Chapter Text
A New Pair: Laufeydottir and Odinson are challenging the pairs status quo
All eyes are on Sylvie Laufeydottir and Loki Odinson, who swept onto the pairs scene last season, seemingly out of nowhere.
Laufeydottir has been making a name for herself in women’s figure skating since she was still in the juniors. She has four National titles to her name, but a World Championship has been frustratingly beyond her grasp, and she came in a disappointing 7th in the last Olympics. In comparison, the Odinson name has been on everyone’s tongue for years — but Loki remains a distant shadow in men’s figure skating behind his brother, World Champion Thor Odinson. Though Loki has been referred to as “artistically brilliant,” he has never managed to land a quad jump in competition.
Last year, the pairs world was shocked when Laufeydottir and Odinson announced that they had partnered with each other for the pairs competition. Neither have ever competed in pairs, but they quickly began attracting attention in their very first season, capturing the bronze medal in the Figure Skating Nationals.
“I was a bit aimless after losing the women’s title in Nationals two years ago, and my coach suggested that I try something new,” Laufeydottir says, her nose wrinkling a bit as she speaks. “Mobius thought that Loki’s artistry would be a good match for my technical ability and, well, it’s been working.”
That’s a bit of an understatement. All eyes are on Laufeydottir and Odinson as they set their sights on the Olympics later this season. They have already managed to capture the gold in the first Grand Prix event last month, and they are definitely one of the pairs that we are keeping our eye on in the run-up to the Olympic podium.
It’s ridiculous, is what it is. He can’t even believe that his father agreed to this meeting, or that he’s even entertaining the idea.
But it’s not like he actually has a choice with all of this, really. Though it had been very convenient having his father as his skating coach, he can tell that Odin is on his last bit of patience. And it’s hard enough, having to live up to the shadow of his older brother on the ice, but he knows that he’s on the verge of being dropped by his own father as his coach, if he doesn’t get himself together.
This, though — this is a complete waste of time.
He’s not really cut out for teamwork, he already knows. He’s a singles skater — only himself to rely on, out there on the empty ice — and that’s the way he likes it.
And he does like it, he has to admit, or else he wouldn’t be agreeing to this idiotic meeting. He could simply throw in the towel, now. Announce his retirement, and go on to the next thing.
But, also…
He paces the length of the rink, careful not to catch his skate guards on the uneven rubber flooring. She’s late, too, which doesn’t make him feel any better about this whole thing. If it was just him, he could already be out there on the ice, warming up and getting started with his choreography. He sighs, long-sufferingly.
Loki is almost ready to unlace his skates and leave, when he finally hears the creak and slam of the metal rink doors as someone enters. His head snaps up to take a look.
And she does look just like the pictures that he’d found of her online — gracing every article about the national skating team over the last few years. Curly blonde hair that ends just below her chin, but that she’d pulled back and out of her face with a little half-bun. She’s dressed in leggings and a hoodie, and is sporting a ferocious scowl on her face as she whispers furiously at the grey-haired man that Loki immediately recognizes as her coach, Mobius M. Mobius.
Loki catches a few of the words, as they get closer to him. “Just meet him,” Mobius whispers back at Sylvie in a placating tone, and her face twists with an uncomfortable grimace.
Hmmm, it seems like she is just as reluctant to be paired with him, as he is with her. Instantly, that makes him like her even better… which still isn’t saying much.
“Loki?” Mobius calls out to him as they approach. “Thanks for meeting with us.”
Mobius reaches out his hand to shake Loki’s, which he returns with an awkward little grin. However, Sylvie is hanging back behind Mobius, her arms crossed across her chest in a defiant posture.
And Loki can see the long-suffering look on Mobius’s face as he turns towards Sylvie. “Sylvie is happy to meet you, too,” he says with just a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He lets out an exasperated chuckle.
“I am not,” Sylvie protests, sounding for all the world like she might be contemplating murder at this very moment.
