Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Circles. Fucking circles. 

If Taako has to listen to one more commentator talk about how, “—the sign of a truly elegant skater is the cleanliness of the circular patterns which skaters trace to demonstrate skill—” he’s going to lay down on the ice and let himself get run over by a zamboni.

He shuts the door to the locker room behind him, drowning out the sounds of the crowds and the distant loudspeakers, leaving only the drum of his heart and his laboured breathing. He’s just completed his set—a near perfect short program. His limbs shiver with latent adrenaline. His skates, already capped off, hang loosely over his shoulders. He chugs a bottle of water, then starts on a second one, when Lup bursts into the room.

“Gotta secure that right foot,” she declares, in lieu of a “congrats.” Barry follows in close behind, already carrying what appears to be a drink caddy of hot teas. They’re both smiling wide, obviously pleased by Taako’s performance. Taako raises a hand, and Lup claps it in a tight high five, before plopping down beside him. Barry takes a seat on the bench right across them both. A large screen glares at them from the corner of the locker room, displaying the adjusting score.

“They won’t take off for it,” Taako says, assured. “They were too focused on the rotation.” 

Sure enough, solid 98.6. Ranked 1st.

Lup makes an unimpressed noise, and Taako can’t blame her. Top contender or not, he’s had better numbers.

“Can’t fault a good show,” Barry says.

“See, Barold gets it,” Taako says, already reaching for one of the still-steaming teas. He’s definitely got to massage his legs soon, or they’ll be sore as hell later. But he can enjoy a quick reprieve. He just moved into first rank, he deserves it.

His confident grin slips just a bit, when the tv cuts back from commercial, and reveals who’s next.

Season Upstart Steals Big Wins in Summer Skate

Audiences adore up and comer Taako Taaco, quickly taking a dramatic sweep of wins during March Invitationals, and providing a truly entertaining display in the process. Former pair skater with partner and sibling, Lup Taaco—Taako now charges solo in men’s singles. With a jazzy short program and a jaw dropping free skate, prospects of placing in the ISU Grand Prix are high. Season regulars run risk of being overlooked in favor of a new Star.

But Kravitz is not easy to overlook. 

Kravitz, running favorite of the men’s singles, has the next short program. The crowd immediately stirs as he steps onto the ice. He placed international second the previous year, and fifth the year prior. But a slew of gold medals line his path to top contender. Critics say he’s only gotten better with time, leaving no room for error this season. 

He cuts a sharp silhouette against the white, brightly lit rink. Dark skin with high cheekbones and a fittingly polite smile. He wears a * very* flattering costume: jet black from head to toe, small crystals shimmering over his shoulders like stars. His long dreads are pulled back into a ponytail. To say he looks good would be a gross understatement.

The camera zooms in his face—devastatingly handsome though it is, he looks almost tense as he skates to the center of the rink. His eyes flicker from his coach on the sidelines, to the judges straight ahead, waiting for the music to start. 

When it does, he transforms.

The music is steady, a rhythm of strings urging each other on. It starts quiet, then builds, filling the arena. Not one for flair or fast footwork, Kravitz instead falls into swooping bows and layback spins. The tense look on his face gives way to practiced concentration. The audience watches—entranced, as he glides through the notes, making each movement appear effortless. 

The music swells, and he shifts into position. It’s easy to see the toned muscle underneath the clinging fabric of his costume. But his strength remains hidden, until he flies into the first spin—a pristine  triple axel. The effect is magnified by the shimmering spray kicked up when he lands, already turning into the next element. The rotation is perfect, the double axel that follows only more so. It is the first of many fleeting moments, that reveal how much of a powerhouse he truly is on the ice. 

“He's very fuckable,” Taako declares, eyes locked on the screen. Both Lup and Barry wrench their gazes from the tv to shoot similar, unpleasant looks at him.

“Ew, gross, Taako,” Lup says, scooting an inch away. “You don’t have to get all hot and bothered just because he’s good at jumps.”

“Exceedingly hot AND good at jumps,” Taako points out. He takes a sip of tea, then gets up to throw a sweater on. His duffel bag rests in one of the lockers, the contents of which are scattered about. He pulls out a massage roller and starts to go to work on his legs. The free skate is tomorrow afternoon, and he needs to be in peak performance. 

“You never know,” He says. “If I play my cards right, maybe I could get hot boy to give me a tip or two.”

Kravitz’s short program ends with an elegant bow. A waterfall of roses pours out into the rink. He gestures to the judges and to the crowd, before making his way back to the sidelines. 

Taako admittedly hasn’t been paying attention to the competition much. His own entry into the senior singles was rough starting out. The first half of the year was all grind and no give. But now that he’s hit the big leagues, he knows there’s no getting around it. There are bigger fish in the sea.

The score is tallied. 99.8. Ranked first.

“Well,” Lup says, turning to her brother. She doesn’t bother to hide the smugness on her face. “You’d better get started.”

Interviewer: I’m here with Taako Taaco, currently ranked second in the Grand Prix men’s singles.

Taako: For now.

Interviewer: How does it feel to hold such a high position this earlier in your solo career?

Taako: Every round of competitions comes with its own emotional package deal. But I’ve been through the wringer enough to know how to pull out the good from the bad. It’s familiar, but not too familiar, you know?

Interviewer: We understand that you caused a bit of a ruckus at the end of last season. And you’ve already sparked a bit of a firestorm kicking off this August. What are your plans from now going into November?

Taako: The only plans I have are to live like I’m dying.

“A boisterous personality on that one,” Kravitz’s coach says, gaze locked on her phone.

Kravitz sits on a bench across from her, in one of the locker rooms of his local rink. His head is bent low, focusing currently on icing his right leg, and wrapping an elastic bandage around it. It’s been routine for him to do this after a practice skate, but today feels more strenuous than others. He’ll probably have to move therapy earlier into the day.

Beside him sits another woman, around his coach’s age. She’s knitting a scarf.

“You’re telling me,” She replies, seated across the room. She glances at the mesh on Kravitz’s costume. “Please put on another layer dear, you’re making me cold just looking at you.”

“I’ll put on my jacket once I’ve stretched,” Kravitz replies.

“It’s not that big of an inconvenience to warm up your body,” she insists, standing up. She reaches into a carpetbag near Kravitz’s luggage and pulls out a large, garish looking sweater. Kravitz doesn’t protest as she throws it over his head—this is a battle that was lost years ago. He slips his arms through and tucks it down. It’s much too big, but it IS cozy. She sits down with satisfaction, as he goes back to wrapping his leg.

His coach studies him. “Perhaps we can throw in a few more interviews for you as well?”

“Please don’t,” Kravitz says, already feeling exhausted at the thought. Toss him around a rink all day and throw calisthenics on top? That he can do. Force him to stare down a camera with a microphone shoved in his face, and some rando asking him a million personal questions? Torturous.

But he does take a moment to glance at the screen. The skater being interviewed was very lively, sitting cross legged and forward in his armchair as opposed to sitting straight. The collar of his costume glimmers beneath the heavy windbreaker he’s wearing, and his hair is slicked back into a neat braid. He glances between the interviewer and the camera, smiling like he knows something that no one else does. Kravitz finds himself staring, catching himself only when the program cuts back to commercial. 

He drops his gaze back to his leg. It’s iced enough. He sets the pack aside and pulls down the hem of his trousers. There’s still critique to listen to, but he’s already itching to go back to the hotel room to rest properly. He also hopes there’s a good masseuse in the area, from the way his back feels.

He’s glad though, the ache is worth being ranked first.

As is tradition, Barry drives Taako and Lup to the nearest Fantasy Steak ‘n Shake for a post-skate competition treat. Taako’s in no condition to cook, and Lup is up to her shoulders in research notes. They order nearly half the menu, and the car on the ride to the hotel smells like grill grease and milkshakes.

By the time they reach it, Taako is still sore from the free skate. It was enough to land him in the top four, but only just so. Barry offers to carry Taako’s monstrosity of a duffel bag inside, in exchange for grabbing the food. Taako obliges. Lup holds the door open for both of them, and they weave their way around other skaters camped out in the lobby.

If it were earlier in the day, the twins would be more than down with having a chat. Most of the current senior competition are still familiar with Lup from the juniors. And, of course, they all know Taako. But the sky is already dark with evening, and the conversations going on are little more than a murmur.

The trio barely cross the threshold of the hotel room, before Taako immediately commandeers the shower. Lup sits down at the desk, sandwich already in hand, flipping open her laptop. Barry pops a lactaid in his mouth before grabbing a milkshake and doing the same. Both of them stare down a hundred tabs, drowning in incomprehensible pdfs. The downside to fast tracking through doctorates is the amount of research involved. Especially while being constantly on the fly.

Almost a full hour passes before Taako exits the bathroom, hair dripping onto a towel around his neck.

“When is your next draft due?” He asks, leaning over Lup’s shoulder. Water drips from his face onto her shirt, and she bats him away before looking back at her paper.

“Day after tomorrow,” she mutters. “But I don’t want to work on it on the plane, so I’m trying to finish as much of it as I can tonight.”

“Agreed,” Barry says, from his position on the bed.

“What’s wrong with working on the plane?” Taako asks. He turns his attention away from her and over to the bags of fast food, still sitting on the foot of one of the beds. “I do it all the time.”

“You procrastinate all the time, you mean,” Lup replies.

“Well, if those are the words you want to use,” Taako says. He grabs a burger and starts unwrapping it. “You are free to.” He takes a big bite out of it and frowns. “S’ Cold.”

“Should’ve come out of the bathroom sooner, bud,” Barry says, not looking up from his screen. “There’s a microwave in the corner if you want to heat stuff up.”

Taako grumbles in protest. He moves around the second bed in the room, when his phone, currently resting on the bedside table, starts to vibrate. 

Barry gives it a glance. “It’s Magnus.”

“Must’ve just seen the highlights,” Taako says, reaching out to grab it. “Are they three hours ahead or behind?”

“Behind,” Lup replies. “Put them on speaker.”

Taako does. The call’s barely answered before— “THAT WAS SUCH A GOOD SKATE!”—erupts from the phone. 

Taako curses and leans away from the device. “You’re on speaker, big guy, you don’t have to yell.”

“Oh, sorry,” Magnus says. His voice shifts into a poor imitation of a whisper. “You did really good!”

“Thanks, Maggie,” Taako grabs one of the milkshakes and opts to sit down instead of use the microwave. Room temp fast food is still better than mildly soggy fast food. 

“You guys good on that end?” Barry asks, setting his computer aside. He rubs his eyes like he’s tired.

“Yeah,” Magnus replies. “We’re good. It’s not even dinnertime here yet.”

“My kitchen better be in one piece when I get back,” Taako threatens. His only true fear every summer season is to come home to a kitchen that’s been blasted to bits.

A different voice picks up on Magnus’s end. “98.6 on that short. You’ve had better numbers.”

Taako rolls his eyes. “Yes. Thank you, Lucretia. I know. Don’t tell Merle, okay? He’ll find some way to blame it on the fact that I didn’t use jazz hands.”

A cheerful, “Hello sir!” cuts through the conversation, and Taako fights—and loses to the smile welling on his face. 

“Hey, McDangus,” he replies.

There is a sound of shuffling on the other end, followed by Angus’s voice coming in a bit clearer. “You promised to help with my debut when you get back, remember?”

“How can I forget when you’ve hammered it into my brain, Ango?” Taako replies. The Junior Grand Prix kicks off at the same time as the Seniors. It’s a close call, but with their flight tomorrow afternoon, they’ll just make it back in time to iron out any kinks left in Angus’s routine.

“Just checking, sir. Mr. Magnus has been helping me with my speed. I’ll show you when you get back.” 

Through the phone, Taako can hear the cracks in Angus’s voice as it starts to mature. He doesn’t want to acknowledge them, but they’re there. It’s a sign that Ango’s going to do a lot of growing very quickly. It’s imperative to get that balance right while his weight shifts.

“Hey, Angus,” Lup says at the phone, turning away from her computer for just a moment. “Are they feeding you okay over there?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Angus says. “We were just going to order pizza.”

“Eat some salad,” Taako orders, taking another bite of his sandwich. “Don’t just load up on carbs.”

“Hypocrite,” Lup says. Taako sticks his tongue out at her.

“By the way,” Angus adds. “I thought your short program was excellent, sir!”

“Finally, some genuine fucking appreciation in this house,” Taako says. “I hope you’re working on keeping those legs up, Ango. Gotta give ‘em hell in the first round.”

“I know,” Angus says, voice wavering even more. He’s pretty level-headed for a teen, but this has been weighing on him for most of the year. Last time Taako worked with him, he skidded into the sides of the rink twice.

“You got this, D’Jangus!” Magnus’s voice booms through once more. “Call us again before you guys take off, okay?”

“Will do,” Barry confirms. 

They say one last round of goodbyes, before Taako hangs up the phone. He breathes a sigh of relief and plops back onto the pillows. Lup and Barry turn back to their computers. Taako half considers going to sleep, then opts for pulling his own laptop and firing up a half written term paper. Writing now definitely beats writing on the plane.

He also may or may not have a couple of tabs open, featuring articles about the upcoming rounds, and his strongest competition. 

“First event finished,” he says, eyes catching on a photo of Kravitz in the article, before he continues to scroll. “Two more to go.”

Chapter Text

The flight back to Neverwinter takes three hours, touching down around 2:00pm. The drive from the airport is filled with calming radio talk and more fast food. Taako is wedged between two duffle bags in the back and Lup is on beverage duty in the passenger seat. By the time they get to their cozy, little townhouse, the twins are practically buzzing with the urge to stretch out. Lup unlocks the front door to the house and starts to open the living room windows, letting in some fresh air. Taako flings his duffel bag on the couch and runs upstairs to his room. It’s still early August, so he ditches his heavier athletic wear in favor of some light tights and a t-shirt. He hurries back down the stairs and retrieves his duffel bag once more.

“You’re going out again?” Barry asks, taking a seat in one of the armchairs. “We just got home.”

Taako kicks open the front door and starts to run down the steps. “Ango’s skate is in two weeks and he keeps bumping into the walls!”

Lup shouts after him, “Taako, don’t abuse the house! We live here!”

Taako ignores her as he takes off towards the rink. It’s just down the street and around the corner from where he lives. A convenient enough distance to make jogging there with a full duffel bag part of his workout routine.

The building greets him with the same familiarity as the rest of the city. It’s a pretty large facility, with a first and second floor rink, and an AC that would put the arctic poles to shame. It’s a little old, but well kept. The worn out carpeting and cold lights are welcoming. It’s a home away from home for Taako.

He pushes open the double doors, and is greeted by the sight of at least ten hockey players slamming into each other on the ice.

His excitement dampens a little, until he a hears, “Hello, sir!” and glances up at the bleachers.

Angus waves down to him with both hands, already dressed and ready for practice. The kid is sitting next to Davenport—who is shouting at the top of his lungs at the players on the rink. Taako ascends the bleacher stairs and takes a seat next to Angus.

He reaches out and ruffles the kid’s thick, curly hair. “Have you been working on that triple lutz?”

“I can do it with my eyes closed, sir!” Angus declares. “I’d show you, but the rink is being used by Mr. Magnus and his team until further notice.”

“Not for long,” Davenport says, crossing his arms. He glances at Taako from the corner of his eye. “Welcome back, Taako. Excellent performance.” He turns his attention back to the athletes. There's a grimace locked on his face. Taako has no idea what they’re doing, but apparently they’re doing it wrong, judging by the way Davenport keeps yelling, “What the fuck was that?”

“Sorry, coach!” The players call back. A few of them catch sight of Taako, and wave at him. 

He gives a small wave back, then props his arms on the bench behind him. He glances at Angus. “If we can’t workout today, are you free tomorrow morning?”

“Oh yes,” Angus replies. “I already spoke with my professor. He said I could work on my assignments remotely this week.”

“He’d better,” Taako replies. “You’re not bringing clout to that tech school for nothing.”

Kravitz takes a taxi ride home from the airport. His headphones are plugged in, Gymnopédie No.1 playing at a comfortable volume as he stares out the window. His coach opted to take a later flight, in order to attend a conference with some other coaches and trainers. Which means he’s got an evening’s reprieve from training. He’s used to traveling frequently, whether she’s with him or not. They’ve lived in many cities, but the current one they recently moved to hasn't quite grounded him any.

The taxi eventually pulls up in front of his apartment complex. He gets out with his travel bags, pausing to stretch his limbs. His muscles are sore from the strain of competition. It’s going to take a few days of moderation to get them back in ease.

But he fully intends to skate first thing in the morning. There hasn’t been much time to practice at the local rink, between moving in and taking off for first event for the Grand Prix. But now he’s got a few weeks until the next event, so there’s time to get accustomed. Maybe even run into a few pro competitors.

Part of him hopes not, as he makes his way up the elevator to his front door. The weight of the season is already on his shoulders. The last thing he needs is a bunch of mind games coming from skaters who get a kick off of feeding their own egos. 

He drops his bags as soon as he crosses the threshold and goes into the kitchen to grab a fruit shake. The apartment is spacious, and a little drafty—due In part to much of his and his family’s stuff happening to still be boxes. It’s also because he honestly doesn’t own much that isn’t ice skating related. There’s the medals, the costumes, the stacks of score sheets that he’s kept for some reason. He’s not sure if he’ll stay long enough to unpack everything. He’s gotten used to taking out only the essentials.

He stays in the kitchen long enough to put together something to eat. The fridge looks painfully sparse, and he’s not much of a cook. There is the option of ordering out, but his nutrition plan is pretty strict. And right now he’s tired enough to immediately pick fast food over something more substantial. He opts for a ham sandwich and some veggies with hummus. His bags still sit languidly by the door as he grabs his plate and goes into his bedroom.

The only things that are fully unpacked—and not skate related—is a large cello, and a black keyboard, both resting on stands beside his bed. He sets the plate on a small table, then pulls the keyboard onto his lap. He rests his fingers over the keys and gently begins to play a few notes. The calming tune fills the quiet room. The desire to feel the music is as passionate as being on the ice, and he lets the feeling wash over him for a few minutes. 

Or at least, until his cell phone starts to ring.

“Hello?” He asks, pulling it out of his pocket and hitting the speaker. He already knows who it is.

“Hey,” the voice of his coach replies. “You had a good flight?”

“Yeah, it was fine. How was your meeting?” 

“How is the meeting, you mean. It’s still going, I just needed to step out to take a breather. They’re discussing new recording devices for coaches, and I might get to test it out. I won’t be back in town until tomorrow, though. So sit tight, okay? Make sure you go over the competition footage.”

“I will,” he replies. “See you later.”

He hangs up and sighs, before leaning back onto the bed. It’s going to be a long next few weeks until the next program.  Time enough to heal, time enough to improve.

He sits up and pushes his keyboard out of the way. As much as he would love to keep playing, he needs to unpack all his gear and set aside some clothes for tomorrow. As soon as dawn hits, he’s going back on the ice.

About thirty minutes after Taako’s arrival at the rink, Davenport produces a whistle from out of nowhere, and signals for the team to end practice. The players clear the rink and make their way to the locker rooms on the other side of the arena. A handful of skaters immediately break off from the group and glide over to where Taako, Angus, and Dav are exiting the bleachers.

One of the larger players takes off his helmet and beams a giant smile at the trio. Taako braces himself for the giant hug that awaits him—as Magnus barrels into him and Angus.

“Welcome back!” he shouts. Behind him, Carey and Killian also remove their helmets and chuckle.

“Saw you give ‘em hell at the first round,” Killian says, nodding at Taako. “Better keep it up for the second.”

Taako gasps for air and Angus pats on Magnus’s arm to loosen his grip. He doesn’t, not until he’s sufficiently squeezed the life out of them. Davenport, still standing on the steps of the bleachers, taps his watch and nods at the three players.

“Alright guys,” he says. “Good work out there. I’m seeing a lot of improvement since last season, But we’ve got to let the world champs have their practice time.” He glances at Taako and Angus. “I’ll crank up the zamboni and flood the surface before you guys get started. It’s looking pretty rough at the moment.”

Magnus finally lets go—to the boy’s relief, and waves a hand back at the rink. “I can do it coach, no problem.”

“You know how to drive that thing?” Taako asks, looking dubious. Magnus has driven many things. Legally? Or well? That much is worth debating.

Magnus nods. “I have vehicle proficiency.”

“Of course you do.”

Carey and Killian start to squeeze their way past the boys, heading towards the showers.

“Let us know when you guys finish,” Carey says. “We can meet up for pizza or something.”

“Sounds good,” Angus says, looking more than ready to get on the ice.

Ten minutes and one proficiently driven zamboni ride later, Taako leads Angus towards the middle of the rink. Magnus waves at them as he maneuvers the interestingly named ‘Starblaster’ off the ice and into storage.

“I hoped you stretched before I got here,” Taako says, extending his arms. He loops a figure eight around Angus. “Because we’ve got a fuck ton of charlotte spirals to get through.”

“Yes sir!” Angus says, pumping his fists for emphasis.

Technical elements like skills and transitions are easy to score. But the other program components—composition, interpretation, performance—are subject to the scrutiny of judgement bias.

Which is why Taako spends two hours working with Agnus on his program, finding the magic between each element. Angus glides around the rink, both hands just grazing the ice in front of him, with one leg stretched perfectly straight into the air.

“Now lift!” Taako calls.

Angus slowly lifts his torso, lowering his leg but keeping it straight. He curves his arms upwards and slowly swings his free leg forward, before turning abruptly and kicking into a double toe loop. He lands smoothly, transitioning back into another effortless Charlotte spiral.

“Did you add that yourself?” Taako asks, eyebrows raising.

“Yes sir,” Angus says, lifting back up.

Taako nods and glances at the figure made by Angus’s jump. “I like that. Make it an axel.”

Angus looks sheepish. “I don’t know if I can pick up enough speed for that, sir.”

“Doesn’t need to be fast to be flashy,” Taako says, moving around to demonstrate. This is practice for Angus, but really it’s practice for him too. The kid really knows how to think outside of the box. And right now, that’s where Taako needs to be as well. There’s only a few weeks until the next Grand Prix event. He’s gotta kill where it counts.

Angus is only a year shy of being a skating novice. Two since being a sweeper—one of many young skaters in charge of collecting the flowers and stuffed animals tossed onto the ice after each performance. Taako wasn’t sure how Angus always ended up with bagging duty (he sometimes wonders if the kid did it on purpose.) But he recalled many times when the fresh faced, bespectacled kid would walk up to him with a ton of plushies in a plastic bag and pipe up, “That was an excellent performance, sir!”

It started with brief conversations about figure skating. Angus, staring at him with big cow eyes, practically bouncing up and down to learn everything he could. Taako couldn’t bring himself to shake this kid off, so he invited him to his own home rink. And from there, Taako accidentally takes on an impromptu protege. 

The kid was small, but quick minded, and able to contort his body with an ease that most male skaters would envy. The day Taako found out that Angus could do a one-handed Biellmann, he nearly hung up his own skates (he didn’t, but he did double down on his own flexibility training). With the skill and discipline Ango had, the Junior divisions were looking surmountable.

