Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Note: refers to the men's mass start at the 2021 World Championships in Pokljuka (unfortunately I only saw clips of the World Championships, so some things are only estimates -> just not the results)

Johannes’s view:

I’m not really satisfied with my 8th place. I finished 45 seconds behind Sturla and made 5 mistakes out of 20 shots. That was weak, but still much better than what happened to Émilien today. With five faults, he had missed just as many targets as I had, but he had shot them all in the second prone shooting.

As soon as possible, I try to get out of the reporters' clutches and hurry to the containers where we athletes can change in peace and where meetings are held.

Fortunately for me, my more successful teammates were drawing attention to themselves, and I am able to scurry past quickly.

I change in a flash and leave our container to make my way to that of the French. I want to reach Émilien before he completely dugs in after his embarrassment, and I don't want that.

I now have some time to get my partner to performance before the next World Cup stage on 04.03, where we both would be challenged again. And my goal is to be the support for Émilien until then, which I know he needs now. That way we both can concentrate on the rest of the season and make up for today's competition.

Émilien almost breaks through the throngs of reporters and well-meaning colleagues to reach the safety of the container as quickly as possible. The reporters are not allowed here at all and had to let him go quickly and fortunately our colleagues also let him go quickly out of respect.

"In two hours in front of the hotel. Don't argue.", I whisper to him as I caught him by the hand as he passes me, so I can give him these words. A slightly increased squeeze on my hand was his confirmation that he had heard me before he lets go of me and continues on his way to the container.

---

Arriving at the hotel, I rush to my room to shower and dress appropriately for my purpose. By a message I also let my partner know that he should dress a little warmer.

I had planned this surprise for another occasion, so I have the perfect pick-me-up package up my sleeve. We will be able to have a romantic date after a good race at some other time.

I manage to get to the reception before Émilien and am able to pick up the car keys and the keys for the cottage I rented through them relatively unnoticed, which the friendly lady behind the counter hands over to me.

I had planned everything in advance and also ordered something to eat for the evening, which we can enjoy together in the hotel's small boathouse.

I don‘t have to wait long before a dejected person approached me from where the lifts are. Émilien.
"Hi. Come on, let's forget about the day together. I've organised something for us to switch off.", I greet him, receiving only a timid smile without it reaching his otherwise expressive eyes.

Although we are left in peace by the journalists here, because of the Covic rules, we have to be a little careful not to be recognised by the other athletes. Homosexuality isn’t common in biathlon.

I quickly store everything in a small, borrowed car and we are off. Because of the time of day, it is not responsible to walk this distance in the dark and it is also simply too mountainous to be able to walk safely.

---

As I unlock the little shed, I rented for this evening. I notice that I am being looked at very curiously by my boyfriend by now and I can just about suppress a relieved sigh. That's a good sign.

With a tap on the light switch next to the door, some fairy lights come to life and illuminate the almost empty shed in a cosy light. A blanket and pillow bed had been erected in the middle of the room, inviting us to linger. The room was brought to a comfortable temperature by a fan heater and so we were able to hang our jackets on a hook next to the door before making ourselves comfortable.

I know I have to give Émilien time and so we kept silent in unison as we eat, drink, and enjoye the atmosphere.
During the meal, Émilien's right hand finds my left and hold onto it tightly. Today I will be his anchor. But I know that he would return the favour if I were in need of encouragement after a bad day or race.

After dinner we lay down on the mattress that is covered with blankets and pillows. Émilien lays himself down in a way, that we can interlock our hands and his head can rest on my chest.

We just lay there and come to rest. After the recharging tonight we will be able to tackle everything coming up in the next few days. And we will do so as partners.

I hope you enjoyed my first translation! Please leave some kind of feedback ☺️

Chapter Text

Arnd's view:

I had cut myself off between two stages of the season and set off into the vastness and loneliness of the Scandinavian forests for a short holiday.

But I am not really lonely. I had found a small place to stay online and booked a room there at short notice.

The owner of the guesthouse in the middle of the forest inherited the three cottages from her grandparents and is about my age. They themselves live in the smallest of the three houses. The other two houses, both of which could nevertheless also be described as small, were furnished as guest houses. It is possible to book a room in advance or simply stop here for the night during the day. There were many hiking trails and similar guesthouses in the region, and two of these trails led only a few metres past the small collection of cottages and thus ensured regular customers.

Half of the sleeping options are bookable online, the others are available to hikers passing by for a night. I was glad to have gotten the last room still available for booking for three nights.

I don't have much space in my room, just enough for a 140cm wide bed, a small bedside table next to it and an artful wardrobe, that takes up the wall at the foot of the bed. The slope above the bed adds to the tiny impression of the room. The door takes up the last empty space in the room. But the approximately 4 square metres will be enough for the few nights I will spend here.

The summer hiking trails turn into cross-country skiing trails in winter and invited tourists to explore the region on skis, which is why I had chosen this destination. There are also some more challenging trails, mostly maintained by private people or small ski clubs. Instead of my rifle, I now have a small backpack on my back when I strap on my skis and I am skiing in a tunnel-vision, but open-eyed to enjoy my beautiful wintry surroundings and feel a bit more rested and balanced with every skating step.

I have spent my first day on these trails and have done several laps on these smaller tracks. I have stopped several times at various small huts to fortify myself and take a break.

In the small nearby village, I have bought something for my landlady, who is happy about my helpfulness. Especially because a snowstorm is forecasted for this evening and night and she herself could never carry the amount of food for our supply as well as prepare everything for the storm. Now she concentrates on the remaining preparations while I buy food and drinks.

Today I have only been out in the morning on another small trail with significant climbs and descents and after an out-of-town lunch I was back well before the blizzard is set to arrive. That makes me able to help prepare the two guest houses, which are currently already fully occupied, for more guests who could possibly be surprised by the storm and might seek shelter here.

Candles were provided and water buckets filled in case our supply should collapse, although this was quite unlikely due to the underground plumbing, but better safe than sorry. Tea was prepared in large quantities and distributed in thermos flasks to the residents. The firewood reserves in the houses were filled up to the maximum so they could be fired continuously. Maureen, the landlady, has been busy cooking since the morning along with the active support of two other guests and her daughter. Blankets and mattresses were spread out in the living rooms and would serve as night camps for guests surprised by the storm or for everyone, should the heating fail and only the fireplaces provide warmth.
At the end of the day everything was prepared to ride out the storm and beyond its predicted duration.

---

With the first strong gusts of wind, we all settled down in the house groups and exchanged stories and got to know each other. Some guests had joined us later in the day to take advantage of the shelter on offer.

My group is a nice one, from which smaller ones split off now and then to have a conversation about a certain topic, which does not interest everyone.

I talked a lot with a German couple who had planned to stop here for two days on their way through with their little daughter and were glad to be safe from the storm and not have to look for accommodation. The three of them shared a room identical to mine, making it a bit cramped. Both parents were familiar with the sport of biathlon, but not fans, so we could talk freely.

The husband, Tobias, and I exchanged numbers just before going to bed and I was positive that our initial friendship would develop further. His wife Luise invited me to visit them when they are back in Germany and I have some free time, and daughter Maya was thrilled that I played with her before she had to go to bed.

It was only nine o'clock when I crawled into my bed and the storm outside had just picked up speed, according to guests familiar with the area. Every minute of sleep I got could help if there were any problems during the night and I had signed up to help.

---

I'd already at least gotten almost three hours of sleep when Maureen woke me up at a little after twelve.

"Hei. Can you take in anyone else? It's pretty much full downstairs and I'd hate to put him there?" she asked me, and I nodded. ‘Why wouldn't she want to put him downstairs?' I asked myself, but I am aware that I occupy a bed that could easily be used by two people and in the current situation we all have to move together a bit.

Selfishness has no place here at the moment.

I stay in bed, as it is cosy and warm, and wait for Maureen and the mysterious stranger.

Maureen returned a little later with a man still thickly wrapped in his winter clothes. Familiar-looking blue eyes look at me exhaustedly and full of gratitude over the edge of his pulled-up scarf.

My pondering of from where I know these eyes from was ended when he flicks the scarf back down and a cautious smile becomes visible, which brings me to the realisation of the man's identity.

It is Tarjei. Tarjei Bø. My Norwegian biathlon colleague and competitor.

I give him a smile and he visibly relaxes a little.
My heart begins to beat a little faster. For years I have been trying to get it in my head that he wasn't gay and even if he was, he wouldn’t be interested in me, but my heart kept showing me how defenceless I was against my desires in this regard. I have to swallow once before I can compulsively remove my attention from his face.

"Will you show him where to find the bathroom and look after him a bit?" asked Maureen with a worried look towards Tarjei, who seemed to almost fall asleep on his feet from exhaustion. Again, I just nod in affirmation and swing myself out of bed to comply with the request. With quick movements, I pull on jumper and sweatpants over my pyjamas and thick socks over the thin ones I have been wearing in bed because of the temperatures, before turning to Tarjei.

While I accompany Tarjei to the bathroom and get him something to eat and drink during his stay in it, I try to collect myself and get a grip on my excitement about his appearance and the upcoming night together in a bed.
Grateful Tarjei makes a beeline for the food and accepts the soup and bread with much hunger from me. While he eats, we hardly speak, just about why we are here and how I like it here, he himself had probably stayed with Maureen before and knows the area very well. He currently is on a tour like I am and only turns in somewhere for one night before traveling further. He has been surprised by the storm today and only just made it here with difficulty.

I take his used dishes away while he finishes changing for the night in the room, which we now share.

When I return a few minutes later, he is already in bed and sleeping peacefully, curled into a tight ball on the wall side of the bed. Carefully, I lay down on the other side, after taking off my excess clothing and hanging them on hooks by the door. I leave our small light source, a candle, on.

Lying on my back, I look at the body to my left. Bellow the thick mountain of blankets, the breathing movements of Tarjei gently lift them and let them fall down again with each steady breath of the Norwegian. I don‘t know why, but it mesmerises me. This image quickly makes me fall back to sleep myself. The feeling of security emanating from the person next to me does the rest and I’m able to relax despite the raging storm outside.

***

"Hmmm," I make sleepily, irritated by a hand in my hair that is waking me up far too early.