“She is. Because she’s already met with a dozen potential partners, and she’s lucky that anyone is still willing to meet with her, after the way that she’s acted with them all.”
And that should make Loki more apprehensive about the whole thing, but he’s not surprised to note that it actually doesn’t. He knows that he isn’t the easiest person to work with, either, so he doesn’t begrudge Sylvie for being choosy with potential partners.
The corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk, and he’s gratified when a look of surprise crosses over Sylvie’s face, before her face suddenly transforms to mirror his.
“I’m not particularly thrilled with this arrangement, either,” Loki says, directing his words at Sylvie, now. “I’ll admit that I’ve found myself in a somewhat desperate situation, as far as my future in this sport.”
That does draw a little huff from Sylvie, and she scrunches her nose at him. “Good. Just what I need. Desperation.”
“Anyways,” Mobius says, speaking over the both of them, though he doesn’t look particularly hopeful, now. “The idea is that we try it out — see if the two of you can possibly work together.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as he says it, and Loki almost feels badly for the man, for a moment.
Sylvie snorts, before turning on her heel and making for the nearest bench with her skate bag. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
They warm up separately, giving each other a wide berth as they circle the ice. And Loki is paying attention to his own skating — it’s a bit of an opportunity to show off a little bit, after all — but he can’t help watching Sylvie, as well. He had certainly heard all about her before this, of course. You don’t get to the Olympics without becoming rather well-known in your own sport.
He’d taken it farther than that, however. Read the articles and looked at her stats, and even watched a few videos of her more high-profile performances that he found on YouTube. She’s an excellent skater — he can’t deny her that.
But also, he had realized as he watched the videos of her routines, there’s something just a little flat about the way that she approaches it all. As if she’s merely going through the motions, but not really feeling any of it. He watches her as she does a quick triple-triple in combination — oh, she’s definitely showing off, as well — and he sees it now, without even any music to bring attention to it all.
Her skating is clean and technical, but she holds herself stiffly. Tension in every line of her body.
He fires off a triple-triple jump combination of his own, and holds his breath as he lands the second jump with only the slightest bit of a wobble. The jumps don’t come easily to him — not like they do to Thor — but he can mostly hold his own.
At least at this level.
However, when he swivels his head to search out Sylvie on the ice, he’s a bit surprised to see her staring at him, completely unabashed.
“Not bad,” she calls out to him, giving a little sniff almost as a form of punctuation.
Well, then.
They are left to their own devices for another couple minutes, before Mobius begins to gently corral them in each other’s direction.
“I know that you don’t have any experience with lifts or throws, yet, but I want to get an idea for how the two of you work together.”
The exercises that he puts them through aren’t too bad, either. Primarily footwork, and a few turns and spins, and finally on to some jumps that start out with the absolute basics that Loki has been able to do since he was a child, but gradually growing in complexity.
And Loki can’t deny that he actually finds himself enjoying it, after the first few minutes. Mobius keeps calling out encouragement and gentle corrections, and once he actually bounces into the air and claps his hands excitedly when they land a jump in perfect unison. It’s all so different from Odin’s own stern and disapproving coaching style that Loki can’t help the smile that slips onto his face, the longer that he spends on the ice.
Sylvie seems to be relaxing, too, after a bit. She’s still rather tense and tight, but he can see the way that she naturally begins to match his swaying steps as he turns the corner with a few lazy crossovers, before they bound into paired triple lutzes.
And Loki can hear it — the way that their blades cleanly contact the ice in unison as they land — and, distantly, he hears Mobius’s whoop of excitement, too.
Because the truth is, it is working, though no one is more shocked than he. And he can tell that Sylvie is thrown off by it all, too, because she turns towards him a bit with a hesitant smile, before skating off to the other end of the rink before he can respond at all.
He’s never fallen in love, but he can only imagine that this is what it must feel like.
