil the kids outrageously, right? How do you feel about sparkly onesies for actual babies?"
"I don't think I want kids yet?" Adam said like a question.
"Of course not, you're still a baby," Johnny said, ignoring Adam's squawk of protest. "Make sure you pack clothes for dates, not just for practicing. I have to go sterilize my sponge, but text me when you get to Nagoya so we can plot."
"You mean plan?" Adam asked.
"Sure, if that makes you feel better," Johnny agreed. "Kisses! Fly safe, honey."
Adam said, "You're the best, thanks," and hung up. Johnny really liked that kid. He deserved a good date with a pretty girl - if girls were what he was into at the moment, Johnny still wasn't convinced, but whatever, it was Adam's life - and Johnny could make that happen. He was a pro at setting up other people, even if all the dates he went on ended in fire and death and misery.
Johnny picked up his phone and dialed Paris. "Come over so I can pack and yell at you about my cabinet," Johnny said.
"You mean play dress up and take pictures and drink champagne," said Paris. "Give me an hour."
"If you say an hour you'll take four," Johnny complained.
"So you have time to get some actual packing done," Paris agreed. "I'll see you in a little while."
--
"They will probably get married for real," Johnny said from where he was lying on the carpet. At some point he'd been sitting on the couch, but then he'd gotten dizzy and decided to lay down, and then he'd reached for something and ended up on the floor, and now it seemed like a lot of work to get all the way back up to the couch which Paris was mostly bogarting anyway. "I think I had too much wine."
"You're retired, you can have as much wine as you want," Paris said, because he was a dirty enabler and because he liked drinking Johnny's wine.
Johnny waved one arm around vaguely over his head, to indicate that Paris was an idiot and that Johnny had lost track of what he was saying anyway. Oh, right. "They'll have a big church wedding, I bet. And there will be doves, and everyone will cry." He couldn't keep the tiniest hint of envy out of his voice, which was terrible, because Paris was like some kind of angst-sniffing bloodhound.
"You could get married," Paris said. "I'll marry you. You can use me just for my body."
"I can't even live with you," Johnny pointed out.
"I couldn't live with you," Paris corrected. "But whatever. Maybe instead of helping Adam get Mirai, you should steal him for yourself. He's pretty."
Johnny considered it for just a second. "No," he said finally. "I'm too old and bitter and I'd only make him sad all the time."
Paris leaned over and took the wine out of Johnny's hand. "And thaaaat means no more wine for you," he said. "I swear to god, if you start crying I'm going home. I mean, I'm going to record it on my camera phone and then I'm leaving. For real."
"I'm not going to cry," Johnny said. "I will insist they let me plan the wedding. Ooh, maybe that's what I should do with the rest of my life. Event planning by Johnny Weir!"
"I'll be in charge of flowers," said Paris, pouring himself some more wine. "But wait, why aren't we planning your wedding?"
Johnny glared at Paris, only Paris had moved to the other side of the couch and Johnny was glaring at his shoes. "Shut up. Disaster, misery, dying alone. I know my fate."
"Not this again, with the lonely and the whining. The USFSA only medium-cares what you do anymore," Paris said. "Go sleep with someone that would annoy them and sell the pictures to People Magazine. I'll pay you a million dollars to kiss Frank Carroll on camera."
"I want more wine," Johnny pouted.
"You'll spill it on the carpet and blame me," Paris said, clutching the bottle protectively. "No deal."
"Then don't talk to me about Frank Carroll," Johnny shuddered.
Paris shook his head. "You're starting to sound like a sad, middle-aged woman. I can't be best friends with someone who depresses me."
"I'm ready to settle," Johnny moaned. "Anyone who's willing to actually show up to our date would be fine with me. Maybe he could have a hunchback and a snaggle tooth. I could work with that. I could make it fabulous somehow."
Paris stood up, wobbled a little bit, and waited until he had his balance back. "I'm getting you some water," he said. "You swore you'd never mention the situation with him-"
"Shut up!"
"-so you must be maudlin beyond all repair. I'm sure someone will want to date you. Eventually. I mean, Britney's been married three times, and she's a hotter mess than you could ever hope to be." Paris magically reappeared with a glass of water, which he was definitely going to spill on the carpet, and Johnny was going to cry. Paris was still wearing Johnny's fur shrug, the nice one, and he was going to get it wet. "If worse comes to worst, you can be their creepy match-making uncle. That's not so bad, right?"
"Creepy uncle isn't so bad?" Johnny asked, but he pushed himself up on his elbows so he could drink the water. The room was spinning slowly in circles around him.
"Could be even worse," said Paris, and then he had to stop and think. "Um. You could be Evan Lysacek. Tall and awkward and a total date-ditching douchebag who we hate." He patted Johnny on the head. "I'm going to go sleep in your bed, since you can't sleep in the same room with anyone else and all."
Johnny laid back down and sighed heavily. He was going to get up and move to the guest bedroom. Really. Any minute now.
--
Flying to Japan was miserable, mostly because the flight was so long and Johnny couldn't justify buying first class tickets. "You sit by the aisle," he ordered Tara. "I'm going to sleep on you."
"You're not getting me all drooly, Johnny, eww!" Tara squealed, but she didn't really mean it. One of Johnny's favorite things about Tara was how she could never resist his charm. His other favorite thing was that she always had a coffee for him when they were going on a really long plane trip.
"I need my sleep. There will be sick children on this plane," Johnny said darkly, "and I'm going to end up sick."
"You are not wearing your creepy mask," Tara said. "You never sleep on planes full of people, anyway. You're not even skating, if you get a little sick it doesn't matter."
For just a second it felt like she'd slapped him across the face, but Tara would never have said anything to hurt him on purpose. Johnny pretended it hadn't happened. "I'm still working," he said.
"As long as you don't get, like, what's that disease where your body parts rot off?" Tara asked. "Fuji TV is paying for your beautiful face. As long as that arrives intact you're fine."
"I'm playing cupid, I can't get sick," Johnny said, but by then Tara had stopped listening to him and was playing with the buttons that made the TV in the back of the seat ahead of her turn on.
"I brought every episode of Sex and the City," she said, "to watch on my laptop. But this has Marley and Me! That puppy is so cuuuute!"
Johnny hated being ignored. "The dog dies," he said meanly, and fluffed his neck pillow while Tara spluttered and smacked his shoulder.
--
Another nice thing about retirement was that Johnny could have the occasional cigarette in order to deal with stress. The downside was that "occasional" was apparently often enough that by the time they deplaned in Narita Johnny was craving nicotine. He made a note to himself that he really, seriously, needed to stop smoking at all and blessed the Japanese for their utterly backwards ways, because they still had a smoking lounge in the airport where he could light up just long enough to remind himself that smoking was a disgusting habit.
"Fans at ten o'clock," said Tara, pointing.
Johnny fixed his scarf and cursed under his breath. His fans were the greatest people on earth and he loved each and every single one of them, but sometimes it was a pain in the ass, smiling after a thirteen hour flight. He plastered on a smile and bowed as they bowed to him, surrounding him with pens and notebooks with adorable cartoons on them. There was a group of teenage girls holding hands and wearing sailor suits, whispering to each other and then shrieking with giggles. None of them were quite brave enough to talk to him until three of them got together and pushed the fourth forward, sparkly gel-pen and panda-covered paper in hand.
"Please, we..." she started, and then stopped, looking back at her friends, who giggled encouragingly. "You are... favorite," she tried again.
"And you're my favorite," Johnny said, with a devastating wink that made them all burst into gales of stifled giggles. He signed the paper with a big sparkly heart and the rest of them rushed forward, holding out other things, stuffed animals and notebooks and a book full of his pictures that one of them had painstakingly made. This was why he loved them so much.
There was a sudden shriek from one of the girls and they began talking in furious Japanese, looking over his shoulder. Tara turned and made a face, elbowing him.
"Evan," she said.
"What? Fuck," said Johnny. A benefit of retirement was supposed to be his total ability to avoid Evan Lysacek. "Maybe he won't come over here-"
The girls started shrieking and some of them bowed politely to Johnny before the crowd rushed off to surround Evan. Johnny scowled at them for just a second, before he shrugged and decided to move on with his life. No one had given Evan a book of pictures, at least. Johnny was still their favorite.
"Stop planning his death with your brain," Tara hissed. "I can totally see it all over your face."
"It involves a toaster, a bathtub, and a crocodile," said Johnny, narrowing his eyes and taking just a moment to enjoy the mental image, and then he grabbed his rolling suitcase and said, "Shall we get a taxi? I'm beat."
One of the Japanese girls looked anxiously at him and said, "Please, you... Together?"
"Me and Tara?" Johnny said hopefully, but they were ushering Evan over, and oh, Christ, the last thing Johnny wanted when he was feeling crabby and grimy from the flight and craving a cigarette was Evan Lysacek all up in his space. Evan was wearing his Team USA jacket and a big grin and his skin was the color of a pumpkin. He looked tireder than Johnny did, and Johnny was glad.
"Hey," said Evan.
Even the way he greeted people set Johnny's teeth on edge; what was wrong with complete words? "Hello," Johnny replied pointedly, but Evan just grinned.
"You mind?"