Quiet laughter was the response of the person gently stroking my hair, whose body was right next to mine, exuding an eerily pleasant warmth.

Wait. It could only be the man who has spent most of the night beside me. And that is Tarjei. Tarjei, who is not gay or bi. Or is it someone completely foreign, which would definitely be worse.

Blinking, I open my eyes and am firstly blinded by the brightness in the room. I guess the snowstorm has actually passed and hasn't lingered longer than advertised. The daylight and all the new snow outside make the room very bright, although the sun seems to be hiding behind thick white clouds.

With each blink, the face in front of me becomes clearer and I recognise that my colleague is lying next to me, leaning against me and giving me a slightly dreamy smile.
"Good morning," he greets me and I grumble back a morning greeting, totally confused and still half asleep.
I have had to leave the bed four more times during the night because of other new arrivals and am now correspondingly tired. I have left Tarjei asleep on his side of the bed in all these cases, though he has slid a little to my side during my last mission and I had to strain myself to not to wake him accidentally as I crawled back into bed.

The hand in my hair leaves and moves gingerly and slowly down to my cheek, where it remains. A careful thumb begins to draw small circles on my skin. My eyes find Tarjei's. And it is as if some unknown force prevents us from looking away again.

"You're bad at hiding your feelings, by the way. At least from me.", Tarjei suddenly whispers, and I could do nothing but look at him confused.

"Your looks are very clear, and your behaviour is an open book if you know how to read it. That someone hasn't noticed by now is almost a miracle. That you haven't decoded me yet borders on a miracle. Johannes has been bugged by us for years.” he whispers, but the words don't really make sense in my still somewhat slow brain. ‘How, can he read me? And what can John read him?’, I ask myself, still confused.

The thumb on my cheek has come to a rest and Tarjei smirks at my confusion, which is multiplying by the second. His hand wanders to the back of my neck and pulls my head slightly in his direction.

"Now once more for sleepy Arnd’s." he whispers before moving his face closer to mine and his lips settle gently on mine.

At first, I couldn't move. 'He's kissing me? Tarjei is kissing me?' Then my eyelids flutter shut, and I savour the soft and soulful kiss I have unconsciously begun to return. An excited tingling runs through my body, and I couldn't think of anything better in the world at that moment.
"Do you understand now?" he asks me, grinning mischievously after we have broken away from our kiss, both breathing heavily.

"Yes.", I just breath overwhelmed and in turn now pull him down to me with one hand on his neck and also half on top of me.

---

After more kisses that dragged out our getting ready for the day, we enter the living room of our cabin together and holding hands.

We take our seats with Tobias and his family, who first look at us in surprise and then knowingly. I have told them yesterday that I have a crush on a colleague, but not on whom. Apparently, they have now figured it themselves and Luisa gives me a thumbs-up when unnoticed.

Maya is excited about Tarjei and eats her breakfast between us and with our help. We exchange glances over her head again and again, which triggers that pleasant tingling sensation in me again and also makes me blush a little.

We spent the rest of the time, until the departure of the little family, with them and Maya was very enthusiastic about this development.

The time until my own departure Tarjei stays here and brakes off his tour for some time together in the almost anonymity we found here. We leave as a couple and promise Maureen to come back every year to our own little paradise where we can just love each other and move freely and enjoy our freedom.

***

Instead of getting married in the summer and at a beach location, as most couples do, we said our vows in the clearing in front of Maureen's cottage and in the depths of winter with only our closest family and friends invited. And when another snowstorm hits our refuge the night after our wedding, it is fate.

Chapter Text

Note: written after the pursuit in Nove Mesto on 07.03.2021; implied smut, but nothing to explicit

Vetle's view:

I am the last athlete to leave our makeshift locker room after today's race. Once again I was the worst of our team. Only 38th place, whilst our pair of brothers climbed onto the top two steps of the podium. It is just so terribly frustrating!

I take my time to collect myself and put on my poker face. The pandemic currently overshadowing everything doesn't make my mood any better. As a result I have perfected my poker face over the last few months. The so-called 'good face to the bad game'.

Because I’m totally lost in my thoughts, I am startled when suddenly and with a lot of momentum the door is torn open and slammed against the metal wall of the container and then, behind the person rushing in, back into its lock.
Breathing heavily and still in his competition clothes, except for an extra jacket he had thrown on, Tarjei stands. With the widest grin on his face, that anyone could have, in front of me. His beautiful blue eyes are lit up with his joy and because of the removal of the pressure to deliver, as he is back at the top of today’s results table.

Usually they say, 'unlucky at cards lucky in love', didn't they? That saying doesn't work out for me either. I am definitely unlucky in love as well as unlucky in competition. Why else would I have fallen in love with the blond guy standing in front of me? A man who is completely unreachable for me....

My thoughts, full of self-pity, are abruptly interrupted. My back slams into the metal wall behind me and I am so shocked I can’t think straight until slightly chapped lips meet mine and engage me in a demanding kiss.

It is... damn good and I can't help but return Tarjei's kiss. His energy from the victory spilled over to me and I was caught up in the moment. I just enjoy his closeness and do nothing even as our hands begin to wander more and more and the number of clothes on our bodies is being reduced significantly.

It is fast, hot and also a little painful and I will be able to remember what we have done for quite some days to come. Tarjei has taken off in different clothes immediately afterwards and I’m sure he hasn't quite realised, what had happened between us either. The crackling atmosphere faded completely when the door slams shut behind him.

***

The rest of the season I tried to do my best, which was at least rewarded with a slight increase in performance. I tried to keep Tarjei out of my mind during this time and to stay away from him, even though it was very difficult for me.

This year I also worked hard on myself and my fitness during our time off, with my own personal trainer and physio by my side. During the preparation camps, I want to prove myself and hold my place in the World Cup team against the younger biathletes who are coming up.

---

As soon as everyone has checked into the hotel, the first training session of the summer starts. I’m praised right after the training, because during the month, since the end of the season, I have improved my performance a lot and start much better into the preparations for the next season than I did last year.

Over and over again I feel Tarjei's eyes on me, but I don't respond to them. I need closure with him, and I can’t do that if I give him the attention, he for some reason I can't explain, seems to want from me.

I notice how the exercises and sessions are wearing on me and my body, and much more so than in previous years, but I grind my teeth and keep going. And that earns me a lot of praise from the coaches and my teammates and fills me with new strength and energy for the last big tests before we will go back to our individual training.

I am so focused on my performance that I ignore signs from my body, that something was different than usual. A mistake, as I come to realise in the middle of the biggest test of the training camp, when I feel more woozy than ever before. My body gives up on me and my consciousness slips away. While I’m only half aware that I’m slowly going down and can no longer keep myself on my feet.

The last thing I feel is a pair of strong arms catching me, slowing my uncontrolled fall and gently guiding me to the ground. Worried blue eyes were the last thing I could make out before my eyelids become too heavy and I close my eyes.

---

Long fingers gently stroke my hair out of my forehead. Over and over again. It is soothing and I can't help but just lie there reviving and soaking up that careress as I slowly come back to.

"I know you're awake," whisperes a voice rough with worry. Is he worried about me? No, that can't be. As it's the voice that I can only relate to the person who had caught me and also the person I had been trying to avoid since the beginning of March.

Tarjei.

I open only one eye for a test and find the older man sitting on a chair next to me, his face still clearly reflecting his concern for me.

But why? Why is he here looking at me like that? Why does he seem to care so much about my well-being that he seemed to have stayed by my side while I had been unconscious?

Gently he strokes my hair out of my forehead again. "Lie still for a while. You've been out for a good hour and a half and you've had an IV to nurse you back to health," he continued to worry about me. "I'll go and get the doctor," he says, before he withdraws his hand from my hair and leaves me alone for a moment.

I’m lying in a hospital room in the small medical ward next to the track. I had been here a few times before, but never before had I lain in one of the small rooms with the hospital beds. Until now I have only been here as an outpatient and only know the rooms because I had once looked into some of them when I had to walk almost through the entire building for a more intensive examination and the doors were open.

I have been stripped of my sweaty sports clothes and someone had lent me a jumper and a pair of comfortable jogging pants.

I snuggle into the blanket and soak up the peace and quiet around me. I’m able to switch off my thoughts for once and just lay here and wait. I notice how my strength was gradually returning to my body.

I don't have to wait long until our team doctor enters the room, followed by Tarjei. With a stern look he sends the latter straight back out. I feel a chill run down my spine. If it's something simple, like lack of sugar or something similar, our doctor would not have sent Tarjei out again.

"You’re better now?" he asked me, doing a few simple health checks on me that apparently satisfy him for the moment. I have only managed to croak a confirmation before he continues, "So, we've already got the results back from the blood test we did on you and that's why I really need to talk to you."

I have to swallow. That really doesn’t sound good.
"I'll get straight to the point. You're pregnant, around eight weeks. If you want to have the baby your training will be reduced to a much lower level until 'maternity leave'. After the birth and the following recovery period of several months, you could return to full training in about year if you want to."

He doesn’t give me much time to think, but presents me with a momentous decision straight away, but I come to my decision quickly and am happy with it. If I have the baby now, at 29 and single, it would be the end of my career in biathlon. No chance of getting back into it at 30 after a maternity leave, not in the very competitive men's team. But aborting a child when I can give them a good life, financially and also environmentally, is out of question for me.

I leave Tarjei, the father of the child, out of my decision. Our tête-à-tête had been a slip-up. I should have never let it get this far. He is straight, after all, and would never have let himself be talked into such an action without the feelings of happiness and adrenaline in his system. That's okay though.

"I want my child. I'm going to stop altogether.", resolutely I speak those words and notice a certain calmness spreading through my body. No more competitions, no more internal battles for starting positions and no more training at a competitive level. And lots of time with the midget in my belly. I'm home for all the milestones and always available. After the baby break, I can go look for a suitable job and go to work when my child is in kindergarten, just like any parent would.

Without talking further, he issues me with all the pamphlets and wipes I would need. A note for our trainer, a report for the association, a prescription for a vitamin tablet and a referral to a doctor near me, who is qualified to look after me from now on as he already has experience with other pregnant men and the accompanying small genetic development that was considered to be the origin of these pregnancies.