By the time that they’re done, he can tell that Sylvie is thinking the same thing, though she hasn’t said more than a half-dozen words to him the entire time that they’ve been on the ice. Still, he sees the appraising look that she gives him, and the way that she eyes Mobius warily, though he’s nearly giddy with glee at the sight of the two of them together.
“I don’t hate it,” Sylvie finally says to Mobius. She doesn’t even meet Loki’s eyes, though he can’t look away from her.
“I don’t, either.” Loki’s voice sounds surprised, even to his own ears.
Still, he knows exactly what the outcome is going to be, before anything at all has actually been discussed or decided.
All Loki knows is that this is the most at-home that he’s ever felt on the ice.
She is absolutely going to murder him.
Yes, she had known going into this that he was not a particularly technical skater. Actually, that had been part of his selling features, as Mobius had described them. Incredibly artistic, musical, and stylistically brilliant; not able to keep up with the top men’s skaters in the world — or even the country — as far as jumps go, but, that’s less of a concern for pairs.
In fact, he just had to keep up with her.
And though their first meeting had filled Sylvie with hope, those positive feelings had quickly withered once they actually started training together.
He's an absolute clown, is what he is, Sylvie can't help thinking, as she watches him execute a move that seems to be primarily intended to best show off his backside to one of the male skaters training on the ice with them for their afternoon session.
And this is the reason that I work alone.
His jumps aren't terrible, when he can be bothered to practice them, and his footwork and choreography are perhaps even better than hers, if she's willing to admit it.
Which she is not.
But the real issue seems to be that he can't seem to manage to take anything seriously for long enough to actually do the damn thing and that is the part that has Sylvie ready to stab him with a skate just to get his attention.
Speaking of which...
"Loki! Oy!” Sylvie calls from across the ice, and she's rewarded by a slightly peevish expression when he finally does look up at her. He also does skate towards her, so at least she's accomplished one thing.
"I was just trying out a new spin," he says, defensive, in what Sylvie can only assume is a response to her rather irritated expression.
"I saw exactly what you were trying out."
He smirks. "Well, yes. That too."
That is enough to make Sylvie see red for a moment, and she takes several deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself, just like Mobius had suggested.
As predicted, it does absolutely nothing.
Undeterred, she plunges on. "We need to be working on our lifts and throws. You know that it's our weak spot."
And it's true — though both of them have a solid background in singles’ skating elements, clearly, Sylvie constantly feels like they're playing catch up on everything else.
The look that Loki gives her, however, is one of distinct distaste, and Sylvie understands it entirely. She wrinkles her nose back at him.
It's just all so awkward, and involves so much more physical contact than Sylvie is really comfortable with. His hands on her hips, and her back, and her thighs and shoulders — the entire thing makes Sylvie tense up just at the idea of it, let alone the execution. And she knows that it isn't him specifically, but she can't deny that she'd rather work on literally any other element other than this.
Anyway, they do try for a little while, though Sylvie feels her blood pressure skyrocketing through the roof the longer that they work on it. And it isn't like Loki is any better. The more stressed out that he becomes, the more she can see — and feel — him making mistakes.
"You're going to bloody drop me," Sylvie growls out, after the third time that he messes up the same footwork sequence as they go up into the lift.
And she knows that this isn't the most helpful thing that she could do, but she still feels strangely vindicated when Loki immediately throws his hands up and scowls at her, clearly self-defensive. "You try remembering the steps when you're lifting a goddamned human above your head!"
He has a point, really, but it does nothing to alleviate Sylvie's anger. "Well, it might be easier if you would practice those steps instead of trying to flirt your way into the pants of every single man and woman who sets foot on the same rink as you."
"You should thank me! At least one of us isn't entirely stiff and frigid."
And that is enough to really truly piss Sylvie off. She had been trying her hardest to keep her temper in check around him, but she feels it flare, hot and furious. "Well, at least one of us can actually execute the elements correctly!"