"No, not at all," Johnny lied through his teeth. The fans were shrieking and giggling and surrounding them again; this was not the time to throw a bitch fit about Evan. Later, when they got to the hotel, Johnny was going to video chat with his mom and complain to his heart's content, but right now he tried his best to smile, even when Evan put his great big monkey arm around Johnny's shoulder and leaned in a little too close.
The smell of Evan hit Johnny like a ton of bricks. Not in a bad way; Evan smelled like Old Spice, or Axe, or whatever shitty men's deodorant he'd always worn. It was just that Johnny had forgotten he knew what Evan smelled like.
"Cheezu!" sang one of the fans, and everyone's cellphone's clicked at the same time, surrounding them with flashes like the paparazzi. Johnny did his level best to give the camera happy, friendly, and ever-so-slightly uncomfortable because he didn't want the internet speculating about how he felt with Evan's arm on his shoulder.
"What are you here for?" Evan asked. It was a perfectly reasonable question, but to Johnny it sounded like an attack. You retired, why are you here?
"Working," said Johnny shortly, trying to shrug out of Evan's half-hug, but Evan was still grinning for fans and he wasn't inclined to let go.
"Cool," said Evan, and Johnny wasn't making up the slight disdain in Evan's voice. "That'll be uh. Interesting for you. I guess."
Johnny smiled sweetly and said, "At least I retired before I embarrassed myself."
"Bronze is not an embarrassment-" Evan started, but Johnny had managed to free himself from Evan's hand and grab his suitcase again.
"See you in Nagoya," said Johnny. He blew a kiss to the teenage girls in their adorable school uniforms, and they shrieked. He grabbed his suitcase and rolled out of there as quickly as he could without looking like he was being rude to the fans.
Tara puffed a little bit, keeping up with him. "You two are still behaving like adults, I see," she said.
"Get me a taxi and a cigarette before I punch someone in the face," Johnny replied shortly.
Tara rolled her eyes at him, but refrained from comment.
--
Johnny was in a better mood by the time he got to the hotel. The train and the bus were miserable, but travel in Japan was so relaxing. Everything ran on time and everyone was so polite, and he could always count on his reservations to work out exactly the way he'd planned them, unlike Russia where it was always a game of craps if the hotel would even exist at all. Johnny's hotel room was spotless and it smelled wonderful, and as soon as he stepped into it all the tension that he'd been carrying in his shoulders since he ran into Evan vanished.
The jet lag that had been dogging Johnny since he landed caught up to him, all in a rush, and all he wanted to do was collapse on the bed face-first and sleep for a few hours, but it was only mid-afternoon Nagoya time, and he knew that if he let himself sleep now he'd be off-time and miserable the rest of the week. Instead he started organizing the drawers in his hotel room, neatly arranging his sweaters by color and weight so that he'd know what to wear to the rink and what to wear outside.
Someone pounded frantically on his hotel door. "Yes?" Johnny said uncertainly. If it was room service the odds were he'd never figure out what they were saying. He'd taught himself a smidge of Japanese, but somehow it never helped when he needed to actually understand something. He cracked the door open.
"Oh, thank god," said Adam, throwing his arms around Johnny's neck in a mildly-desperate hug. "What if you hadn't gotten here until tomorrow when we start practicing, and I see Mirai and I don't know what to say?"
"Are you staying in this hotel, too?" Johnny asked, trying to escape Adam's adorable, but slightly too tight, hug. Johnny had some personal space issues. He didn't mind hugging people, but he didn't always love being hugged without some warning.
"All the skaters are, I think," said Adam. He looked tired and panicked. "Including Mirai. I skipped lunch, just in case."
Johnny rolled his eyes. "She's a teenage girl, not a grizzly bear. I mean, I can see where you'd get confused."
"I just," said Adam, "I really like her." His cheeks were turning pink just talking about it. It was somewhere between the cutest thing Johnny had ever seen and the most sickening.
"You're friends," Johnny pointed out, dredging up patience he didn't really have after an international flight. "Don't you talk to her normally? Just talk to her."
"But she'll know," Adam said, hushed like he was afraid Mirai was listening at the door with a glass to her ear.
Johnny heroically stifled the urge to roll his eyes. "I think she's probably more worried about skating this week. You being weird isn't going to register."
"That's what I hoped, too," Adam said, and then his face kind of crumpled a little bit, and damn it, Johnny wasn't made of stone. Sad Adam was like an abandoned kitten in a puddle during a rainstorm. "But when I skyped her yesterday she asked me if I was okay."
Johnny needed to fold something. He picked up the sweaters he'd just put in the drawer and rearranged them, lining the sleeves up carefully. "And that's bad," he said.
"She doesn't normally ask that! I must be acting weird!"
"You are," Johnny assured him.
Adam threw a pillow at Johnny. "You don't understand anything," he said. "You've never been in love, you think I'm being stupid."
"Oh god, are you actually in love?" Johnny sighed. "I was hoping this was more something along the lines of an adorable crush."
Adam shook his head. "See? You're not taking me seriously."
Johnny sat down on the bed and tried to look as serious as possible. "I promise I am. How do you know you're in love with Mirai?"
"She just... Everything she says is like... And her eyes are like... And I just..." Adam waved his hands helplessly. "I just want to be around her all the time. I want her to be happy. I want to make her happy. I want her to... I just... If she smiled at me I think I'd-"
"Okay," Johnny said, putting up a hand to stop him. "The first blush of true love. Got it."
"I am not blushing," Adam objected, blushing.
Johnny patted his knee. "That's okay," he said. "Do you see how I'm not giving you a hard time about calling me a loveless, boyfriendless, bitter queen? I won't tease you about the blushing, either."
Adam's face was absolutely hilarious. "I didn't mean - Oh, Johnny, I just meant that you... I'm sorry!"
"I didn't say you were wrong, either," said Johnny. "It's okay. I prefer to think of myself as too awesome to be dated. No one can handle how amazing I am."
"Definitely," Adam said loyally. He paused. "Um. Have you ever been in love?"
Johnny hesitated just a second over how to answer that. "I think I thought I was a couple of times, but then they both turned out to be total bastards, so no. I guess not."
"Oh, Johnny," said Adam again, sadly.
"Don't you dare," Johnny said. "Or I'll call Mirai right now and tell her-"
"No! No!" Adam squeaked. "I'm sorry. Oh, I mean I'm not sorry. I mean-"
Johnny nodded, satisfied. "Let's talk about what you're going to wear, instead. You need to make a good impression. And, if possible, not look like a pre-teen idol. Let's see if we can't sex you up."
--
Johnny had two meetings in person with the Japanese network that wanted him to do the broadcast and the interviews, and then he had a phone conference with the book people, and then he had to reply to some emails from Sundance, and by the time he was done he was so tired that even if it hadn't been after dark in Nagoya he probably would have passed out. He crawled into bed and slept like a rock all night, until Tara woke him up with her super-obnoxious early-morning cheerful voice.
"Wakey wakey, princess!" Tara trilled.
"I hate you," Johnny mumbled into his pillow.
"You need to go down to the rink so we can start shooting the promos and commercials," Tara said.
She sounded much too happy for 6:30 in the morning. "You're still on east coast time," Johnny accused. "Go away, leave me alone."
"If I have to come up to your room there will be dire consequences," Tara said, still sounding entirely pleased with herself. "You think I can't be mean, but I totally can."
"Bah," said Johnny, but he dragged himself out of bed. He took a long shower and then spent a while making sure he looked his absolute best, because he was going to run into other skaters at the rink, and he needed the armor of perfect skin and carefully coiffed hair. Tara texted him three times asking if he was ready to go, but when he got down to the lobby she wasn't ready yet and he ended up standing around waiting for her instead.
A few of the skaters were scheduled to go out and skate early in the morning, and every single one had the same reaction to Johnny as they passed; a look of astonishment, fading quickly into polite, confused friendliness. "I thought you retired...?" and then a polite nod when Johnny explained that he was there for book promotion and commentating and other stuff. It wasn't as if skaters didn't stick around after retirement, it was just that they were all apparently astonished that he had, and it really chafed, especially the fifth time he explained it.
Whatever, it didn't matter. Johnny smiled and joked around about how great retirement was and waited until Tara finally, finally got out of the elevator before he exploded. "I hate this and I don't want to be here! Can we fly home right now, please?"
Tara just handed him a cup of coffee and pulled him, protesting, out to where their cab was waiting.
Johnny pouted the entire way there, but by the time they arrived he'd finished his coffee and reorganized Tara's purse, and he felt a lot better. Better enough to smile at the other skaters without betraying the horrible stab of jealousy that went through his chest when he walked into the rink. He reminded himself firmly that he'd chosen this, that it was a good, smart decision that meant he wasn't going to embarrass himself on the ice this year competing against kids who could kick his elderly ass, that his sore hip and healing bones thanked him every morning for not torturing them further. He pushed his chin up and took Tara's arm and didn't betray a damn thing with his expression.
"Let me go see if Fuji TV is here yet," said Tara. "We're having some translation issues, it's a little confusing. You wait here, don't run away," Tara said sternly. Or as sternly as Tara ever managed.
Johnny was left to fend for himself, standing by the boards and watching other skaters. He managed about thirty seconds of it before it started feeling overwhelming, and he turned on his heel, giant bag over his arm, determined to find somewhere else to wait that wouldn't be painful.