Armed with these letters, I leave the treatment room. Tarjei is lurking a few metres away from the treatment room and, after a slightly harsher look from me, latches himself onto my heels as I leave the confines of the small infirmary.

I shake of the elder on my way to the trainers, who are probably analysing the results from the last test. I'm going to present them with my decision right away, before we beat around the bush.

Just over half an hour later, I’m seen off by the coaches and after a short stop in my hotel room to get my bags, as we were about to leave, I’m in the car park infront of the hotel.

My goodbyes are as usual, just a little quieter and more thoughtful than usual. It could be the last time I would see the others in person in a training setting.

I remain standing in the hotel doorway for a few more seconds, watching the others walk to their cars or be picked up by their loved ones. I’m a little wistful to have to close this exciting chapter of my life now. But I have chosen something a lot more valuable than a podium finish or a medal, at least in my view and at the current time.

My hand carefully rests on my belly, where nothing is visible right now, but I know that my future is growing in there.

Chapter Text

Vetles view:

It is like being in a beautiful dream. As soon as got back home, my life changed completely. A strict athlete diet became a healthy but not too strict one, competitive sport became regular visits to the swimming pool for some relaxing laps, strenuous running sessions became relaxing bike rides with friends and family.

My great new occupation is the nature. I often go out and find a good hiking trail and then stroll through forests, fields and other scenery. The photos I take while tracking now fill an entire external hard drive and particularly beautiful ones have found their way as pictures on my walls, which until then had looked very drab, I had rarely been here before and had accordingly not decorated much.

I also took on my garden as a project again and apart from the big prunings in spring and autumn, I would take care of it on my own. My garden was not too big and consisted mainly of a meadow and a small group of trees. Now I planted a few more flowers to add some colour.

My family had taken my decision, to keep the baby, well and offered me all the support I could need. I'm very grateful for that. My father painted my former guest room, after he had also emptied it, to gradually transform it into my little plum's room.

A good month passed and my baby bump grew in size from day to day, which I documented with my camera, and it fills me with an incredible feeling of happiness whenever I look at them. My abs were dwindling from less, by my old standard, exercise and are making way for the little bulge I have grown to love so much.

My former teammates will reunite for another training camp in a few hours and I brace myself for some messages from them. I had written each of them a card to say goodbye and enclosed some photos of themselves and me and also some from my hikes. I couldn't meet them at the moment because of Corona, but I couldn't leave without a goodbye and something small for them to remember me by.

After my teammates know about my retirement, the federation, with whom I had had some online meetings, will publish the official statement. That would be the last step that is still missing. Officially, I am retiring for family and personal reasons, the exact reason remains under wraps for everybody, excluding my family and the higher ups of the federation.

I have made myself comfortable on my sofa and am now waiting for the flood of messages I’m expecting. With the thumb of my left hand I’m drawing small circles on my little bump, which makes my slight nervousness subside and I can relax a little.

Most of the messages that reach me are congratulations for making this difficult decision and encouragement for my future. Many kind words that make my heart soar and make me feel happy again that I had been able to meet them all.

Only in the chat with Tarjei did I got two new messages. The first one I see, after opening the chat, had arrived even before the start of the meeting.

'Where are you? Do you want me to collect you somewhere?' (09:36)

'You're quitting? Don't you feel better? Is it worse after all? Is there anything I can do to help you?' (10:14)

Tarjei seems to be genuinely worried about me. What if he is...? Nonsense, there's no way he's gay or seriously interested in me. He's just having some thoughts about a teammate and friend who fainted the last time he saw me and that's nothing reprehensible, it's normal.
'Thanks. It's all good, nothing to worry about,' I brush him off.

'If you say so.' was the not entirely convinced reply and I close the chat after reading the message.

I answer a few more messages from the others before I got up in search of something edible. Fortunately for me, I had been spared from the famous morning sickness.

***

Two weeks later, I had started planning the rough layout of the baby/children's room. What I will need and what would find its place where. The list with all the small things needed for the care of my child grows with every message from my mother or my aunts.

My goal for today is the exact measuring of the space for the furniture. Currently, I can still do this alone and around my growing bump. It is also one of the few things I’m allowed to do, despite much grumbling from my parents.

The high temperatures don't really make it easy either and I have to make sure I drink enough water. Of all things, the little plum is due in mid-November, which means that at least I’m exposed to such high temperatures just before the birth, when I probably only want to do the bare minimum anyway.

The doorbell rang, of course, while I’m crawling around on the floor and so it takes me a little while to make my way to the front door. My blood circulation always takes a while to get back to full strength after I get up. My left hand rests on my belly, which is clearly visible under the T-shirt I’m wearing today, as it is a bit tighter around the ever-growing bump, than it was when I had bought it. But that doesn't matter for my family and I don't get any visitors who aren't part of my family.

But, when I open the door, I look directly into a face that was very familiar to me, but does not belong to any member of my family. I can't get the door, which I had opened wide in anticipation of my parents, shut fast enough to prevent my him from keeping it open with one foot.

"Vetle..." he begins and I can clearly hear his surprise at my appearance from his voice. "Tarjei, just go!", I demand in as harsh of a voice as I can muster. Since I’m still in love with him it is difficult for me to remove his foot from the doorway and to tell him to leave me alone. He must have driven straight here from the training camp.
"Please.", I heard in an exhausted sounding tone, "We need to talk."

"I don't think so."

"Yes you do, and urgently, if my suspicions are correct." he replies in a firmer voice, pushing the door open a little further and now looking me straight in the eyes. His reflect so many of his feelings and yet I can't decipher them. Pleasant goosebumps briefly spread all over my body until I’m able to pull myself together and reluctantly let him in, hoping I will also be able to get rid of him quickly once I listened to him.

I offer him nothing to drink, hoping he will take the hint and hurry up to finish and disappear quickly. I don't try to hide my baby bump at all, he has already seen it briefly when I opened the door, and I also want to take some of my pregnancy out of the focus of our conversation that way. Hiding it with a cushion wouldn't do that.

"Fine. Then speak," I urge my former teammate as I take the last steps towards my couch. I have pointed in passing at one of the armchairs that wasn't directly facing me and where I don't have to look at him if I don't want to.

"Why didn't you ever say anything and then you chose to ignore me?" he starts directly with a question whose content I don't understand. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe that you let yourself be seduced so willingly in Nove Mesto, after months of always giving me that sad but very intense look? And that you, since then have completely ignored and avoided me? Best example for that being the last training camp just after you collapsed?" his blue eyes hold mine captive with a determined look.

"So?", I ask him, wondering why that bothers him. We don't have build up the closest of friendships over the past few years and had mostly just lived next to each other.

"Maybe because I care about you? I tried to find you alone during the competitions, but you were never alone or already disappeared off the face of the earth. Same at the last training camp. Otherwise I would have spoken to you long ago. Thanks to Corona, at least I had a good idea of where to find you."

"What do I mean to you? We only slept together because you were full of happiness and adrenaline after your victory. Otherwise, nothing would have ever happened between us." It hurts saying these words out loud. But they are the truth.

"I would have talked to you soon after, honestly, but somehow my brain had a lapse when the two of us were alone in the container and knew that it probably wouldn't change anytime soon. When I went to get my rifle, which I had accidentally left behind, you had left and I found only the deserted container and no clue where you had gone. Damn it, Vetle! I would never have slept with anyone just like that, especially not with you! I got to know you through our time together in the biathlon and eventually fell for you last season, which has never happened to me with another man before. Actually, I wanted to invite you to my hotel room later in the evening and maybe we would have ended up in bed there, but my knee-jerk reaction destroyed my plan," he clarifies and looks at me with hopeful eyes.

His hair is now completely tousled in desperation as had gone through them, as he told me what he had to say.I have to swallow because it looks really good and my body reacts to it easily.

I clear my throat once before speaking, "You... you really would have approached me?", I ask, slightly stunned.

"Yes. I... I had a plan. Jojo had helped me set something up and get us some alone time. I wanted to take it slow, just talk and get to know each other first and just check out the situation with the other. But now I see that from your side it had never been more than looking for a quick fuck," his desperation was almost palpable, especially when he uttered the last sentence and looked directly at my little baby bump.

"Come on, laugh at me for being so gullible as to think there could be more between us. Why don't you call your partner to laugh at me with him?" his exasperation gets clearer by the word and his voice drips with resignation.

"I don't have a partner. My last real relationship, of more than a duration of two months, ended just over four years ago," I put it right. His head, turned towards my carpet after his last statement, shot up and he looks at me in surprise.

I subconsciously start to maltreat my lower lip with my teeth because of my nervousness. It is now inevitable that the conversation will turn towards the little plum in my belly.

"But, how..." he begins, his gaze again glued to the bump under my T-shirt.

My mood was changing. I don't feel like dragging out this topic unnecessarily and so I become a bit more direct: "Some weird Norwegian biathlete, drunk on feelings as he was, after his victory in the pursuit, just caught me off guard in Nove Mesto and I couldn't help but join in and that didn't remain without consequences. That's why I collapsed, and I found out afterwards why I did. I made my decision to end my career during the conversation."
I can clearly see Tarjei's relieved expression, only for him to open his eyes wide the next moment and look at me in bewilderment. I can't help grinning at his reaction.

"Why didn't you say anything? We could have worked all this out much sooner and I could have been there for both of you right after you found out," he asks me now, getting up as he spoke to take a few steps to me, kneeling down on the carpet in front of me and carefully resting his hands on my knees.

"I thought you wouldn't like me in the same way I like you and I wouldn't have a chance with you. So I planned from the start to be a single parent," I now confess my own misjudgement of his feelings for me.

"Do you think we could give each other a try? Not just because of the baby, but mostly to see if we can become something now that we've finally spoken to each other," the hope in his eyes makes my heart beat faster and it also makes my hope for a life together grow. Even though I had decided that I have to forget him, so far I couldn't turn off my feelings for him and to have the chance to have a relationship with him, to become a family together with the little plum, was like a dream come true.

With my hands I clasp his and, while looking for signs of displeasure on his face, guide them to my belly and place them there carefully to the right and left of the bump.
Tarjei's gaze rests intently only on our hands the whole time. When his hands finally come into contact with my belly, he audibly expels the air he had been holding earlier.