Angus, of course, tried to pay a proper coaching fee. But the moment Taako caught wind of the fact that he was an orphan, currently living with his grandfather, he put a halt to that.

“You pay me by stealing gold,” Taako said. “You understand, little man? Your medals are a testament to my skills until further notice.”

“On it, sir!” Angus replied.

And by some benevolent fortune, that sonofagun actually does. The winter and spring seasons take him from the amateur rinks to the professionals. All of Ango’s medals and trophies rest in a large case in Taako and Lup’s living room, next to the twins’ own, slightly larger case. There’s a lot of space inside it, still to be taken up for Angus's future wins. The kid hasn’t claimed when he’s given Taako enough “payment” for his time, and Taako certainly hasn’t called him out on it. 

Afternoon eventually calms into dark evening, and the two of them start packing up to go.

“Pizza?” Taako asks, already pulling out his phone to call Magnus. 

“Is pizza a wise choice, sir?” Angus asks, tiredly shifting the weight of his backpack. “I think if I eat any heavy carbs right now, I’m going to pass out.”

“That’s quitter’s talk, D’jangus,” Taako replies. “And Taako doesn’t coach no quitter.” He gives the kid a pat on the back. “Look alive. You’re ready to give them hell at that first event.”

Agnus nods. “ I think between today and tomorrow, I’ll feel more comfortable. Are you going to be at the rink tomorrow, sir?”

“Oh yeah,” Taako says. “First thing tomorrow morning.”

It's a warm, August morning that greets the following day. When 6:00am hits, Kravitz throws his hair up into a bun before starting on-ice training. He tapes down the lacing on his skates one last time, then pushes off towards the center of the rink. Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde plays languidly through his earphones. He’s already warmed up from off-ice exercises, and the rink is comfortably devoid of other people. That’s not always the case, depending on where Kravitz is staying. He assumes that not many national skaters practice here. 

It’s a good, calming start to an otherwise back breaking day. He’s got an especially taxing routine— the short skate requires one quad combination, and the free skate requires at least two. A lot of exertion to keep the rotation going. A lot of landing on one foot. He circles around the ice, deciding to just stick to spins today. His coach might decide against it once she arrives, but she’s good at gauging where he needs to work harder, and where he needs to relax. 

Their hard work has gotten him this far. If he can continue to impress her, he’s pretty much got this in the bag.

Taako’s alarm clock goes off at 6:00am. He hits the snooze button, rolls over, and goes back to sleep.

Kravitz’s coach arrives at the rink at 7:00am exactly. She sets up a tripod on either ends of the rink, and together they go over form, takeoffs, landings, changes. Her voice is soft but firm, as she points out the little areas that can be refined. She never asks more of him that he can give, but she always sets a standard just a little bit higher everyday. Kravitz follows each direction to the letter, keeping an awareness of the space around him, and the way his body moves within it.

After the freestyle, they sit down together and look over the recording.

“It’s okay to let yourself fall if you’re not steady,” She says, pointing at a particular still on the screen of her laptop. It’s of Kravitz coming off the end of a quad. His body is shifted at an uncomfortable angle, as he narrowly avoids touching the ice with his hands. “You know how to catch yourself.”

Kravitz knows how to catch himself. But he’s not going to let himself fall.

Taako’s phone starts to ring at 6:45am. He rolls over with and blinks at the bright screen, too bleary eyed to see who’s calling. He considers not answering, but the sunlight pouring through his blinds reminds him that he’s supposed to be up right now. Taako picks up the call.

“Yeah?” he says, pouring as much half asleep irritation as he can muster into his voice.

“Photoshoot later today,” comes Ren’s voice. “Also we have to check your costumes before your next event. And Fantasy Buzzfeed sent some interview questions. Email me back your responses asap.”

“Yeah,” Taako grumbles, and starts to drag himself out of bed. He doesn’t mean to sound annoyed to Ren. She’s a great agent. Helped his social media presence skyrocket in the past year. While she’s no pro skater herself, she knows the competitive world like the back of her hand.

As he goes into his bathroom, he makes a mental note to bring muffins when they meet up for costume fittings. He considers heading over to the rink to make up for the lost 45 minutes, but shrugs it off in favor of making himself look decent for the photoshoot. His barely unpacked stuff would mean another half hour of sorting out his gear anyway. And then there’s making breakfast for Lup and Barry. 

He’s usually out the door before they get up, but it wouldn’t hurt to throw down in the kitchen this one time. Before he went solo, he and Lup used to do it all the time. Now he’s lucky if he gets to make brunch once in a while.

Skating can wait. Taako’s got other stuff to do.

Kravitz’s schedule typically goes as follows:

• 4:30am: Wake up, get dressed, Light breakfast
• 5:30am: Arrive at the rink to do off-ice training and jumping
• 6-7:30am: Skate and practice freestyle sessions
• 8:00am: Acting and Ballet classes
• 12:00pm: Lunch
• 1:00pm: Interviews, guest speeches, costume fittings, etc
• 3:00pm: Return to the rink and do more off-ice training and jumping
• 3:30-4:455pm: Two more freestyle sessions
• 5:30pm: off-ice workout, followed by physical therapy
• 6:15pm: Eat dinner
• 8pm: Bed

Taako’s schedule typically goes as follows:

• Skate
• Anything else other than skating

Chapter Text

They say it takes a village to raise a child. In Angus's case it takes a hockey team, a disaffected skater, the skater's twin sister, and a slew of other adjacent people to get him pro ready. The kid's first Junior Grand Prix event is in Rockport. And since no one else is gonna stand in as coach for the kid, Taako might as well fill in the gap. Between last minute costume fittings and enough snacks in a carry on bag to warrant concern from airport security, the only thing left to do to get Angus to his first event is to just get him there. 

The plane they're taking is pretty small. Taako shoves his huge, sparkling carry on bag in the overhead space before anyone else can properly fit theirs in. He then makes a show of holding up the line until the person in the middle of the three seat row that he and angus are sitting in, move to the window seat. Angus, face warm with slight embarrassment, takes the middle, and Taako takes the aisle seat.Their plane is filled with other junior skaters, and a few seniors to boot. The senior event—the fourth one of the grand prix—takes place just a couple days before the juniors. It wouldn't hurt to peak in while that goes on. In Taako’s mind, he can get an upfront look at whoever is going against him in his second event. 

Angus spends the first ten minutes of the ride watching a recording of his short program, until Taako stops him short and they both watch the airplane viewing of Fantasy lego batman. The kid is a little quieter than he normally is for competition days, which doesn't go unnoticed. It's easy to see why the kid is nervous, this is all kind of a big deal. 

As soon as the plane touches down, Taako makes an equal show out of getting his carry on out of the overhead, much to the loud complaints of the other passengers. 

"Wait your turn!" Taako says, before finally managing to yank it out. He gives Angus a wink. "Ready to get this bread, Dango?"

"Yes, sir!" Angus replies.

Kravitz’s second event is in Rockport, the date arriving with alarming speed. He hardly has time to get off the plane and check into his hotel, before being rushed out by his coach to attend a pre-competition conference. There, the skaters are told important (re: boring) information and introduced to some important (re: rich) figures in the circuit. Kravitz, all dress up in a suit, glances around the room. He recognizes a few regulars here, none that he’s particularly close to. He can feel the eyes of quite a few of them boring into him, like sharks seeking blood.

If there’s one thing Kravitz is not, it’s insecure. He’s had rivals shove past him after finishing a program, brusk and unapologetic. He’s had skates sabotaged, costumes cut up. He’s had slanderous, outrageous articles written about him. About how he’s a fluke in the heat of a success streak. About how with one wrong move, one bad fall, he’ll disappear into obscurity.

But those words continue to die in the throats they emerge from. He completes his short program, and steals the top spot with another flawless, outrageous performance. He raises an arm to the audience, gasping for breath, and they meet him with large bouquets of white lilies and black roses. The morbid arrangement has become a signature bouquet for him. The kinder media heads take to call him The Grim Reaper , for reaping the high scores from other skaters.

He doesn't know how to feel about that. But he knows his penchant for black in his costumes probably adds to the moniker. And at the end of the day, any flowers received are appreciated. There’s only the free skate left, and then the Grand Prix final. As long as his program goes well, he can accept the moniker just fine.

Taako doesn’t know what annoys him more: the fact that Kravitz has consistently landed all three of his quad combinations all season. Or that Taako threatens to eat shit on his two. A jump with four full rotations is the sign of a world class skater. The height of the jump and the lack of airtime make for a dangerous combination—and he’s suffered enough painful falls to know it. But the base points will always be higher, successful or not, so it makes for a good element.

It makes a good talking point for flirting too.

Sure, Taako’s never spoken to Kravitz directly. But they’ve always stood by each when receiving medals. Taako’s second event isn’t for another two weeks, so even if they don’t speak much now, there’s always second chances. And they’ve probably built enough social ties to be on a first name basis already, so that’s gotta lead to something.

That’s what he tells himself, deciding to watch the men’s free skate a day before Angus’s first event. He gets up and dress around 8am and tells the kid to do warmups in the hotel gym, while he hops back over to the host city’s arena. Angus, being perceptive as he is, knows when he's being ditched.

"May I ask why you need to go back to the arena, sir?" 

To which Taako stammers something about “networking opportunities,” and promptly exits the room.

The arena, of course, is packed with people. But it actually doesn’t take as much looking as he thought. He finds Kravitz standing along the side of the rink. Well, less standing, and more stretching a leg over the board that surrounds the outside. He has headphones on and is clearly more focused on staying limber than on anything else. Taako considers turning around and not engaging, but then Kravitz looks up and notices him standing there. 

Taako takes the opportunity and leans against the board with a wide smile. He’s wearing a bright yellow hoodie, which reads: “I went to the Rockport history museum and all I got was this dumb jacket.” It’s a bit of an eyesore, but that’s why he bought it.

“That quadruple lutz of yours is quite the showstopper,” Taako says. “Why put it in the front half of the program?”

Kravitz lowers his headphones (and his leg.) He recognizes Taako, though he can't for the life of him imagine what he's doing here, talking to him. He replies, “Better chance of execution.”

Taako nods at the skater currently occupying the rink. “Grimaldis throws all his big jumps at the end.” They both glance in the same direction. Greg Grimaldis enters into what should honestly be a simple double toe loop, but he lands unsteady, flapping his arms in the air. Taako squints. He has no idea how Grimaldis made it this far in competition. If Lup were here, she'd give the poor sucker a run for his money.

Kravitz glances back at Taako. “Grimaldis hasn’t landed any of his jumps.”

“Nah,” Taako replies. “But he still racks up points for having them. I’m sure you could land those jumps.” He somehow smiles even wider. “You look like you have the stamina for it.”

Kravitz shrugs. “Not all of us care to substitute ability for artistry.”

“Yeah, well,” Taako says. “There’s no accounting for taste. Some of us can do both.”

Kravitz’s polite expression shifts to something a bit more dour. He turns slightly and says, “True, I suppose we’ll let the judges decide at the finale.”

Taako picks up on the change in demeanor. “Wait, that’s not—” He puts up a hand. “I wasn’t trying to imply—“

“Kravitz,” someone calls, and Kravitz turns around. Taako glances over his shoulder, and notices a woman in a formal suit just a short distance away. He recognizes her as Kravitz’s coach, though he’s only seen her when she sits beside him in the Kiss and Cry. She’s a bit of an aloof figure in the skating circuit, only camera visible when absolutely necessary. 

She’s beautiful in a severe way, looking young and old at the same time. Her skin is dark and free of wrinkles. Her thick, black hair falls over her shoulder in waves. She raises a hand and motions for Kravitz to follow her. “It’s time for critique.”

“Right,” Kravitz says. He turns back at Taako and nods. “Good luck in your event, Taako. Have a nice day.”

“Uh, right,” Taako replies, watching him go. “Adios.”

Kravitz follows his coach down the hallways to the judge’s room. She glances back at him as they walk.

“Apologies for interrupting your conversation,” she says. She has a peculiar look in her eye. “Perhaps you can talk with that young man later?”

Kravitz recognized Taako from TV. How could he not? The guy nearly radiates demand for attention. aAnd with them both placing consistently this season, he’s well acquainted. But he knows little about him personally, and from what he’s seen today, he thinks he would rather keep it that way.“Don’t worry about it,” Kravitz says. “It was just some competitive small talk. It’s nothing.”

Have a nice day. 

Have a nice fucking day.

Taako tries not to think about his shit storm of a conversation with Kravitz. He tries not to think about it for the next 24 hours, as the free skate of the men's skate goes on and Kravitz AGAIN takes first rank. It's one thing to make an enemy—a very hot enemy—it's another to make an enemy knowing that he's definitely going to have to face them again when his second event comes up.

He tries not to think about it until the Junior short programs begins. Angus’s turn in the rink comes, and Taako slaps a hand on his shoulder to give him the expected semi-coach-to-semi-student pep talk. 

“Remember what I always tell you, Angus,” Taako says.

“It’s not stealing if the security guards don’t know?”

“The other thing I always tell you.”

“I’ve already won?”

“That’s right,” Taako says, clapping a hand on his back. “Now get out there!”

Angus skates a few laps around the rink, then gets into his position. Above him, the announcer calls out his name, and people start to clap. His costume for the short program is a neat blue suit jacket and black slacks. It took two hours of convincing and coaching to get the kid to wear contact lenses for this event. Without the frames, he looks a little younger, a little more uncertain.

Taako grips the edge of the rink tightly, holding his breath as the music starts to play. Angus raises his arms, and turns into a delicate spin. In the back of his mind, there is a tiny buzz of concern that the routine might be laid on pretty think for a first performance as this one. But as Angus, expression tight with concentration, everything flows steady from one element to the next.

“I missed it on the salchow, sir,” Angus says, stepping off the ice. His short program is complete, and the sweepers behind him zoom around to collect the bouquets. He pants as he talks, nose running just a little. Taako immediately slaps a jacket on his back and pulls him in to ruffle his hair.

“But you got it on the axel, kiddo,” He says, grinning. Angus looks up with a smile of his own.

“Was my form okay?” he asks.

Taako shrugs. “Could use some tightening up, but you did good out there.”

Angus pulls the jacket on and zips it up, still smiling. “Thank you, sir.”

Taako and Angus are herded into the Kiss and Cry, the area where competitors and coaches wait for their marks to be announced after their performances. Where skaters either euphorically cheer on their success or break down into tears over their failures. There are cameras around them, zoomed in keenly on their faces. Angus grips onto a stuffed bear like his life depends on it, while Taako waits for the announcement. 

178.79. Ranked 1st.

Taako is shaking Angus’s shoulder before he can even think about it. “Ango!!! Ango, you did it!”

“T-thank you, sir,” Angus replies. His eyes are wide open, and his voice is a little distant. “Now if you please, could you point me in the direction of a trash bin? I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Oh, shit.” Taako puts one hand on Angus' arm, and starts to motion for the camera people to back up. “Make way! Champs coming through! You can get your pictures later! Move it!”

Kravitz is busy in his hotel room with his coach. They’re packing up, getting ready to fly back home after a successful competition. Well, he’s packing up, she’s sitting on the edge of her bed and scrolling through her laptop. Beside her, on the desk, is a large pile of roses. Usually if they’re this far away from home, they hand them out to people. Kravitz assumes that his coach is looking up places where they can stop by to drop them off, when she looks up.

“I think you should reconsider having a chat with that friend of yours,” she says. That takes him back, before he remembers the brief chat with Taako.

“I wouldn’t exactly consider him a friend,” Kravitz says. “He’s just another competitor trying to get an edge.”

“Funny that,” his coach says, looking back at the screen. “He’s also the coach of a junior grand prix winner.”

Kravitz pauses. “He….wait, he is?”

His coach leans over and shows him the news feed on her screen. Articles about the junior competition are flooded with pictures of Taako and a young boy, both surrounded by flowers and stuffed animals. The boy holds up a gold metal excitedly, with Taako looking equally pleased. The caption below one of the photos reads: High ranked senior skater setting standard for the next generation.

Kravitz hums at that. He's starting to believe that whatever pretension Taako may have, it’s warranted.

Taako and Angus are greeted by a large party when they get back home. Magnus fires up a grill in the driveway, with Lup standing by to make sure everything is seasoned well and not burnt to a crisp. A few neighbors from around the block pile around with folding chairs and sunglasses. Angus excitedly shows off his medal, before rushing into the house to go put it in the trophy case.

Lup helps Taako with his bags, and nods to where Angus ran inside. “That better fuckin’ be you bringing gold in the next couple weeks.”

“Do I sense doubt?” he asks. “From my sister? My own flesh and blood?”

“I just want to make sure the Taaco legacy lives on,” she replies, elbowing his arm. “Can’t let Ango get a lead on you that easily.”

“As if,” he says, elbowing her back. He then yells over to Magnus. “Not straight on the grill! You’re gonna let all the moisture drain out if you do that!” 

He weaves around their friends and immediately takes over food duty. Magnus backs off and walks up the street to his place to go get some folding tables. Angus rushes back out of the house with a stack of styrofoam plates and plastic utensils. He sets them on a table by the grill and offers to give Taako a hand. Taako shoos him away with a spatula.

"No, no, no," he starts. "You go take a seat somewhere, you haven't fucking rested since we got off the plane."

"I'm fine, sir!" Angus insists. Like this isn't their normal routine.

"If you take one more step towards this grill, I'm gonna flambé you!"

"Burning things to a crisp is my gig," Lup says, taking a spot beside him. She takes over the cooking while he tosses together a salad. Barry brings out a cooler of drinks. 

Davenport eventually drives up with a van full of the rest of the town hockey team, and the party goes from loud to almost riotous. It's all good, Taako thinks. A good day to be out, and a good time to be yelling at people. He shrugs off whatever apprehension he has about his second event (not that it should bother him anyway.) If he has this, then he has it all.

Chapter Text

The morning after returning home, Taako meets with Ren in one of the rink suites at the arena to look at his costumes. She's wearing a wool shawl over her shoulders, something he'd pay money for right now, as he slips out of his hoodie and into the stretchy nylon of his short program outfit. Lucretia is also there, taking notes for future reference.

The process of designing figure skating costumes for a man poses much different challenges than designing for women. Thin as possible to not add to the body weight. Quadruple stitched seams to keep from ripping under the torque of a spin. It’s a designer’s dream to enhance the physique of a skater, and a designer’s nightmare for there to be a wardrobe malfunction.

Most men’s costumes lean towards prince or rogue inspiration. Or they just emphasize the color black. An option that seems to work exceedingly well for—

No, Taako thinks. Not dwelling on that right now. Especially not while Ren and Lucretia are studying the fit of his costume, looking for any seams that need to be repaired. He has to stand on a footstool for a good half hour, and occasionally hold himself in certain positions so they can see the strain on the fabric. Now is not the time to think about sexy what ifs.

Taako’s wardrobe for this season is ethereal. His short program costume is mostly white from the cuffs of the legs, up to the lower torso. From there, flesh colored mesh shimmers into an array of blue’s and lavenders. Crystals run in swirling lines around his arms, down to pure white gloves. Light blue chiffon flutters off his shoulders, to create delicate ripples when he spins. The aim is neither princely nor roguish, but definitely something more otherworldly.

Otherworldly seems like a good way to describe the way Krav—

“He’s good,” Ren declares, giving his balancing leg an unceremonious slap.

“Hey!” Taako exclaims, teetering and flapping his arms. He hops off the stool and scowls. “I could’ve fucking fell and broke something. Did you not consider that?”

“Professional figure skater loses balance on dry land,” Lucretia derides. “Now that’s an article I’d read.”

“I have no friends in this place,” Taako says, turning to go change. He welcomes the reprieve from the cold room with a sigh, as he zips up his hoodie. He exits the suite and nearly heads back to the locker rooms. But he does a quick about face to see if the rink is unoccupied. It wouldn’t be too bad to squeeze in training later today, he thinks. He'll of course need to stay with Ren and respond to interview questions later in the day. But nothing comes before getting the actual work in.

Kravitz doesn’t go to the rink until 2pm. It’s not in his schedule to go this late, but the practice rink was rented for the morning by the local hockey team and the performance rink is taken over by a children’s class. Besides, his coach was avid that he only do one freestyle practice this soon after his second Prix event. There is only the Finale now, and that’s absolutely what he has his sights on.

In the midst of beginning his warmup, something sparkling catches his eye. He glances over to the entrance of the rink, and spots someone familiar. 

Wearing a large blue hoodie, the front of which is open to reveal the shiny, gold stitching of his short program costume, is Taako. Kravitz stops in his tracks and stares at I’m. Taako glances at the rink and meets Kravitz’s eyes. Before Kravitz can catch himself staring and think to look away, Taako suddenly waves at him. There is an expression on his face that Kravitz can’t seem to read, but he decides to wave back in politeness. Taako starts walking toward the side of the rink, like he wants to come and say something. Kravitz obliges by skating over to meet him. Not that he's particularly keen on talking to Taako, but he feels himself being drawn to him anyway. When he’s close enough, he can see Taako grinning while leaning over the side.

“Well, this is a surprise,” he says, though not in an unkind manner. “Did not expect to see you of all people at my home base.”

“You skate here?” Kravitz asks.

Taako shrugs. “Live here, homie. You?”

“I just moved a couple weeks ago. I’ve been practicing here in the morning and afternoon.” 

Taako’s face lights up. “Oh shit, really? I mostly come in during the evening, but today I was trying on my costume. I might hit the ice after.”

“Sorry if I’m cutting in on your practice time,” Kravitz says, suddenly feeling a little out of place.

Taako shakes his head. “Practice time is anytime for me, my dude. Sometimes people rent out the rink for specific hours. But if it’s needed, you just talk to the captain and he’s cool about it.”

“The captain?” Kravitz asks.

“Davenport,” Taako says, gesturing vaguely. He seems the type to like to talk with his hands. “Head coach for the local hockey team. You probably saw him over at the practice rink. Keeps things running around here. Also, you may have to throw in a few volunteer hours for time. Everyone who skates here pitches in. That’s how we do things.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Kravitz says. Now seems like the time to turn his attention back to practicing. But he shoots one more apprehensive glance at Taako. “If you’re sure…?”

Taako nods. “Go for it, not everyone gets to share a rink with a national gold medalist.”

“I take it you're referring to yourself?” Kravitz asks. He’s not getting the feeling that Taako’s here to harass him for being here. If anything, quite the opposite.

Taako winks at him and leans back. “I should say no to your request because this rink’s gotten me this far. And I don’t want you to have an advantage. I’m being polite by letting you skate here.”

“The gesture is appreciated.” 

Kravitz then backs up and  turns around, willing himself to go back to focusing on training. Taako being based here is definitely a game changer, but hopefully not in the way that Kravitz expects. Kravitz circles back to the ice and thinks about their conversation. Taako seemed nice enough, looking more surprised than off put by Kravitz’s presence. Every movement of his, the arch of his eyebrows, the wave of his hands—all played into one distinct person. He was very open about still being competitive, but it didn’t sound like there was any malice involved. From a distance Taako seems....distant. But up close he's so much more animated than that. More engaging. It's...intriguing.