He ran smack into someone's chest. The guy went, "Ooof," and Johnny almost fell over. Before he caught his balance and looked up he realized it was Evan, because there was that horribly familiar smell again.
"Sorry, you okay - oh," said Evan, catching Johnny's elbow to steady him and then dropping it again like he was radioactive.
"I'm fine," Johnny said. "Watch where you're going."
"Pretty sure you ran into me," Evan pointed out.
Johnny had no answer for that, so he huffed and crossed his arms. "Nice turtleneck." Evan was wearing a black shirt with rhinestones around the collar and down the sleeves. It was almost so tacky it came back around to fabulous again, but not quite, because Evan wore it so awkwardly.
"Thanks," said Evan, apparently missing Johnny's scathing tone, which made him even madder. "Nice uh. Gloves?"
"Go practice and leave me alone," said Johnny shortly. His gloves were fabulous, and he loved the fur around the cuffs.
"It's nice to see you, too," Evan snorted.
"Whatever," said Johnny, shouldering past him.
Evan turned to follow. "You know, I thought maybe after you retired you'd stop being such a bitch about everything all the time. But I guess that's just who you are."
"Yeah, Evan, exactly," said Johnny, rolling his eyes. "I'm an unreasonable diva bitch, thanks for the update. No one's ever told me that before. I guess I should have been more like you and sucked every dick in the federation, and then I'd have a shiny medal, too."
"Sucking dick was really more your problem than mine," Evan said.
Johnny wanted to punch him, right in his stupid orange face. "No," he said loudly. People were starting to turn and watch them, coaches and skaters and rink employees. "Your problem was that you wanted to suck my dick and you didn't have the guts."
Evan flushed. "Fuck you," he said. "You wish."
"Yeah," Johnny drawled. "That's right. I get off every night thinking about you fucking me. It's all I can think about, I can barely drag myself away from you and your magical gold-medal dick." He pitched his voice higher and lispier. "Oh, Evan, please, Evan please, ohhhh, Evan, baby-"
"I hate you," Evan snarled, turned on his heel, and stomped off.
Johnny smirked after him triumphantly until he realized literally every single person in the rink was staring at him with varying degrees of horror. Well, fuck them. He wasn't ashamed of himself, and he didn't have to pretend to like Evan now that he was retired. It was kind of awesome. It was also just a tiiiiny bit embarrassing, but Johnny was really good at not thinking about that.
Tara appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his arm. "Must you do that?" she hissed. "Like it's not hard enough to find sponsors and jobs? Are you trying to make my life harder?"
"My life is hard, too!" Johnny said plaintively, but she ignored him as she pulled him away to meet the people from Fuji TV.
--
There was a reporter from Fuji, who was tiny and lovely and spoke such quick Japanese that Johnny didn't even recognize the sounds, let alone any words. His job, apparently, was to stand there and nod while she talked the camera with big gestures and a lot of giggles and exaggerated faces, and then she'd turn to him and say something and wait patiently while he tried to remember if this question was, "What do you think of Japan?" or "Who do you think will get the gold medal?" or "How does it feel to be retired?" He smiled and said a lot of vague things about how great everybody was, and then she turned to what was always the favorite topic of Japanese reporters for some reason: what did he think of Japanese food?
"I love sushi," Johnny said, and she turned to the camera and said about a billion words with "sushi" and "Johnny Weir" scattered through somewhere.
"You can use... chopsticks?" she asked next, gesturing with her fingers.
"Oh, of course!" Johnny said. "It's not authentic if you don't use chopsticks." She made an amazed noise and started rapid-fire speaking at the camera again.
Johnny felt kind of like a trained monkey, but he smiled gamely and flirted with the camera, winking a couple of times, which seemed to cause the interviewer to get semi-hysterical, giggling behind her hand. Johnny loved Japan a lot. Everyone there thought everything he did was awesome.
"Okay, you have a free hour or two, please try not to start World War three with Evan Lysacek," Tara said.
"He started with me," Johnny said, but Tara wasn't listening to him anyway. It was really frustrating how she chose not to listen to him, usually when things were actually not entirely his fault. "I'm going to get a new agent," Johnny said. "Someone who'll be on my side and defend me." He stuck his lip out poutily.
"No, you really won't," said Tara. "Who else would put up with you? Besides, you love beating me at mini-golf too much." She gave him a one-armed hug and then an oddly serious look, which didn't really work on her. "You know I love you best, babe, but you'd be better off avoiding Evan this week. It just seems like you're jealous, and it makes you look bitter and catty. I know you don't like him, but if you smile and pretend we could spin it that he's the jerk, not you."
"But I'm actually not the jerk!" Johnny protested. "He called me-"
"You're not a teenager competing against him anymore," Tara said. "You're both grownups. Age-wise, at least. Please, please, please, Johnny, for the millionth time."
Johnny was so aggravated he kind of wanted to throw himself on the ground and kick his heels and scream until everyone understood that he was not putting up with this shit. "But I don't like him," Johnny said. "I refuse to be fake about what I wear, or where I go, or what I do, and I won't be fake about Evan just because it would be easier for you!"
"Easier for you, too," Tara sighed.
"When have I ever done what was easy?" Johnny exploded. People were staring to watch them again, damn it. Johnny lowered his voice a little. "It's not fair."
Tara had her lips pressed together like she was trying not to laugh at him. "You poor thing," she said. "Your life is so hard."
"Thank you for noticing!"
Tara patted his shoulder. "Why don't you go get yourself some cake? You're retired, you can do that now."
"I'm still not going to get fat," Johnny grumbled, but it wasn't a terrible idea. He let Tara soothe him a little more by telling him how great he looked and then he went to spend his free hours hunting down those Japanese snack cookies that looked like koala bears.
--
Adam and Johnny had decided dinner was the best time to attempt anything. Johnny normally skipped dinner with the other skaters, because he hated it when they commented on how much or how little he was eating, but he wasn't a skater anymore so he wasn't technically invited, which meant he wanted desperately to be there. He was a complicated person with a lot of layers, okay?
Adam had not, in fact, brought decent clothes for dating anyone, at least not by Johnny's standards, and they didn't have time to go shopping. Johnny had made-do with what he had; skintight black jeans, a cute t-shirt, and a leather jacket that managed to make even Adam look just a tiny bit naughty. Johnny had considered styling his hair somehow, but it was a force of nature, and Johnny had seen the dire consequences of straightening it.
"Did you know her name means 'future'?" Adam whispered. "Isn't that amazing?"
"My name means 'patience of a goddamn saint,'" Johnny replied. Adam wasn't really listening, he was looking over at the table where Mirai was eating with big hearts in his eyes.
Johnny poked him. "Stop staring at her like that, it's borderline creepy," he said. "Tell me again what you're going to say."
"That maybe when we're done here, or if she's done early, or if we have some spare time or whatever, maybe we could-"
Johnny sighed. "Try again. Simple declarative statements. 'Hi, Mirai. Do you want to...'"
"Hi, Mirai," Adam echoed dutifully. "Do you want to go to dinner with me? Johnny, that's terrible, she's going to say no."
"She really won't," Johnny promised. "Try to look confident. Pretend you're skating. She's the audience, win her over." Johnny demonstrated, giving Adam his most devastating I'm-charming-your-panties-off-right-now-and-you-don't-even-know-it smile.
Adam blinked at him. "Wow," he said, cheeks turning pink. "I don't think I can do that."
"I've seen you do that," Johnny said. "When you skate you flirt with the audience. Give me your skating smile."
Adam had to think about for a second, and then he turned his dazzling, adorable, put-my-picture-up-in-your-locker-and-sigh-over-me smile. It wasn't quite the same as Johnny's, but it was just as effective in its own way.
"Perfection," Johnny assured him. "Just give her that smile and ask her if she wants to go get dinner with you outside the cafeteria. And invite me to the wedding."
"Johnny, stop it," Adam said. He rubbed his hands nervously against the sides of his jeans. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Okay, I can do this." He wasn't moving at all, though, so Johnny helpfully gave him a shove toward Mirai's table.
Johnny tried to look nonchalant as he followed Adam. He had had every intention of hanging back and letting Adam go over by himself, but the odds of Adam chickening out were pretty high, so he tagged along.
Mirai looked up at Adam and beamed. Her smile was pretty devastating, too, in the way only a happy teenage girl could be. "Hi, Adam," she said.
"Hey," Adam replied, smiling shyly back at her, and just like that he was off-script and Johnny was pretty sure it was going to end in disaster.
"Hey," said Mirai, and then giggled at herself.
Adam smiled wider. "Hey," he repeated.
They were going to stand there smiling at each other all night, and Johnny was going to throw up all over the floor. "Adam has a question," Johnny said brightly, nudging Adam forward.
"Oh, hi, Johnny," Mirai said, as if she'd suddenly just noticed him there. Johnny stifled an eye-roll.
"Yeah, I was... I was wondering if... Um, how are you?" Adam asked, hands in his pockets. His cheeks were pink and he hadn't even asked her anything yet. How had he gotten to 21 without spontaneously combusting from embarrassment? And for god's sake, how had he ever managed to have sex?