His hands runs over my baby bump, exploring every part gently and thoughtfully. Unfortunately, my pregnancy had not yet progressed to the point where the baby could kick noticeably from within.

"Yes.", I breath in response to his question and smile at him.

His smile in response lights up his whole face and makes his eyes sparkle again. He lifts his right hand to place it on my cheek and his body follows the movement. Just before his lips can touch mine our eyes find each other once more and after a unanimous confirmation that it was okay for both of us, our lips meet.

"Together?", Tarjei asks me, meaning that we would face the future together as a team.

"Together.", I confirm and also let myself slide to the floor and pull myself into his arms for an intimate and loving embrace to seal the promise.

Chapter Text

Note: with marked smut part.

Tarjei's view:

I'm slightly tipsy.

No, I'm downright drunk and during today's celebration of the end of the 2017/18 season with all the other biathletes, I lock away the reason in the back of my brain and ignore every warning of a sensible part of my brain whenever I’m about to do something I will definitely regret the next day, enjoying the atmosphere, the company and the drinks.

I just drift through the crowd, chatting here and there, joking with one or the other and dancing with anyone who is willing.

--- SMUT...

Hot breath brushes across my chest and a pleasant shiver runs from the spot all over my body, making me gasp in excitement. I don't know who I’m having fun with, but that doesn't matter at all, as it is to good to not enjoy it.
Already red-kissed lips search and find mine, which are guaranteed to look the same, and engage me in a hot smooch dripping with both our arousal. Strong and experienced hands stroke my body, sending electric shocks through my veins. Those very hands, or rather these fingers, had skilfully prepared me only minutes before he had pushed, and moaning in ecstasy, into me.
I let everything come to me willingly with relish. It had been a long time since I had been in bed with a man, even counting one-night stands, at least until today. And it had been much longer since I had last taken the bottom role.

I had forgotten how nice it is to just enjoy and not necessarily be the leading part in .

He supports himself on his left arm, while his right now wanders unerringly to my arousal and massages it with practised hand movements.

I can't stop moaning and feel myself getting closer and closer to the often described cliff.

With a hoarse cry I finally come between our bodies and by tensing my muscles I make him come inside me. We are both breathing heavily and he has let himself fall on my chest after the strength disappeared from our bodies and satisfied contentment spreads itself within us.

I hardly notice when he pulls out of me and cleans us both up a little with one of our shirts, before he lays down beside me and covers us with the blanket. With the touch of the duvet, I finally fall asleep.

---SMUT END---

The next day, I experience the shock of my life when I wake up with a distinct headache as a side effect of the drinking during the night.

Next to me lays none other than Ole Einar Bjørndalen. My teammate, who had competed his last race the day before yesterday and is now retired at 45. The king of biathlon and someone I've admired all my life and had a bit of a crush on when I was in my teens, but assumed I'd outgrown since I competed on the same team as him.
Hastily, but careful not to wake him, I climb out of bed and hurry to gather my clothes and get dressed.

Of course, it was my shirt that had the dried evidence of our night together stuck to it. Without much thought, I grab one of the clean shirts from Ole's open wardrobe and put it on. I haven't seen it on him much and it was a plain white one, so he probably won't miss it much.
I quickly slip into my room, where I first take a headache tablet against my hangover.

---

After this meeting, it is time for a break before we will be return to intensive team training in 5 weeks.

But until then, I have to ignore Ole as much as possible, I won't look him in the eye because of the shame of what had happened last night. Damn! He has a family! It had been a big mistake to seduce him, however I had managed to do that, because that memory is completely missing from my memories.

After checking out of the room, I held back considerably and only speak a few words of farewell with the other athletes before disappearing as quickly as possible.

***

I used the free time to rest besides the daily and relatively easy sports sessions and to clear my head after the last evening of the season and to prepare my mind and body for the pre-season and the strenuous next winter.

The first tests and trainings afterwards, with the whole team, went quite well and were also quite satisfying for me.

I successfully kept Ole out of my thoughts for most of the time. Nevertheless, Johannes had noticed that I was a bit more reserved and introverted than during the season and seemed to be watching me to make sure I was doing well and not losing touch with the others. I was grateful for his, mostly silent and subliminal, support, but shied away from letting him in on the situation and how I was feeling.

This was something I had to learn to deal with on my own.

My former light crush had grown into a real infatuation and so, in addition to repressing the events of that one special night, I was also heartbroken.

---

We have an afternoon off and I make my way to a supermarket at the first available opportunity. I desperately needed to replenish my supply of chocolate after my brother discovered one of my three stashes and took away the two bars stashed there yesterday. Not that he would blow my cover, but he was clearly more responsible than me when it comes to healthy, balanced eating and only the occasional sweet treat.

Decisively, between two chocolate bars, I stand in front of the shelf and read through the information on both packets for comparison. There was little choice in the shop, which is just off the main street of the village, but I’m able to move around more freely and the danger of running into my teammates was much lower.

Completely absorbed in my comparison, I don't notice that a person had slowly approached me until strong hands come to rest on my hips with determination. I freeze, expecting a reprimand from my brother.

But it doesn't come immediately, instead the hands gently but firmly pull me a little further towards the body of the man behind me.

"You look so good in my shirt, I could eat you." a familiar voice breathes in my ear and goosebumps run down my spine and I tense a little as I recognise him.

It is Ole. The man I had slept with a month ago, completely drunk, and since then I had banished him as best I could to the furthest corner of my mind. And whose shirt I'd been wearing a lot since that night, because it was so damn comfortable and a bit too big for me.

I’m frozen in shock and still can't move. My breathing is rapid and my heart seems to race and make joyful leaps in the air. A tingling sensation emanates from the parts of my body that touch Ole or are closest to him. I feel like a teenager in love.

"Take this one." he says, pointing to one of the chocolates I still hold in my hands. "I used to buy those too when I needed a bit of chocolate during my active days."
Unsure how to act towards him, I nod hesitantly and put the other bar away.

Ole puts his right arm around my waist and leeds me past the fresh fruit section towards the checkout. As I pass, I quickly grab a pack each of strawberries and grapes, both sweet but nowhere near as unhealthy as the chocolate is. A quiet laugh was Ole's reaction to my haul.

At the checkout, I’m not quick enough to put my selection in a small paper bag. By the time I’m done, Ole has already paid for them.

"You didn't have to do that," I say, and I feel the blush rise in my cheeks at his penetrating gaze. "I was happy to do it though. Come on, there's a little bench by the lake. I think we should talk about something there," Ole steers the conversation in a direction that scares me a little. 'What if he's angry with me,' runs through my head as he gently takes me by the hand and intertwines our fingers together, leading me towards the bench.

As we walk, I can't take my eyes off our hands and the sight burns itself deep into my brain. Even if he left me sitting here after our conversation, I will be able to keep this sight as a memory.

When we are both seated and I have started plucking some grapes from the vines and eating them nervously, he finally startes talking after capturing my hand in his, which has moved towards the grapes for round two. The hand he keeps in his and stroks with gentle motions and them as he begins to talk.

"I would never have gone to bed with you, if I don't like you more than is usual for friends. That night you surprised me, it hadn't occurred to me at the time that it could be more than friendship with you. If I had, we wouldn't have been so drunk and the night wouldn't have been all about just having sex," he starts, lifting my chin with a gentle index finger so I can look into his honest eyes.

"I...", I start, but break off again at a soft "Shh.", from him, which was better, because I don't really know what to say.

"When I overheard, from the others, that you had changed and withdrawn yourself from the group, I made my way here to talk to you, as I couldn't give up hope that maybe I and that particular night could be the trigger for it. Your reaction in the shop showed me that it was, luckily." he hesitates for a moment before continuing: "Do you think we will have a chance to take a step further in the relationship between the two of us, without the influence of far too much alcohol?"

I nod. I’m a bit taken aback by his words. I can't understand that he, of all people, sees me as a possible partner and wants to try to have a real relationship with me. With dating, kissing, holding hands, cuddling and much more.

The hand whose index finger still rests under my chin gently moves up to caress my cheek and he cautiously approaches my face with his. He gives me every opportunity to dodge or to jump up and disappear altogether, but I can only focus on his eyes, which radiate a warmth that I have only seen in them for the first time that one night.

With the first careful touch of our lips, I close my eyes and sink into the feelings of love, security and that this is the right place for me. The place being in Oles arms.

Chapter Text

Tarjei's view:

It was tiring to have to stand between the chairs like that.
On the one hand, is my boyfriend. Sturla is still so young and has so much talent and ability. That he is already competing for the yellow jersey, in his first season in the World Cup, shows how strong the Norwegian team is in all age groups.

My brother is Sturla's rival in the fight for the overall World Cup victory. He won the last two seasons. He was especially outstanding in 2018/19, where he won all crystal balls.

Sturla currently shoots much more confidently than my brother, who still has to find the optimal and final settings with his new rifle, in order to be able to improve his shooting to a level that is normal for him.

My brother is a good skier. Putting him under pressure there is not a possibility. No chance. Sturla is not so fresh now, at the end of the season, but he is still doing very well. But next to my boyfriend, other biathletes usually benefited from Johannes' shooting mistakes, which often cost him a lot of time because of the many penalty laps he has to do.

And in the middle of it all, I am trying to be there for both of them as a neutral person. They are both very important to me in different ways and that's why I feel so torn right now.

---

I left for my hotel room pretty quickly after today's pursuit race. I had briefly congratulated my boyfriend on his victory before he was again besieged by journalists and other athletes.

I have to prepare for the mass start race tomorrow. I am currently in the lead in the discipline and of course I want to use this promising position for myself in the race.

Jojo doesn’t want to understand, despite my chances to win the small ball for the mass start, that I won't help him keep his lead in the overall World Cup. I am competing for the win or at least to take my small globe and not to hinder others to help my brother to his third overall World Cup victory. He has to do that on his own.

Sturla is much more understanding and lets me take my time to prepare as best as possible. He also lets me do my thing on the track and only asks for my support off the track in conversations. And I am willing to offer him the opportunity to lean on my shoulder and just talk about everything that is bothering him. He only wants to win the overall title through his own performance and that is something that makes me proud to be his partner. We are both there for each other, but on the track we are still competitors.