As long as Kravitz doesn’t have any trouble working out here, he won’t mind occasionally sharing the rink. 

Taako would argue that his schedule shifts only slightly in the following two weeks. Shifts into something that looks like an actual schedule, that is. He would also argue that he doesn’t keep an eye out for a particular tall, dark, and handsome skater on the off occasion that he just might be there at the same time. Not that he has had the opportunity to since their last chat; being a celebrity figure skater is hard work. Any professional athletes routine can kill social ties. It's not a new thing.

Lup manages to take Taako’s new workout pattern in stride. In the early morning of their Tuesday practice, she holds a tablet with notes from class in one hand, and an ice skating scoresheet in the other. An hour of her day is usually eaten up with helping Taako with his posture and form. But that help often extends to heckling, if she so chooses.

“Do a backflip!” She shouts from the sidelines. 

Taako shouts back, “That’s banned and you know it!”

“All the more reason to do it!”

Taako glides over to her side of the rink and boops her on the nose. “Ever consider the reason that you quit was because you weren’t allowed to do stunts, Goofus?”

She waves his hand away. “Nope, it was because you couldn’t carry my weight, Dingus.”

Taako pushes back into a sit spin with his arm outstretched and his middle finger in the air.

Lup bursts out laughing. “Two point deduction for obscene behavior!”

Taako smiles and considers even more colorful additions to his routine, when the double doors on the far left of the rink open, and Kravitz enters. He looks like he’s already down with off ice warmup, judging from the faint puffs of breath he makes in the cold air. He looks lively still, quick to set his gear on one of the benches on the side of the rink, before sitting down to put on his skates. His clinging, short sleeved t-shirt and black gloves don’t worsen the effect either.

“Eyes on the ice,” Lup says waving a hand at him.

Taako sticks out his tongue, but straightens up anyway.

Turning away from his sister, he begins his free skate routine. He careens slowly into a layback spin, then widens the circle gradually, until he takes over the whole rink. His expression is serene, a stark difference from the rakish smile he has going during the short program. That skate has a track that’s lively and exciting. This one is all fervent and melancholy. 

Taako knows half his luck in the competition comes from his entertainment factor. He takes each interview with ferocity, smiling charmingly at the interviewer and cracking a million jokes a minute. He can be as tired and as grumpy as he wants to in the locker room, or physical therapy (often in physical therapy.) But when that film is rolling, he is all performance.

And that goes double on the ice. Emoting while moving around is difficult, but necessary. The audience has to be drawn in, reading his every movement. That includes his face.

If there’s one thing he’ll never be able to fault Merle for, it’s coming up with choreography that gets people excited. What he lacks in sheer strength, he makes up for in flair. He’ll blow kisses to the audience on his warm up lap around the rink, and they’ll always go crazy for it. Usually about five sweepers go around the rink to collect the bouquets and stuffed animals that get tossed on the ice. With Taako, it takes nearly all of them.

He plans to keep it that way. At the end of the day, it’s go gold, or go home.

He’s half way through his routine, when he hears a sound to the far right of him, and catches a glimpse of Kravitz warming up on the ice. He’s not taking up a big section of it, not even half, so there’s no risk of them accidentally colliding into each other. Taako’s movement slows but he keeps going, knowing that Lup is still watching him intently.

Kravitz looks, well, saying “at peace” seems a little on the nose. But it’s true. Taako gives up being coy and watches as Kravitz sets up his entrances and leaps up into a quadruple axel. Doing all this requires a monstrous amount of effort, not to mention risk. And yet here he is, moving around like skating expends no energy for him. It’d be infuriating for Taako. If it wasn’t so goddamn...mesmerizing.

“Hey!” Lup exclaims, snapping her finger. “Stop staring at hot boy and straighten your arms!”

Taako winces and skates toward her. In a hiss, he says, “Cut it down, Lup!”

Lup raises an amused brow at that. She glances from Taako to Kravitz, still warming up on the far end of the rink. “What? I thought you wanted him to know you thought he was hot?”

“Yeah well, things didn’t really pan out so…” He grimaces for added affect.

A brief look of sympathy crosses his sister’s face, before she taps on her tablet and says, “Sorry, Ko. We need not worry about hot boy regardless. I’ve got two hours of editing with my name on it and your free leg needs to be straighter when you’re doing your Y’s.”

Taako grins and rests a hand on his chin. “But there’s nothing straight about me.”

Lup rolls her eyes. Taako turns on his heel and slowly lifts his leg. Holding his foot by the blade, he proceeds to glide across the rink, still as can be.In the moment, he makes it point to not glance over at Kravitz, to see if he is perhaps watching. This isn’t a private show or anything. Not that it could be.

He pauses when he gets close to Lup again, still holding his leg in place. “How’s that for you?” he asks.

Lup frowns a bit, like she’s trying to mentally sort something out. Then, quick as a whip, she judo chops Taako in the side. He yelps, as the sudden sibling attack tilts him off balance, and he lets go of his leg just soon enough to brace his own fall. He’s wearing gloves, fortunately, and a puffy jacket. So the effect is less painful, and more comical.

Lup cackles loudly, hugging her tablet and stepping back far enough away that he can’t reach over and hit her back without being blocked by the side of the rink. His previously neat hair is all loose, and his face is beet red. He hazards a glance over to where Kravitz is standing.

Kravitz’s face is turned away, but Taako swears if he squinted enough he can see his shoulders shaking. Anything of that sort could be blamed on the cold, or the workout adrenaline. But he has his doubts.

Taako picks himself up and skates back to the middle of the ice. He’s already wasted enough time goofing. His second event is in a week, and it’s imperative that he places in it if he wants to make the final.

Nothing matters but this, he tells himself, starting the routine over again. Everything else is a problem for future Taako. 

It’s freezing in the arena for the men's singles. Lup and Barry look disgustingly cozy in their puffy coats, while Taako has to make do with a light windbreaker. This wouldn’t be too bad if he had brought a scarf along with him for the event, but they were in a rush to pack, and his coziest scarf was unfortunately left behind. Not only that, but the plane ride was five ours of turbulence, overly talkative seat companions, and passengers getting into heated arguments at luggage claim. It's not even 10:00am and it's been a long day.

When Taako is called for his short program, he reluctantly slips off his jacket and checks to make sure nothing is snagging on his costume. The light catches onto the crystals, and every person within walking distance turns towards him. He steps onto the ice and stats circling the rink. A couple of people already start whistling and cheering. He puts on a big smile, knowing he looks good. Knowing he is good.

The crowd stirs as he steps onto the ice, and he pushes back on the thoughts of the cold. Taako glides back and carefully lifts his arms into place. The music starts low, with the blend of synth keys and strings. It pours through the speakers and thrums through his chest. In practice, Lup doesn’t bother putting the music on. This late into competition, he’s got it memorized to a fault. 

If there’s one place Taako supremely hates, it’s the Kiss and Cry. It’s a difficult place to hold composure in, because that’s where everyone looks to see your reaction. Actor training for ice skaters often includes Kiss and Cry decorum.

So, after missing the landing on a salchow and skidding painfully onto his right side, the last thing Taako wants is for people across the globe to see his pissed off expression. He manages to complete the free skate, but he opts for cutting out the last quad to avoid exerting force onto definite scrapes beneath his top. A few of the crystals on his costume detach as well, which is gonna knock off points for obstructing the ice. 

Lup is not Taako’s official coach. But no one is, really. He’s gone through a slew of coaches in the last two years, and they either quit, or he lets them go. The publicized reason is “conflicts of interest.” The real reason is that Taako’s a force to be reckoned with when he’s in a bad mood. 

Lup is the first to his side when he exits the ring, offering him a soft cloth with some salve and his jacket. He holds the cloth to his face, the skin still stings from the ice. This sucks. All the cold in the room should be numbing his pain, not intensifying it. She leads him to the Kiss and Cry, eyeing him carefully as they take a seat. His jaw tenses as he waits for the tally.

He gets his score. 158.5.

He breathes a sigh. He can feel Lup’s hand rest on his shoulder, and he glances up. Her face is a calculated neutral, and he tries to hold the same expression as the camera’s role. It’s only when they’re signaled to head to the back, when Taako let the scowl come out in full force. He picks up his pace, not wanting to be stopped by any interviewers.

Lup calls after him, “Taako—” 

“I need a breather, Lulu,” He says, waving a hand. He doesn’t hear her try to catch up to him. He weaves around the rink employees and hurries to the locker rooms. He welcomes the muffled silence with another quick breath.

His body is a whole assortment of hurt, but he’s too angry to really pinpoint it. He winces as he strips off the top of his costume. He reaches for his duffle bag and pulls out a first aid kit.

Not a moment into gingerly dabbing his side with a disinfectant wipe, does Taako hear the door open. He snarls, “I don’t want to talk about it, Barry.”

“Oh,” says someone who is definitely not Lup. 

Taako looks up and sees Kravitz, paused in the doorway. He looks mildly uncomfortable as glances from Taako to the hallway just outside. “Um, am I interrupting something?”

“Nah, homie,” Taako says, sitting up. His face is already hot from the ice, and yet it manages to get even warmer. He tries to play it off, patting the bench to his right. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” Kravitz replies, and obliges. They both kind of awkwardly acknowledge each other’s existence. Taako tries to shift his focus back to bandaging himself, as Kravitz says. “I, uh, I saw your performance.”

“Saw me eat shit, right?” Taako says, inspecting himself for any other scrapes. “Yeah, that was awful.” Fucking hell, if this didn’t just become the worst day in his week. Maybe his whole career.

“No,” Kravitz replies, then quickly adds, “As far as I could tell, you didn’t let your countenance slip at any point of the performance. I wouldn't have known how to pick myself up from a fall like that, but you did it so effortlessly.”

Taako pauses in his movements to give Kravitz a hard stare. There’s a million things he could say in response to that. But the thing that comes out of his mouth first is, “You never fall.”

Kravitz smiles just a bit. “I do. I just make sure to do it while no one is looking.”

“Okay, master of muscle control,” Taako says, rolling his eyes. But he does feel a bit less shitty than before. He puts the first aid kit away and starts to pull his shirt back on. “Thanks, also. That’s pretty big praise coming from you.”

Kravitz dares to look humbled by that statement. “Credit is where credit is due.”

“Got any unwarranted advice to go with that unwarranted praise?” Taako asks. He figures now is as good a time as ever to ask. Neither of them seem to be in any rush to leave the room.

Kravitz shrugs. “Do better next time?”

Taako barks out a laugh and doubles over. The spasm of his muscles hurts and he points an accusing finger at Kravitz. “I can see why they don’t put you in front of the cameras. You’re a terrible motivational speaker.”

Kravitz grins at him. Which is, frankly, doing terrible things to Taako’s already aching midsection. Kravitz is too damn handsome to pull dangerous actions like smiling at people. It’s bad enough Taako didn’t win this event, now he’s dying in real time in front of his rival.

Admittedly, Kravitz doesn’t seem like much of a rival. He came by and managed to cheer Taako out of his bad mood. Taako considers that a plus in his book. He pulls a sweater over his shirt and gets up to put his bag back in the locker.

“So what are your plans after the event?” Taako asks. “The afterparty is cool and all, but cha’boy might take a break for this one."

“Plans?” Kravitz asks. He hadn’t really thought about it. “Relax at home, I suppose.”

“You’re not going to go out?” Taako asks. “Not much of a night owl, huh?”

Kravitz shakes his head.

Taako sits back down across from him. “What do you like to do in your free time?”

“I play a few instruments,” Kravitz replies. “I enjoy music.”

“Nerd,” Taako says, without missing a beat. “Do you, by any means, enjoy music that isn’t potentially skating related?”

Kravitz doesn’t know how to respond to that. He rubs the back of his neck in thought. “I enjoy playing cards, does that count for something?”

Taako puts his head in his hands and groans dramatically. He can’t believe that this poor sonofagun doesn’t have a social life. “Playing solitaire on a plane ride home does not count as good time spent. Krav—can I call you krav?—You have friends right, that you hang out with? You do have hobbies, don’t you? Do you DO things?”

“Are you always this forthright with your thoughts, or is that just part of your charm?” Kravitz says. His eyes widen, as he catches himself. “I apologize, that was more abrasive than I intended.”

“Damn, son!” Taako laughs, loud and hissing. “If you call that abrasive then you don’t want to see me when I’m actually trying to be charming.” He straightens in his seat. “Wasn’t trying to be a bother. I just wanted to know if you wanted to hang out or something.”

“Hang out?” Kravitz asks. 

“Or something.” Taako turns his head away. “You don’t have to. I understand wanting to just be a couch potato after a big skate.”

“No, no, no, it’s—” Kravitz shakes his head. “I’m free to hang out. You want to meet up...tomorrow?”

“Oh,” Taako says, because he honestly did not expect a yes. “Oh, yeah! Meet me right outside the arena at 10. There’s some spots around town I could show you. Bring a water bottle, there might be some walking involved.”

Kravitz nods. “10. I’ll be there.” He smiles like he’s excited about them meeting up, and Taako feels a slight reprieve from the cold. Kravitz starts to rise from his seat, only to pause. Taako looks up at him, catching the way his brow knits, like he’s confused.

“You’re shivering,” Kravitz says. Which, yeah.

“I’m freezing, Krav,” Taako states, only noticing himself how badly the cold is affecting his body. He pulls on his windbreaker and zips it all the way up. “This athletic wear doesn’t do shit. I’m breaking up with my sponsor as we speak.”

Kravitz makes an amused expression and stands up. “Hold on a moment.” He leaves the room without another world.

Taako cannot for the life of him fathom what Krav could be telling him to wait for. He is even more befuddled when Kravitz returns a short moment later, with the thickest knitted scarf he’s ever seen in his hands.

“Does this help?” Kravitz asks.

“If it doesn’t, I don’t know what would,” Taako says, taking the scarf immediately.  It’s dyed lavender, with a gentle ombre at the ends. It’s abnormally soft and quite thick. He has no idea what it’s made of. But the moment he wraps it around his shoulders, the chill lifts with marvelous affect. He could melt in this thing.

Instead he looks up a Kravitz. “When do you need this back?” he asks.

Truth to be told, he would rather have the scarf for keepsies. But he’s not going to be rude to a random act of compassion. Especially not from such a handsome gentleman.

“Just give it back tomorrow,” Kravitz replies. He starts to turn away, then pauses. “I, um, do you mind if I have your number?”

“Oh, right,” Taako says, pulling out his phone. “Go ahead,” They exchange contact info, and Kravitz leaves the room with a polite nod.

As soon as he’s gone, Taako leans back onto the bench and sighs. The thick scarf covers his face. With it so close to his nose, he can smell faint wafts of lavender. The soothing effect is magnified. He wonders how a guy like Kravitz acquired a scarf like this. He supposes, if he’s lucky, he’ll find out when they hang out tomorrow. Maybe.

Not like it’s a date or anything.

Chapter Text

“So...it’s a date?” Lup asks, sitting on Taako’s bed.

“We’re meeting up,” Taako replies, plowing through his closet like his life depends on it. His room is usually a bit of a shitstorm during competition season. So finding anything worth an outing is not an easy endeavor. He does his damndest anyway, shrugging on a loose shirt that buttons up at the front. It's not the coolest shirt he owns, but his body is still aching from the massive fuck up on the ice the day prior and he feels the urge to be on his A game today.

“Oh, this is pretty,” Lup says. Her hand wanders over the soft, lavender scarf draped over the back of his desk chair. He turns to her as she picks it up to inspect it closer.

“Hey! Mine,” Taako snaps. Then he frowns. “Okay well, not mine. M’supposed to give that back to Krav today.”

Lup arches a brow. “He gave you his scarf?”

“Borrowing,” Taako replies, pulling out a long, light jacket. The hem sports a floral print close in color to the scarf. He tosses it on the bed and gestures with a hand back at Lup. “It was freezing in that arena yesterday, didn’t you feel it?”

“Hot boy let’s you borrow his scarf without knowing you for more than two seconds?” Lup says, not bothering to hide the amusement in her voice. “And you two are going to ‘meet up’ today?”

“He’s new in town,” Taako says, like that really changes anything. “You’ve seen him. He could use the fresh air.”

“Uh huh,” Lup says, unconvinced. “You wouldn’t go out of your way like this for anyone else.”

“I’m helping!” Taako argues. He throws the jacket on, over a long sleeve and some faded jeans. He reaches for the scarf and tosses that on as well. “He has no life lup! His raison d’être is ice skating!”

“That’s sad,” Lup replies. “Almost as sad as you resorting to seduction to getting a leg up in the competition.”

“If it works, it works.” He throws one more glance in his bedroom mirror. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t wait up.”

Taako does a double take upon seeing Kravitz. 

They’re the only two standing outside the entrance of the skating rink, as planned. But somehow, between the two of them, Taako assumed he’d be the better dressed for their outing. Taako’s so used to seeing the guy in athletic gear or performance costumes, that the tasteful, red button down and black slacks are a bit of a shock. The only indication of casualness is his long, black, knitted cardigan, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. 

Not that Kravitz appears any less handsome than he usually does. His hair is also pulled up into a slightly messier bun than usual. The overall look is just kind of cool. There’s a heavy-looking duffle bag slung over his shoulder, as if he was just finishing up a training session.

“Did you skate this morning?” Taako asks, choosing to focus more on the bag than on the smile Kravitz makes at his arrival. “On a break day?”

“I can only adjust my schedule so much,” Kravitz admits. He nods at a black Lincoln parked nearby. “I drove here today. I figured I could give us both a ride downtown instead of taking the transit.” He rubs the back of his neck. “If that’s alright with you?”

“Free ride? In the city? Hell yeah!” Taako says. He grabs Kravitz’s sleeve and tugs him towards the car. It’s sleek and old, but in a way that feels classic instead of rundown. Taako whistles at the clean leather seats as he gets in. Kravitz extends a small cord to him.

“Would you like the honor of manning the aux?”

“You read my mind, homie,” Taako replies, plugging in his phone with glee. “But first, directions to our first stop.” He types an address into the car’s navigation, and they hit the road. 

Taako briefly wonders if Kravitz cares that he’s still wearing the lavender scarf. If he’s made note of it, he hasn’t commented. And Taako’s sure isn’t going to say anything.

“What do you have in mind?” Kravitz asks. “As for our first stop.” Taako turns down the volume of his music, and taps his chin playfully.

“Well, you desperately need to see people—”

“I see people!” Kravitz says, with mock indignance.

“People who aren’t focused on your handsome face, babe.” Taako says, giving Kravitz’s arm a pat. “There are plenty of works of art out there, which is why—”

The navigation system leads them to the parking lot of the Neverwinter Metropolitan museum of Art. Kravitz says one look at it before shaking his head good-naturedly. 

Taako pays for their tickets into the big white building, and leads Kravitz to the hall of a particular exhibit. The line for the exhibit is slow in going, with people let into the chambers two at a time. But it is mercifully short, and the pair soon find themselves passing through heavy, black curtains into the next room.

The first corridor they enter looks like a cave, but packed to the brim with pink crystals. The ceiling is jagged and menacing. The floor looks slightly less so, with a clear path indicated for them to walk. Their footsteps make crunching sounds as they travel through. It’s equal parts beautiful and intimidating.

They pass through more curtains, into another corridor. This one is filled with inky black tentacles of large, varying sizes. Instead of a clear pathway, they have to push their way between the strange masses to get through to the other side. Taako gets through without much interference. He turns back and laughs at Kravitz’s less effective attempt.

“I thought you were supposed to be flexible, my dude?” Taako says, quite amused by the sight.. Kravitz groans and pushes a tentacle out of his face, only for it to slip past his arm and smack the side of his head—which wrings another laugh out of Taako. After a few minutes of struggle, the latter of the two manages to get across and they both access the final chamber.

The last part of the tour has a glittering, starlike ceiling, and a mirrored floor and walls.

“It’s beautiful in here.” Kravitz says. Taako nods in agreement, quickly walking the perimeter of the room. The pairs in the tour have a few minutes in between each chamber. So at the moment, it is just the two of them appreciating the spectacle.

Taako takes out his phone and offers it to Kravitz. “Mind taking a picture for me?”

“Sure,” Kravitz says. Taako stands in front of a wall, and decides to lift a leg into the air. It isn’t as straight as if he had stretched and warmed up earlier in the day. But his base flexibility is still pretty damn high. He stands arabesque, while Kravitz snaps a few pictures, careful to not let the flash bounce around the room. 

“Want me to take one of you?” Taako says, lowering his leg. Kravitz nods, walking to where Taako was standing. He stands normally, and Taako boos.

“If I can lift a leg, I know for damn sure you can do something fancier. And you’re more warmed up!”

“I’m not as flexible as you!” Kravitz argues.

“Bullshit!”

Kravitz sighs loudly for effect. He turns into a spin, as slowly as he can, holding his body in position while Taako excitedly snaps photos. After a bit of this, Taako holds up the phone.

“See,” he says, pointing at a very lovely picture in particular of Kravitz’s silhouette against the glittering walls. “You’re a natural.”

Kravitz smiles at him, in a way that is very soft and very unlike the practiced, professional smiles he gives whenever he’s in competition. 

“You’re right,” he says. “Thank you for inviting me out here. I can’t recall the last time I enjoyed a museum. It's...peaceful.”

Taako suddenly feels quite warm. He tries to respond, but words are escaping him at the moment. Fortunately the sound of oncoming voices from the previous chamber breaks the silence. Taako immediately waves a hand towards the exit and says, “Let’s get moving Krav, the day is still young.”

There's a mental tally in the back of Kravitz's mind of all the times Taako refers to him with one nickname or another. It sits with all the other mental tallies, counting off the thing about Taako that Kravitz can't help but notice but doesn't comment on. 

They leave the exhibit and decide to goof around in the gift shop for a bit. Taako is more than delighted to slip off his jacket, and slip on his latest purchase over his top: an oversized t-shirt that says, “I eat art exhibits when the guards aren’t looking.”

On reading it, Kravitz doubles over with laughter. Taako gives a perfect en pointe turn in his new fashion item. “I look good in it!” he insists.

“You do,” Kravitz agrees, strengthening up. “It suits you.”

“Hell yeah!” Taako says. 

Kravitz buys a small cluster of what looks to be the same crystal as the larger ones they passed through. Taako voices his admiration for it and they exit the building. Kravitz starts toward the parking lot, but Taako suddenly pats his arm and points across the street.

“Hold the fucking phone, that’s a food truck!” Taako says, excited. Sure enough, there is a large vehicle parked near a lot. It’s brightly colored, like a carnival stand. A few patrons wait at unfolded tables, enjoying their meals. Taako looks from it to Kravitz. “You’ve probably never had food truck food. Have you, boyo?”

Kravitz does a running inventory in his mind of his calorie conscious dietary plan. It wouldn’t exactly be in his best interest to throw it off while the season is going. But he glances at the excited look on Taako’s face and shrugs. “I have not. Care to enlighten me?”

Taako beams. “Oh you’re going to see Nirvana after we get some fucking po boys!”

Taako tugs on his sleeve, and it briefly crosses Kravitz’s mind that this is the second, maybe third time that Taako has dragged him around today.