"I'm really good!" Mirai said excitedly. "I'm so excited for my new long program, I hope I don't screw it up. I'm so nervous!"
"I bet you're going to be great," said Adam, smiling dopily. Mirai giggled.
Johnny couldn't stop himself, he said a little bit more loudly, "And Adam was wondering if..." while poking Adam sharply in the back.
Adam spared him a quick glare and then turned back to Mirai. "Yeah. Um. So. Cafeteria food is kind of bad, I think?"
"It's awful," Mirai agreed, giggling again.
"And I was kind of... Um... thinking of... Of not eating here?" Adam said.
Johnny wanted to shake him with both hands. How hard was it to roll up to someone, give them a lascivious look up and down, and say, "So, dinner? And then my place?" It worked like, 90 percent of the time Johnny tried it, and when it didn't at the very least it made the other person blush and laugh.
"Ohhhh," Mirai said. "That could be cool. There are some really great restaurants around."
"And you speak Japanese," Adam agreed.
"I totally do!"
"So you two should go get dinner together!" Johnny said, brimming with false cheer. "Wouldn't that be great? Dinner?"
Adam looked at Mirai, and Mirai looked at Adam. They were both blushing. "Um," said Adam.
Mirai looked down at her plate. "I kind of already have dinner?" she said. "But um. Tomorrow-"
"Tomorrow would be great!" Adam interrupted.
"It would be so great," Mirai nodded.
Johnny blew out a long, deep breath. So that was taken care of, and now he could stop fretting that Adam would cute himself right out of a date, thank god.
"What would be so great?"
Johnny gritted his teeth. Why was Evan Lysacek always around and why was he always interfering? Evan was holding a tray of unappetizing food, looking from Mirai to Adam with a big dumb grin. Then he saw Johnny, and the smile slipped of his face.
"We're um. Going to dinner?" Mirai said.
"The food here's kind of awful," Adam added quickly. "So we just thought. Um."
"I can show him real Japanese food!" Mirai agreed. They looked at each other and she started giggling again.
"Huh," said Evan, frowning. He gave Johnny a long, dark stare that made Johnny cross his arms and put his shoulders back. What the hell was Evan's problem now?
"Isn't it great?" Johnny asked, trying to force a smile at Evan. He'd tell Tara he had tried, at least. And then he'd demand she give him a foot massage. That would serve her right.
Evan didn't look convinced. "Dinner where? The three of you?"
"The two of them," Johnny corrected. He tried to send Evan a significant message with his eyebrows to shut the fuck up before he ruined all of Johnny's hard work. "They're going to get dinner. Just the two of them." Get it? he tried to ask with a little tilt and nod.
"That does sound awesome," Evan agreed slowly. "Can I get in on that? I'd love to get some real Japanese cuisine with someone who knows how to order."
"Oh, um, I guess?" Mirai said, looking uncertainly at Adam.
Adam nodded. "Sure. If you want. That would be cool," he agreed, sounding confused and ever so slightly unhappy.
Johnny had tried, honestly he had. When he murdered Evan no one was going to be able to blame him. He grabbed Evan by one arm and said, "Excuse us," in a low voice, dragging Evan a couple of feet away.
"Excuse you," said Evan, shaking his hand off.
Johnny hissed, "Why do you hate happiness?"
"What? I don't hate - Why are you so weird?" Evan demanded, crossing his arms.
Johnny stamped his foot. He was so very tired of Evan Lysacek fucking with him all the time. "Why are you inviting yourself along on their date?"
Evan narrowed his eyes. "Why are you setting up their date?"
"Why shouldn't I?" Johnny snapped.
"Mirai is like my little sister, okay, and I don't think a chaperone is a bad idea," Evan said. "She's seventeen, and he's twenty-one. That's statutory."
Johnny stared at Evan, open-mouthed. "He's not going to fuck her," Johnny said. "Oh my god! He just wants to hold her hand and smile at her like an idiot! Have you met Adam? He's harmless!"
"No twenty-one year old man is harmless," said Evan grimly.
Johnny's hand balled itself into a fist entire of its own volition. "You-" he spluttered. "You totally selfish asshole! You're just doing this because you think it's my idea!"
Evan's face went distant and blank. "I have some experience with what you think dating is," he said coldly. "I would never let that happen to Mirai."
Johnny had no idea what Evan was talking about, but he knew when he was being insulted. "Fuck you," he said. His voice cracked a little bit, which was utterly unacceptable. It made him even angrier with Evan, somehow.
Evan ignored him and walked back over to Adam and Mirai. "How about noodles?" he asked, acting like nothing had just happened. "I really like those uh, what do you call them? The buckwheat ones?"
"Soba," said Mirai.
"Soba sounds wonderful," Johnny agreed, because god damn it all to hell he wasn't going to let Evan ruin that date. If Evan was going to run interference, under the total delusion that Adam was a sex maniac, then Johnny was going to run interference interference, fuck you very much. Johnny smiled blandly at Adam. "I guess Evan and I will both tag along, since we have a local expert and all."
"Oh," said Adam faintly, looking confusedly at him and then Mirai. She shrugged. Adam shrugged back. Evan and Johnny smiled at each other and somehow Johnny managed to keep himself from wringing Evan's neck right then and there.
next
Fandom: Skating RPS (Johnny Weir/Evan Lysacek)
Disclaimer: This is obviously not really about Johnny Weir or Evan Lysacek, this is speculation based on what characters modeled after them might be like. If you happen to be either one of them, please don't read this.
Warnings: There isn't actually any sex in this fic. I'm sorry.
The idea and general outline are based very, very loosely on the idea of Pride and Prejudice, but you won't find very much of that story here. It does, however, mean there are two couples, and at least one misunderstanding. This is set at some vague point in the future when Johnny's retired. I apologize in advance for all the skating details that are undoubtedly wrong. The details about Japan are based on when I lived there, so those are probably wrong by now, too.
Thank you very much to nova33 for the lovely beta. All remaining mistakes are mine. And thank you to all the usual suspects for excellent cheerleading when I SWORE I wasn't really writing this. 40k (...how did that HAPPEN?)
"Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?" - Pride and Prejudice
The best part about being retired was that Johnny got to sleep in and then spend the day cleaning if there was nothing else scheduled. The worst part was how often there was nothing else scheduled, but whatever; Johnny was getting used to it. Lots of days he went skating and he had appointments and meetings and appearances. Some days he just... didn't.
The phone interrupted him in the middle of scrubbing the inside of his cabinets, trying to eliminate the stain where Paris had spilled vanilla extract and it had soaked into the wood a little bit. Johnny hit the speaker button and said, "Talk to me, darling," and then stuck his head back in the cabinet.
"Oh. Johnny? It's um. It's Adam?"
Johnny had known that from the ridiculous baby voice and the mild lisp that made him want to steal Adam and play dress-up with him forever. "Hey, honey," Johnny said. "What's up? If you hear weird noises I'm cleaning."
There was a tiny pause. "Well. Okay," Adam said. "So, I heard you're going to be at NHK next week? Is that, um, true?"
Adam didn't need the kind of 'media training' Johnny had been repeatedly sent to, because he looked like the lead singer of a boy band and everything he said sounded like an interview in Tiger Beat. But he needed a little practice getting to the end of his sentences, in Johnny's opinion. "I've been asked to do some commentary and interviews and stuff," Johnny said. His voice echoed a little weirdly in the empty cabinet. "I'll be there for a few days, at least."
"Oh, great," said Adam, sounding relieved. "That's great, that's... Stéphane's not going to be there."
Johnny had spent a lot of time with Adam in Korea, and he was pretty sure if he waited long enough Adam would start making sense. "Sure," he said. It was a good thing he'd switched from bleach to vinegar, because he was breathing a lot of fumes in the confined space. He pushed himself onto his toes so he could really get his shoulder into scrubbing.
"And normally I'd just ask Stéphane, because I think he'd probably know, but he won't be there and I'm freaking out a little bit."
"You can ask me whatever," Johnny said. He stopped scrubbing long enough to put his hand on his hip and frown at his phone. "This isn't about sex, is it? Because I can talk you through the basics, but honestly you should probably ask your parents."
"I'm twenty-one!" Adam protested. "I've totally had sex."
Johnny cycled through the other questions people usually called him about in a panic. "Well, if you're wondering about blow jobs-"
"Johnny! God."
Johnny pushed on relentlessly. "-or anal sex or whatever, I can recommend some websites, but I'm not showing you myself."
He could actually hear Adam blushing over the phone. "No, I- Augh. No!"
"You may be twenty-one, but you look about twelve, angelface, and I'm not going to debauch you. Call me in five or six years. Not that you aren't the prettiest, you know how I feel about your hair, but I just can't do it, I'm sorry."
"Would you please stop being an asshole?" Adam asked, halfway between aggravated and embarrassed. Johnny smirked at the phone a little. "I totally managed to forget that this is why I always call Stéphane, not you."
"You love me," said Johnny confidently, because he hadn't missed Adam's totally adorable crush during Festa.
Adam sighed. "Fine," he said. "Can I just ask you, please?"
"You're the one dithering around," Johnny said.
"Well it's more... I mean. You've um... You've hit on people, right?"