My brother is different. He demands my complete support without any ifs and buts. That is because he sees his place at the top in danger and tries to defend himself from everyone with every means he could find and what is allowed. And I won't go along with that.

I calmly do my evening routine, which I always do before competitions, and go to bed early, even though we would not start until late, due to the bad wind conditions that are starting to make themselves felt outside.

I send my brother a simple goodnight message and ignored any message begging me to help him tomorrow.

'Sleep well, sunshine. Stop partying so much and focus on tomorrow. You can do it! I'm sure you can! I love you xx' (21:44), I write to Sturla and receive a similar message in return.

I fall asleep with a slight but determined smile on my face. Tomorrow I will show everyone that I still got it!

***

It doesn't go as well as I had hoped.

Before the start, I had to put up with my brother ignoring me because I couldn't stand by him the way he would have liked. But I hoped that this would help him to concentrate and so he would reach his goal under his own steam.

Everyone shot many faults and there was constant movement in the field. We were luckier than the ladies, two hours before us, with the wind, but it was still not conducive to flawless shooting.

But I had everything in my hands now, I thought to myself, as I ski past the timing behind the shooting range for the last lap and tried to overtake as many runners in front of me as possible and thus chase my little cristal ball, which Johannes would currently get if we would finish in this order.

I fought and finished just ahead of my boyfriend in sixth place with 4 faults. My gap to the winner, Simon Destieux, was 38.2 seconds and Sturla followed me ten seconds later with an identical total of faults.

My brother looked relieved that third place was enough for him to win the overall World Cup, although I knew he could do better.

But the results are enough for me to clench first place in the standings for the mass start ranking and Sturla is the first to congratulate me in a friendly way. I will get the real congratulations from him, later in the evening when we are alone.

Sturla himself is a little downhearted that it hadn't been enough for him, but I know that next year he will be even more determined to knock my brother off his throne.

Johannes' pout is gone after the race and he can also be happy for me and my success. As he should be as our new overall winner.

For next year we urgently need to work on Jojo becoming a bit more independent in such decicive situations and not to always fall back on me, especially when something is at stake for me as well. Sturla will push himself enough on his own and with my support, he will get a bit closer to his goal, if not reach it. And last but not but least: Make homosexuality in biathlon the norm, so that next season I can stroll hand in hand with Sturla across the grounds without anyone looking at us twice.

Chapter Text

Arnd's POV:

'This is really going too far by now,' I think to myself and put a towel on my lap. 'That I always have to get myself into these situations!'

You have a day off and can use the hotel's wellness facilities and then something like this happens!
This time all men were accommodated in one hotel, as well as all ladies in a neighbouring one. Both hotels were very well equipped in terms of wellness and other leisure activities and this year we were allowed to test them extensively. But everyone really wanted to make the most of this unexpected break to recharge their batteries, so it was full steam ahead everywhere.

And that was my personal downfall. A certain Frenchman had perfected the art of flirting with me over the last few weeks. With his words, his looks, his rather casual touches and his behaviour towards me, off the trails, it was very clear what he wanted from me.

But at 32, I no longer feel ready to engage in just a little flirtation for one or a few nights. I want, if anything, a full-fledged relationship. And even though I had actually developed feelings for Martin, partly because of his advances, I don't know what his situation is. As far as I know, he has a wife and children at home and I would never get in the way of that, no matter what form this, whatever this is, will take. You just don't do that.

But he had never gone as far as he did today. His very definite look as he brushed the pool water out of his hair and winked at me had made me finally reach for the towel to cover up the effect his behaviour was having on my body.

Yesterday he had been doing early morning yoga on the lower of the two terraces while I had breakfast one level above. Apart from us, very few others were already up and about, but anyone could have seen his glances in my direction and come to the same and definite conclusion. His bum in those short sports shorts that stretched across both cheeks as he leaned forward were my personal downfall. 'Better not think about it anymore, or I'll have a much bigger problem here in a minute!", I inwardly scold myself.

I could no longer sit here in the middle of my teammates. I quickly gather my things and say goodbye to the others, with the excuse that I had forgotten to report to my family and wanted to do so now.

I was able to leave the spa area relatively unnoticed and made my way to my room. A cold shower was exactly what I need right now.

---

After the cold water had done its work, I turn up the temperature of my shower water a little before reaching for my shampoo and carefully working it into my brown hair.

I was so engrossed in ridding myself of the chlorine that I didn't notice that there is another person in my room until that very person was standing directly behind me in the shower and two hands come to rest, almost protectively, on my hips.

I whirl around, startled. I have a single room, like everyone else this week, and I'm also sure I had pulled the door shut behind me. So where has this person come from?

My gaze falls on facial features that have been haunting me for the last few days and seem to pop up everywhere in my view. Intense brown eyes, that try to catch mine, black hair, an equally black and well-groomed beard and especially this mischievous and lascivious smile on his full lips.

Martin, who could it be otherwise, is the man behind me in the small cubicle of the hotel room shower. He has also gotten rid of all his clothes and had only not yet got wet, because I had turned off the water for a moment to lather up.

I collect myself for a short moment. It is different to be alone with him in such a confined space where we can't be disturbed or otherwise seen. But I had to think with my head now and not with the part of my body a little further south, which was clearly complaining about being neglected in recent years and would like to change that here and now.

"If you're looking for a quick fuck or something for every now and then in between races, you've come to the wrong place. If you really care about me, you can wait until I'm done," I clarify. His expression turns a little puzzled for a moment, but he quickly regains his composure and smiles mischievously at me again with his twinkling eyes.
"Okay.", he breaths and before I can fully comprehend, he leans forward and brushes his lips softly over mine. My heart stops for a moment before it continues to beat at an even faster pace than before.

He moves away from me completely and steps out of the narrow shower cubicle. He grabs a towel from a small pile as he passes and disappears from the bathroom of my hotel room with one last look and a wink in my direction.

I turn the water on again and finish my shower in peace. I don't even think about the fact that Martin could still be in my room and therefore take my time.

Dressed and rubbing my hair dry with a towel, I finally reenter my hotel room and am almost immediately startled.

Martin is sitting on my bed. Also redressed and just like me in cosy clothes that pay tribute to it being a day off.
"What are you still doing here?", I ask him straight forward and without thinking. I lower my hands, still holding the towel, and look at him, puzzled.
"You didn't expect me to be here," he states dryly, but there is still a smile on his face. As he spoke, he rose and walks towards me. Carefully he takes the towel from my grasp and sets about drying my hair himself.

And damn was he good at it! I close my eyes from all the pleasure I got from it and let him do it. "Helene is my best friend and the two children were a conscious decision even before we got together. I have known since my early teenage days that I only love men and she has had bad experiences with other men and also teenagers. So we decided to build a family together on our purely sibling-like love. With the option that later we will break this bond when one of us falls in love or finds the right partner for the rest of our lives," he told me as he continues his work.
"She also knows I've been watching you for a few years. I just didn't want to start anything with a colleague, if he even responds to my advances while I'm still in the sport. The possibility of unintentionally becoming the first gay couple in the biathlon to appear directly in the tabloids was too great. Possible partners are my business alone, not the one of the press, at least not until I and my partner decide to come out."

He put the towel over the back of the chair next to him. Not wanting to interrupt him, I hold back on my questions and thoughts for now. I will hopefully find the opportunity to ask him later.

"Now, after my decision not to continue after this season, I've been watching you again. More intensively and testing you a bit. You jumped on it, but out of respect you also kept your distance, so as not to interfere with a family that is not a family from a traditional point of view. You are so considerate and have held back, while everyone else would probably have already lost patience after my yoga interlude at the latest," he paused briefly, "So, will you give us the chance to get to know each other better away from all the hustle and bustle, and also my family? Would you go on a date with me, once our duties are done for this season?" he asks, looking as nervous as I have ever seen him.

I have always wanted to have children and with the realisation that I was gay I had pushed that possibility away. With Martin's daughters, if things worked out between us, I would get as close to having a child with him as possible for us. Helene also seemed to be a no-brainer and to support Martin as a best friend and close confidante without any ifs or buts.

It is definitely worth a try to see exactly if we harmonise on the level of a relationship and maybe it will even last for the rest of our lives.

"Yes.", I breathe and smile at him before brushing my lips softly over his. He caught my lips and pulls me closer to him as we kiss. Yes, it can absolutely stay like this forever.

Chapter Text

Tarjei's POV:

As soon as the season started up again and the chaos that came with it, my results went from good to bad. What had worked so well in the last weeks of preparation didn't work during the first races.

I was last of my team in all the races so far, as far as the experienced part of our squad was concerned. Only the youngsters were still behind me.

Frustrated with myself, I retreated to the hotel room of Vetle and me. He had arranged to play darts with Erlend. Even though aiming at the targets had not been a problem for me today, in contrast to the running, with one mistake in 20 shots, I didn't feel like having company at the moment.
Even Vetle I couldn't be around right now and it is rarely the case that I don't want him with me. We have had a kind of friendship plus for years. We are both gay, or in Vetle's case bi, and had agreed that when we were both single, we would also help each other in bed during the competition phases.

In the meantime, I had reached a point where I could no longer deny that I love the taller one and would prefer to have him by my side as my steady partner. But I am afraid. Afraid that if I tell him, I will be rejected and left without him. I just don't want to lose him. Better this arrangement than drowning in heartbreak because of rejection.

Johannes regularly tried to get me to talk to him, but I stuck to my assumption.

---

Suddenly the hotel room door clicks open behind me. Expecting Vetle to enter the room - who else would have a chip card to our shared room? - I collect myself briefly before tearing myself away from the window I had been standing in front of, gazing at the snowy landscape outside.

But, it isn't my roommate, but my brother, dressed in full winter gear, stepping into the room.

"Hi. What are you doing here?", I ask him.

"I had a hunch. So I went into town and took Vetle's room card. You probably wouldn't have let me in without it," he clarifiedäs with the last sentence, looking at me reproachfully in the middle of taking off his jacket.

I know he was right. I wouldn't have opened the door if i knew it was him. And if I had, I would have left him stewing outside the door for some time, probably attracting the attention of the entire hotel.

"So, let's get to why I'm here," John says, waving a small bag with a pharmacy symbol back and forth in front of my nose. I raise my eyebrow. What am I supposed to do with this?