“If you’re not up for heavy food,” Taako says, glancing back. They cross the busy street in a hurry. “We can also detour back to my place and I can whip up something a bit healthier. It’s not a long drive from here.”

“You cook?” Kravitz asks.

“I’m THE cook,” Taako says. They reach the foot truck and get in line behind a few other patrons. The smell of freshly prepared food fills the air. “If I wasn’t after gold on the ice, it would certainly be on the stove.”

“What made you choose skating over cooking?”

“Skating drew more attention, I guess.” Taako says. “Yeah it’s cool to be a fancy cook or whatever. But only so many people in the world can pull off a triple axel.”

“You’re quite talented then,” Kravitz says.

“Be careful not to pass judgement when you haven’t tried my cooking yet,” Taako warns. “But yes, I am.”

They get their order of large sandwiches and opt to have lunch near a park about a block away. They are greeted by a decent sized pond, filled with large black fish. The fish swarm towards the surface, clear expecting to be fed.

“Have you always skated professionally?” Kravitz asks, breaking off a small piece of his bread and flicking it over the side.

“Always,” Taako replies. They both watch the fish weave around each other for food. “But not singles. That’s recent. I was in pairs with my sister when we were kids.”

“You don’t say?” Kravitz says. Thinking back, he did recall something like that. He definitely recalls when Taako made his solo debut.

A new singles competitor, a little shaky on his first event. None of his jumps had been perfect. But... gosh, what personality. Even now, just standing beside him and waiting for a crepe, Kravitz can sense just how much larger than life Taako is when he’s enjoying himself. He rose the ranks very quickly. But in the brevity of their encounters, Taako doesn’t read like the type to do anything solo.

“What changed?” Kravitz asks.

Taako shrugs. “They wouldn’t let us do the headbanger, so Lup quit.”

“Really?”

“No,” Taako lets out a high laugh. “That move is banned as hell for a reason, my dude. I know I claimed I could carry her weight, but you could not pay me to swing someone around like that.” He tosses a piece of his sandwich into the pond. The fish gobble it up eagerly.

“When we turned 17, I said, ‘Sorry, Lulu, but Taako’s decided to be a one man band from here on out, guess you’ll have to find someone else to partner with if you want to stay in the game.’ So she tossed her skates and threw herself into studying full time. And then that summer, she got accepted into an academic camp for honor students.”

From the way Taako speaks, Kravitz senses that there’s more to what he’s saying then what is said. Something shifts in his gaze. 

“That was really nice of you, Taako,” Kravitz says.

Taako shrugs. “It wasn’t that difficult a decision to make. Everyone said, ‘you’re so good, just quit school and do skating full time.’ But my sister’s a nerd, so there was no way she was going to let that go.” He gestures at himself. “But like, you could see it on her face, she was getting real tired. She’s better off this way.

“Also, I think Barold had something to do with it—Barry’s a friend by the way—They met at the Honors camp and haven’t been separated since. ”

“Oh,” Kravitz says, smiling. “So it was a boyfriend that pulled her away from the rink?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Taako agrees. “Barold is 100% a land mammal and does not trust the frozen water. But he has travelled with me and Lup to most of, if not all, the big competitions, even with a doctorate in progress. So he’s cool, I guess.”

“Are you in school, or did you quit as well?” Kravitz asks.

“I wish,” Taako replies. “I took the high road and kept trying to juggle both. Thought I could skimp on the education end, but midterm papers are currently handing me my ass.”

“What are you studying?”

“Philosophy.”

Kravitz makes a face, and Taako immediately feels offended. He gives the guy a small shove towards the water, and Kravitz bursts out laughing.

“Well, I would say you’re no Socrates, but—”

“Asshole! Socrates wishes he were me!” Taako yells. His lack of regard for passerby strolling just a short distance away only makes Kravitz laugh more. “Hume rolls in his grave at the thought of someone like me.”

Kravitz lets his laughter fall to ragged breathes, before continuing. “Okay, so if not cooking, if not philosophy. Why skating?”

“Because it’s fun, my dude!” Taako exclaims. “Skating's a blast.” He tosses a stone and it skips across the water. “It’s like, the fucking closest we featherless bipeds get to flying with just the momentum of our own bodies. I think that’s worth throwing a good chunk of lifetime into.”

“Diogenes,” Kravitz says, tossing a stone of his own. “I didn’t have to go to college to understand antiquated jokes.”

Taako smiles. “Nerd.”

“I suppose,” Kravitz agrees. He watches the water ripple. “I don’t really think about the fun part of all. Or I just continue to forget, more likely.

“I’d never tell,” Taako says. “From how chill you seem to be.”

“Chill?” Kravitz asks.

“Listen, I may put on a good performance,” Taako says, surprisingly earnest. “But at the end of the day, I'm still acting.” He gives Kravitz a surprisingly serious look. “But you take something off.”

Kravitz shrugs. “I always have a little stage fright right before each set. Once the music starts, it disappears. And then when it’s done, the chills come back.”

“But you—when you’re in it, you’re in it, Krav.”

Kravitz ruminates on that a moment, then smiles at Taako. “I can see why you’re a philosophy major.”

Taako grins. “I’m good, right? When this skating career is over and done with, I'm going to be the next Fantasy Dr. Phil.” He stops tossing stones and instead pulls out a sandwich. He breaks off a piece of the crust and tosses that instead. “What was your reason for sticking to skating. I’m sure there was something.”

“Well,” Kravitz says. He tossed a piece of bread in the lake. It is immediately gulped by a fish. “You don’t see many young men who look like me out on the ice. The whole deal about examples to be set, and barriers to be broken.” Taako nods in agreement, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“...And there’s family reputation, I suppose,” Kravitz says.

“Reputation?” Taako asks. “Who in your family skates too?”

“Have...have you heard of the Raven Queen?”

“Have I?” Taako asks like he’s offended by the question. “My choreographer, Merle, showed me and my sister some of her performances from the 80s. Got her nickname when she swept the Grand Prix. Should’ve been Olympics.”

“Should’ve been,” Kravitz says, almost wistful. “After several years of that not panning out, she quit competitively and started coaching. In the course of that, she had me and became my coach.”

Taako does a double take. “Wait a minute, the Raven Queen is your coach?” A triple take. “Your coach is your mom?”

Kravitz winces. “Yes and...yes?”

“Krav, you have a fucking legacy going on, holy shit!”

“It’s not, well I mean—” he shakes his head. “I’m trying to do my best, for my own sake. She's a busy woman, so she's not my only source of influence. But also...”

“But also you’re trying to break that gate open,” Taako replies. He leans back onto his arms. “I get it. Exclusionists still run pretty rampant in the judges circles. But that doesn’t devalue the skaters any. Not really.”

Kravitz looks a little embarrassed, as he says, “My flowers, the bouquets that get tossed on the rink. They all go to her. She was a star in her time, but people forget how import stars are younger people.”

Taako’s mind briefly goes to the look on Angus’s face—when the kid slips off the rink and firmly places his own gold medal in Taako’s hand. 

“For you, sir,” Angus always says, with a cheeky grin on his face. Like he’s telling some sort of special joke—

“Sap,” Taako says, giving Kravitz’s arm a nudge.

They finish up their sandwiches and drinks in somewhat of a hurry. Taako begins to tug Kravitz down another block before they can properly toss away their trash.

“Round 2!” Taako announces. “Are you ready to be utterly destroyed, Kravitz?”

“Destroyed??” Kravitz asks. “What do you mean?”

By destroyed, he means three intense rounds of Fantasy Dance Dance Revolution at the Neverwinter arcade, which concludes with Taako as the supreme champion. Granted, Kravitz admitted that he had never frequented an arcade before, much less played any sort of dancing game. But his effort is not lost on Taako, and their combined actual dancing ability does manage to draw a bit of a crowd. It helps that he's got enough classical training to keep up. Though Taako insisted on playing all the games on hard mode. Kravitz leans breathlessly against the bar attached to the large machine, crushed for the third time in a row.

The surrounding neon lights illuminate Taako's face as he pumps his fist in the air. Between the loud arcade music, the applauding patrons, and the worn out but amused smile on Kravitz's face, Taako feels absolutely buzzed with excitement. This may or may not be a little cathartic? That’s a thought for later Taako. 

Current Taako extends at hand at Kravitz and says, “Your reign is over Kravitz. Your medals, hand them over!”

Kravitz laughs and tries not to fall into a coughing fit. “Excuse me?”

“Your titles. Your sponsorships,” Taako says, grinning from ear to ear. “Just have your people talk to my people and we can sort this out without a court battle.”

“Might I propose a better idea?” Kravitz offers, taking Taako's hand. Taako raises a brow, intrigued.

Half an hour passes and they find themselves sitting at black picnic bench outside a delicious crepe shop. The open quadrant of shops is situated just a block from the museum, so they don’t bother to get the car. Other patrons sit at benches nearby, chatting amongst themselves. The quad is lit up by neon signs and fairy lights strung from bench umbrellas. Someone plays a guitar from an open apartment balcony.

“This will do,” Taako says, holding a pastel colored menu brochure for them both to read. He peeks over the top at Kravitz. “For now.”

Kravitz smiles. “I found it when I first moved here. I’ll admit, I have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“So now you’re really going to have to try my cooking,” Taako says. “My desserts are unparalleled.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It’s a threat.”

The sun sets as they decide what to order, and Kravitz goes to pay for it. He comes back with two crepes wrapped in tissue paper. One is drowning with strawberries and buttercream, the other is filled with mango slices and mochi ice cream. He sits down, as the gentle pinks and purples of the sky glaze over him, highlighting the parts of him that only Taako is close enough to really appreciate. The cut of his cheekbones, the knit of his eyebrows as he tries to figure out how best to go about eating his crepe. He’s gorgeous. 

“How about a photo?” Taako asks, holding up his phone. “You could use it for your image.”

“Again?” Kravitz asks, dubious.

Taako holds up a hand and barks, “Don’t move, just trust me on this.”

Kravitz holds his pose, face half resting on his knuckles. He looks almost comical, eyeing his dessert hungrily. Taako snaps a picture or two and studies them. He shakes his head and whistles, before showing the photo to Kravitz. “Dude, the camera just bends over backwards for you.”

Kravitz nods appreciatively. “It’s a good photo.”

“I’ll text it to you,” Taako says. “You can use it online. Though, I take it you’re not a big social media boy.” Kravitz shakes his head and Taako groans. “All my talents, wasted.” He holds the phone out to Kravitz. “Mind taking one of me?”

“Of course,” Kravitz says. He holds up the phone and Taako grins in a very meticulous way. He’s far more practiced in front of a camera than his compatriot. And this lighting is very, very good.

“Your hair looks really lovely in the light,” Kravitz notes. He keeps saying exactly what Taako likes to hear. He hands the device back. “And the scarf fits the colors.”

“Oh, right. Fuck. The scarf,” Taakos says. He looks down at it with reluctance, forgetting that having it was only temporary. “I suppose you’ll want this back.”

“Keep it,” Kravitz says. “It suits you. And I have plenty of other scarves.”

“Are you sure?” Taako asks.

Kravitz raises and eyebrow. “I mean, if you don’t need it—”

Taako grips it tightly. “Hell no. You've revoked ownership. This is the property of Taako now.”

Kravitz looks pleased by that, surprisingly. Taako pushes his luck by plucking a strawberry from the top of Kravitz’s crepe. Kravitz looks at it stunned for a moment, before giving a Taako a wry look. Taako comments on the prettiness of the napkins they were given, and Kravitz folds his into a paper boat. They talk a little more, and when they polish of the crepes they get up. Taako swipes the little boat because, well, what the fuck are mementos for if not to remind you to days like this?

Another half hour passes, and they make their way through from the square of shops to the parking lot and Kravitz's car. Taako forgets to man the aux again, but it's honestly fine. The drive home is slow and relaxed. Kravitz rolls down the windows to let in some of the cool, autumn air. He tries not to let his eyes flicker over to the passenger side as he drives. He wants to continue talking, but there's a certain enjoyment the comfortable silence. Today seemed to go really well, he thinks. Maybe they'll hang out again soon.

Taako leans one arm on the window sill and wonders, between the photos and the scarf and the crepes, if this day might have been a date.

Maybe.

Chapter Text

“How was it?” Lup asks, the second Taako steps foot in their house.

Her body is sprawled across on of the big, leather chairs in their living room. Her legs swung over the armrests, laptop whirring on her torso. There’s a distinct sound of clinking dishes coming from the kitchen, which means Barry is washing up from either a late lunch or early dinner. Taako kicks off his shoes and plops onto the couch. 

“It was alright,” he replies. Which is Taako for “fucking stellar.”

“You’re still wearing the scarf,” Lup notes. Taako glances down, having forgotten that it was there. Of course she'd clock the damn thing, it was nice. Too nice to be a gift from someone you just made friends with. Lup knows that if it had been bad, he would have come bursting through with complaints all the way down. Taako knows that she knows this. He tries to play the silence between them off by grabbing the remote and lazily flipping through channels on the tv.

“Yeah, uh, he...gave it to me.”

Lup hums like that confirms whatever suspicions she has in her head. That’s enough scrutiny for Taako. He stands up from the couch and starts towards his bedroom.

“Coward!” Lup says, and attempts to stop him by extending her leg, but he dips around her just as fast. “You can’t run away from me!”

“Watch me!” He yells back.

He manages to get as far as the hallways leading to upstairs, when he nearly crashes into Barry, halfway exiting out of the kitchen.

“Oh! Hey bud,” Barry says, taking a step back. “How was your date?”

“It wasn’t!—” Taako breaks his own shout with a sigh. “—It was fine. Good. Peachy. Anything else going on around here that warrants discussion, other than my business?”

Barry gives Taako a prying look that’s almost as bad as Lup’s, but at least Barry knows when to be merciful. “Well, Angus stopped by,” he says. “He wanted to know if you’d help him with training, but we told him you were out.”

“Fuck,” Taako muttered. “His next event is...when? Next Friday?”

“This Friday.”

“Double fuck!” Taako shouts. He glances back and notices Lup has gotten up from the couch. He brushes past Barry and rushes towards his bedroom. “Thanks! Don’t let Lup catch me!”

“Um, you’re welcome?” Barry asks, sidestepping back into the kitchen. He doesn't impede Lup in any way, the traitor. 

“You better not let hot boy mess with your skating!” She yells, clearly trying to catch up. Taako manages to dash up the stairs and slip into his bedroom, locking the door. What follows are two wraps from Lup's fist against the hardwood. “You’ve got the Grand Prix fucking Finale coming up! And I didn’t put up with all your bullshit for nothing!”

“I know that!” Taako yells back, from the other side. The neighbors are probably going to put in a noise complaint for the third time this month, but that’s not his problem. 

“You'd better!” Lup says, finally letting up on the door. She adds, in a teasing voice. "Love you!"

"You too."

Taako waits by the door for the sound of her retreating footsteps. When he assumes that she's gone back downstairs, he walks across the room and slumps onto his big, messy bed. He takes a moment to wriggle off his jacket, but decides to keep on the scarf. It’s his now, he can enjoy it all he wants.

It was a nice gesture, Taako thinks. For Kravitz to let him keep it after already giving it to him to borrow. The word nice settles in the part of his brain where all his other thoughts about Kravitz lay, along with handsome, and goofy. The more the word nice sits in that place, the more it quietly warms into something a bit more sappy, like... sweet.

Before that thought can settle any deeper, Taako gives his head a shake and whips out his phone. It was one outing, and that is certainly enough for him. Much to his chagrin— Lup is right. he really can't afford to get distracted this late in the competition. Eyes on the prize.

He quickly dial’s Agnus's number. The call picks up immediately.

“Hello, sir!” Angus says, with his usual, cheerful disposition. “I missed you today.”

“Yeah, that’s—” Taako reels from the genuineness in the boy’s voice. He doesn’t know how the kid can pack so much affection in that tiny body. “Ango, what’s your schedule for tomorrow?”

“Well, I have, uh—”

Taako interrupts him. “Think you can clear it for an impromptu practice tomorrow?”

“Um, I think so. Sir, I—”

“Great! 3:00pm. Look alive, kiddo.” He hangs up before Angus can chirp out a goodbye.

He leans his head back on his pillows and relaxes a little. That is, until he remembers that the time he picked is very much in line with Kravitz’s schedule, and the likelihood that he’ll see him again tomorrow is very high.

That shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s not like he hasn’t been purposely been showing up in the guys purview more and more. Or at least, not in a way that he couldn’t brush off as mere coincidence. But the window for being coy was closing faster than he was expecting. They had had a really nice time today, that was certain.

How much much more circling around each other would it take for them to meet in the middle?

Kravitz ends his training the following morning with a levity he hasn’t felt in some time. Nothing as far as his usual routine has changed, aside from the whole experience with Taako the day prior. A day off probably did more good for him then he’d realized. He’s not used to feeling so carefree. He doesn’t know what to do with it.

Nor is he familiar with the pleasure of coming off the ice and finding Taako dropping his duffle bag in the bleachers and sitting down on a bench to tie on his skates.

“Good morning,” Kravitz calls out, skating over to the side of the rink. “I hadn’t planned on seeing you here this early.”

“Can’t let you take gold,” Taako replies. He’s wearing a white, puffy jacket over a teal colored body suit. He blows air into his gloved hands for warmth. Somehow the rink is even more freezing early in the morning. Taako doesn’t know how anyone can stand it. “I flubbed it on the last event. Won’t happen again.”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself,” Kravitz says. He leans forward as Taako tests his skates and strolls over to meet him. “I suppose I should have reason to fear the self proclaimed ‘not-a-morning-person’ rising like clockwork to catch the tail end of my early practice.”

“That’s how we do,” Taako replies, giving Kravitz a pat on the arm before gliding onto the ice himself. Taako starts on his warm ups and Kravitz has half a mind to stay a bit longer. Maybe keep the conversation going? Kravitz hates to admit it, but he enjoys the teasing, knowing now that it’s just teasing. It’s fun this way, he thinks, having such an amiable rival.

But an alarm on his phone goes off and he drops those thoughts. He steps off the ice and grabs his duffle bag from a nearby bench. Ballet and acting is next on his schedule. His ballet instructor won’t take well to tardiness, especially with Finals being only a week away. 

Which is why his surprise doubles when he comes back in the afternoon and finds Taako there again. He’s not alone on the ice though, there’s someone else there—a kid, it appears. Maybe a teenager? From where Kravitz is standing, he can see that they’re working on jumps.

A part of him whispers to turn around and just work out in the gym so as not to disturb their practice. But another part of him shouts to stay put and give some sort of acknowledgement. He walks up to the edge of the rink and waves a hand in Taako’s direction. To his surprise, Taako looks up and waves back. Kravitz’s insides do a little flip at the gesture, as he smiles to himself. He slips on his skates and skirts onto the ice, staying on his end of the arena. 

He’d very much like to go over and chat with Taako some more, but there’s still less than two weeks until the finale. With his double gold in the establishing events, the pressure certainly is on.

“Who are you waving to sir?” Angus asks, looping back on his heels. He’s a little breathless from warming up. Taako gives a nonchalant shrug and turns away from where he had been clearly not watching Kravitz out of the corner of his eye. The two of them keep to their end of the rink. But it’s hard to avoid the sound of Kravitz as he works on his own routine. The turns have to be a bit tighter to accommodate the lack of space, and the blades hitting the freshly laid ice kick up shavings like an ocean spray.

“Oh, uh,” Taako says, throat dry all of a sudden. “You know. A co-skater, of sorts.”

“You’re waving at a rival?” Angus asks.

“Nothing wrong with a little friendly competition, McDango. Speaking of competition...” 

Angus squints through his glasses, before his eyes quickly go wide. “That’s the man who took first rank at your last event, isn’t he? He’s really good!”

Taako scoffs and reaches out a hand. He quickly yanks the knitted cap on Angus' head and pulls it over the kid’s face. Angus makes a yelp of protest.

“Sir!”

“Focus, Agnes!” Taako says. “What do I always say?”

“Use an international VPN when pirating online content?”

“The other thing.”

“We’ve already won.”

“You’re damn right.”

Friday morning slams in with an unforgiving 4:30am alarm. Taako and Angus meet up at the airport to head to the kid’s second Junior Grand Prix Event. The location is just north of the Woven Gulch, making it a long ride. They sleep a little bit on the plane and rouse only when it’s time to take the airline shuttle to the arena. Angus is uncharacteristically silent the whole time, which Taako chalks up to all the early moving around. He figures once they get the short program out of the way, they can both pass out at the hotel.

However, Angus is still quiet when they check in. And more so when they put his gear in the locker room. It’s only when Taako offers to buy a couple of bagels and latte’s for their breakfast does the kid actually speak up.

“I don’t feel well, sir,” he says, voice barely clearer than a mumble. His face doesn’t look drained or flushed in any way, but Taako still turns to him with alarm.

“Are you sick?” Taako asks. “Why didn’t you tell me on the shuttle?”

“Not sick,” Angus says quickly. “Just...unwell. I woke up feeling nervous, sir. More than usual. I think it might be a premonition.”

Taako presses the back of his hand on the kid’s forehead anyway. There’s no difference in temperature, so that’s good.The last thing he needs is for Angus to be sick on the ice, especially with no one else available to keep an eye out for him. If it’s just pre skate jitters, that he can handle.

“Are you feeling okay to eat?” Taako asks. 

Agnus nods his head. “Yes, I’m pretty sure I’m not nauseous.”

“Good, then let’s let some carbs into you,” Taako says. “And on the way I’ll make fun of all the saps you’re competing against, does that sound fun?”

“It sounds rude, sir,” Angus says. But he gets to his feet with a small smile. “You’re not a very good role model.”

Taako grins. “Never claimed to be.”

They get a quick continental breakfast and Taako is very quick to poke fun at all the other younger skaters (out of earshot). Angus laughs well enough at the jokes, but the conversation is still punctuated with a silence that neither of them can fully dispel. When time gets thin, they both go back to the locker room and Taako coaches the kid through his warmups as best he can. They both do a mental run through of the routine, until Angus’s slot is called. It’s a blur between then and when the music starts.

Angus slips early in his first jump, recovering quickly, but does the same in the next. Murmurs ripple through the crowd as he wobbles his way through the next part of the program. Taako grips the side of the rink tightly, knowing a choke when he sees one. It’s hard to keep energy up after a poor start. Angus follows through the rest of his short program without mistake. But as he finishes his bow and glides towards the edge, his face is scrunched up with obvious disappointment.

Taako gives the kid a pat on the back when he’s done, and they both head over to the Kiss and Cry. Angus scraps by with fourth place score.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Angus says, clearly broken up by the outcome. His lip doesn’t quiver like it did when he was smaller, but his eyes take on a watery shine. Taako sighs loudly and pulls the kid into a side hug.

“Don’t sweat it, D’Jangus,” he says, his usual enthusiasm gone. “You held it together out there, and it’s still your debut year.”

“Yeah,” Angus replies, still sounding disappointed. Taako guides them out of the kiss and cry.

“Listen kiddo,” He says. “Cha’boy ate shit on the second event, so you’re only following the greats.”