Johnny froze halfway through reaching for the vinegar. "That's a serious question?"
"Don't make fun of me," Adam whined. "Johnny. I need some advice. I don't know how to... I can't figure out... I have this crush."
"Please tell me it's not Stéphane," Johnny said. "He's just playing, he kisses everyone, he'll only break your heart." Johnny had figured that out after some seriously embarrassing moments, and he wouldn't put Adam through that on purpose.
"No! God, he's like my brother. It's um. It's a girl."
Really? Johnny wondered, but he knew a lot about people and expectations and assumptions so he managed not to blurt out his long-held suspicions about Adam and Jeremy. "A girl I know?"
"No," said Adam quickly. "You definitely don't know her."
It was really cute, the way Adam though the could lie. "So it's a skater," Johnny mused. "Hmmm. Is it Yu-na?"
"No," said Adam. "It's not her, it's... We're friends and I don't know if she likes me, but I like her, and I can't..." He trailed off.
Adam was friends with all the girls; it was something about looking like he could be on the cover of Lisa Simpson's Non-Threatening Boys Monthly magazine. Of course, Johnny was friends with the girls, too, but that was because they wanted to go shopping and gossip with him. "Give me a hint," Johnny said. He couldn't imagine why Adam thought asking Johnny was a good idea; Johnny had a reputation as the most disasterous dater in the USFSA, after the Drew Thing, and the Stéphane Thing. It was possible Adam had even heard about the Evan Thing, but Evan and Johnny had both worked really hard to make that rumor die, and most people thought it had never really happened. Johnny wasn't telling them differently.
"It's... Oh man, I really like her," Adam said. "Um. It's Mirai?"
Johnny cooed out loud, he couldn't help it. "Awww! That's adorable. Mazel tov, I'm sure you two will have a beautiful life together."
"No! Johnny! We're just friends, and she likes me as a friend and I've never really tried to ask anyone out but she's going to be in Nagoya and I may actually throw up when I see her, because she makes my stomach feel all weird, and I don't think throwing up on her is a very good way to get a date, and I need you to help me. You're totally... You're you, you do this kind of stuff!"
"In my entire life I've asked one girl out on a date, and that was on a bet," Johnny said. "And she said no."
Adam moaned. "That's not what I mean."
Johnny posed against the counter, even though Adam couldn't see him. "You mean will I, Johnny Weir, share my life-long expertise at sex appeal and flirtation with you? Will I help you put tab A in slot B at the appropriate moment?"
"Oh my god, oh my god," Adam mumbled.
"Will I ensure a sparkle-rainbow filled future complete with white dresses, crying parents, and an army of adorable skating multi-ethnic munchkins?" He paused just long enough for Adam to start protesting again, and then said benevolently, "Of course I will."
"I just don't want her to laugh at me."
"Mirai giggles at nearly everything," Johnny said. "Don't let it throw you off your game plan. Do you have a game plan?"
"No," said Adam miserably. "I don't know what to say. I haven't seen her in a couple of months but we text a lot and we skype and aim. But I kind of thought that was a bad way to be like, 'I really like you.'"
Johnny pursed his lips. "You're making me feel old," he said. "Stop it. Listen, I'll see you in Nagoya and I'll make sure you're fabulous and you'll tell Mirai you want to bear her children and everyone will live happily ever after."
Adam laughed. "You promise?"
"No worries at all," said Johnny. He was pretty sure that all Adam would ever have to do to get a date was smile and stutter, and he was equally sure that Mirai would say yes because she was a sweetheart. If it ended up being an awful date, well, the worst that could possibly happen was that they'd blush awkwardly at each other for an hour and then come home and... Johnny wasn't even sure. Adopt kittens to deal with their disappointment or something.
And if it worked out they would blind the world with so much cuteness that the USFSA would probably throw medals at them, just for funsies. "I get to be godfather," Johnny said, wrinkling his nose at his sponge. It was pretty gross, and the stain was still faintly visible. Paris was going to get a really stern talking to next time he came over, except he'd probably have done something else by then and Johnny would be distracted by a ripped bag or mud tracked on the carpet or something. "I get to spoil the kids outrageously, right? How do you feel about sparkly onesies for actual babies?"
"I don't think I want kids yet?" Adam said like a question.
"Of course not, you're still a baby," Johnny said, ignoring Adam's squawk of protest. "Make sure you pack clothes for dates, not just for practicing. I have to go sterilize my sponge, but text me when you get to Nagoya so we can plot."
"You mean plan?" Adam asked.
"Sure, if that makes you feel better," Johnny agreed. "Kisses! Fly safe, honey."
Adam said, "You're the best, thanks," and hung up. Johnny really liked that kid. He deserved a good date with a pretty girl - if girls were what he was into at the moment, Johnny still wasn't convinced, but whatever, it was Adam's life - and Johnny could make that happen. He was a pro at setting up other people, even if all the dates he went on ended in fire and death and misery.
Johnny picked up his phone and dialed Paris. "Come over so I can pack and yell at you about my cabinet," Johnny said.
"You mean play dress up and take pictures and drink champagne," said Paris. "Give me an hour."
"If you say an hour you'll take four," Johnny complained.
"So you have time to get some actual packing done," Paris agreed. "I'll see you in a little while."
--
"They will probably get married for real," Johnny said from where he was lying on the carpet. At some point he'd been sitting on the couch, but then he'd gotten dizzy and decided to lay down, and then he'd reached for something and ended up on the floor, and now it seemed like a lot of work to get all the way back up to the couch which Paris was mostly bogarting anyway. "I think I had too much wine."
"You're retired, you can have as much wine as you want," Paris said, because he was a dirty enabler and because he liked drinking Johnny's wine.
Johnny waved one arm around vaguely over his head, to indicate that Paris was an idiot and that Johnny had lost track of what he was saying anyway. Oh, right. "They'll have a big church wedding, I bet. And there will be doves, and everyone will cry." He couldn't keep the tiniest hint of envy out of his voice, which was terrible, because Paris was like some kind of angst-sniffing bloodhound.
"You could get married," Paris said. "I'll marry you. You can use me just for my body."
"I can't even live with you," Johnny pointed out.
"I couldn't live with you," Paris corrected. "But whatever. Maybe instead of helping Adam get Mirai, you should steal him for yourself. He's pretty."
Johnny considered it for just a second. "No," he said finally. "I'm too old and bitter and I'd only make him sad all the time."
Paris leaned over and took the wine out of Johnny's hand. "And thaaaat means no more wine for you," he said. "I swear to god, if you start crying I'm going home. I mean, I'm going to record it on my camera phone and then I'm leaving. For real."
"I'm not going to cry," Johnny said. "I will insist they let me plan the wedding. Ooh, maybe that's what I should do with the rest of my life. Event planning by Johnny Weir!"
"I'll be in charge of flowers," said Paris, pouring himself some more wine. "But wait, why aren't we planning your wedding?"
Johnny glared at Paris, only Paris had moved to the other side of the couch and Johnny was glaring at his shoes. "Shut up. Disaster, misery, dying alone. I know my fate."
"Not this again, with the lonely and the whining. The USFSA only medium-cares what you do anymore," Paris said. "Go sleep with someone that would annoy them and sell the pictures to People Magazine. I'll pay you a million dollars to kiss Frank Carroll on camera."
"I want more wine," Johnny pouted.
"You'll spill it on the carpet and blame me," Paris said, clutching the bottle protectively. "No deal."
"Then don't talk to me about Frank Carroll," Johnny shuddered.
Paris shook his head. "You're starting to sound like a sad, middle-aged woman. I can't be best friends with someone who depresses me."
"I'm ready to settle," Johnny moaned. "Anyone who's willing to actually show up to our date would be fine with me. Maybe he could have a hunchback and a snaggle tooth. I could work with that. I could make it fabulous somehow."
Paris stood up, wobbled a little bit, and waited until he had his balance back. "I'm getting you some water," he said. "You swore you'd never mention the situation with him-"
"Shut up!"
"-so you must be maudlin beyond all repair. I'm sure someone will want to date you. Eventually. I mean, Britney's been married three times, and she's a hotter mess than you could ever hope to be." Paris magically reappeared with a glass of water, which he was definitely going to spill on the carpet, and Johnny was going to cry. Paris was still wearing Johnny's fur shrug, the nice one, and he was going to get it wet. "If worse comes to worst, you can be their creepy match-making uncle. That's not so bad, right?"
"Creepy uncle isn't so bad?" Johnny asked, but he pushed himself up on his elbows so he could drink the water. The room was spinning slowly in circles around him.
"Could be even worse," said Paris, and then he had to stop and think. "Um. You could be Evan Lysacek. Tall and awkward and a total date-ditching douchebag who we hate." He patted Johnny on the head. "I'm going to go sleep in your bed, since you can't sleep in the same room with anyone else and all."
Johnny laid back down and sighed heavily. He was going to get up and move to the guest bedroom. Really. Any minute now.
--
Flying to Japan was miserable, mostly because the flight was so long and Johnny couldn't justify buying first class tickets. "You sit by the aisle," he ordered Tara. "I'm going to sleep on you."
"You're not getting me all drooly, Johnny, eww!" Tara squealed, but she didn't really mean it. One of Johnny's favorite things about Tara was how she could never resist his charm. His other favorite thing was that she always had a coffee for him when they were going on a really long plane trip.