"Don't play dumb. You know that in our generation, and especially in Europe, male pregnancies are becoming known with increasing numbers every year. I admit that you don't have the most significant symptoms so far, but one or two of them are still very familiar to me from Heddas' pregnancy, which you are now also showing. So I got you a test. If there's nothing wrong, you should pay a visit to our GP when you get a chance. There's probably something behind the fact that you don't feel quite like yourself," Johannes explaines to me. He had always been the adult of us in crucial situations.

"All right, then," I quickly relent. If I don't take the test on my own, he will make me take it forcefully. With a critical look in his direction, I start moving towards the bathroom.
That I could be pregnant seems utopian to me. For years Vetle and I have slept together without contraception and so far nothing had happened. Why should that have changed? But to keep my brother quiet, I will do the test. After all, he had spent money for this practically certain negative result.

"Here.", I just say and press the test into my brother's hand. I won’t need to wait another 5 minutes to know the clear result.

"Tarjei...", my brother tries to get my attention again. However, he must have realises by now that my attention shifted to my smartphone and didn't stay with him.

I’m jolted out of my concentration by a tentative touch on my shoulder. Well, concentration was an exaggeration, I was just scrolling through Instagram a bit to avoid talking to him and also to distract myself from Test. Even though I'm sure I'm not pregnant, it would at least be a plausible explanation for the symptoms and more desirable than, say, cancer.

I take a deep breath before looking up at my brother. According to the time display on my phone, the 5-minute development time of the test has just passed. Without comment, my brother holds the test out to me so I can see the result for myself.

'Pregnant 4+ Weeks' is displayed on the small screen of the test. I have to gulp.

'No.' No! NO!", I cursed to myself, sat down and knock the test from my brother’s loose grip and made my escape to the bathroom. 'This can't be happening! This is a bad joke. Why does something like this have to happen to me? Where I didn't even know before the season if it was going to be my 'graduation tour'. I didn't get any younger, but I still have the will for a podium or two - as high up on the podium as possible, of course. Like Ole, I want to prove to everyone that age is just a number on the papers and has nothing to do with performance!

---

For the next half hour Johannes tries to get me out of my refuge before he makes his announced threat come true, namely to fetch our trainer and ask him to get me out of the bathroom. And so I give in to my destiny and sit on the bed while I wait for them.

Our coach immediately has the team doctor called as well. Together, the two of them decide on how to proceed. I do not interfere. I have to follow their decision anyway if I want to and can continue to take part in the races. I should not get on their bad side.

Surrendered, I follow our team doctor to a nearby hospital for a check-up. He couldn't examine me with enough care in the hotel and in the hospital, they have all the needed machines and tests available.

Due to the already very advanced time of day, it was empty and I can wait in a small treatment room without anyone seeing us, who is not part of the hospital staff. Blood and urine samples are already send to the lab and I have had a first check-up. With every minute I had to wait, I became more nervous.

It is an older doctor who familiarised me with the final results. The test had not lied and I am indeed pregnant. Apart from that, I am enjoying the best of health.
I already know that Johannes will tease me that he was right with his assumption. He will also use this leverage to secure his place as godfather.

---

The team doctor takes me back to the hotel. Before my brother is updated, however, there is someone higher up on my list of people to inform about the pregnancy. The coaches will be provided with an update by the team doctor. But I still have to deliver this important news to the most important person next to me. Namely Vetle.

Vetle is in the bathroom when I entered our room. It is already late and he still has a competition tomorrow. I already knew, before my brother surprised me with the test, that I had not been selected for the mixed relay.
Me entering the room makes Vetle stick his head out of the bathroom. I hadn't specifically told him where I’m going to, but I know it's spreads like wildfire when one of the team leaves the hotel with the team doctor by their side. If anyone sees this everyone is informed immediately. This makes me sure that Vetle could have at least guessed where I might have been.

"Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself in the race?" he asks me worriedly, pulling me to his chest. I come to rest with my head against his shoulder and breath in that unique smell of him. Due to these familiar factors that have always made me calm down until now, I succeed in it again. His body heat and the familiar smell of his aftershave, deodorant and just him gives me some new strength.

But not enough to get out a complete and intelligible sentence. Cautiously, I break away from his embrace a little to pull out, from my jacket pocket, the copy of the ultrasound picture taken earlier, that is meant for him. With trembling fingers, I hand it to him.

Will he accept us? Or will he turn away and leave me alone? Exhausted, I let myself fall back against his strong body. My strength is spent.

I have longed for a real relationship with him for a long time. Have I now ruined all chances with him? I am sure by now, that I will have my child. I’m healthy, the child is well developed, despite me training at a competitive level, and I was brought up with the consensus that everyone has a right to life. Whether unborn here, or already in the world. I decide to enjoy what could be the last few seconds of being close to Vetle and bury my face in his neck as he looks at the ultrasound image.

The seconds pass by and neither of us dares to move. I squint my eyes together. Surely he's about to push me away from him. I don't want to lose him. He is practically my partner, only our relationship is exclusively during training camps and competition weeks. But I wish I can actually call him my partner. I have to force myself to breathe because I am afraid I wouldn't otherwise, due to the tension in the air.

The long seconds of silence and motionlessness from both of us dissolve as strong arms wrap themselves around my body. The tension falls away from me a little by this gesture, which at least is not dismissive, and I let myself fall a little more against Vetle. He must have to bear almost all my weight by now. I can't stop a few tears either. These I blame on the state of my hormones.

Vetle's hands stroke my back soothingly. "Shh. There is no need to cry. The only thing maybe we should have done, before this discovery, is that we should have talked a long time ago. Come sit down, it's been a busy enough day for you," he says and gently helps me sit down on the end of our hotel bed.

He turns around and grabs a packet of tissues from the small table provided in the room and takes one of the tissues out to hand it to me.

I take one big breath until I am able to look at Vetle again and face the conversation that is now about to take place. It doesn't sound as if he is now going to leave me to deal with all of this alone, but I try not to allow myself any hopes of a happy ending at first.

Vetle settles down on the floor in front of me. Careful not to cross any threshold with me, he reaches for my hands. The handkerchief tumbles unheeded from my loosened grip to the floor.

"I love you, Tarjei Bø. And I have done so for some years now. I've only held back from showing it until now because I wanted to give you the choice of whether you wanted something solid with me. I have soaked up every minute spend with you, because I didn't want to force you to do anything. Next to the biathlon, you are the most important thing in my life," Vetle, quietly and sincerely, tells me about his feelings.

"Two idiots, one thought.", I snif and give him a wry smile, "I also didn't want to restrict you in any way. I love you too, Vetle Sjastad Christiansen."

A soft smile starts to settles on Vetle's face as well. He slides a little closer to me and carefully, and with deliberation, he cautiously approaches me. His eyes keep wandering between my eyes and lips.

A slight nod of approval from me gives him the final confirmation that it is okay for me before he gently places his lips on mine.

The kiss remaines careful and soulful and the butterflies in my stomach dance a tango filled with joy.
Carefully we release this breathtaking the kiss again, just to be able to breathe vital air.

"I have some years to catch up on, so get ready to be spoiled from top to bottom now," Vetle threatens me half-jokingly half-serious.

"I should hope so too, and I'll hold you to that even after you're born," I grin at him.

"I can't think of anything more beautiful." He's right about that, because I can't imagine anything better either. Now, after all, I have the man by my side that I always imagined and wished to be there. And what's more, I am probably expecting the sweetest reason for giving up a competitive sports career, that was going very well until this season opening, with this very man who is kneeling there in front of me right now and carefully stroking my tiny bump with wonder in his eyes and a smile on his face. Not that my face doesn't mirror his. We are already enamoured with our child.

Chapter Text

Benedikt's POV:

In the flickering light of a fireplace, I had made myself comfortable on a sofa in one of the common rooms.

Immersed in my current novel, I enjoy the silence in the room, which is empty apart from me.

Generally, we biathletes are always thought to be the party animals among winter sports athletes. The Norwegian team from the time when Emil Helge Svensson competed for them comes to mind first. I do join in the celebrations from time to time, but I don't need it all the time, especially if there was no good performance or celebration for a german or even me involved.

I rather liked it quiet after an exhausting day like this. Today's race, in the middle of the World Cup, had gone very well for me, but I had to be fit for the next race tomorrow and so I wanted to take some time for myself.

I notice how my eyelids kept falling shut and pull one of the cosy blankets provided by the hotel, which I had taken earlier for some extra warmth, a little higher. I let myself fall into a slightly more comfortable position, should I actually fall asleep here.

With clear effort to keep my eyes open, I still manage to finish the current chapter before the fatigue overcomes me.

---

Tarjei's POV:

Together with my brother, I leave tonight's party taking place in the dining room of the hotel. After all, he had little rest at home with his child and both of us are out of the age where we are partying until the last minute in the midst of our party raging colleagues.

On the way to our room, we pass by the common rooms. Most were already deserted for the night, but the glow of a fireplace still emanated from one of them.

Curious, I peek into the room and am immediately captivated by the sight. Benedikt had made himself comfortable on the large sofa and the book still open in his hands, but now lying on his stomach, revealed what he had been doing before he fell asleep. Now he lays there in a reasonably comfortable position, wrapped in a fluffy blanket. His hair is tousled sweetly, and he has a relaxed expression on his face, his lips twisted into a slight smile. I wonder what he is dreaming about.

He looks so cute lying there sleeping. The sounds coming from the dining hall don't seem to bother him. He seems so peaceful and thus captivates me.

Johannes nudges me lightly on the shoulder and brings me back to the here and now. I had fallen for the German a little while ago, which Johannes as my brother and closest confidant, knows of course.

"Well, come on. Grab him and take him to bed. The sofa doesn't seem to be that uncomfortable to lie on, but he'll still appreciate it, if he's in his bed most of the night," he urges me on.

"You think so?", I ask doubtfully. What if I wake him up and he doesn't appreciate being taken to his room by me at all?

"Yes.", my brother replies firmly.

With one last doubtful look in Johannes direction, I step towards the sofa Beni had chosen. Carefully, I firstly pull the book from his hands and place the bookmark, lying on the side table, between the open pages. Johannes is kind enough to take it from me so that I can concentrate on Beni again.