It doesn't have the effect on Loki that she was expecting, however; he just sneers at her, as if she had merely confirmed his assumptions. "Oh yes, you do a quite good job of executing the technical elements. You are very talented at stringing together enough jumps and spins to add up to a gold medal, without actually really skating a single second of your routines."
And Sylvie hadn't noticed when the two of them had drifted closer to each other — not really necessary, given the way that they're yelling — but she suddenly realizes that they're practically chest-to-chest, though he towers above her by a good few inches.
"You're a bloody joke, Odinson," Sylvie growls out.
"At least I'm not a mathematical equation." He sneers at her, his voice filled with venom.
For a long moment, Sylvie meets his eyes — and there's nothing but cold fury there as he stares down at her, utterly unflinching. Which is why Sylvie nearly jumps into the air when there is suddenly a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Well, as entertaining and educational as this has all been, I think that it is time for lunch." Yelena's voice is tinged with amusement, which might actually be her natural state.
And when Sylvie turns away from Loki, she realizes for the first time that the entire rink has gone completely still and silent — all eyes on the two of them as they yell at each other in the middle of the ice. Mobius gives her an exasperated look and a double thumbs up from the penalty box.
Well, then.
Though Sylvie isn't one to take a break in the middle of a practice, she fears that she's going to do something that she truly regrets if she doesn't get out of here — like murder him in a room full of witnesses.
"Okay," she says to Yelena. "Let's get some lunch."
But once they are away from the rink, all Sylvie can think about is Loki.
"I think he might be fucking it up on purpose," Sylvie fumes, as she stabs at a cube of tofu in her salad bowl. "I wouldn't put it past him — doing it just to make me angry. This is all a bloody joke to him."
"Mmhmm," Yelena hums, though she can barely even feign interest at this point. "You know, it would be really cool if could you just sleep with him now and get it out of your system so that we could talk about anything else. Just — bam! — get your stuff all up in his stuff and work through all of your issues in a more productive manner."
Sylvie's mouth drops, but Yelena just stares at her flatly. "Now you are looking at me like you are offended by what I am saying, when really you know exactly what is going on because you are not an idiot, Sylvie."
And it isn't like Sylvie hadn't considered it, of course. She isn't an idiot and she knows that all of this explosive tension between herself and Loki could be good for one thing. But also —
"He's an asshole!"
"So was your last girlfriend, but that did not stop you."
And — ugh — she is entirely right. Assholes are kind of Sylvie's type...
"We're partners.”
At this, however, Yelena just laughs uproariously. "You think that you are the first figure skaters to work out your choreography in the bedroom? You are part of a long lineage of skaters who want to bang their partner, Sylvie."
And that is completely true, as well. Dammit.
"Anyway, it's not going to happen. Loki is just a pretty face with a shit triple axel. A dime a dozen in the skating world."
"Uh-huh," Yelena says, sounding entirely unconvinced but amused all the same. "If that is what you are telling yourself, then I hope that it continues to work." She pauses, and her smirk grows even larger. "Actually, I hope that it does not work, because I am eager to see the consequences."
Great. Just great
She tries. She really does.
As much as it irks her to admit it, he does have a point about her skating style — she knows it just as well as he does. In fact, this is the entire reason that she’s subjecting herself to all of this.
She’s good — excellent, even. A national champion, for godsakes. But, really, her artistic scores do speak for themselves. She may be among the top technical skaters in the world, but that is apparently never going to be enough to win her a gold medal.
She needs Loki just as much as he needs her.
And, if his inability to take anything seriously in the least drives her entirely crazy, she also sees the way that he rolls his eyes at her sometimes when she’s attempting to perform.
“You have to feel it,” he says, a second before he grabs her arm — held stiffly over her head — and gives it a little shake. “The music is there for a reason — not just to drown out the sounds of the arena. You have to move with it, not against it.”