"I need my sleep. There will be sick children on this plane," Johnny said darkly, "and I'm going to end up sick."
"You are not wearing your creepy mask," Tara said. "You never sleep on planes full of people, anyway. You're not even skating, if you get a little sick it doesn't matter."
For just a second it felt like she'd slapped him across the face, but Tara would never have said anything to hurt him on purpose. Johnny pretended it hadn't happened. "I'm still working," he said.
"As long as you don't get, like, what's that disease where your body parts rot off?" Tara asked. "Fuji TV is paying for your beautiful face. As long as that arrives intact you're fine."
"I'm playing cupid, I can't get sick," Johnny said, but by then Tara had stopped listening to him and was playing with the buttons that made the TV in the back of the seat ahead of her turn on.
"I brought every episode of Sex and the City," she said, "to watch on my laptop. But this has Marley and Me! That puppy is so cuuuute!"
Johnny hated being ignored. "The dog dies," he said meanly, and fluffed his neck pillow while Tara spluttered and smacked his shoulder.
--
Another nice thing about retirement was that Johnny could have the occasional cigarette in order to deal with stress. The downside was that "occasional" was apparently often enough that by the time they deplaned in Narita Johnny was craving nicotine. He made a note to himself that he really, seriously, needed to stop smoking at all and blessed the Japanese for their utterly backwards ways, because they still had a smoking lounge in the airport where he could light up just long enough to remind himself that smoking was a disgusting habit.
"Fans at ten o'clock," said Tara, pointing.
Johnny fixed his scarf and cursed under his breath. His fans were the greatest people on earth and he loved each and every single one of them, but sometimes it was a pain in the ass, smiling after a thirteen hour flight. He plastered on a smile and bowed as they bowed to him, surrounding him with pens and notebooks with adorable cartoons on them. There was a group of teenage girls holding hands and wearing sailor suits, whispering to each other and then shrieking with giggles. None of them were quite brave enough to talk to him until three of them got together and pushed the fourth forward, sparkly gel-pen and panda-covered paper in hand.
"Please, we..." she started, and then stopped, looking back at her friends, who giggled encouragingly. "You are... favorite," she tried again.
"And you're my favorite," Johnny said, with a devastating wink that made them all burst into gales of stifled giggles. He signed the paper with a big sparkly heart and the rest of them rushed forward, holding out other things, stuffed animals and notebooks and a book full of his pictures that one of them had painstakingly made. This was why he loved them so much.
There was a sudden shriek from one of the girls and they began talking in furious Japanese, looking over his shoulder. Tara turned and made a face, elbowing him.
"Evan," she said.
"What? Fuck," said Johnny. A benefit of retirement was supposed to be his total ability to avoid Evan Lysacek. "Maybe he won't come over here-"
The girls started shrieking and some of them bowed politely to Johnny before the crowd rushed off to surround Evan. Johnny scowled at them for just a second, before he shrugged and decided to move on with his life. No one had given Evan a book of pictures, at least. Johnny was still their favorite.
"Stop planning his death with your brain," Tara hissed. "I can totally see it all over your face."
"It involves a toaster, a bathtub, and a crocodile," said Johnny, narrowing his eyes and taking just a moment to enjoy the mental image, and then he grabbed his rolling suitcase and said, "Shall we get a taxi? I'm beat."
One of the Japanese girls looked anxiously at him and said, "Please, you... Together?"
"Me and Tara?" Johnny said hopefully, but they were ushering Evan over, and oh, Christ, the last thing Johnny wanted when he was feeling crabby and grimy from the flight and craving a cigarette was Evan Lysacek all up in his space. Evan was wearing his Team USA jacket and a big grin and his skin was the color of a pumpkin. He looked tireder than Johnny did, and Johnny was glad.
"Hey," said Evan.
Even the way he greeted people set Johnny's teeth on edge; what was wrong with complete words? "Hello," Johnny replied pointedly, but Evan just grinned.
"You mind?"
"No, not at all," Johnny lied through his teeth. The fans were shrieking and giggling and surrounding them again; this was not the time to throw a bitch fit about Evan. Later, when they got to the hotel, Johnny was going to video chat with his mom and complain to his heart's content, but right now he tried his best to smile, even when Evan put his great big monkey arm around Johnny's shoulder and leaned in a little too close.
The smell of Evan hit Johnny like a ton of bricks. Not in a bad way; Evan smelled like Old Spice, or Axe, or whatever shitty men's deodorant he'd always worn. It was just that Johnny had forgotten he knew what Evan smelled like.
"Cheezu!" sang one of the fans, and everyone's cellphone's clicked at the same time, surrounding them with flashes like the paparazzi. Johnny did his level best to give the camera happy, friendly, and ever-so-slightly uncomfortable because he didn't want the internet speculating about how he felt with Evan's arm on his shoulder.
"What are you here for?" Evan asked. It was a perfectly reasonable question, but to Johnny it sounded like an attack. You retired, why are you here?
"Working," said Johnny shortly, trying to shrug out of Evan's half-hug, but Evan was still grinning for fans and he wasn't inclined to let go.
"Cool," said Evan, and Johnny wasn't making up the slight disdain in Evan's voice. "That'll be uh. Interesting for you. I guess."
Johnny smiled sweetly and said, "At least I retired before I embarrassed myself."
"Bronze is not an embarrassment-" Evan started, but Johnny had managed to free himself from Evan's hand and grab his suitcase again.
"See you in Nagoya," said Johnny. He blew a kiss to the teenage girls in their adorable school uniforms, and they shrieked. He grabbed his suitcase and rolled out of there as quickly as he could without looking like he was being rude to the fans.
Tara puffed a little bit, keeping up with him. "You two are still behaving like adults, I see," she said.
"Get me a taxi and a cigarette before I punch someone in the face," Johnny replied shortly.
Tara rolled her eyes at him, but refrained from comment.
--
Johnny was in a better mood by the time he got to the hotel. The train and the bus were miserable, but travel in Japan was so relaxing. Everything ran on time and everyone was so polite, and he could always count on his reservations to work out exactly the way he'd planned them, unlike Russia where it was always a game of craps if the hotel would even exist at all. Johnny's hotel room was spotless and it smelled wonderful, and as soon as he stepped into it all the tension that he'd been carrying in his shoulders since he ran into Evan vanished.
The jet lag that had been dogging Johnny since he landed caught up to him, all in a rush, and all he wanted to do was collapse on the bed face-first and sleep for a few hours, but it was only mid-afternoon Nagoya time, and he knew that if he let himself sleep now he'd be off-time and miserable the rest of the week. Instead he started organizing the drawers in his hotel room, neatly arranging his sweaters by color and weight so that he'd know what to wear to the rink and what to wear outside.
Someone pounded frantically on his hotel door. "Yes?" Johnny said uncertainly. If it was room service the odds were he'd never figure out what they were saying. He'd taught himself a smidge of Japanese, but somehow it never helped when he needed to actually understand something. He cracked the door open.
"Oh, thank god," said Adam, throwing his arms around Johnny's neck in a mildly-desperate hug. "What if you hadn't gotten here until tomorrow when we start practicing, and I see Mirai and I don't know what to say?"
"Are you staying in this hotel, too?" Johnny asked, trying to escape Adam's adorable, but slightly too tight, hug. Johnny had some personal space issues. He didn't mind hugging people, but he didn't always love being hugged without some warning.
"All the skaters are, I think," said Adam. He looked tired and panicked. "Including Mirai. I skipped lunch, just in case."
Johnny rolled his eyes. "She's a teenage girl, not a grizzly bear. I mean, I can see where you'd get confused."
"I just," said Adam, "I really like her." His cheeks were turning pink just talking about it. It was somewhere between the cutest thing Johnny had ever seen and the most sickening.
"You're friends," Johnny pointed out, dredging up patience he didn't really have after an international flight. "Don't you talk to her normally? Just talk to her."
"But she'll know," Adam said, hushed like he was afraid Mirai was listening at the door with a glass to her ear.
Johnny heroically stifled the urge to roll his eyes. "I think she's probably more worried about skating this week. You being weird isn't going to register."
"That's what I hoped, too," Adam said, and then his face kind of crumpled a little bit, and damn it, Johnny wasn't made of stone. Sad Adam was like an abandoned kitten in a puddle during a rainstorm. "But when I skyped her yesterday she asked me if I was okay."
Johnny needed to fold something. He picked up the sweaters he'd just put in the drawer and rearranged them, lining the sleeves up carefully. "And that's bad," he said.
"She doesn't normally ask that! I must be acting weird!"
"You are," Johnny assured him.
Adam threw a pillow at Johnny. "You don't understand anything," he said. "You've never been in love, you think I'm being stupid."
"Oh god, are you actually in love?" Johnny sighed. "I was hoping this was more something along the lines of an adorable crush."
Adam shook his head. "See? You're not taking me seriously."
Johnny sat down on the bed and tried to look as serious as possible. "I promise I am. How do you know you're in love with Mirai?"