Angus looks up at him hopefully. He asks, “Which means we’re both going for gold in the finale, right?” 

Taako gives him one more pat on the shoulder. “Right.”

A hot cocoa and bagel break later, and the second half of the event commences. Angus's long program goes much smoother. There's still the look of apprehension marring his otherwise calm countenance. But he makes all his jumps, and carries through his routine with all the skill and practice that's bee built into him. Taako catches himself nodding with approval as Angus ends with his signature Biellman spiral. When the performance completely stops, the kid looks a little dazed as he comes off the ice.

"Still with me, McDangus?" Taako asks, already reaching out to steady him.

"Yes sir," Angus says. He face goes from dazed to determine. "That went really well."

"Went fucking flawless if you ask me."

"Please don't curse, sir. We're live on Tv," Angus says, point to a nearby cluster of camera people. Taako shrugs and just gives them all a wave, before ushering both himself and the boy to the Kiss and Cry.

The scoring goes much better here. It's not enough to bring Angus first, but it is enough to give him second. And a qualifying chance at Finals. Both Taako and Angus heave huge sighs of relief as they get the confirmation. 

"I'm too young and pretty for this kind of stress," Taako says, leaning back. "Why did no one say coaching was this difficult?"

"I thought you weren't my couch, sir?" Angus asks, though only teasing.

"Like hell I'm not," Taako says, sitting back up. "Both of our asses are going to finals. Imagine both of us getting gold. Do you know what kind of media coverage that gets?" He holds up a fist. "From here on out you refer to me as Coach Taako Taaco. Scratch that, Coach Taako Taaco Supreme."

"I'll just call you sir, sir."

"Fine, but you'll be on—" Taako stops.

"On thin ice?" Angus continues, smiling giddily. Taako throws a plushie penguin at him. Angus just laughs.

Another week slips past, and with it comes a cold snap that heralds the approach of winter. In it, there is skating, midterms, and more skating. It’s somehow December already. And already, it’s almost over. Fall becomes a memory. Holidays bleed into each other, flicking in and then out, like dim lights of a cozy room.

Between the blurring of of events, Taako doesn't see much of his co-competitors. Scratch that, he doesn't see much of one competitor in particular. Despite his efforts happenstances of being at the rink around the same time, there is always a reason or interference to whisk on or the other away. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you work this hard,” Lup says. She leans against the wall of the rink and taako sits down and takes off his skates. In the bleachers above them, Killian leads a meeting with the hockey team.

“What do you mean?” Taako says. He wipes his forehead with a towel and loosens his hair to rebraid it. “I always put time in.”

“I know but like,” Lup scoots down beside him. She leans her weight on him and he doesn’t protest. “I don’t think I’ve seen you put this much heart into skating...since I left.” 

Taako doesn’t respond to that, just continues to braid his hair. They don't really talk about it. Or at least, not since they've had the talk about it. Somewhere the thought still rubs something sore, like a poorly strapped skate on an ankle. Lup gives her brother an assessing look, before adding, “You know, I do miss being out on the ice.”

“Not as much as being in a biochemistry lab?” Taako chides. 

Lup rolls her eyes. “Well, it helps to have a pretty good lab partner,” she says, using the sappy tone she reserves only for Barry. Taako makes a gagging noise. “But,” Lup goes on. “Both of them have their benefits and drawbacks.”

“You don’t have to justify anything to me Lulu,” Taako comments. “I’m behind you 100%.”

“I know,” Lup says, words pointed. “And wherever you are, I am. I’m really proud that you’re hanging in here.”

“Sap.”

Lup leans in and punches him in the arm. “Goofus.”

Taako swats back at her. “Dingus.”

Lup laughs and sits down beside him. “What are you gonna do once the Prix is over? Take hot boy on another date?”

Taako rolls his eyes “If hot boy lets me win, I might consider taking him on a date. An actual date.”

“Please, it’s not like you haven’t been making eyes at him since he started practicing here.”

“I would never.”

“You’re still wearing the scarf he gave you.”

Taako looks down at himself. He is wearing the lavender scarf with his usual workout clothes. He’s worn the scarf quite a few times this week, and it’s still managed to hang on to its lovely scent. What can he say? It’s a comfy scarf.

“It’s a comfy scarf,” he says.

“You’re a disaster.”

“I’m a delight.”

Chapter Text

December brings with it the Finale of the Grand Prix.

It's a multiday event, with the Juniors competition before the Seniors. Taako and Angus take an early flight, with a promise from Lup and Barry that they'll arrive in time for the Seniors. With final exams and dissertations still needing to be reviewed, it'll be a long two day gap without them. Taako doesn't express his disappointment as he goes through check in with Angus, the latter of whom is so wrapped up in the latest edition of Caleb Cleveland, that it's a welcomed distraction for the upcoming big event. His nose is in the book the entire plane ride, and the idea of distraction gives Taako an idea.

What usually follows the blur and buzz of before-big-day prep is last minute training. But for Angus, Taako forgoes that last bit, and takes the kid to a natural history museum instead. 

“Only nerds enjoy museums,” Taako says, taking a picture of a dinosaur skeleton. He immediately texts it to Lup with a message that reads, take a look at this spiney boi.

“Is that why you enjoy them so much?” Angus hazards. Taako turns around with narrowed eyes, and Angus lets a nervous laugh slip out. Taako extends a hand and pulls Angus’s baseball cap over his eyes. To which Angus makes a noise of protest. Taako has no idea why he took this sassy kid under his wing, but here they are. 

“One more word out of you, and you can find your own way back home,” he says. “I can cancel that second flight.”

Angus straightens his hat and nods. “Gift shop time?”

Taako smiles. “Hell yeah, gift shop time!”

They finish off the day with slushies and bad movies, before Angus passes out from the sheer enjoyment of it all. Taako stays up late to finish an online quiz. He breathes a sigh of relief once it’s turned in, then winces when he notices the time on his laptop. He closes the thing and has an internal debate about taking a shower tonight or in the morning, when his eyes fall on Agnus. The kid is deep asleep, practically drowning in one of the large, queen-sized hotel beds. He looks peaceful, a good sign.

Taako stretches a bit, then gets up to grab his bag and head to the shower. Maybe this fun day was designed meticulously to counteract his own undercurrent of nerves? He'll never tell. But, there it lays, just the same. The only thing he can do now is get some rest. Competition days are unforgiving one way or another, It’s best he gets his shit together now while he’s awake. Agnus shifts a little at the sound of movement, and Taako pauses.

“Goodnight, McDango,” he says quietly.

“Mmm mmm, sir,” Angus mumbles, before curling around a pillow and drifting away again. 

The kid may or may not get tucked in before Taako finally turns out the lights.

The following morning, the junior skaters file into the arena. Taako’s eyes flicker from the volunteers at the check-in table to Angus’s face, wordlessly searching for any potential sign of nerves in the kid’s demeanor. Angus, in his own right, acts in usual chipper spirits. They’re in the last flight, so there’s less of a rush to get ready. The next few hours are spent talking with some of the other skaters and helping Angus get dressed. His outfit is a dapper looking navy blue suit, with streaks of gold going down the sleeves. Right before Angus takes his cue and steps into the rink, Taako stops the kid in his tracks and looks him dead in the eyes.

“No unwarranted premonitions this morning?” Taako asks.

“No sir,” Angus confirms.

“You lightheaded? Dizzy?”

“No sir.”

“I don’t have to send a hitman for the other skaters do I? I can have Maggie and Merle at the ready.”

“I’ll be fine, sir!”

Taako nods. Then adds, with a quieter tone of voice, “What do I always tell you?”

“I've already won, sir.” 

“Exactly,” Taako says. He claps a hand on the kid’s back for good measure, and pushes him out onto the ice. “Now get that gold McDango!”

“Thank you sir!” the kid calls, waving back. The audience is familiar enough with Angus’s previous performances to start cheering.

Taako watches from his vantage point, attempting to tamp down the concern in his throat. A part of him wills the judges to look favorably upon the kid. But they don’t know him like Taako does. They don’t know the hoops he’s leaped through to get here. All they care about is what happens when the music starts.  

The kid takes his mark, breathes deep, and lets the muscle memory do the rest.

Taako would never draw attention to the deadlocked grip he has on Angus’s shoulder as they listen to the announcers recap the scores. Both being season favorites, they’re practically drowning in flowers and stuffed animals in the kiss and cry. Angus’s hold tightly onto a large teddy bear. 

It’s his debut year, Taako thinks about the kid. It’s crazy he even got this far. Which, while being is very true, doesn’t negate all the stellar odds. The kid’s a natural talent, on top of being a diligent student and an energy powerhouse. He has one of the top senior skaters giving hum pointers. The kid's practicality has this whole gift wrapped for him.

Still, as Taako looks at him, all he can think about is how much the difference a decimal point can make. Angus is biting his lip with anticipation, eyes locked on a nearby tv screen, watching the replay. His short program was rough starting out, but his long program was flawless. Would that be enough to cut it?

Taako is first to register the scores as they are called out: 182.65. Total score: 242.78. Ranked 1st.

He immediately gives Angus a small shake. “Guess what, kiddo?”

“What?” Angus says, looking dazed.

Taako grins. “You won!”

“I-I..” It takes a second, and then the lights come on. Angus leaps out of his seat, screaming, “I won!” 

“YOU BET YOUR MONEY ON IT, YOU DID!” Taako yells back, pumping his fists in the air. He quickly remembers skater decorum and encourages them both to sit still. They share matching grins for the rest of the recap.

Lup and Barry's flight land only a half hour after the awards ceremony. Taako and Angus barely have time to pack up Angus's stuff in the locker room, when the couple burst in. Lup pulls Angus into a tight hug, and Barry stands at the doorway with a bouquet of flowers and a gift basket.

"That's what I'm talking about, Ango!" Lup shouts, nearly lifting him off his feet. He laughs and makes an attempt to show her his medal.

"Hello? I'm here too!!" Taako shouts, hands on his hips. He's been betrayed!! "No acknowledgement for all of my heard work? I'm the winner here."

"Nuh uh," Lup shouts back. "No coasting on Angus's success! You get your turn tomorrow." But she's already holding out an arm to pull Taako into the hug as well.

Taako holds an angry face for a brief moment, before dropping his arms and acquiescing. He waves a hand at Barry as he walks over to Lup. "Get in here, Barold. We know you're horny for affection."

Barry sets the gifts on a bench with a knowing smile and wraps his arms around the twins, who still have their arms tangled around Angus. The kid, for his part, barely know where to put his on arms, but he reveled in being surrounded anyway. The room around them is pretty cold, but the hug itself is welcome and warm.

The morning of the Senior's competition, the collection of top skaters in all divisions are called to assemble in a small auditorium, inside the Goldcliff arena. An hour is spent doing photo opts and listening to guest speakers. There are refreshments served, but they are bland and banal. Taako, bored out of his mind, ponders whether during another hour of this or taking a hard fall on the ice out be more excruciating. 

A break in the pleasantries is called to give everyone time to mingle. But there aren’t many folks here he feels like small talking with. Lup and Barry have already made their way with his gear to the locker rooms. There’s only one other person he assumes would even want to chat with him. Taako scans the crowd until his eyes fall on the exact face he’s looking for.

Kravitz feels a tap on his shoulder to see Taako standing beside him. Taako wordlessly nods towards the exit, and walks in that direction without looking back to see if Kravitz follows. Kravitz glances at the rest of the people in the room, then sets his drink down and follows suit. He doesn’t go more than a few feet until he runs into Taako again.

“Cha’boy was dying in there, Krav,” Taako says. He gives his wrists a stretch. “Glad you could dip out with me.”

“They’ll notice we’re missing,” Kravitz whispers back. There’s no one seemingly in the hall with them, but it’s not a safe bet for them to be completely alone.

Taako shrugs and says, “Their loss. Who the fuck gives a 20 minute meet and greet speech?” He grabs Kravitz’s hand and leads them both down a hallway, towards the exit of the arena.

“Where are we going?” Kravitz asks.

“I don’t know,” Taako says. “Somewhere not here.”

They head out through a side exit and find a pretty little courtyard, facing the rising sun. It’s still early in the morning, and quiet, save for the occasional athlete going in and out. Taako sits down at a stone bench and pats beside him for Kravitz to sit. Kravitz obliges and smiles. This is much more preferable to the monotony of a forum.

Neither of them really talk for the first few moments. It’s a nice kind of silence, a revel in each other’s company.

“Some music would be nice,” Taako said first. “You know, to fit the chill vibe we’ve got going on.”

“I got you covered,” Kravitz says, pulling out his phone. He gives it a few tables, and a second later, a soft, but brilliant melody plays from his speakers.

Taako leans his head back and listens carefully. “That’s from your short program, isn’t it?”

“Right,” Kravitz says. “A pretty popular choice. Can’t help it if i play things a bit safe.”

“We can’t all reinvent the wheel,” Taako replies.

“For what it’s worth, I almost considered Nocturne No.2.”

Taako sits up and throws him a look. “Nocturne No.2 is baby’s first skate, Krav. Do better.”

“I said almost!” Krav says. “Taako you’ve seen my program, surely you’ve heard the track.”

“Bold of you to assume I process anything outside of what affects me directly.”

“Like you don’t have a backup song.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Taako grins. “Fast Car.”

Kravitz bows his head, trying to obscure the frustrated smile working its way onto his face. Taako takes that as a good sign. He leans a bit closer to Kravitz and says, voice low, “Once I win this thing, I think I’ll make it the song for my long program.”

“If , you mean,” Kravitz murmurs back.

“Glad you have at least that much confidence in me, Krav,” Taako says. This close, Taako can see Kravitz's beautiful eyes, and Kravitz can see the way Taako’s lopsided grin softens into a pleasant smile. Everything about Taako is so warm and inviting close up. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him.

An alarm goes off on Kravitz's phone, and he pulls back, fumbling to turn it off. Taako’s expression melts from cheeky to a poorly hidden irritation. 

“Short program. I’m going first.”

“I take it that I can’t hold you then?” Taako asks, trying to reel him back in.” 

Kravitz stands up, but not without giving Taako a long long, that he tries and fails to read. “Not...maybe…I’ll be seeing you on ice.”

“Right,” Taako says. He reluctantly stands up as well. “Grand Prix. Break a leg Krav.”

Kravitz polishes off his short program with inhuman perfection. He holds his pose as the music stops, then gasps for air a second later, the adrenaline breaking as his score is tallied. That performance was everything he needed it to be. Flowers rain onto the ice. He exits the rink with a particularly large bouquet and immediately hands it over to his coach, who squeezes his shoulders excitedly. They're nearly ambushed by newscasters, as they duck and weave themselves to the kiss and Cry. The score is called: 109.43. 

Kravitz breathes a sigh of relief. It's perfect. Above perfect. It's only the first flight of the Men's singles and the bar has been set super high.

Taako would be furious if he weren’t so goddamn turned on by the whole situation. He doesn't say that out loud, with Lup, Barry, and Angus in the room. But, damn, if he isn't thinking it.

When his own turn is called, he does his couple laps around the rink and gets into place. His costume has been mended since his second event, thanks to both Lucretia and Ren's help. He know's they're both watching from home. He knows Magnus and Merle and Davenport and the whole hockey team are watching from home—maybe the even whole city. He's got a lot of people rooting for him. That's good. That's what he tells himself, standing alone on this wide expanse of ice.  

His short program begins and the thoughts fade to only the sound of the music. He gets so caught up in the singularness of it, that he doesn't realize it's done until he's already in his finishing position. He looks up and the Judges are busy with their computers. The sound fades back in and the audience is cheering. He looks to the left and Lup and Angus are Jumping up and down on the side of the rink.

He's exhausted, is all he can think. He does his bows and skates over to them, once again getting pulled into a series of hugs. It's another blur of sound and light, until he finds himself seated in the kiss and cry. A familiar mongoose plushie is tucked in his arms. Lup is sitting right beside him, and eye eyes follow her gaze to the nearest tv screen. They tally the score.

109. 28.

"Tomorrow," Lup says, unwavering. She gives Taako's shoulder a squeeze. Taako nods, looking at the number with equal determination.

"Tomorrow," he agrees. One long program to go.

A day in, and the long program comes.

Taako wakes up in his hotel room and its.....fine?

There's not jitters, no nervousness. No imposter syndrome—which is not something he normally feels—but he figures it might as well be on the list of Bad Vibes™ one should feel before the biggest showdown of their life. He slips out the room in his pajamas, careful to not wake a still sleeping Angus in the other bed, and Lup and Barry sleep in their own room. He heads down to the lobby and there are other skaters there, either exited about their success or lamenting their failures.

Taako goes over to the breakfast counter and fixes himself a coffee, still amazed at his own level of calm.

That calm is broken by a voice. "Why, Taako! Pleasure to see you up at this hour."

Taako squeezes his eyes shut, then forces them open with a smile, as he turns to see Edward, already dressed up like he ready for his own program. 

"I'm pretty sure the junior's program was two days ago, Edward," Taako says. "Not sure what your'e still doing here."

Edward chuckles. "Charming. My sister and I just completed our short program. Seems like pair skating has been a breeze since you and Lup are no longer skating."

"One," Taako says, dunking as many sugars into his coffee as possible. "I'll take that as a compliment. And two. We're still skating, dipshit. I'm competing for mens singles." In the back of his mind, he prayed he wouldn't have to see this asshole after having left pair skating. But the Fantasy Gods of this plane see fit that he just can't have everything Gucci style 24/7.

"Alone?" Edward croons. "How tragic."

"Not as tragic as your face," Lup says, suddenly standing behind him.  Edward jumps up with an undignified squeak. Lup is also in her pajamas, looking ten ways of whoop ass ready to be done with this creep. Taako perks up immediately. Edward takes the cue from Lup's expression and turns back to Taako. 

"See you on tv," he says, with a small wave of the hand. "I'm sure a bronze medal will look excellent against your skin."

"Not as much as a hockey stick to yours," Taako jabs back. He and Lup watch as Edward makes himself scarce, before Lup lets out a loud, angry groan.

"Geez, why did we leave such an opening for those fucker to take gold," she says.

"You're telling me!" Taako asks. He turns back around and adds creamer to his drink. He's going to need something to wake him up from this brief nightmare. "Of all the people to see at this hotel, his had to be his ass."

Lup raises a brow at him. "I'm guessing there was someone else's ass that you were hoping to see down here?"

Taako raises his coffee to his lips instead of answering. The taste is flat, and there's no good syrups around here to liven it ip. He finishes his sip and says, "I plead the fifth."

Lup blows a raspberry at him and laughs, "I'm sure you'll see hot boy after the long program." She gives him a flick on the arm. "Eyes on the prize."

"I've got my eyes on the prize alright," he says, in his signature, terrible way. Lup laughs and bumps him with her hip.

"Disgusting."

With only six skaters competing for the finale in each category, the competition moves relatively fast. Groups, and pairs, go without a hitch. The Singles competition continues on in the same fashion. Taako watches intently, as his competitors take the rink for the final time. Bradson, Jenkins, and Boyland all put on a decent showing. Their numbers down reflect his and Kravitz's from the day before. But they're still a tight bunch, and they all bring their A game. Kravitz is next followed by Grimaldis.

Taako has the ordeal of going last, meaning he has to sit on the bench by the rink and see what the score to beat truly is. His concerns are heightened, as Kravitz goes out on the ice for his turn. He looks beautiful in his all black suit. There's shimmering array of what looks like raven feathers etched over his shoulders and down his arms. His locs are pulled back into a tight bun, and he starts his laps around the rink when given the okay to do so. His suit shifts as he moves, from jet black to undercurrents of bold red and green. Taako gives mental props to whoever designs Kravitz's costumes, they do one hell of a job.

Kravitz gets into position, and his music begins. Taako immediately stops looking at the ice. He seen Kravitz's free skate a million times. He knows what he's in for. All that really matters is how their scores are going to tally out in the end. He's not sure how they'll play off each other be if Kravitz wins. Or if Taako wins. A part of him hopes that the outcome doesn't change anything. They haven't really had a chance to be something. That's the part that seems to sink deepest in his thoughts.

Lup murmurs, "Oh shit," and Barry winces. There’s a chorus of gasps from the crowd. An announcer says something. Taako’s focus snaps back to the rink.

There’s Kravitz, continuing his set. But the placid concentration is gone from his face. He’s wincing terribly. He doesn’t complete the second jump of his combination, nor does he attempt the lutz that draws closer to the end. 

"What happened?" Taako asks, leaning forward. The music is still going, but there's something definitely wrong.

"He had a bad landing sir," Angus says, voice small. "Really bad."

“Well,” Lup says, trying to give some levity. “That’s one competitor down. You should have a clear chance at victory now.”

Taako stands up from his seat on the bench and immediately begins squeezing his way through other coaches and competitors. Lup calls his name, but he ignores it. 

When the music ends, Kravitz manages to hold his final pose and people cheer loudly. But he’s clearly shivering, like the pain is about to knock him out at any moment.

Taako runs to the entrance of the rink, where Kravitz’s coach and a number of other people are already waiting. He barely catches sight of Kravitz making his way over, before grabbing the side of the rink to steady himself. His leg gives out just then, and Taako loses sight of him. The people immediately swarm around to assist. Folks with cameras also begin to crowd around him. Taako tries to barge his way through, only to catch a glimpse of two volunteers supporting Kravitz with their shoulders, and helping him get to a medic. Through the speakers overhead, the announcers go on talking.

Taako looks up at the jumbo screen over the rink. It shows the replay, the camera zooming in on Kravitz’s takeoff. He watches as the footage slows, hears the announcers pointing out all the ways it’s wrong. He frowns at the awkward way Kravitz lands, knowing all too well how terribly it must’ve hurt. He’s had his fair share of injured ankles. The severity of this kind relies on a coin flip.

Taako is nudged out of the way, as the rink is cleared, and Greg Grimaldis comes up, ready to do his free skate. He flashes Taako a greasy smile, knowing that with Kravitz injured, the route to gold will be far less steep. Taako flips him off and starts walking back to his locker room. He really shouldn’t be walking away from the rink, but his head is filled with a storm of thoughts all colliding together. With all the noise and camera flashing, it hard to put on a tv ready face.

He gets to his locker room and sighs, loudly. The door is locked, and Lup had the key to it, and she's still at the rink. As he ponders what to do about it, his phone vibrates in his pocket. He picks up the call absentmindedly.

“Yeah, Cha’boy is kind of busy right now,” he says, not bothering to hide his frustrated tone. “Mind calling later?”

“Oh, sorry,” the voice says, and Taako does a double take as he looks at the caller ID—because it’s Kravitz who’s calling. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can—”

“No wait!” Taako says. He catches himself, and lowers his voice. “What’s going on, boychik? I thought they'd have wheeled your ass to the hospital by now.”

“I’m en route,” Kravitz replies. It seems like he’s trying to maintain some levity, given the situation. “I’ve got an ice pack the size of my head resting on my ankle right now.”

“Gotcha,” Taako says. His voice softens. “Hey, you doing alright?”

