Archive of Our Own

The first time he saw him skate, he was sure he could hear angels singing.

Seated on a rough wooden bench, seventeen-year-old Chazz Michaels stopped lacing his skates to openly stare at the small blond boy floating across the rink.

Garbed in silver and sparkling blues, the child shone; his every movement was a study in controlled elegance. There on the ice, wrapped in the unassuming guise of a little kid, was the textbook perfection that Chazz feared he could never achieve.

Chazz nudged the girl sitting next to him. “Do you know who that is?” he asked, indicating the boy with a jerk of his chin.

“Good, isn’t he? I saw him at the junior division competition last week.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty good,” Chazz conceded, “for a baby,” then gaped in amazement as the baby leapt into the air with the sort of easy grace that he could only dream of possessing. “What’s his name?”

The girl stood and pushed out onto the ice. “Jimmy MacElroy.”

His own practice forgotten, Chazz sat and watched Jimmy MacElroy’s lighter-than-air routine. How, he wondered, did a little kid learn to skate like that? Or maybe a guy didn’t learn to skate like that, maybe he was just born with the ability.

The thought both cheered and saddened Chazz.

***********

The first time he competed against MacElroy, Chazz was sure he could hear poetry whispering through the air.

At twenty-two, Chazz already possessed the cocky arrogance that came with knowing he’d made his mark on the sport. For the past two years the press had been touting him as a sexy, crowd pleasing, powerhouse of a skater. The routine he’d just finished (with a nearly perfect score, thank you very much) proved that he was all that and a bag of pork rinds.

Steeped in confidence, Chazz leaned against the rail to watch MacElroy’s first senior division performance.

Thirteen-year-old MacElroy skimmed across the ice, a willowy blur of burgundy and gold, and Chazz stopped breathing. The kid’s routine should have looked ridiculous to Chazz. He was all ice and no fire; each motion was measured and dainty, almost ladylike. Yeah, MacElroy’s routine should have been a laugh riot.

Instead, it made Chazz’s throat burn and his chest ache with words he wouldn’t say and thoughts he couldn’t dare let himself acknowledge.

When MacElroy’s perfect performance came to a spectacular finish, the crowd rose to its feet on a surge of applause. Chazz pretended the prickly feeling around his heart was hate.

***********

A burst of relief flooded him the first time he hit Jimmy MacElroy.

Finally, finally, he thought gleefully, as he pulled MacElroy down from the medal stand. Chazz couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t wanted to get his hands on that spoiled daddy’s boy. Even when MacElroy had been an eight-year-old show off, Chazz had longed to, well, maybe not punch the kid but at least give that doll-perfect blond hair a couple of tugs.

This was supposed to be his gold medal moment, damn it, not a moment to share with Baby Boy MacElroy. Still, watching the flush of fury cross Jimmy’s face almost made up for it.

Chazz’s headbutt landed with a satisfying crunch and he nearly laughed out loud when blood spurted from a cut near MacElroy’s mouth. Suddenly, they were down, pressed together and rolling on the ice.

MacElroy’s strength surprised him. The body underneath Chazz was lean, muscular, and despite the delicate appearance on ice, unmistakably masculine.

Before Chazz could analyze the weirdly pleasing sensation of MacElroy’s hair brushing against his skin, the sneaky bastard grabbed the ribbon around Chazz’s throat and began choking him.

Then they both looked up into the eerily silent crowd to watch the bottom fall out of their world.

****************

The first time Chazz peered into a store window to see Jimmy MacElroy working a cash register, he almost barfed.

Chazz had been skating in a piece of shit children’s production for about six months when the show swung back into Denver for its second limited engagement. His buddy, Gary, stopped at a local skate shop and discovered Jimmy MacElroy stocking shelves. Being a true friend, Gary called Chazz from the store’s parking lot.