"She just... Everything she says is like... And her eyes are like... And I just..." Adam waved his hands helplessly. "I just want to be around her all the time. I want her to be happy. I want to make her happy. I want her to... I just... If she smiled at me I think I'd-"
"Okay," Johnny said, putting up a hand to stop him. "The first blush of true love. Got it."
"I am not blushing," Adam objected, blushing.
Johnny patted his knee. "That's okay," he said. "Do you see how I'm not giving you a hard time about calling me a loveless, boyfriendless, bitter queen? I won't tease you about the blushing, either."
Adam's face was absolutely hilarious. "I didn't mean - Oh, Johnny, I just meant that you... I'm sorry!"
"I didn't say you were wrong, either," said Johnny. "It's okay. I prefer to think of myself as too awesome to be dated. No one can handle how amazing I am."
"Definitely," Adam said loyally. He paused. "Um. Have you ever been in love?"
Johnny hesitated just a second over how to answer that. "I think I thought I was a couple of times, but then they both turned out to be total bastards, so no. I guess not."
"Oh, Johnny," said Adam again, sadly.
"Don't you dare," Johnny said. "Or I'll call Mirai right now and tell her-"
"No! No!" Adam squeaked. "I'm sorry. Oh, I mean I'm not sorry. I mean-"
Johnny nodded, satisfied. "Let's talk about what you're going to wear, instead. You need to make a good impression. And, if possible, not look like a pre-teen idol. Let's see if we can't sex you up."
--
Johnny had two meetings in person with the Japanese network that wanted him to do the broadcast and the interviews, and then he had a phone conference with the book people, and then he had to reply to some emails from Sundance, and by the time he was done he was so tired that even if it hadn't been after dark in Nagoya he probably would have passed out. He crawled into bed and slept like a rock all night, until Tara woke him up with her super-obnoxious early-morning cheerful voice.
"Wakey wakey, princess!" Tara trilled.
"I hate you," Johnny mumbled into his pillow.
"You need to go down to the rink so we can start shooting the promos and commercials," Tara said.
She sounded much too happy for 6:30 in the morning. "You're still on east coast time," Johnny accused. "Go away, leave me alone."
"If I have to come up to your room there will be dire consequences," Tara said, still sounding entirely pleased with herself. "You think I can't be mean, but I totally can."
"Bah," said Johnny, but he dragged himself out of bed. He took a long shower and then spent a while making sure he looked his absolute best, because he was going to run into other skaters at the rink, and he needed the armor of perfect skin and carefully coiffed hair. Tara texted him three times asking if he was ready to go, but when he got down to the lobby she wasn't ready yet and he ended up standing around waiting for her instead.
A few of the skaters were scheduled to go out and skate early in the morning, and every single one had the same reaction to Johnny as they passed; a look of astonishment, fading quickly into polite, confused friendliness. "I thought you retired...?" and then a polite nod when Johnny explained that he was there for book promotion and commentating and other stuff. It wasn't as if skaters didn't stick around after retirement, it was just that they were all apparently astonished that he had, and it really chafed, especially the fifth time he explained it.
Whatever, it didn't matter. Johnny smiled and joked around about how great retirement was and waited until Tara finally, finally got out of the elevator before he exploded. "I hate this and I don't want to be here! Can we fly home right now, please?"
Tara just handed him a cup of coffee and pulled him, protesting, out to where their cab was waiting.
Johnny pouted the entire way there, but by the time they arrived he'd finished his coffee and reorganized Tara's purse, and he felt a lot better. Better enough to smile at the other skaters without betraying the horrible stab of jealousy that went through his chest when he walked into the rink. He reminded himself firmly that he'd chosen this, that it was a good, smart decision that meant he wasn't going to embarrass himself on the ice this year competing against kids who could kick his elderly ass, that his sore hip and healing bones thanked him every morning for not torturing them further. He pushed his chin up and took Tara's arm and didn't betray a damn thing with his expression.
"Let me go see if Fuji TV is here yet," said Tara. "We're having some translation issues, it's a little confusing. You wait here, don't run away," Tara said sternly. Or as sternly as Tara ever managed.
Johnny was left to fend for himself, standing by the boards and watching other skaters. He managed about thirty seconds of it before it started feeling overwhelming, and he turned on his heel, giant bag over his arm, determined to find somewhere else to wait that wouldn't be painful.
He ran smack into someone's chest. The guy went, "Ooof," and Johnny almost fell over. Before he caught his balance and looked up he realized it was Evan, because there was that horribly familiar smell again.
"Sorry, you okay - oh," said Evan, catching Johnny's elbow to steady him and then dropping it again like he was radioactive.
"I'm fine," Johnny said. "Watch where you're going."
"Pretty sure you ran into me," Evan pointed out.
Johnny had no answer for that, so he huffed and crossed his arms. "Nice turtleneck." Evan was wearing a black shirt with rhinestones around the collar and down the sleeves. It was almost so tacky it came back around to fabulous again, but not quite, because Evan wore it so awkwardly.
"Thanks," said Evan, apparently missing Johnny's scathing tone, which made him even madder. "Nice uh. Gloves?"
"Go practice and leave me alone," said Johnny shortly. His gloves were fabulous, and he loved the fur around the cuffs.
"It's nice to see you, too," Evan snorted.
"Whatever," said Johnny, shouldering past him.
Evan turned to follow. "You know, I thought maybe after you retired you'd stop being such a bitch about everything all the time. But I guess that's just who you are."
"Yeah, Evan, exactly," said Johnny, rolling his eyes. "I'm an unreasonable diva bitch, thanks for the update. No one's ever told me that before. I guess I should have been more like you and sucked every dick in the federation, and then I'd have a shiny medal, too."
"Sucking dick was really more your problem than mine," Evan said.
Johnny wanted to punch him, right in his stupid orange face. "No," he said loudly. People were starting to turn and watch them, coaches and skaters and rink employees. "Your problem was that you wanted to suck my dick and you didn't have the guts."
Evan flushed. "Fuck you," he said. "You wish."
"Yeah," Johnny drawled. "That's right. I get off every night thinking about you fucking me. It's all I can think about, I can barely drag myself away from you and your magical gold-medal dick." He pitched his voice higher and lispier. "Oh, Evan, please, Evan please, ohhhh, Evan, baby-"
"I hate you," Evan snarled, turned on his heel, and stomped off.
Johnny smirked after him triumphantly until he realized literally every single person in the rink was staring at him with varying degrees of horror. Well, fuck them. He wasn't ashamed of himself, and he didn't have to pretend to like Evan now that he was retired. It was kind of awesome. It was also just a tiiiiny bit embarrassing, but Johnny was really good at not thinking about that.
Tara appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his arm. "Must you do that?" she hissed. "Like it's not hard enough to find sponsors and jobs? Are you trying to make my life harder?"
"My life is hard, too!" Johnny said plaintively, but she ignored him as she pulled him away to meet the people from Fuji TV.
--
There was a reporter from Fuji, who was tiny and lovely and spoke such quick Japanese that Johnny didn't even recognize the sounds, let alone any words. His job, apparently, was to stand there and nod while she talked the camera with big gestures and a lot of giggles and exaggerated faces, and then she'd turn to him and say something and wait patiently while he tried to remember if this question was, "What do you think of Japan?" or "Who do you think will get the gold medal?" or "How does it feel to be retired?" He smiled and said a lot of vague things about how great everybody was, and then she turned to what was always the favorite topic of Japanese reporters for some reason: what did he think of Japanese food?
"I love sushi," Johnny said, and she turned to the camera and said about a billion words with "sushi" and "Johnny Weir" scattered through somewhere.
"You can use... chopsticks?" she asked next, gesturing with her fingers.
"Oh, of course!" Johnny said. "It's not authentic if you don't use chopsticks." She made an amazed noise and started rapid-fire speaking at the camera again.
Johnny felt kind of like a trained monkey, but he smiled gamely and flirted with the camera, winking a couple of times, which seemed to cause the interviewer to get semi-hysterical, giggling behind her hand. Johnny loved Japan a lot. Everyone there thought everything he did was awesome.
"Okay, you have a free hour or two, please try not to start World War three with Evan Lysacek," Tara said.
"He started with me," Johnny said, but Tara wasn't listening to him anyway. It was really frustrating how she chose not to listen to him, usually when things were actually not entirely his fault. "I'm going to get a new agent," Johnny said. "Someone who'll be on my side and defend me." He stuck his lip out poutily.
"No, you really won't," said Tara. "Who else would put up with you? Besides, you love beating me at mini-golf too much." She gave him a one-armed hug and then an oddly serious look, which didn't really work on her. "You know I love you best, babe, but you'd be better off avoiding Evan this week. It just seems like you're jealous, and it makes you look bitter and catty. I know you don't like him, but if you smile and pretend we could spin it that he's the jerk, not you."
"But I'm actually not the jerk!" Johnny protested. "He called me-"
"You're not a teenager competing against him anymore," Tara said. "You're both grownups. Age-wise, at least. Please, please, please, Johnny, for the millionth time."
Johnny was so aggravated he kind of wanted to throw himself on the ground and kick his heels and scream until everyone understood that he was not putting up with this shit. "But I don't like him," Johnny said. "I refuse to be fake about what I wear, or where I go, or what I do, and I won't be fake about Evan just because it would be easier for you!"
"Easier for you, too," Tara sighed.