As gently and slowly as possible, I slide my arms under his body to lift him up. He grumbles a little, but I manage to lift him safely onto my arms. In his sleep, his head tips to my shoulder where he seems to have found a comfortable resting place and continues to sleep peacefully.

Under his bookmark I have found the key card to his hotel room, which is now also with Johannes, as I could hardly open a door in addition to carrying my precious cargo.

Johannes carefully opens the door to the hotel room. With the two-person rooms, you could never know if your roommate is already asleep, if you aren't in the room yourself. But fortunately for us, the lights of the bedside lamps are still on. I hear my brother greet someone before I can see who else lives in the room.

Erik Lesser looks at us, puzzled and curious. When he recognises his team- and roommate in my arms, there is some relief mixed into his look. He is already sitting on his bed in his sleeping clothes and leaves it to me to carefully place my cargo on his bed.

Johannes places the book and the room card on the nightstand between the two beds and pushs the blanket of Benedikt's bed a little to one side so that I can place him right there.

After my brother has stepped aside, I approach the empty bed and place the man wrapped in the cuddly blanket there. Very gently, I remove the thin blanket from him until I can finally cover him with his normal blanket. He doesn't really like the transfer, if his wrinkled nose was any indication.

Grumbling, the German soughts a more comfortable sleeping position. We say our quiet goodbyes to Erik and after one last look at Benedikt, I leave the room somewhat driven on by my brother.

I skilfully ignore my brother's knowing looks until I reach my room. This time around I share a room with Sturla and Johannes has been given my usual room partner, Vetle. I know my brother hasn't missed the fact that I would have loved to take the blond into my bed with me. But that is a sorrow for the next day.

My dreams that night are peppered with a certain man with fluffy-looking slightly tousled blond hair on cross-country skis. I got it really bad for him.

***

Benedikt's POV:

I woke up slightly irritated. I’m no longer lying on the sofa in the lounge, but in my hotel bed. Erik is sitting on the other bed, doing something on his mobile phone.

"Good morning," I’m greeted by him when he notices that I am now awake.

"Morning.", I mumble back sleepily.

"You really had an obliging service last night." He smirks at me.

"What?", I ask not knowing what he meant by that.

"I had been about to come and get, you so that you would at least sleep in your bed when the door opened and you, still wrapped in your blanket, were carried into the room by Tarjei Bø. He also carefully peeled you out of your cocoon and tucked you in. His brother almost had to push him out of the room, otherwise he would have stayed at the foot of your bed all night, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him."

"You're making that up!", I protest.

Erik and even Arnd, who is no longer with us as an athlete, know about my crush on the older Bø brother and they both have teased me about it a time or two.

"I haven't! Just you wait!" he says and disappears into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Still filled with disbelief, I look after him. Oh, what I would give for it to not be one of Erik's jokes and for him to actually care about me.

---

The hotel staff has prepared the dining room for the almost obligatory breakfast buffet for us athletes.
Our hotel even offers the smoothie bowls, which every influencer and a few influencers are currently promoting to their fans. But the bowls, which are somewhat adapted for competitive athletes, are really delicious and so the choice for the first part of my breakfast was quickly made. Erik looks much more critically at my food. He likes something heartier in the morning than I do. But to each his own.

To forestall Erik's doubts and a possible later hunger attack, in case the bowl wouldn't be enough for the whole morning, I queue up again at the buffet. I chose a grain roll. I struggle longer deciding on the toppings. Fortunately, the queue behind me is not very long.

"How about salmon and cheese for one of the bun halves each?" A voice suddenly comes from behind me.
I turn slightly to see who I have to thank for this - really good - idea.

Tarjei Bø grins mischievously at me.
"Thanks.", I murmur and quickly take some of the toppings he suggested. I don't want to keep him any longer.

---

Today's competition went well for me. In 12th place, I had run a good top 15 time with some distance to 13th. Even though I have not been selected for the single mixed relay tomorrow and I had shown a respectable performance today. But still I did not want to celebrate with the others today either.

But I do get far on my way out of the hotel to walk a few more metres through the snowy landscape lit up by the moon and the stars.

"No way! Today you're celebrating with us. I'll be badly offended otherwise, and you know: the race winner can't be contradicted about their victory celebration!", Tarjei says, playfully offended at seeing me in my outdoor clothing, stopping me from putting on my beanie. Without hesitation, he unwinds my scarf again and slips my still open jacket off my shoulders before pulling me with him into the dining room.

My winter clothes land, tossed unerringly, on one of the chairs pushed aside. Tarjei's grip on my hand is firm enough that he can pull me along and not lose me in the bustle of the other athletes, but not so firm that it would hurt.

In the middle of the dance floor, he stops and with momentum turns us so that we are now facing each other. He doesn’t let go of my one hand but ads to it as he reaches for my left hand with his other.

Slowly he begins to move in time with the music, pulling me along with him. I trust him not to let us make fools of ourselves. After the first few tentative movements I follow his movements much more smoothly.

"See, it's not so bad here, is it?"

"No, but I never said it was." I blush. Hopefully he doesn't see me as the total bore.

"I know. But my persuasion is a lot easier that way." he grins and winks at me. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have a chance to impress you with my dancing skills. And it would have been a pity if you possibly only found out at the dance class before our wedding, whether I can dance or not."

My mouth drops open at his directness. Wedding? Him and me? He actually likes me enough to at least remotely imagine a wedding between us?

"Oh, sweetie. We don't have to decide now, whether we are going to get married or enter a similar partnership. But I would love to take you on a date or two," he now clarifies. And a stone falls from my shoulders. I still can't believe that he wants to go on dates with me.

"I'd love to.", I whisper, relieved that I had convinced him of me by just being me.

---

Just two days later, we had our first real date. For this week, the competitions were over.

Tarjei had ordered me to the small pavilion in the garden of the hotel at 7 pm. Illuminated by fairy lights and candles, I was only presented with a beautiful sight of the pavilion in the snowy setting, with the picnic invitingly laid out and Tarjei waiting for me with a rose in his hand.

We didn't notice the two people in the distance in their respective team uniforms, German and Norwegian, who were high-fiving each other. Both our attention was on the person in front of us and on a possible future with this person.

Chapter Text

It was not easy to gather so many athletes from different sports, but after a year of planning, all the invited athletes are actually sitting together in a large conference room of a hotel in Oslo.

An organisation for sport and health among children and teenagers wants to get some of the 6- to 12-year-olds into sport as a meaningful hobby so that they don't lose themselves unattainably to PCs, game consoles and the little exercise that goes along with it. That's why they thought of sending some successful athletes from different sports to the schools. Special attention will be paid to the not so well-known or popular sports, but also to the athletes from the more typical Norwegian winter sports disciplines will try to reach the kids and inspire them to try them.

Those who wanted to, already choose a team partner in advance, as the athletes are supposed to split up into teams of 2 or 3. Erling and Sturla had decided to be a team in advance.

The two young athletes, who also only recently had their breakthroughs onto the big stage of their respective sports, have already been a couple for almost a year and so this decision was very easy for them. Their choice was immediately accepted. as they fulfilled the requirements that one of them is not a winter sports athlete and that they are not in one sport.

The still young couple is now sitting next to each other and listening to the final instructions of the organisers.
They already know that they have been assigned a primary school in Lillehammer, where Sturla also lives. They had prepared a schedule for the third graders they would be visiting with the help of the school and especially the class teacher of the class. Thanks to a checklist, they had already planned and prepared everything for tomorrow. For them, it was just another check in to see if they had forgotten anything and would have to reschedule or add something at short notice. But their plans do not indicate any need for reworking.

After the meeting, they go to the car so as not to arrive too late in Lillehammer. After all, their class teacher is expecting them at school at 7 a.m. sharp, and they don't want to show up too late or too tired.

They had already spent the previous two days together, so it wasn't too bad that they both had to go to bed as soon as they arrived.

---

The morning was a bit more hectic, but they manage to finish on time and get into the car. Especially Sturla was nervous and let Erling take the driver's seat without a fight. The tall blond didn't let his inner excitement show and steered the vehicle safely through the low early morning traffic.

"Relax. The kiddies will love and worship us as heroes. It's not like we were any different when we were their age," Erling tried to get his partner to not let his worries and mind games affect him and just enjoy the chance of such a relaxed day at work. And not only did they both not have to train today, but they got to spend a day with the kids for a good cause.

"You're right. It's just something that's not everyday. No one from my team has ever taken part in something like this before," Sturla explained to his friend.

The teacher was already waiting for them. She also seemed to be more excited than worried and this at the latest reassured Sturla. After all, she knows her charges.

After a short discussion with them, she went to greet her 'ladybirds' for the day and the two athletes waited for their cue to enter the room. Sturla, though now reassured by his friend and the teacher, kept shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Only Erling's arm, which he put over his shoulders, made him stop.

"Let's just have some fun together with the little ones," Erling whispered into his mop of hair where he had rested his cheek. He pressed another quick little kiss to Sturla's temple. Shortly after, the classroom door opened and they are glad that no one saw their little private moment.

Nineteen pairs of children's eyes gleaming with joy looked at them intently. One or the other whispered to each other and many had that look of admiration on their faces that both Erling and Sturla know from their own children's photos from the times when they belonged to this age group. when they themselves met one of their role models of their sport.

They start with a typical round of introductions. After that, the kids are allowed to ask them a few questions. While Sturla had not experienced the principle of children's PKs himself, Erling did very well. He had already had one or two himself and his colleagues, like Marco among others, have given him many anecdotes from theirs.

A trainee teacher had already prepared the sports hall for a small agility course and so the little ladybirds were able to let off steam at the various stations after a short introduction to the task.

The four of them assist the third graders. Erling and Sturla are responsible for the more football-like stations. With softballs, the kids try their hand at headers or as goalkeepers. After all, no one is supposed to get hurt.
At the end of this unit, there is a small tournament in which they compete against each other in teams of four.

Sturla watched as a spectator. The kids were still so clueless, so without much aggression, and find the games great fun. No scuffles or major fights broke out and the little ones stayed fair with each other all by themselves. The hustle and bustle in front of him was a sight for the gods. Even though there are only 8 participants in each game, Erling, in his role as referee, has his hands full with the nimble ladybirds around him. The giant seemed almost grotesque among the children and caught off guard by their cutting and agility. But he too was visibly pleased by the eager nature of the ladybirds. Everyone was just trying to do their best and have fun.