“I’m doing as well as I can,” Kravitz says. There’s an awkward pause between them, before he goes on. “Um, sorry to bother, but...I left one of my bags in the arena when they rushed me out. Do you think you could find it?”

“Oh, yeah,” Taako replies. He looks back down the hall to the locker rooms. “I can grab it for you, no biggie. Where should I drop it off?”

“Well, I should be home in a few hours. If you don’t mind bringing it there, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Nerd,” Taako says. “Consider it done.”

“Thank you,” Kravitz says. “Oh, and good luck with your set.”

“Not that I’ll need it,” Taako replies.

“No, not that you’ll need it,” Kravitz replies. Even over the phone, Taako can hear the smile in his voice, despite the probable pain he’s in. The idiot.

“Taako!” Someone shouts. Taako turns around, just as Lup grabs him by the arm. She starts to yank him back towards the rink. “Two minutes! You’re on!”

“Bye! Call you back,” Taako yells into the phone. He hears Kravitz say goodbye as well, before the call cuts off.

“Honestly, Taako,” Lup huffs. They dodge and weave around news reporters and officials. “We’ve worked for two fucking years to get you here. Don’t flake now, everyone’s watching from home!”

“I’m not going to flake,” Taako insists, though he’s not completely certain. The sudden thing with Kravitz is resting a lot heavier on his mind than he would like. Things like this happen all the time, of course. But he would very much like the thing that’s happening to not happen. Not to Kravitz anyway. 

He puts his phone in the pocket of his jacket and slides the whole thing off, handing it over to Lup. His costume sparkles brilliantly under the spotlights. It's crisp, and golden, and makes him look like a starlet from another word. The camera people catch the attention from the glittering outfit and begin swarm around them both.

“Are you sure you’re good?” Lup asks, as Taako inspects his skates one more time. 

He gives her a thumbs up. “Taako’s good out here.”

Taako gets the go ahead, and steps onto the ice.  The crowd, painfully quiet in the moments after Kravitz had to be hurried out, now begins to shout. He knows why they’re cheering so loudly. He’s the new favorite to win. It feels good, in its own way. But at the same time, it's unfair. That's something he'll have to swallow down for later, however. He skates to the middle of the ice and scans the row of judges. They watch him from their seats, expressions impassive. No matter what goes on, the end result is the end result.

Taako wins on his own terms, he thinks to himself. And the music starts.

Chapter Text

Kravitz should be grateful.

That's what he tells himself, when his orthopedic scans show a pretty bad ankle strain, but nothing that requires surgery.

It's what he continues to tell himself, when his coach (mother) and co-coach (mom/coach wife) book an immediate flight back home. He jumps—metaphorically—at the chance to leave, so that he can actively avoid looking at where he fell—literally—in the rankings. Because as much as the well meaning side of him wants to play good sportsman, a louder, very sore and very bitter part of him just wants to forget the whole experience and maybe wrap up in a blanket at home for a few hours. His co-coach offers a blanket early, pulling one from her seemingly bottomless carpet bag and wrapping it around his shoulders as a show of good faith. They call up a taxi and the ride from the clinic is blessedly clear of any sports reporters. But he knows they'll still be hounded by emails and phone calls. His suspicions are met when, after a quick detour to Fantasy Red Lobster, his coach's phone starts buzzing relentlessly. She does the sensible thing and turns it off.

"If they want info so bad they can send a carrier pigeon," she says, getting a laugh out of her wife. Kravitz smiles at that.

"Knowing us, they'll probably try sending a raven," he suggests.

"Oh, I am quite amiable to that," his coach says, intrigued.

His coach assures him that she's proud of his efforts, buying him a devil food cake as a congrats for making it so far in the competition. He mentally repeats to himself that he should be grateful. Even with an injury, he still qualifies for the World Championships in the spring season. Being a top ranked skater with consistent high ISU marks does that for a person.

But waiting for another prestigious ice skating competition to approach, with the uncertainty of rehab looming over his shoulder, is not what Kravitz signed up for. It means compromising his training to minimize the amount of movement around his ankle. He knows his moms will be there as often as they can. But they're both busy people, with valuable skills in the industry. In between movies and game nights, there’s still private tutoring for other skaters. Meetings with clients in other cities. The email inquiries and phone calls with still have to be answered.

They both suggest changing schedules for the following day and opt to stay home. But Kravitz shoots those notions down. He likes that they keep busy. He wouldn’t hold them from doing what they love. 

The flight home is fast and about as comfortable as it can be. He's given first class so that he can properly prop his leg. His pain meds, coupled with normal, athletic exhaustion, knock him out for most of the duration. He doesn't even really register that he's at home, until his coach pulls up their car in front of their building, and his other coach is helping him out of the backseat and handing him his crutches. It's a meandering elevator ride to their floor and then a labored walk through their familiar, if plain, doorway.

"I'm going to bed early," Kravitz declares.

"Alright, love," his mother (coach) says, looking over him like he's five.

"Want me to tuck you in?" his mom (co-coach) asks.

"No, I'm fine, thanks," he says, giving them both an awkward wave before going to his bedroom. He walks in and let's himself plop on to the bed, wincing momentarily when a brief stab of pain goes up his leg. It's a reminder that even though he has to take it easy, this isn't a holiday.

As he lays there, staring up at the ceiling, he considers just going to sleep right then. But then he remembers earlier in the day, when he gave Taako a call about his forgotten duffle bag. He pulls out his phone, checking to see if he remembered to send Taako his address. The building door has a key code, so that's important too.

He sees that he did, in fact, remember. As well as receive a reply:

Taako: you know when i said break a leg, i didn’t mean that literally

Kravitz sits up, an uncontrollable smile popping up on his face. He’d be self conscious about it, if he weren’t alone in his room. He types out:

Kravitz: are you sure? for all i know you could have put a hex on me or something

The reply to that comes fast—erm, well....faster than he expected. He has no idea where he is in relation to Taako in relation to timezones and day's events and whatnot. But Taako must've had easy access to his phone, but it's only a short bit after when Kravitz gets.

Taako: damn, you got me. You’ve discovered my terrible secret. I’m actually an evil wizard and i casted ‘blast your ass’ curse on you right before your skate

Kravitz: i knew it :(

Taako: you home from the hospital yet? my flight comes back tomorrow and i've got your bag

Kravitz: yeah, i'm home right now. just swing by whenever you can

Taako: nice. be there at noon-ish o' clock

Kravitz: I'll be expecting you

Kravitz sends that and looks away from his phone for a brief minute. Taako, in Kravitz's opinion, seems like the type to want to brag about competitions and the like, considering how excitable he was about their DDR session. But he looks at his phone and sees no hint of the results of the Grand Prix. He feels clued into the idea that Taako is granting him mercy in that regard. A quick google search confirms his already growing notions as to how the rankings turned out. But he feels far less hurt about it than he thought he'd be. Maybe that's a good thing.

He should be grateful, he thinks. But he isn't.

But he's not ungrateful either. At least, not for kind mercies from people who chose to be humble when they don't have to be. That's what he thinks, when he gives into the exhaustion again and falls asleep.

It's roughly 12:17 when the taxi pulls up.

As soon as he hops out, Taako uses his foot to nudged the door of the car closed. A light cardboard box rests in his hands and a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. As soon as the car pulls away, he looks up and takes in the scene. The apartment complex that Kravitz messaged about is stupidly nice. The entrance is shaded with willow trees and the walkways leading to the front door are lined with a pristine assortment of flowers. Admittedly, the location isn’t that far of a distance from Taako’s home. But walking with a heavy bag and a gift in his arms on an uncharacteristically  warm day does not sound appealing. Re, taxi.

Taako presses the door code that Kravitz texted him and is immediately buzzed in. The inside of the building looks just as neat and pretty as the outside, and Taako makes a mental note to check out places more like this if he ever moves out of his house with Lup. Not that sharing a townhome with her and Barry isn’t nice all on its own. But the pair of nerds can be suffocatingly domestic when they want to be.

Taako stops at what he thinks is the right apartment door and rings the doorbell.

“Yoohoo?” he asks, for safe measure. 

“It should be open,” calls Kravitz’s muffled voice from inside. Taako lets himself in and immediately looks around with curiosity.

He’s greeted by a clean, albeit sparse-looking apartment. It’s very big, which doesn’t help the lack of cozy vibes he’s getting. There are a few moving boxes that appear to be folded up by the door, so it’s clear that Kravitz hasn’t been there long. 

Taako does feel a little underdressed, despite being invited to someone’s home in the middle of the day. He’s wearing a stolen denim jacket from Barry, over a light sweater and some ripped jeans. But this apartment conjures up the idea of custom suits, sparkling company, and nightly dinner parties.

The effect is only mildly assuaged by the sight of Kravitz resting on the couch in the living room area. He’s wearing a cozy, albeit formal-looking grey sweater, and some jogging pants. One of the hems is rolled up to the knee, revealing the walking cast on his ankle.

“Nice place you got here,“ Taako says, giving a wave. “If I ever dump ice skating and kick off my cooking career full time, I might get a pad like this.”

“It’s got its conveniences,” Kravitz agrees. He picks up on the mildly awkward air and adds, "My mom's are out working. I've just been watching tv for the most part." He pats the seat of the couch beside him. "Feel free to make yourself at home."

"Don't mind if I do!" Taako says, taking the cue. He takes the seat and nods at Kravitz’s cast. “How bad is it?”

“Nothing broken,” Kravitz replies. “But I’m down for the next six weeks, at least.”

Taako winces. “So no moving around?"

“I’ll be on crutches for a while,” Kravitz confirms. He looks visibly torn, like he’s not yet resigned to the situation. He doesn’t seem the fidgety type, but it’s clear from the stacks of books resting on the coffee table that he’s probably been a little restless the past few days. “Thanks for bringing my bag.”

“No biggie.” 

There's an extended pause. Before Taako can fill it with some zinger line of his, Kravitz beats him to the punch with, “Congratulations on your win.” 

Taako's eyebrows raise, almost startled by the comment. He fully expected to just not bring up the line at all—not that he had already gabbed his head of within a ten meter radius the moment it happened. But this was supposed to be one of those bullshit internal rules he'd made for himself when arrived. Now all that shattering to pieces. Kravitz follows the line with, “you deserved it,” just to add insult to injury.

“Hell yeah, I did,” Taako says, seeing his point fully rendered moot. He pulls the medal from his jacket pocket, for Kravitz to see. It didn’t seem sportsmanlike to show up with the thing around his neck—another bullshit rule. Taako takes his bragging rights very seriously. But being here, fiddling with the thing in his palm, the metal feels heavy in a way that’s wrong.

“May I see it?” Kravitz asks. Kravitz rolls around in his hand, studying the sheen. Taako may or may not have given it an extra polish before bringing it over. Kravitz hands the medal back to Taako, who wastes no time in looping the ribbon around his neck.

“Babe, you know when I said give me your medals,” Taako says, lifting his hair so that the medal rest comfortably. “I was being facetious.”

“How do I know you weren’t planning my demise from the get go?” Kravitz says, grinning. “With rest, I’ll be back to compete in a few months. How do I know you won’t try to take me out before Nationals?”

Taako holds up the sizable pink box in his hands. “I could’ve laced these pastries with poison if I wanted to truly finish you off.”

“There are pastries in there?’ Kravitz asks, attention immediately broken.

Taako dives at the opportunity to not dwell on Kravitz's loss. It's killing him in an internal way that he does not have the emotional capacity to handle right now. He pops open the lid of the box, revealing six beautiful cannolis with intricate chocolate drizzling and powdered sugar. They rest on doilied tissue paper, like little works of art.

“Made these myself,” Taako says proudly. “Have a go.”

“You made them?” Kravitz asks. He lifts one of the pastries out of the box and takes a bite. His eyes light up. “They’re fantastic!”

Taako beams. “Well, if you’re not going to be going anywhere, then maybe you can take up the role as my new taste-tester.”

Kravitz reaches for another and says, “If I were done in by one of these, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Dork,” Taako says. But he can’t stop smiling. What follows is a pleasant beat of silence, before he breaks it by asking, “You really caused a stir when you left. My win means nothing in the eyes of the media. What are they going to sensationalize now in your absence?”

Kravitz offers a shrug. “I’m sure you’ll think of something. If you can win over crowds like you win medals, you’ll be fine.”

“Here’s yours, by the way,” Taako says, producing a now shimmering bronze medal from his other pocket. He hands it to Kravitz, who takes it gratefully. Taako scoffs at him. “Amazing how even after eating shit on the ice, you managed to steal third. You monster.”

Kravitz snorts. “You’re just mad because it took divine intervention for you to get first.”

Taako hates him. He hates the dumb, smug look on Kravitz’s face. He just wants to grab him by the collar and shake him a little. And maybe plant a kiss on his lips after. He doesn’t know.

He settles for grabbing one of his own cannoli out of the box. They’re damn good, and he didn’t make this whole trip to not enjoy one himself. Coming here was a trap, he thinks. A lonely, handsome boy in a beautiful building with no one to tend to him? What was Taako thinking?

Kravitz spends the next five minutes waxing poetic about Taako’s baking, about how he hasn't had anything freshly baked in a while. Taako's half ready to tear his hair out, when the conversation shifts to Kravit'z injury again.

“How are you holding up in the meantime?” Taako asks. “Now that you’ve got this new free time?”

“Well, I still have some exercises to maintain—”

Taako cuts him off. “You are the worst at taking advantage of a bad situation."

"I got you to bring me my bag,” Kravitz says, shrugging. “And I got free dessert out of the mix.”

"I—" Taako's mouth is aghast. "Did—was that intentional?"

Kravitz keeps his face deceptively blank. "Would it have mattered if it was or wasn't?"

Taako stammers for a hot second, before making a show of rising to his feet. “Just for that—”

“You’re leaving?” Kravitz asks, the look on his face shifting to a mix of surprise and worry. Taako did go through a lot effort here. "I did happen to forget it, in all the confusion. I'm sorry for inconveniencing you."

“I, well,” Taako says, some of the bluster gone from his sails. He can't tell if the actions at play would've been a smooth diversion or a dick move. Like Kravitz said, it doesn't really matter, and he did just get there. “I was expecting a tour of you swanky apartment, but it dawned on me that you can’t really show me around.”

“Not really,” Kravitz agreed. He gestures down a hallway with a hand. “My room’s that way, Mom’s room is across from it. Separate bathrooms. Her office.” He waves at the giant bay illuminating the living room. “Patio deck. There’s an olympic pool downstairs if that’s your fancy.”

“Oh, hell yeah.” Taako says. He plops himself back on the couch. “How long are you staying here, homie? I wanna take advantage of that pool when summer rolls around.”

“I’m just a means to an end with you, huh?” Kravitz asks.

Taako grins. 

Kravitz ponders a bit, he’s never given much thought to how long he stays in one place. His mother always goes for short term leases when they rent an apartment. 

“I don’t know,” He says, honestly. “I’m assuming until internationals are over? We might extend our lease considering my injury.”

“Ah,” Taako says, then mentally kicks himself for not having a better response. He instead walks over to the window to have a look at the view. 

Directly down below, he can see the front entrance to the building. Beyond that is the rest of the posh neighborhood that the taxi drove through to get here. Beyond is what looks like the more normal buildings. He can see the skyline of downtown, the skyscrapers and spaghetti highways. If he squints, he thinks he can see his own arena off to the right. The city looks amazing at this angle, and he knows all the best parts of it personally.

“I was thinking,” Kravitz says, to Taako’s still turned back. “When my ankle heals more, I’d go exploring. I hadn’t seen much beyond when we went to the art museum.”

“Oh, there’s a fuckton of nicer things to see,” Taako says, turning around. “You’ve only experienced the tail end of the Taako Tour.”

Kravitz smiles just a bit and— there it goes again: the urge to sit down and slap Kravitz’s face in between his hands and kiss him senseless. But just as quickly as the smile arrives, it vanishes.

“I take it you’ll be doing continentals over the next few weeks,” he says. “You’re going to have a busy February.”

“Yeah,” Taako agrees. He bites back a sigh. “I’m...probably not going to be around a whole lot.”

"Understandable," Kravitz says, almost too amicably. "Ice skating isn' a stationary career."

Taako’s insides are a mix of white hot jealousy and something else he’s afraid to put a name to. Because yeah! The guy has a nice house, and a loving family, and probably all the best resources money can buy for being an A ranked skater. But Taako could tell from the moment he stepped through this door that Kravitz was aching for company. And he still will when Taako starts traveling again. How long is he going to be aching? Forever? Hell no.

Taako flops back on the couch. “But I don’t start for two weeks, so next time I’m bringing risotto,” he declares.

Kravitz doesn’t question the potential of a next time. He beams and asks, “Could you make it with mushrooms?”

“Is that a question?” Taako says, incredulous. “You’re gonna have the best damn roasted mushroom risotto this side of Neverwinter. Now.” He pulls out his phone. "I need you to watch Jenkin's skate, because that shit was disaster incarnate and worth a laugh."

Kravitz feels embarrassed by how much he revels in the way Taako leans in close to him to show him the video. His feelings about Taako are definitely doing a 180. He wonders just how likely the same might be true for Taako.

Chapter Text

Taako curses under his breath at which ever god in the celestial plane decided that the following two weeks would be the busiest of his fucking life.

A phone call from Ren the following morning sets the boulder rolling down his hill—An interview with Fantasy Sports Illustrated, followed by a photoshoot for Fantasy Teen Vogue. Half the new world wants to hear from him and Angus, following their spectacular mentor/mentee win. It's a devastatingly good break, one that he knows is gonna up his sponsorships big time. He can kiss any worries about school expenses for both him and Lup good fucking riddance.

Not to mention school . January is creeping up and he's applied one of those colleges that like to start their semester stupid early. He's already gotten two emails from professors saying that their syllabi are ready for download, and to order their books as soon as possible. Not that he's going to actually read them until the first day of class. Because that's how Taako do.

Ren gives Taako and Angus a ride from their cul-de-sac to a quaint little studio downtown. The setup is a pair of couches next to a large, open window, with snow-covered Neverwinter as an excellent scenic view. Once they arrive, Ren gets the boys dressed up in matching, royal blue three piece suits—tossing in a pair of fuschia ties for a pop of color. Ren herself picked them out, because she has good taste and Taako could trust her to manage a burning building with efficiency. Angus looks almost grown up in his suit, which sends Taako for a briefly indignant turn. 

“You should’ve given McDangus a sweater and one of those schoolboy caps,” Taako says to Ren, while rustling Angus’s hair. Both Angus and Ren protest.

“I’m almost eighteen, sir!”

“Taako, please, I need you both to look presentable!”

“Hogwash,” Taako says, to both of them.

The interview starts out as a walk in the park. The interviewer asks them about their subsequent wins, and their continued plans for the winter season.

“I’m just going to stick to local events,” Angus says, catching Taako by surprise. “I think it’ll do me good to stay in one place for the next few months.”

“I went to all your international skating competitions,” Taako interjects. “You won’t be going to mine?” If there’s the hint of what could be mistaken as disappointment in his voice, Angus doesn’t latch onto it.

“You were my coach,” the kid argues. “You had to come to mine. And I have to catch up with school work over winter break.”

“Stand-in coach,” Taako corrects him. “How dare you maintain an education when you could have the thrilling high and epic lows of professional skating right at your doorstep!”

“You have college courses, so that makes two of us, sir,” Angus says. “Coach by association.”

Taako pokes him in the arm. “Obligatory Coaching Personal.”

The rest of the interview goes well, as does the subsequent shoot. With matching gold medals around their necks and a pair of skates slung over both their shoulders, the whole thing makes for pretty good pictures. Taako half thinks that he might be able to skip on over to Kravitz’s place while still looking so sharp, before Ren grabs his arm and starts running him to her car.

“Hey, what gives?” Taako asks. Ren waves her phone, a look of rushed anticipation on her face.

“Neverwinter Nightly News. They have an open interview slot! If we move now we can slip a blurb about your win before it airs this evening!” She waves at Angus, staring at them with bewilderment. “You too! We gotta go!”

“Well,” Taako says, not knowing exactly how to talk himself out of this very pressing occurrence. “Shit.”

It's 7:00am on Sunday, and this is the latest Kravitz has woken up in a while. He reflexively sits up in bed, only to catch notice of his elevated leg and remember that he can't go anywhere.

He lays back in bed and sighs. The apartment sounds quiet, which means his moms are still doing their respective jobs. They’ll most likely be back in the afternoon. He carefully gets himself out of bed and grabs the crutches propped against the wall. His ankle isn’t shooting pain anymore, just a dull soreness that he can’t put his weight on.

He walks from his room to the kitchen. There’s a foil-covered plate of what is probably his breakfast sitting on the counter, as well as a sticky note that says, “don’t overdo yourself :) <3”

Kravitz rolls his eyes and smiles, not exactly sure what to do in lieu of “overdoing” anything.

It’s 8am on Monday, and Taako’s on the ice. Merle is yelling something about, “manifesting the strength from within,” while he only half listens. The big four continentals are his next white whale to overcome. Faerun, Kara-Tur, Anchorome, and Zakhara. These aren’t going to skaters he’s seen take over the local athletic circles. There’s going to be upstarts from around the globe, with their eyes dead set on him, ready to knock him down a peg. 

As if.

He eventually leaves the ice to go cool off, and waves at the hockey team as they pour in. Magnus yells about playing Fantasy Mario Kart later and Taako acquiesces. He hasn’t hung out with Maggie or the rest of team sweet flips in a while. A couple of rounds of Mario Kart wouldn’t hurt any.

It’s 10:00am on Tuesday, and Kravitz is seated at his keyboard, having done all the exercises he can do without moving his injured leg. He hasn’t played piano in some time, and it shows from the awkward plinking of scales he churns out, before managing to play something listenable. His old music scores are covered in dust. A lot of his stuff is covered in dust if he really takes the time to look at it. 

He takes a quick break from music playing to go through his still unopened boxes. He looks up and laments the lack of sound in the air. He sighs and turns on his bluetooth speaker, letting Fantasy Spotify take over the music making, while he slowly works his way through opening up his stuff and seeing what there is to see.

It’s 12:00pm on Wednesday, and Taako is enjoying a light lunch with his sister and her boyfriend. They’re sitting at an outdoor table, in front of a large food market. Between the three of them are two huge trays of pan fried noodles, as well as stacks of worksheets. Lup and Barry keep making jokes about getting a house with a big yard and a picket fence someday. Taako knows in the back of his mind that their joking won’t be joking in five years (three, if they’re feeling especially domestic). He’s wondering if he’ll live with them in the big house or if he’s going to scope out a place of his own.

He loves these idiots something fierce. But he doesn’t exactly see their dreams and his crossing streams as much as he thinks, when he really thinks about. Shit. What are his dreams, really?

He flicks a piece of broccoli at Lup and let’s that be an issue for future Taako. Ren sends him a text message. Well, more like an itinerary. Nothing but interviews and networking arrangements all the way down. 

Taako winces. There goes his fun, easy chill time. He’ll have to postpone Mario Kart for a while.