"When have I ever done what was easy?" Johnny exploded. People were staring to watch them again, damn it. Johnny lowered his voice a little. "It's not fair."
Tara had her lips pressed together like she was trying not to laugh at him. "You poor thing," she said. "Your life is so hard."
"Thank you for noticing!"
Tara patted his shoulder. "Why don't you go get yourself some cake? You're retired, you can do that now."
"I'm still not going to get fat," Johnny grumbled, but it wasn't a terrible idea. He let Tara soothe him a little more by telling him how great he looked and then he went to spend his free hours hunting down those Japanese snack cookies that looked like koala bears.
--
Adam and Johnny had decided dinner was the best time to attempt anything. Johnny normally skipped dinner with the other skaters, because he hated it when they commented on how much or how little he was eating, but he wasn't a skater anymore so he wasn't technically invited, which meant he wanted desperately to be there. He was a complicated person with a lot of layers, okay?
Adam had not, in fact, brought decent clothes for dating anyone, at least not by Johnny's standards, and they didn't have time to go shopping. Johnny had made-do with what he had; skintight black jeans, a cute t-shirt, and a leather jacket that managed to make even Adam look just a tiny bit naughty. Johnny had considered styling his hair somehow, but it was a force of nature, and Johnny had seen the dire consequences of straightening it.
"Did you know her name means 'future'?" Adam whispered. "Isn't that amazing?"
"My name means 'patience of a goddamn saint,'" Johnny replied. Adam wasn't really listening, he was looking over at the table where Mirai was eating with big hearts in his eyes.
Johnny poked him. "Stop staring at her like that, it's borderline creepy," he said. "Tell me again what you're going to say."
"That maybe when we're done here, or if she's done early, or if we have some spare time or whatever, maybe we could-"
Johnny sighed. "Try again. Simple declarative statements. 'Hi, Mirai. Do you want to...'"
"Hi, Mirai," Adam echoed dutifully. "Do you want to go to dinner with me? Johnny, that's terrible, she's going to say no."
"She really won't," Johnny promised. "Try to look confident. Pretend you're skating. She's the audience, win her over." Johnny demonstrated, giving Adam his most devastating I'm-charming-your-panties-off-right-now-and-you-don't-even-know-it smile.
Adam blinked at him. "Wow," he said, cheeks turning pink. "I don't think I can do that."
"I've seen you do that," Johnny said. "When you skate you flirt with the audience. Give me your skating smile."
Adam had to think about for a second, and then he turned his dazzling, adorable, put-my-picture-up-in-your-locker-and-sigh-over-me smile. It wasn't quite the same as Johnny's, but it was just as effective in its own way.
"Perfection," Johnny assured him. "Just give her that smile and ask her if she wants to go get dinner with you outside the cafeteria. And invite me to the wedding."
"Johnny, stop it," Adam said. He rubbed his hands nervously against the sides of his jeans. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Okay, I can do this." He wasn't moving at all, though, so Johnny helpfully gave him a shove toward Mirai's table.
Johnny tried to look nonchalant as he followed Adam. He had had every intention of hanging back and letting Adam go over by himself, but the odds of Adam chickening out were pretty high, so he tagged along.
Mirai looked up at Adam and beamed. Her smile was pretty devastating, too, in the way only a happy teenage girl could be. "Hi, Adam," she said.
"Hey," Adam replied, smiling shyly back at her, and just like that he was off-script and Johnny was pretty sure it was going to end in disaster.
"Hey," said Mirai, and then giggled at herself.
Adam smiled wider. "Hey," he repeated.
They were going to stand there smiling at each other all night, and Johnny was going to throw up all over the floor. "Adam has a question," Johnny said brightly, nudging Adam forward.
"Oh, hi, Johnny," Mirai said, as if she'd suddenly just noticed him there. Johnny stifled an eye-roll.
"Yeah, I was... I was wondering if... Um, how are you?" Adam asked, hands in his pockets. His cheeks were pink and he hadn't even asked her anything yet. How had he gotten to 21 without spontaneously combusting from embarrassment? And for god's sake, how had he ever managed to have sex?
"I'm really good!" Mirai said excitedly. "I'm so excited for my new long program, I hope I don't screw it up. I'm so nervous!"
"I bet you're going to be great," said Adam, smiling dopily. Mirai giggled.
Johnny couldn't stop himself, he said a little bit more loudly, "And Adam was wondering if..." while poking Adam sharply in the back.
Adam spared him a quick glare and then turned back to Mirai. "Yeah. Um. So. Cafeteria food is kind of bad, I think?"
"It's awful," Mirai agreed, giggling again.
"And I was kind of... Um... thinking of... Of not eating here?" Adam said.
Johnny wanted to shake him with both hands. How hard was it to roll up to someone, give them a lascivious look up and down, and say, "So, dinner? And then my place?" It worked like, 90 percent of the time Johnny tried it, and when it didn't at the very least it made the other person blush and laugh.
"Ohhhh," Mirai said. "That could be cool. There are some really great restaurants around."
"And you speak Japanese," Adam agreed.
"I totally do!"
"So you two should go get dinner together!" Johnny said, brimming with false cheer. "Wouldn't that be great? Dinner?"
Adam looked at Mirai, and Mirai looked at Adam. They were both blushing. "Um," said Adam.
Mirai looked down at her plate. "I kind of already have dinner?" she said. "But um. Tomorrow-"
"Tomorrow would be great!" Adam interrupted.
"It would be so great," Mirai nodded.
Johnny blew out a long, deep breath. So that was taken care of, and now he could stop fretting that Adam would cute himself right out of a date, thank god.
"What would be so great?"
Johnny gritted his teeth. Why was Evan Lysacek always around and why was he always interfering? Evan was holding a tray of unappetizing food, looking from Mirai to Adam with a big dumb grin. Then he saw Johnny, and the smile slipped of his face.
"We're um. Going to dinner?" Mirai said.
"The food here's kind of awful," Adam added quickly. "So we just thought. Um."
"I can show him real Japanese food!" Mirai agreed. They looked at each other and she started giggling again.
"Huh," said Evan, frowning. He gave Johnny a long, dark stare that made Johnny cross his arms and put his shoulders back. What the hell was Evan's problem now?
"Isn't it great?" Johnny asked, trying to force a smile at Evan. He'd tell Tara he had tried, at least. And then he'd demand she give him a foot massage. That would serve her right.
Evan didn't look convinced. "Dinner where? The three of you?"
"The two of them," Johnny corrected. He tried to send Evan a significant message with his eyebrows to shut the fuck up before he ruined all of Johnny's hard work. "They're going to get dinner. Just the two of them." Get it? he tried to ask with a little tilt and nod.
"That does sound awesome," Evan agreed slowly. "Can I get in on that? I'd love to get some real Japanese cuisine with someone who knows how to order."
"Oh, um, I guess?" Mirai said, looking uncertainly at Adam.
Adam nodded. "Sure. If you want. That would be cool," he agreed, sounding confused and ever so slightly unhappy.
Johnny had tried, honestly he had. When he murdered Evan no one was going to be able to blame him. He grabbed Evan by one arm and said, "Excuse us," in a low voice, dragging Evan a couple of feet away.
"Excuse you," said Evan, shaking his hand off.
Johnny hissed, "Why do you hate happiness?"
"What? I don't hate - Why are you so weird?" Evan demanded, crossing his arms.
Johnny stamped his foot. He was so very tired of Evan Lysacek fucking with him all the time. "Why are you inviting yourself along on their date?"
Evan narrowed his eyes. "Why are you setting up their date?"
"Why shouldn't I?" Johnny snapped.
"Mirai is like my little sister, okay, and I don't think a chaperone is a bad idea," Evan said. "She's seventeen, and he's twenty-one. That's statutory."
Johnny stared at Evan, open-mouthed. "He's not going to fuck her," Johnny said. "Oh my god! He just wants to hold her hand and smile at her like an idiot! Have you met Adam? He's harmless!"
"No twenty-one year old man is harmless," said Evan grimly.
Johnny's hand balled itself into a fist entire of its own volition. "You-" he spluttered. "You totally selfish asshole! You're just doing this because you think it's my idea!"
Evan's face went distant and blank. "I have some experience with what you think dating is," he said coldly. "I would never let that happen to Mirai."
Johnny had no idea what Evan was talking about, but he knew when he was being insulted. "Fuck you," he said. His voice cracked a little bit, which was utterly unacceptable. It made him even angrier with Evan, somehow.
Evan ignored him and walked back over to Adam and Mirai. "How about noodles?" he asked, acting like nothing had just happened. "I really like those uh, what do you call them? The buckwheat ones?"
"Soba," said Mirai.
"Soba sounds wonderful," Johnny agreed, because god damn it all to hell he wasn't going to let Evan ruin that date. If Evan was going to run interference, under the total delusion that Adam was a sex maniac, then Johnny was going to run interference interference, fuck you very much. Johnny smiled blandly at Adam. "I guess Evan and I will both tag along, since we have a local expert and all."
"Oh," said Adam faintly, looking confusedly at him and then Mirai. She shrugged. Adam shrugged back. Evan and Johnny smiled at each other and somehow Johnny managed to keep himself from wringing Evan's neck right then and there.
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