And that’s enough to draw a frustrated breath through Sylvie’s clenched teeth. It isn’t like this is the first time that someone has said this to her. She wrenches her arm away from Loki’s grasp.
“Don’t touch me, or you’re going to lose that hand,” she threatens.
Loki raises his eyebrows at her. “I have to touch you. It’s what we do.”
And he has a point, of course, but that’s not at all what she means. ”When the choreography calls for it.”
And she can see the frustration and dejection on Loki’s face, but she knows that it’s only mirroring her own. “Look, I know that you don’t trust me, and I’m not exactly thrilled with this situation, either—“
“You can say that again—“
“But we just need to get along enough to make this work.”
He’s right — of course he is — but Sylvie just gives a little sniff and a roll of her eyes. “I’m taking a break,” she says, before retreating off to the penalty box.
Once she does sit down on the frigid bench, she’s only able to spend a minute or two feeling sorry for herself before her attention is caught by Loki on the other side of the rink. He’s goofing off, for certain — but the way that he’s moving to the music catches Sylvie’s attention almost immediately.
The music is nothing spectacular — just a generic training playlist that someone working at the rink had turned on for background noise — but his hips sway to the melody in a way that looks entirely unconscious, and he’s timing his crossovers with the beat completely instinctually. As she watches, transfixed by the movement of his body, he pops up into a clean triple lutz that hangs in the air as if gravity itself is waiting for the beat drop, and he lands it with his hands in the air and a tight little shake of his ass that is clearly only for his own benefit.
Sylvie can’t look away from him, even as it drives her entirely mad. He’s completely captivating — one with the music and the ice, in a way that Sylvie has never been able to manage on her own. She shakes her head, utterly dejected.
She’s so busy stewing over the general state of her skating career that she doesn’t even notice when Loki approaches her. He holds his hand out to her — a peace offering, perhaps — but she’s too irritated to take it. Instead, she wrinkles her nose a little as she levers herself up from the bench carefully in her skates, and comes over to the boards so that she’s standing opposite him.
“Are you done playing out there?” Sylvie asks, her tone barbed and acidic. It’s even worse because she knows that she’s more frustrated with herself than him, in reality.
And, from the look on Loki’s face, he knows it just as well as she does. He sighs. “You have to practice the artistry of skating just as much as you practice the technical parts.” He raises his eyebrows at her with a bit of challenge. “I know that Mobius has told you this. I’ve been there.”
He definitely isn’t wrong, but Sylvie certainly isn’t going to be the one to tell him that. Instead, she sneers at him sharply. “I can see how all of your practice has turned out for you. You’re so dedicated to your craft that you couldn’t even keep your own father as your coach.”
It’s a low blow, and she sees the look of hurt that crosses Loki’s face for just an instant before he lets the disappointment and fury overtake it. “For the love of god, Sylvie,” he says, seething, “you just need to pull your head out of your ass long enough to accept someone else’s help, here.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Oh, clearly you’re doing just fine on your own! You’re obviously drowning in World Championship and Olympic medals.” He glares at her, and raises one eyebrow. “Admit it, you’re not as good at this as you think that you are, and it kills you to know that I might be better than you at something!”
He’s hitting too close to the mark, and that’s what makes it sting so much. In fact, it’s enough to make Sylvie bend down to begin to unlace her skates, tugging at the laces viciously.
“What are you doing?” Loki asks, and she can see the clear confusion on his face, and it almost makes Sylvie feel just a bit victorious.
“If you’re so good at this all, then you clearly don’t need me. I’m done. Out. I don’t need this, and I don’t need you.”
It’s childish, and she knows it, but she can’t really bring herself to care in the least as she kicks her skates off and dumps them into her bag without even bothering to put back on the guards, which she knows that she’ll regret almost instantly.
Whatever.
The look of surprise that she sees on Loki’s face before she stalks out of the rink is entirely worth it, too.