It’s 2:00pm on Thursday, and Kravitz is skimming through the channels on his massively oversized tv that his family almost never uses. There's a handful of shows he's been binge watching. But the majority of them seem to lose their entertainment value after the second season. He bypasses the channels highlighting the winter sports, after having already watched Taako’s stellar performance and his own painful fall on Fantasy Youtube.

His parents occasionally enter and exit the living room. His mother is on the phone with another coach, her voice firm but gentle. His mom brushes past, carrying a load of laundry.

“This place looks different?” She says, pausing. There’s a scattering of books and keepsakes on the shelves. Pictures hung up on walls that weren’t previously there. The couch has a hand-knit blanket over the back. She looks at a stack of neatly folded boxes by the front door, then back at Kravitz. “Did you unpack?”

“I’m...keeping busy,” Kravitz says, shrugging. He didn’t mean to go through all the boxes. But he didn’t have that much stuff to begin with. And with nothing in his schedule to hinder him, it was the only way to keep the momentum of doing something still going.

“Not too busy, I hope,” she says. “Though you did a nice job. This place almost looks like a home.”

“I’d like to think so,” Kravitz says, flipping through another channel. Hmm. Home. That’s a funny thought.

It’s 4:00pm on Friday, and Taako is staring at a five page paper that’s due in an hour. He’s double checking the citations. The damn thing was due before winter break, but his professor gave him leeway because of his competition. The whole thing should be flawless, but something itches in the back of his mind that he’s missed something. He checks the first page and realizes he put “GROOVY SMART THOUGHTS BY TAAKO” instead of the proper title. He fixes that with only the smallest of smiles in his face and hits submit. He leans back on his bead and sighs with relief. 

The semester is finally over. Only two more to go. Then he can wave his degree around at every asshole who said it couldn’t be done. Then, maybe. Get a second degree.

Taako rolls his eyes. The thought of more school on top of his skating career sounds like hell. But it’s his hell. His choices. His future.

He sits up in bed and grabs his duffle bag. Fuck this shit, he thinks. If he has to have an existential crisis, he’s not doing it here.

He heads to the arena and doesn’t even bother to stretch before getting back on the ice. The air is cold, like always. He welcomes the cold, its harsh reality. The need to stay in motion to keep from falling onto the unforgiving ice. Maybe that’s why he does it, when there’s so many other options available to him. Even when he’s trying to relax, he feels responsible to someone, or something. It’s fucked, in its own way. But he has managed to endure it all to success, and he can endure them for the next two months. For the next year, even. In the meantime, he thinks about warm things. Like summer, and beaches.

He thinks about Kravitz.

That shift in focus undoes the delicate balance he was maintaining. He wobbles and slaps his hands on the ice before he hits it face first. He’s wearing gloves, fortunately, so he doesn't take any nasty scratches. But he’s thrown off his rhythm, that’s for sure. 

Taako breaths in and out for a few seconds, then stands upright and skates towards the exit.

It’s 6:00pm, still Friday, and Kravitz is having a crisis. It’s the latest he’s been up in a while, which means his schedule is completely off. He is alone in the apartment, after having encouraged his mothers to go have a nice evening by themselves—something they haven’t had a chance to enjoy in a while, what with looking after him all week. 

He’s done about everything he can do with his limited mobility. He’s still sitting one the couch, feeling like he’s sat there long enough to leave a permanent impression on it. He hasn’t eaten dinner yet, too caught up in his thoughts to dare cook something. And ordering out doesn’t sound all that appealing.

The thing is, he’s used to being home alone. He’s used to eating dinner by himself. Nothing about any of this is new, except now he has to reflect on it. And the one outlet he’d been pouring all his energy into can no longer save him. Kravitz sits up and sighs and really thinks about what’s bothering him. In the still quiet of his apartment he feels the stirrings of a separate emotion underneath the boredom: dread. 

The dread of a life spent refined and dedicated to goal after goal, driving painfully to a stuttering halt, with nothing to cushion the fall. Of course, no one who’s been skating this long or at this high level has survived without a few scrapes. But now that he can’t be on the ice, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t know who he’s like when he’s not himself.

Even worse, he knows exactly what the cushion looks like. He’s seen the life that Taako lives. Taako will go to the rink and there will be people waiting for him. He’ll go home and there will be people waiting for him. He’ll do things beyond the ice, and will probably have a nice, cushy career to fall back on when it’s all said and done. Taako will dazzle the world with the same ease that he’s used to dazzle Kravitz.

Kravitz has none of that. He’s trained himself to keep to his tight schedule for the better part of his life, with deviations that only account for his constant relocating. Staying in one place was never something he got used to. In the most quiet, at least he could burn those feelings out on the ice. But they’re here, and raw, and—

There is a knock on his door.

Kravitz sits bolt upright. There’s no way his moms are back yet. Had he ordered food and forgotten about it? It doesn’t seem likely.

“Yo,” says a voice from the door. “It’s T to the Double A—Ko. Anyone home?”

“Taako!” Kravitz exclaims. He grabs his crutches, and shifts his weight onto his well leg. “Yes, give me a moment.”

“Sorry for the sudden notice,” Taako says, once Kravitz has made it to the door and unlocked it. He’s standing miraculously at Kravitz’s doorstep, with a steeping Tupperware container full of fresh, visibility delicious risotto. The second Taako catches sight of Kravitz backing up to letting him in, he sets the container on the kitchen count and starts clucking like a ruffled hen.

“You’re supposed to be resting!” Taako shouts. He kicks off his shoes at the door and makes a shooing motion with his hands. “Get off that leg!”

“I’m tired of resting!” Kravitz argues, already making his way to a barstool near the kitchen counter.

“That’s what got you in this mess in the first place!” Taako says. “Where are your plates?”

“First top counter,” Kravitz says. He touches the container. “This is still hot. You must’ve just made it.”

“Fresh from the oven,” Taako agrees, opening the container. The food smells heavenly. “M ‘fraid I can’t stay, homie. I thought I had a full week left of chill sesh hang out time. But Ren booked me a flight for Kara-Tur first thing tomorrow morning. Saves a butt load on ticket cost.

“Tomorrow?” Kravitz says, lamenting the limited time. But he understands the situation well enough. “Will you have enough time to pack and get some sleep?”

“I have time zones on my side,” Taako says. He sets a plate of steaming risotto in front of Kravitz . “Now quit deflecting and tell me what you think.”

Kravitz isn’t even two bites in before he’s beaming at Taako. “It’s perfect.”

“Damn, right it is. I made it with mushrooms, like you said.”

“It’s the best risotto I’ve ever had,” Kravitz says. He ends the polite hold he has on talking over eating and digs into the rest of it. Taako fixes himself a quick plate, and they both have a moment to enjoy it, the sound of the tv from the living filling the air. The apartment is pretty dim, save for the overhead kitchen lights. But like this, with the two of them being there, it feels more cozy than it had moments before.

“I’ll send you souvenirs,” Taako says, breaking the lull. “Since you can’t be there in person.”

“That would be nice,” Kravitz says. “I usually enjoy continentals more than the prix anyway.”

“Yeah,” Taako agrees. “The change in scenery is really cool. And they’ve got a lot of nifty markets if you know where to look.”

“I’m afraid I don’t get to explore outside of the major cities all that much,” Kravitz says. Taako shakes his head and makes a loud, dramatic huff.

“You’re hopeless.”

“Yes,” Kravitz says, smiling. His smile then drops briefly, and he turns from Taako, towards the hallway that leads to his bedroom. He gestures with his hand in that direction. “Since you’re here now and you have to leave tomorrow, I have something for you.”

Taako perks a bit at that. He peeks around Kravitz to the bedroom. “A thingie? Do you need me to go grab it so you don’t have to move?”

“If you don’t mind. I’d get it myself but,” he gestures at his still injured leg.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Taako scoffs and gives him a pat on the shoulder before going into Kravitz’s room. He’d seen it the first time he arrived. It’s just as painfully clean as it was the last time he was here. But it looks a bit more...lived in. Less stuff boxed up and more items on the walls and shelves. He has a sense of the person who lives here now. The very handsome, very chill person. 

He glances at Kravitz’s bed, and there is a little wrapped up package resting on the duvet.

“Is this the thingie?” Taako asks, grabbing it and extending it out in the hallway, where Kravitz can see it from the kitchen.

“Yeah!” Kravitz says. “You can go ahead and open it if you—”

Taako is already ripping open the box with abandon as Kravitz goes through his spiel. He finally gets to the inner layer of the wrapping when he stops to take a look at the gift inside.

It’s a little stuffed black bird, worn out as hell. The fabric beak looks especially frayed. It looks like something that's been long held. Something well loved.

“Um, it’s one of my older gifts when I first started skating competitively,” Kravitz says. His face is starting to feel warm, looking at Taako hold the thing. “It’s been on quite a few trips over the years. I’ve had it cleaned! Don’t worry! I just, well...it’s...for luck?”

Taako stares at the toy in his hands. “You’re-” Incredible. Ridiculous. Goofy to a fault. Unreasonably kind. Too goddamn gorgeous to exist on this mortal plane.

“I’m...?” Kravitz asks, raising a brow, as if to move Taako’s declaration along.

“You’re supposed to be an asshole,” Taako finally says.

“...sorry?” Kravitz apologizes. 

Taako shakes his head. “You’re the snobbish golden boy with a title to defend, and I’m the rakish upstart with nothing to lose! We’re supposed to be at odds with each other so that the tabloids and news outlets have something to eat up. You’re killing our heated rivalry, Kravitz. Fantasy christ, get it together!”

Taako’s maybe getting a little loud to hide his embarrassment. It’s fine, the sound of Kravitz’s laughter ringing out of the speaker covers most of the conjecture.

“I apologize for ruining the drama, Taako,” Kravitz replies, after catching his breath. He smiles wide. “But, to be frank, I thought our rivalry ended shortly after that moment you said I had poor taste.”

“I was trying to make conversation!”

“I think I’ve had better conversations.”

“I’ve improved.”

“You have,” Kravitz agrees. “In both talking and skating.”

“Oh, so now you’re taking credit for both those things?”

“I’ve been told I have an affect on people.”

“I take it all back,” Taako says, giving the stuffed bird a tight squeeze. “You are an asshole.”

Kravitz shrugs. Taako gets up from his seat, knowing that if he stays here any longer, nothing is going to keep him from wanting to wrap his arms around this fool and pull him into a storm of smooches. He’s so tempted to do so, the gap between them really is just a few inches and some well placed words.

“So, we’re like, cool, right?” Taako asks. Wow, Fantasy Christ on a cracker that was the worst combination of words he could ever think of. “I don’t have to go across the planet thinking you’ll be planning my demise once you get back to your athletic prime, or anything?”

“No,” Kravitz says, shaking his head. “I’m not as maniacal as you are. I’ll be keeping a lookout for your events though. Just send me a message ahead of time and I’ll tune in.”

“Sweet!” Taako says. He grabs the container of risotto, still half full. “I’ll put this in your fridge, just give the container back whenever I’m back home.” He puts the lid on and pops it in the refrigerator.

“Will you be gone the next few weeks?” Kravitz asks, not even hiding how much he’s resenting the end to this visit.

“Yeah, I’m...yeah.” Taako says. He’s quiet. They’re both quiet for a hot minute. Taako eventually straightens up and gives Kravitz a lopsided grin. “Don’t get too good before I get back. I still want to slip a couple more wins under my belt.”

“Like I’d let that happen,” Kravitz said. He rises from his seat, doing the gentlemanly thing of putting their dishes in the dishwasher. Taako puts his shoes back on, while Kravitz, on his crutches, moves to open the door for him. Taako nods briefly as he passes through, fully prepared to get on his way and worry about all his pent up, fluffy feelings when he gets home.

“You almost forgot the bird,” Kravitz says, pointing at the stuffed animal on the counter.

Taako gasps and spins around. “What? Holy shit!” he dives back in and grabs it. “Can’t leave without my new luck charm!”

“You’ll need it far more than I will,” Kravitz agrees.  stepping aside for the second time in a row.

“I’m good at making my own luck,” Taako retorts, giving the bird another squish. He adds, a bit softer. “But this is...I could definitely use this too.” He’s very aware of how close he is to Kravitz, both of them still sort of meandering in the doorway.

“Hey, um,” Taako says.

“Yes?” Kravitz asks.

Taako has an internal battle with himself for all of three seconds, before taking a step forward and pressing a soft kiss to Kravitz lips. There’s no resistance from Kravitz, who also presses into him and lets the kiss linger for a few seconds. It’s nice. It's really nice.

After what feels like forever, they do pull back. Both take a brief moment to get a breath of air. Taako steps into the hallway, more than a little dazed by the kiss.

He kinda half waves with one hand, still holding the bird with the other. He manages a, “Well, goodnight, Krav,” before turning and taking off down the hall.

“Goodnight, Taako,” Kravitz calls, also looking a bit stunned. 

Taako hurries to the elevator, hand pressed against his mouth like he’s still not exactly sure what just happened. He presses the button to ground floor and calls up a ride like he's running on autopilot. The doors open to let him into the lobby—and everything comes to him all at once. He pumps a fist in the air like he just won gold a thousand times over.

Chapter Text

Taako finds himself across the world. Again. His expectations for the trip are low, making the luxury sponsored hotel booking a startling suprise. He’s greeted at the entrance by a line of staff, all dressed head to toe in rich purple, well kept uniforms. They take his bags to his room almost immediately. The building itself is lined with striking black marble on the outside and gold wall decals on the inside. A banner hangs over the doorway to the continental breakfast: “Welcome International Skaters.”

“Oh, fuck yes,” Taako says, taking it all in. “I could get used to this.”

His hotel room is decent sized. Decidedly less extravagant than the lobby, but still cushy. He takes a few pictures of the swankiest parts and sends them to Lup to spite her. She and Barry are unable to arrive for a few more days. Something to do with their research project taking precedent last minute. Their conflicting schedules have become normal at this point. Taako can handle it. He’s a grown adult with his own business. It’s fine.

In the meantime, he’s gonna figure out what all the buttons on the weird, futuristic toilet do.

It’s all fun and games the first day. But as cool as the situation presents itself to be, continuing into the season after a pretty significant competition has its drawbacks. Taako practically checks his phone on the hour, since Ren has scheduled—with all her shrewd machinations—nonstop publicity events and showboating. All of which Taako can do, natch. But he's going to have to have a word with her when he gets back about overbooking him right when he's about to have a romantic breakthrough.

The words ‘romantic breakthrough’ wedge themselves between his thoughts and slip out when leasts expects it. When he finally has a chance to do some on-ice warm ups, the thought of the kiss shared between him and Kravitz reemerges. He loops around the perimeter of the rink, thinking about how badly he wanted to stay in that moment just a bit longer. Hands not knowing where to place themselves. Nerves melting into gentle affection.

Slow down bucko , he thinks, arcing wider around the curved end of the rink than he intended. Nearly crashes into the damn thing. He turns and skates backwards towards the center. Merle would have a fit if he saw him flubbing his choreography.

The self conscience pause gives way to uncertainty. For all he knows, Kravitz was just caught up in the moment. It’s not like Taako said, “Hey, I would very much like to kiss you now? Are you down?” before doing so. And then he dipped to a whole other country! What the fuck kind of message is that sending?

This is too much introspection at 7:30 in the morning. Taako skates over to the side of the rink and checks his phone for messages. Any distraction will do right now. A slim part of him hopes that there might be something from Kravitz, but instead he sees a text from Lup saying that she and Barry are flying out now, and will touch down around 10.

Taako sighs with mixed of relief and disappointment. He can very well go back to warm ups, but a different thought arrests his brain, and he sits down on the bench to type something out.

Kravitz gets a text message. It’s the fastest he’s ever checked his phone, something he’d be sorely remiss to admit. He probably should’ve messaged Taako sooner, what with it being a couple days since they talked last. Maybe ask about his flight? There’s not much he can imagine talking about, having not left the apartment still. He’s hardly thought of much outside of their sudden kiss, and the daze it left him in. 

He thinks about that a lot.

He’s greeted by a collection of photos, the connecting object being the little stuffed raven he’d gifted to Taako. The first image shows it propped up in front of a large assortment of plush pillows. The second image is of it sitting on the edge of a bright, marble fountain. The third image shows it nestled in a backpack, the slightly fuzzy background made up of an airport terminal. Part of Taako’s face is peeking in the frame, and Kravitz feels his heartbeat drum just a little faster than before.

He sends a reply:

Kravitz: i appreciate you taking it out on adventures

Taako: it makes for a pretty kickass traveling companion. those pics are from this morning

Kravitz: i look forward to seeing more

Taako: hell yeah :)

Taako: does the bird have a name btw?

Kravitz: Nevermore

Taako: nerd.

"Took you long enough!" Taako says, meeting Lup and Barry at one of the Anchorome International Airport later that morning. He’s wearing a tracksuit too thin for the obscenely cool terminal and a backpack. He shivers dramatically for both their sakes. “You’re late, and I’m freezing .”

"Fashionably late," Lup says, wrapping her brother up in a hug. “We’ll get some cocoa later. In the meantime, look—” She draws back and pulls something out of her carryon bag. “You forgot your mongoose!”

“Oh shit, I did do that, didn’t I?” Taako asks, taking the little creature. It’s just as worn and scruffy as Kravitz bird. A good luck charm. “I was in a rush when I left.”

“You’re telling me,” Lup replies. “I’ll put it in your backpack.” 

He turns around for her to unzip it, freezing when he catches her noticing the stuffed raven occupying the topmost space. "What's with the bird?" she asks, taking it out.

"Can't a boy have a bird, Lulu?" Taako says. His face feeling treacherously warm. He tries to grab it back, but she holds it just out of reach. “I needed it since I didn’t have the mongoose!” 

"This thing looks old though," Lup says, giving it a more thorough inspection. She tosses it to Barry. “Right babe?”

Barry catches it, to Taako chagrin. He looks the toy over. “Yeah, it doesn’t look brand new at all. Did you buy this Taako?”

“It was bequeathed to me,” Taako says, not wanting to divulge more. “Pro skater biz. You two nubes wouldn’t understand.” 

Lup shoots Barry a look, and he gives her one back, and Taako feels very suddenly and violently attacked, despite neither saying anything. Barry hands the bird back, because he’s considerate like that. Taako tries to reach back to tuck the bird in his backpack, along with the mongoose that Lup brought, to little avail. His inability to pack things efficiently is championed only by his inability to wake up at a consistent time.

“Fuck it,” he says, tucking both toys under his arms. “I’ve got plans for these little dudes anyway. Let’s get out of here, my butt’s about to freeze over and fall off.”

“Gross,” Lup says, letting him lead the three of them out of there. “I don’t know how you managed to make a winter sport your whole career like this.”

Taako says, “It’s a talent. Now come see my fancy hotel room!”

The week isn’t as bad as Kravitz expected it to go. After watching tv loses its appeal, and the apartment is completely redecorated (in no small part due to his mom covering as many surfaces as she with in doilies and cozies), he goes back to focusing on his instruments. There’s a proper stand by his bed for his keyboard, and his string instruments are propped on top of his dresser. There are a few unopened boxes of newly ordered sound equipment that he finds himself genuinely excited to get into. It’s nice, finally making time to relearn a lot of forgotten melodies and experimenting with new ones. 

Almost as nice as the pings on his phone from Taako. Kravitz sits on the edge of his bed and scrolls through the messages. They come mainly in the afternoon, when Taako is most awake and the least busy. There’s “hellos” and “how are yous,” interspersed with photos of food and large groups of people. Included with them are photos of the little stuffed bird in different places, now accompanied by—a weasel?

Kravitz: what’s the other toy?

Taako: it’s a mongoose :)

Kravitz: what’s its name?

Taako: the mongoose species is too proud to have names. But you may call it Leeman Kessler

Kravitz: noted. how’s the competition going?

Taako: about as good as it should. Got ranked second. Trying to change that before the end of the week

Kravitz: You’ve got this

Taako: Natch

Across the globe, Taako leans back in his hotel bed, freshly showered, hair damp. He pauses from texting to pull on a warm, fluffy shirt And some pajama pants. It’s close to evening on his end. The tv is on, though the volume is low. Taako focuses back on his phone.

Taako: What are you up to?

Kravitz: I’ve been writing some music

“Of course you have, you hopeless romantic,” Taako says, out loud, in the room he is alone in. He types, “Can you play me some?” Because he’s just as hopeless.  

Kravitz: I’ll send you a recording. Hold on a moment.

Taako wasn’t expecting anything right away. But, low and behold, five minutes later he gets sent an attachment for an audio file. He turns up the volume and hits play. The music is mostly strings, but as it goes on, the more it layers in lively piano and drums. And closer he listens, the more he can pick out a familiar tune.

Taako: Is this…………………………...?

Taako: Is this a cover of Take On Me?

Kravitz: Yep. got it in one

Taako: neeeeeeeeeeeerd

Taako immediately adds the track to his favorites.

Taako: damn, made it sound all classy and everything. you should compose my next free skate

Kravitz: wasn’t it you who said that I should focus on non-skate related music?

Taako: not when it benefits me. obviously

Kravitz: ah. I’ll see if I can make an exception

Taako: :)

“Hello! Sir!” Angus says, video calling Taako in the middle of off-ice exercises. Taako pauses his workout and picks up the call with a bit of surprise.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school, Dango?” he asks.

“I am in school sir,” Angus says. He angles his phone to show the rows of library shelves behind him, then pulls the phone back closer. “I have independent study right now. Just wanted to give you a call and see how you’re doing.”

“I’m peachy,” Taako says. “Hey, when you get the chance, tell Magnus I’m stealing his waist trainer when I get back. These oblique stretches are killers.”

“I’ll pass the message along.” Angus says. “How much longer will you be gone sir?”

“Four, I think?” Taako says. He looks at the calendar on his phone. “Yeah, roughly four.”

“Okay. I’ll keep an eye out for your next event sir, take care!”

“Yeah. You too, kiddo.”

“Love you!” Angus says, and the call hangs up. Taako clicks his teeth and gets back to doing stretches. This kid is gonna age him a thousand years at this rate. But he has to give Ango credit for something he really should've thought of sooner.

“Well, who do we have here?” Taako asks, smiling at his computer screen. Right in front of him, and simultaneously miles away from him, Kravitz laughs.

"Isn’t it night time where you are?" Kravitz asks, settling his own computer on his bedside table. "Aren’t you tired?"

"Fucking exhausted, more like," Taako says, and throws a pillow over his face for emphasis. Kravitz laughs again and Taako wonders why, between the two of them, they didn't think to do video calls sooner. It took waiting until all his training was done for the day, but being able to sit and relax a bit is worth it. Texting has its conveniences, but actually being able to see and talk to Kravitz's beautiful face is really, really nice. A bolt of lightning in a needlessly cloudy sky. 

Taako lifts the pillow so that he can see that face again and leans in closer to the computer. "If I’m not wrong, it’s night time where you are too," he says. "Don't play responsible with me."

"Are you ahead in time, or I?" Kravitz asks. "I've lost track."

"I have too," Taako admits. He's barely holding onto what day it is at this point, the early, task laden mornings have been bleeding into each other. Staying up late will do him no favors, but it shouldn't hurt just to cheat a little bit this time. "Lup and I almost never stayed in one place when we were kids. Even before we started skating. I think living in an actual house has made me go soft."