In his haste to witness MacElroy dirtying his lily-white hands on retail, Chazz ducked out on rehearsal. Filled with a giddy anticipation that he hadn’t experienced since losing the right to skate competitively the year before, Chazz stood outside the skate shop.

He was still deciding exactly what put down he was going to lay on the precious MacElroy heir when he caught a glimpse of Jimmy through the glass. The excitement in Chazz’s belly gave way to the burn of anger.

This wasn’t right, damn it. Chazz pressed his fist against his abdomen, willing the sudden roll of nausea to ease up.

It just wasn’t right.

Jimmy MacElroy was a shimmering peacock, not a drab wren. He was a blue ice angel, not an earth brown salesclerk. Jimmy was a champion, as close to an equal as Chazz had ever competed against, not a bag boy in a bait-and-skate shop.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this for either of them. They were destined to spar, to win, to lose, to try again. They were supposed to skate.

Sick and defeated, Chazz walked away.

********************

The first time he put Jimmy’s dream before his own, Chazz thought he might die.

Their mutual desire to compete and all consuming need to skate had helped build a shaky bridge between them. Coach and Jesse had refereed more than instructed in the early days, keeping the two of them from hurting each other too severely as they moved toward a workable truce.

Sooner than Chazz would have thought possible, the truce gave way to friendship. Jimmy, for all his keep-it-clean issues, was easy enough to be with. The guy was a wicked hard worker on the ice, a great listener at the breakfast table and a good sport about waiting his turn for the john.

Chazz wasn’t sure when it happened, but he found himself wanting to be the recipient of Jimmy’s undivided attention. He looked forward to the times during practice when their minds would meet and a moment of “This is so right!” would buzz between them. He began to hunger for that blatant look of adoration in Jimmy’s bright blue eyes. Somehow, Jimmy’s approval had become essential to him.

Not that Jimmy had a clue, of course.

A dude didn’t want something so girlie from another dude. Or at least he shouldn’t. Chazz was pretty certain on that point.

So when Jimmy made his dream of dating Katie Van Waldenburg known, Chazz pushed away the weird feelings swirling around inside him and made it happen. He dialed the phone, coached the call, picked the outfit and pushed a bemused Jimmy out the door.

The Land Rover hadn’t made it out of the driveway before the ache in his heart had driven Chazz down to the Berber. Sweet Jesus, what had he just done?

Did he really want Jimmy looking at Katie like she was the special one? Did he want Jimmy laughing with her? Did he want Katie’s filthy Van Waldenberg hands on his Jimmy?

Painful pressure spread from his head to his chest and, for a moment, Chazz couldn’t breathe. How had he, the self-professed Lone Wolf, let his feelings get this out of control?

He laid down on the living room floor and wondered how anything could hurt this bad without actually killing a guy.

********************

The first time he kissed Jimmy MacElroy’s lips, Chazz Michael Michaels heard the angels sing.

Then Jimmy sighed his sweet, glossy mouth open and Chazz heard poetry whispering through the air. When Jimmy eagerly pressed his elegantly masculine body against him, Chazz was flooded with relief because finally, finally they'd gotten it right.

As they skimmed across the Berber to their bedroom, Chazz knew deep in his heart that they were forever destined to spar, to win, to lose, to try again. This moment, as they gracefully tumbled onto Jimmy’s bunk, was Chazz’s true gold medal moment and it was meant to be shared with Jimmy.

During the hours that followed, Jimmy proved over and over that he was Chazz’s equal in all things. He was Chazz’s icy-hot blue angel.

Toward morning, as they clung together on the narrow bed, Jimmy looked up at him with blatant adoration and absolute approval sparkling in his bright eyes. Chazz’s throat burned and his chest ached with words he could finally say and thoughts he was at last brave enough to acknowledge.

“I love you, man,” he whispered into Jimmy’s soft, strawberry scented hair.

“I know, Chazz,” Jimmy yawned. “Me, too.”

And as he fell asleep in Jimmy’s arms for the first time, Chazz realized that at last their dream was the same.

~fin~