They chat a little more, and Taako eventually has to hang up to go work out. Kravitz assumes that that’s the end of the conversation for now. But then his phone pings with an email notification.

The subject line of the email reads, “Check out these little snot nosed kids,” followed by a link.

Kravitz, mildly confused, clicks the link and sits back. It's a home video of Taako and Lup, looking like teenagers. The camera appears to be along the side of a local ice rink, with both of them standing in the center. Lup is wearing a bright red dress, and Taako is in a matching bodysuit. They both have gold medals around their necks, and Lup has a bouquet in her arms. 

Lup moves towards the judges and the audience and bows. There is the sound of people clapping in applause. When she straightens, she looks close to tears. Taako skates up to her and wraps his arms around her. He holds on like he’s never going to let go, and she starts to sob. It’s a brief clip, but it stirs something inside of Kravitz. He messages Taako back:

Kravitz: Was this you and your sister’s final competitive skate?

Taako: Yeah. I kept it up while she got an early start on her degree. Felt like the last skate of our lives

Kravitz: But you’ve still managed to work together

Taako: We do, but you couldn’t tell younger me that at the time. Lup was all I had back then.

Kravitz doesn’t exactly know how to respond to that. Taako quickly sends another message, as if anticipating that reaction:

Taakitz: You're allowed to pity us Krav. We're orphans. Legally, folks are required to pity us. We were able to skate thanks to pity money.

Kravitz: In that case, I will hold back on pitying you myself

Taako: >:(

Kravitz: Would you like to see a video of younger me?

Taako: :O!!!

It takes a bit of searching, but after a few minutes, Kravitz finds an appropriately silly video of himself. He’s only five years old, padded from head to toe in winter gear. There are skates on his feet, but he is barely able to move. His mother gives him a push, sending him careening across the ice with no way to stop himself. He eventually manages by tipping back onto his small bum.

He sends the video to Taako, and waits for a response. He’s rewarded by streams of dialogue in all caps:

Taako: FUCK THAT’S SO CUTE 

Taako: WHAT THE HELL KRAV

Taako: YOU WERE TINY

Kravitz: :>

To say that the Continentals go less than ideal is an understatement. Despite his tight hold on second place in the short program, Taako only manages to get fourth in the free skate. An under rotated lutz does him in, of all things. The landing is awkward and he loses his footing. But he picks himself up fast enough to get into the next spin. In the back of his mind, he knows that that’s not going to be enough to win first. Lup greets him at the end of the event, holding out the stuffed raven and mongoose to him. He accepts them both and follows her to the Kiss and Cry.

Third rank. Not ideal, but not anything to sneeze at. He takes it with reluctance, knowing that this doesn’t mean his trip is over. There’s still some ice dance shows he’s scheduled for, and another round of interviews.

Barry picks them up from the arena in a rental car, and offers to take them both to a nice local restaurant to celebrate Taako’s placing. 

“Just get me some good dumplings and a pomegranate tea.” Taako says, belly flopping into the back seat. His bronze medal makes a clinking noise against the seatbelt.

“You don’t want to eat out?” Barry asks, looking over his shoulder.

Taako shakes his head and sits up, adjusting his seatbelt. “Nah, too tired. Think I might kick it at the hotel for a few hours and catch up on some sleep. Cha’boy’s tank is running a little on empty. ”

“Sure, bud,” Barry says, turning the car on. 

They find a five star place with dumplings and a nearby shop that has some fresh and funky teas. Taako holds the steaming styrofoam trays of food in his lap, readily accepting the warmth that they emit. He and Lup did leave the arena kinda fast, and he can feel his legs ache from not doing a proper cooldown. He’s going to need a serious warm bath to massage them out. The thought makes him want to close his eyes and get his snooze on.

They pull up to the hotel all too quickly, and Taako reluctantly gets out with his own drink and food. He’s careful to keep his duffle bag with him, the plush toys tucked carefully inside.

“Sure you don’t want us to come up with you?” Lup asks, leaning over Barry to look at Taako through the driver’s window. She looks concerned about him, more than he thinks is warranted. “Gonna be okay in a big ole swanky hotel by yourself?”

“Taako’s good out here,” Taako says, shrugging to keep his bag over his shoulder. “You two go out, and I’ll meet you for swanky brunch.”

“Deal,” Lup says, leaning back in her seat. “Keep it sleazy.” She waves at him as Barry pulls the car out of the hotel’s curved drive through and back onto the street.

Taako lugs his tired body to the elevator and leans against the walls with a sigh. A nap also sounds pretty good right now. He adds that to the mental list of things he plans to undertake. His phone starts buzzing and he checks it. More messages from Ren. More publicity stunts. Taako ignores them.

As he unlocks the door to his private room, he curses. His online classes started within the week. He’s already put in a notice with his professors about his competitions. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t mountains of reading for him to continue in the meantime. 

Taako wants to scream into a pillow. Taako does not scream into a pillow. Instead, he drops his bag at the door, sets his dumplings in the mini fridge, and goes to the shower to massage his legs because they are aching. He slips off the bronze medal and feels the weight of it in his palm. It’s not what he was hoping for, but it’s still progress. He didn’t even qualify in this competition last year. That’s something. 

The warm water helps. Not much, but he isn’t too sore to move around his hotel room. But now he’s still sleepy and hungry. Slungry. One of the top worst emotions a person can feel, he thinks. He’s half tempted to ignore reading in favor of shoving dumplings into his mouth and passing out.

A video call interrupts those thoughts completely. He plops on the bed, adjusts his pillows a bit, and answers his phone. Kravitz waves at him on screen, then immediately knits his brows.

“You’re in bed,” Kravitz notes. “Did I accidentally wake you?”

“Not even,” Taako says. “What’s up?”

“I saw you on tv,” Kravitz says. “Congratulations for placing.”

“Thanks, babe,” Taako replies. “Glad to be appreciated for my efforts.

“You did great,” Kravitz affirms. “How are you feeling?”

Taako doesn’t mince his words. "Honestly? I am this close to saying fuck it all and coming home." He presses his thumb and index finger together for emphasis. "Whatever I said about ice skating being all fun and games, I need you to wipe your memory of it. Because past Taako did not have to put up with this bullshit." He frowns and adds, “Just got a lot on my plate right now. I’m sore, and I still have homework, but I’m going to make that morning Taako’s problem.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been so over worked lately,” Kravitz says, sounding sympathetic. 

"No, don’t worry about it. It’s..." Taako says, waving a hand. He's getting dangerously close to being vulnerable. Wait. No. What's he thinking? He's been nothing but vulnerable to Kravitz this whole damn time. He took a double flip backwards dive into vulnerable territory weeks ago. He's in the fucking deep end.

He looks back at his phone, and Kravitz is still there, watching him patiently. Taako sits up and bites the goddamn bullet.

"I've just...always been better with a partner," He says. "Skating alone is weird because everything—the routine, the jumps, the performance. It always feels like it should be bigger than what I can give. Like I have to make up for the lack somehow." And fuck, if that didn’t apply to every avenue of his life. He’s got everything he needs with him right now, right at this moment. But the Taako supply just doesn’t seem to be fitting the demand. Not in his opinion.

If Kravitz could book a flight right now just to barge into that hotel room and wrap his arms around Taako, he would. He really would. But he can’t, because there’s time zones and an injury preventing him from doing so. Instead he says, "The world is not a big enough bowl to hold everything you have to offer. I scarce think the universe is. You don’t have to prove anything. You’re Taako."

"Heh," Taako laughs breathily. He's suddenly feeling the need to wipe the side of his face, a wetness meeting his hand when he does so.

"Fuck. I—I'm sorry!" Kravitz says, sounding worried. "I didn't mean to make you cry—"

"S'not you, babe," Taako says, quickly. He waves a hand like it's going to magically make all his feelings dissipate. "You just got me out of a serious funk. And that's...cool. So, thanks."

"Oh," Kravitz says, gently. "I'm glad to hear that."

“You should be here,” Taako says. “You’d probably mop the floor with these bozos.”

“I should,” Kravitz agrees. Though he thinks he would rather be there more for Taako than for the competition.

They’re both quiet for a bit, just taking a moment to let the air clear.

"It's evening on your end," Taako says, breaking the silence "You should get ready for bed."

"I should get ready for bed," Kravitz agrees. He doesn't make any indication to hang up.

"We shouldn't make this a habit," Taako says. "Talking when our timezones are fucked."

"True, we really shouldn't," Kravitz agrees, still making no indication that he'll be acting on that notion.

Taako laughs, because he can't help it. He's got a whole boy across the globe doing him unspoken kindnesses, and there's nothing he can do to reciprocate. He's got plenty of people on the other side of the world. But he's never felt the desire to bridge the gap so fiercely.

"Goodnight, Kravitz," Taako insists. 

Kravitz sighs dramatically, then smiles. "Goodnight, Taako."

The days trudge on and carefully stack themselves into a week. Then another. Then another.

Kravitz blinks, bleary eyed at the livestream on his computer, and the texting app on his phone. It’s 4:00am for him, mid morning halfway across the world. There’s a heat pack on his ankle, now no longer needing a cast. It’s been 20 minutes since the last update from Taako. In that time Kravitz watches Taako give an extravagant long program on the stream. He quickly sends a message and yawns, hoping that taako will respond so he can head off to bed.

Taako, exhausted as the dickens, goes back to his locker room. His last away event is a long program at a local competition. Less high stakes, more creative flexibility. The first thing he does in the free moment is chugs a bottle of water. The second thing he does is check his phone.

Kravitz: that was great! :>

Taako grins and starts typing out “ :>” and looks for an emoji to follow up.

He catches sight of the heart emoji ❤, which he’s really only used for mildly sarcastic texts, mainly with Lup. But here he is, staring at his screen and debating with himself about a small like red shape that could mean nothing and also means a whole fuckin’ lot.

“Taako!” Lup shouts. “They’re doing the award ceremony. Get your ass in gear!”

Taako jumps at the sudden sound of her voice and, whoops! There goes the message, the ❤ definitely attached. With the pleasant pinging noise to alert him and everything.

Taako has the most serious crisis of his life for all of two seconds, before Lup yanks him by the arm and drags him back to the arena. They wind between reporters and cameraman, and Taako has a mental council meeting with himself to decide whether to play off what his message as a typing error, or just wait for Kravitz to respond.

On his end of the globe, Kravitz snoozes quietly, slumped against the arm of his couch. The screen of his laptop flickers on the coffee table. His phone slips slowly from his hand onto the carpeted floor. It pings with a message, but he’s too far gone to wake up from the sound.

Maybe it’s nothing, Taako thinks to himself. It’s a perfectly, totally innocuous message between two friends.

A judge hands Taako a silver medal and a large bouquet of flowers. But they might as well have handed him a live grenade for how much he’s paying attention. He’s starting to think that a grenade would be preferable. Lup snatches Taako’s phone out of his hand and pushes him into the rink. He clumsily takes a step onto the ice, before catching himself. The dull roar of the audience grounds him some. He flashes a weak smile and skates over to the middle of the rink.

As soon as the award ceremony is over Taako speeds off the ice and heads over to lup.

“I—” he starts to say.

“Aw,” Lup says, waving the phone screen at him, with an evil, sisterly grin. “Sap.”

Taako slumps over. Maybe if he’s fast enough he really can go and get run over by a zamboni.

“You’re worried about him responding, aren't you?” Lup asks, choosing mercy. She gives him a pat on the back. “Taako, it’s stupid o’ clock in the morning back home. Hot boy probably already went to bed.

Taako groans. It’s not even noon for them here. He’s got a whole fucking day of waiting to do before even grasping a response. Not only that, but they won’t be back home for another two days.

“I should say I made a mistake,” he says. “A typo.”

“Did you?” Lup asks.

Taako pouts. It’s not that he didn’t mean it. He just doesn’t want to be the one to tip the scales to far in their….fuck. He’s not even sure if he has the right to call it a relationship. They haven’t talk about it.

"I don't know why this should bother you any," Lup says, tossing him the phone flippantly. He fumbles with the device before holding it to his chest like a lifeline. "Goth boy's lost for you."

" Yeah , natch," Taako says, maybe stressing the affirmation a little too unconvincingly. To the unfamiliar, he'd sound like the most confident person this side of the planerverse. Unfortunately for him, lup still knows him better than he knows himself.

“Wow you've PINING pining, huh?” she teases. “Pining for goth boy across the continent.”

“He—I,” Taako sputters. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Lup holds up a hand and starts counting off on her fingers. “He let you keep a scarf that originally gave to borrow, invited you over to his place after losing to you, GAVE YOU HIS LUCKY STUFFED ANIMAL. And you think it’s not a big deal."

Taako throws his hands up. “I get it, the dude’s into me. Of course he’s into me. I’m ME.” He huffs dramatically. “Damn. Imagine. If he wasn’t all hurt right now, we could’ve been boning in the locker room.”

Lup pantomimes retching in horror. “Ew! Gross! That’s absolutely the last thing I want to imagine.”

Taako shrugs. He’d been imagining it.

Kravitz wakes up, sore and blinking. There’s a terrible knot in his back from falling asleep on his couch. He sits up and stretches forward, then looks around for his phone. He vaguely remembers waiting to hear from Taako. He probably missed something in the midst of falling asleep. He’ll have to apologize later. 

He eventually finds his phone halfway tucked under his couch.

:> ❤

It takes a bit longer than Kravitz would ever admit to process the message. When he does the wave of emotion hits him with gusto.

It's so small, but behind it is the concern that has been building in the back of his mind, slowly and softly and quietly, unil it’s too late to realize that it’s there. Should he respond? He probably, definitely should. It’s been, how many hours? Six. Fuck.

Kravitz quickly types out a message with a ❤ of his own because, let’s face it, he’s been wanting to do so since Taako went away. But right before he hits send, he pauses.

He pauses because as nice, and as sweet as it would be to send some placating messages. He is not sure if that would really get what he’s feeling across.

Also, despite whatever Taako may say, Kravitz is secretly a big fan of drama.

Taako is nearly vibrating in his seat on the flight back home. It’s been the most nerve-wracking two days of his life. He hasn’t heard a word from Kravitz since the show. He considered calling, but just the thought of having to hear Kravitz’s voice over the phone sends him reeling. He hopes the guy is okay. Part of him thinks there might have been an emergency, all of the worst possible scenarios are rolling through his head.

The second they touch down, Taako gives Lup a “sorrygoingovertokrav’splaceseeyoulaterbye” and hops on the nearest metro ride to Kravitz's neighborhood.

He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. It opens immediately, and he’s about to say a very long string of words, until he catches sight of the person at the door. It’s not kravitz. Nor is it his coach (mom). It’s another lady in a long white dress, with a soft, multicolored shawl. Her shock of white hair is braided and wrapped around her head like a crown.

She smiles at Taako from the doorway. “You must be Kravitz’s boyfriend.”

“I—” Taako’s face goes red and hot in an instant.

“Oh! I’m so sorry! BOY-friend. Friend who is a boy.” The lady laughs. “I’m afraid he’s not here right now. He and my wife are out and about today.”

“Ah, gotcha,” Taako says, noting that this must be one of Kravitz’s moms. The blush fades but the embarrassment doesn’t. “I hadn’t heard from him in a minute, which is why I came by.”

“Aw, that’s unfortunate that you missed him,” the lady says. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know that he’s healing up quite nicely.”

“Yeah, that’s real good,” Taako replies. The knot in his chest does loosen up a bit at the news. “Do you, um, do you know what he’ll be back?”

“I can’t say for certain,” The woman says. “But I’ll tell him you stopped by.” 

She starts to close the door, then pauses to add, “He mentions you quite a bit.”

“Does he?” Taako says. It didn’t occur to him that Kravitz would be talking about him. Or what things he might say about him for that matter.

“Oh yes,” she says. She flashes him a smile. “You’ve got quite the showstopper. His mother and I go waaaaaaaaaaaaay back, so it’s nice to see a new generation come up and put on a good show for folks these days. You take care!”

“I will! Thanks.” Taako gives her a wave, and heads back to the lobby. 

It’s fine. This is fine. He hasn’t talked to Kravitz in two days and it’s fine. He just talked to one of Kravitz’s MOMS and it’s fine. He’s still got a local competition in two days and it’s fine. Lup is going to hound him for bailing on her at the airport and he’s got classes to catch up with and people to catch up with and it’s all fine.

Taako gets in the elevator. He presses the button for the ground floor. As soon as the door closes, he pulls his hoodie over his face and muffles a yell into the fabric.

There’s a dull ache in Taako’s chest as he ties up his skates in the locker room. It’s nice to be home, to see everyone in town after such a long time. The bleachers in the public arena are packed to the brim with people. But his home base being the last event of the season somehow still manages to ring a sour note. There’s been no additional messages since he last texted Kravitz. He’s been too scared to bring it up. Too concerned that he tipped the balance somehow. He’s pretty solidly sure he’s fucked it all up. For all he knows, Kravitz is probably halfway packed up and ready to ship out to another country.

Lup emerges at the doorway, pausing, but not saying anything. Taako finishes covering his laces and looks up at her. She gives him a once over, then moves to sit down on the bench beside him.

“Okay,” She says. She taps on his forehead. “I need you to stop pining for two seconds and focus.” 

Taako bat’s her hand away. “I haven’t—”

She cuts him off. “You have. You’re the poster child of pining. If someone looked up pining in the dictionary, they'd see your face captioned: byronic lovesick idiot. Evergreen trees are jealous of how much you’ve been pining—”

“Okay!” Taako says. “Fuck! Fine. I miss Kravitz! A lot! I’ll call him after I finish the skate. Is that what you want to hear? Are you happy? Will that satisfy you?”

“Sap!” Lup says, like she didn’t pull this schtick for quadruple the amount of time for Barry. The hypocrisy of it all.

“I can’t believe I got you as a sibling,” Taako mutters. He slips off his jacket and stands up.

“Well, you can’t return me,” Lup replies, patting him on the back. “The warranty already ran out.”

“I could probably trade you in.”

“For who? Magnus?”

“Maybe. Perhaps Lucretia. Or Barry.”

“Last I checked, Barry’s part of my listed benefits. So good fucking luck.” She nudges his arm. “I mean that part, you know.”

“I know,” Taako says, nudging her back. She walks with him to the edge of the rink, and he sneaks one more hug in before getting onto the ice.

Taako doesn’t care to think about figure skating as being inherently romantic. He’s had years of putting his body through the wringer to know that it is nothing less than a brutal sport. There’s hard ice and sharp skate blades and dizzying spins, all threatening his well being in one way or another. But here he is, spinning ever widening spirals in the ice, planting the depth of his emotion into the movements, because there’s nowhere else for them to go.

The music and his program end with a resounding flourish and a quad lutz that could kill. He throws his hands up and gasps for breath. The arena deafens with applause.

“Fuck yeah,” Taako says, still gasping. 

A shower of bouquets and stuffed animals once again fall into the rink. His score was high already, and this program was about as perfect as it gets. He’s set for gold and he bows because he’s earned it. He’s really truly earned it. He turns toward the exiting side of the rink, expecting to see Lup standing there pumping her fists but—

He catches sight of Kravitz standing by the rink and—the world around him dims because Kravitz is there! Kravitz is here! He’s waving at Taako from the far end of the rink and holding what has to be the most ridiculously sized bouquet imaginable.

Before Taako can even think, he’s already skating across the rink to close the gap between the two of them. They collide into each other with such force that some of the flowers break and shower onto the ice. But that doesn’t matter because the instant Taako gets a good hold on him, he grabs Kravitz by the collar and pulls him into a kiss. It’s cold but it’s good and everything about everything is so fucking good. Slowly the sound of the yelling audience and flashing camera’s dial back into focus.

Taako pulls back to look Kravitz over. “You’re here?!”

Kravitz replies, “I am!” 

“You’re not on crutches?!” Taako yells, still too excited to get his volume under control. 

“I’m not!” Kravitz says. “I still have a week before I can be on the ice again. But I’m cleared to walk around.”

Taako kisses him again, then pulls back and asks, “What the fuck?” Because he’s never felt more alive or in love in his life.

Kravitz laughs, wrapping an arm around Taako and stepping back until they’re both off the ice. The camera people get in the way, like they always do. It’s going to be hard for the two of them to find a moment of privacy to themselves, what with the stunt they just pulled. But it’s fine. 

Kravitz puts an around Taako’s shoulders as they work their way around the horde of people. Taako leans into him, comfortable in the knowledge that he has him for keepsies.

“LOVE AFFAIR BETWEEN HEATED RIVALS!” Taako reads the Fantasy Buzzfeed article with gusto. Kravitz stands beside him, pulling a large speaker out of a bag and setting it on the side of the rink. It’s a day or two later, and the Neverwinter rink is clear, save for the two of them.

Taako continues. “Could this be the first public glimpse into a secret, intricately constructed romance between two known favorites of the ice skating world? Photo evidence proves years of ardent passion hidden behind a veil of animosity. Insiders give testament to lover’s ploys.”

Kravitz makes a face. “Ploys?”

“Right?” Taako scoffs. He flips through the article. “Damn. I sure wish I had been aware of this apparently years spanning affair."

“We’ve only been really talking to each other for half a year. Even then...” Kravitz knits his brows and gives Taako a hard look. “When you spoke to me at the second prix event, were you ...flirting?”

Taako is incredulous. “You’re just now picking up on that?”

Kravitz bows his head. “Ah.”

“I was dropping some mad hints, babe,” Taako says. He gives Kravitz a placating pat on the back. “But I’ll admit, I was a bit rusty on my end. All that effort and what showed for it? A single crepe date.”

"It doesn't have to be a single date," Kravitz. "Crepes notwithstanding."

Taako leaves a small peck on his cheek. “Now you’re talking.”

Kravitz hits play on his phone, and music starts playing through the speaker. It's new and it's beautiful. Kravitz poured his whole heart into it, just for them. Taako takes Kravitz’s hands and pulls him to the center of the rink.

The music picks up slightly. With them in the middle, Taako starts to spin small, delicate circles around Kravitz.  Kravitz turns, fixed in position. He extends an arm for Taako to balance on.  Taako’s hand brushes against the base of Kravitz’s neck and slides down his arm. 

They release each other, they encircle each other, and they find each other again. Kravitz, ever at the center of his orbit, presses a hand to the middle of Taako’s back, and Taako allows himself to be swept forward and around. Kravitz’s free hand catches onto Taako’s, and they continue to waltz each other around the rink until the music stills to an end.

Taako lifts his eyes to see Kravitz’s forehead pressed against his, and they’re both breathing in time with each other. Their arms are still.

“Hey,” Taako asks, the moment his air returns to him. “Would you consider becoming partners?”

Kravitz tilts his head. “As in...pair skating?”

“As in,” Taako says. "All the ways that the word could have meaning."

“I see. I’ve never pair-skated before,” Kravitz replies. “But that can change.”

“What? Scared of attempting a death spiral?” Taako teases, drawing closer.

“With you?” Kravitz leans in and gives him a kiss. “Never.”