Sturla's smile remained clearly visible the whole time. Every now and then he had to laugh. At one point, one of the girls went for a shot, but instead of the ball bouncing against Erling's legs, it went perfectly between his legs during an unconscious step. She had simply tunneled him. Erling's look of disbelief tells her nothing, as she apparently didn't know what exactly she had just managed to do so impressively.

In Sturla's mind's eye, the image blurred somewhat. The hall gave way to a green meadow, the walls of the hall became the edge of a forest and instead of 8 children only two jumped around Erling. A girl with wispy brown hair kept out of her face by two braids and a boy with light blond hair jump around a slightly older Erling. He sees himself sitting on a picnic blanket, watching the three of them frolicking and with a toddler peacefully playing with building blocks next to him.

It wasn't until the final whistle that this daydream of a family idyll fizzled out and made way for the sports hall again and the next game.

Sturla had to blink a few times until he fully arrived back in reality. This daydream had been just too good to dismiss as a simple coincidence.

He had known for some time that his second goal in life, besides winning the overall World Cup, was also to start a family, high on his list.

Even though he had not talked about this topic with Erling in the short time they had been together so far, he knew that his giant would also like to have a family in a few years, in addition to his footballing goals.

He could well imagine a family together with the younger ones. Sturla really hoped that they would continue to harmonise as they currently did and that in a few years they would sit down together and make the important decisions: Marriage? Yes or no? Children? Yes or no? together. He had no intention of letting go of his partner just like that, he would always fight for Erling until he really had no more chance, should they break up.

---

The hours with the kids flew by. After a lunch break, they went to a nearby football club for a small session, which will offer a small support programme for the little ones after school on two different days over the next 6 weeks.

A little sadness gripped them both as they roll out of the schoolyard and wave to the children and their teacher one last time.

Sturla watches them in the mirror for as long as he can. Only then could he tear himself away from the sight of the children still waving.

He is already looking forward to his future, even if his daydream would probably only become a reality after his career. As long as he has Erling by his side, it will always be a future full of joy, happiness and, above all, love.

Chapter Text

Julian's POV:

'Man, this can't be that hard! After all, I already did it yesterday, only with Roman by my side!' I cursed inwardly at my incompetence. Yesterday, Roman had taken me under his wing and taught me the basic how-tos of skiing, but today, as an almost professional in the field of winter sports, he naturally wanted to explore and experience the mountains at a much faster pace.

But what could you do when this year's winter training camp was not in warm Spain but in Austria up high in the mountains. That's just what happened when the majority of my teammates wanted to spend part of the training camp with skiing. I had been only one of three dissenting voices. Now I had to survive four days high up in the mountains before going back down to one of the bigger valleys for the really important part of the training camp.

And I had to survive the whole thing, if possible, without getting any fractures or colds, in order to be able to continue to prove myself on the pitch. Well, cheers!

During my childhood, I had only been on a real winter holiday once. But instead of having downhill skis under my feet, like I do now, I had cross-country skis on when I was about 10 or 11 years old. Which is a big difference, as I now realise.

Maybe it was just childish recklessness back then, but in my memory, I had felt much more comfortable on the longer and at the same time thinner skis and, according to a video recording by my father, I had also moved around quite elegantly. I was far away from being elegant right now.

With a heavy sigh, I push myself forward with the poles and slowly continue my way down the slope. Again and again I stop at the edge of the slope to let a small group of my team colleagues pass me again and again. I had started this first descent of the day together with them.

Now, shortly before the end of the slope, they overtook me for the fifth time. Frustrated, I take off my skis when I finally finished my first and last run of the day. Not even ten horses would ever get me up the mountain again!

Fortunately, it is not compulsory to take part in this. But the small group of hikers had also left long ago and running after them would do nothing more than probably get me lost with my luck. Above all, we were not allowed to be alone anywhere when we were moving. But none of us were out on the cross-country trail, and apart from me, no one had said they were into cross-country skiing either.

I’m done with the tragedy I must have had to go through on the slope and am just about to take my skis to take them back to the bus and put on normal shoes again - who the hell had invented these spawns of hell called ski boots? He belongs in hell for all eternity! - when I was suddenly addressed in English.

"You look very unhappy and not at all like you enjoy skiing." Attentive green-blue eyes gaze at me kindly over the edge of a scarf that covers almost the entire face of the speaker.

"You're right. Unfortunately, I was in the minority both in choosing the place and in choosing the sport, and now I have to deal with that somehow," I lament to the stranger.

"What would you rather have done than skiing? I can't do anything about the place, but maybe about the second part of your problem," the stranger suggests to me.

"Pretty much everything. I've been cross-country skiing as a kid, would have liked to do it again, if it has to be winter sports, but none of the others wanted to join me on the trail and there have to be at least two of us in case something happens," I explain to him. "I'm Julian, by the way," I add. He really seems to want to do something about my discomfort, making it fair for him to know my name.

"Very pleased to meet you, Julian. I'm Emilien. Cross-country sounds fantastic. The two I'm here with, only make out with each other when we're on the track and it's boring to ski alone when you're just doing it for fun. Doing a few runs here is only a stopgap solution for me too.

Once again, I just couldn't take their messing around with eachother anymore. I thank you for your unexpected rescue."

I follow the other off the slope. The distinct Frenchman, with the accent and name there's no doubt about it, especially in conjunction with the little crest on his cap, seems nice and around my age.

I say goodbye to my teammates via a short message in the WhatsApp group, so they wouldn't miss me. Mats and Marco in particular get obnoxious if they don't know where everyone is on such outings.

We both went to swap our footwear briefly and I also threw my skis into the bus before going to his car. He had a roof box from which he took cross-country skis and his poles. When I arrived at his car, he rummages around in the boot.

"How tall are you?" he asks, pulling something a little closer to him.

"Six foot three," I answer him.

"Okay. Don't have anything fitting in there. You'll have to live with my spare clothes. You're too wrapped up at the moment and I have a lot of plans with you," Emilien said and presses a bundle of blue and black clothes into my hand. "After all, it's not every day you get the chance to show another athlete why your sport is underrated."

"You know... ", I stammer. I hadn't expected him to recognise me, as he hadn't shown it to me with his behaviour until just now.

Emilien seemed amused by me, "Dortmund is my favourite German football club. Besides, I spend almost half the year with dozens of athletes. And there's a limit to how much snow you can see every day when it's the norm for you to have snow for months."

"Now I'm embarrassed that I don't even know what you're doing," I mumble into my scarf, trying to hide the shade of red on my cheeks as well.

"Doesn't matter. Winter sports are not made for everyone. I'm a biathlete and compete for France in the World Cup. So cross-country skiing-wise, you're very well off with me as your teacher," the Frenchman reveales to me.

"Oh," was all I get out at his revelation. I can only make a fool of myself today. I definitely won't be able to keep up with him.

At the ski rental shop, I let Emilien take the lead. He manoeuvres the staff through the shop and takes care of my equipment. Together we quickly have everything needed.

---

The two of us, now dressed in two sets of Emilien's team clothing, enter the track. Little by little, Emilien teaches me everything again almost from scratch. But surprisingly, after a first refresher, it goes quite well and much better than on the downhill skis.

I actually have fun gliding over the snow next to my new acquaintances. We don't care that his teammate Antonin and his norwegian boyfriend Vetle, also a biathlete, overtake us quite a few times at an incredible speed. All that matters is what we were doing.

As soon as I have the approximate technique down again, my gaze occasionally wanders to Emilien. His movements are more powerful, smoother and clearly more practised than mine and I have to pull myself together not to stare at him all the time.

That I don't stumble and land on my nose is an art I don't know how I managed.

The time with Emilien flew by, so it feels like we have to call it a day far too early. We are both here for two more days and he has invited me to spend the time with him. I don't think the coaches will mind, especially if we join the hiking troop on at least one day.

I hurriedly put my skis and poles in the roof box of Emilien’s car for storage. He will take care of them at the hotel. I don't know anything about taking care of skis, so I'm a bit relieved that he offered to do it for me as well.

I had to hurry so as not to miss the bus. Otherwise, I would delay the evening routine for all my teammates after this exhausting day and I suspect that I would get one or two stupid comments and a not so friendly look from one or two of them. It had been no less strenuous for the others than for me.

Panting, I reach the bus exactly one minute before our deadline.

I apologise to my coach for almost being late. After he waved me off, I make my way to my seat next to Marco.

Our captain can't help himself and wraps his scarf around my neck as well. "You look half frozen. Don't want you to get sick.", he justifies his care.

"Thanks.", I murmur and slip off my gloves to put my slightly warmer hands on my cold cheeks. I could bet that even during the day yesterday it had been warmer than today. And now that night has fallen, the temperature has plummeted even more.

"Weren't you dressed a little thicker earlier?", Marco now asks me. Before I can even think about or check what I am wearing right now, Marco switches on the reading lights for our seats.

I have almost forgotten that I’m wearing Emilien's clothes, including the sponsors, a big 'France' on the sleeve and back and his name right above my hearts. It was all in a nice shade of blue, not royal blue - at least the French had good taste - but it is a far cry from my previous ski clothes, which are still in Emilien's boot.
Marco can't help grinning when he sees the 'E. Jacquelin' on my chest, "Oh, so there were more reasons to leave the slope than your starting difficulties?" he teases me a little.

I notice that my face, which had just been on its way to a healthy complexion, was turning red again. Marco knows I like men and has been trying to set me up for a good six months. He always says that he does it because one of his tasks as captain is to make us happy and at the same time, as my mate, he is even more involved in my private affairs, like relationships, to find the right partner for me.

"I know the name from somewhere. Also a sportsman, right?" he ponders. Marco never really consciously watchs winter sports, but he has definitely seen the odd summary of a day's sporting events after the evening news broadcasts.

"Yes. Emilien is an active biathlete," I reveal to him.

"I suppose you'll see each other again. Otherwise, you wouldn't still be wearing his clothes. Wouldn't you?" he continues to pester me.

"That's the plan. A mixture of cross-country skiing and hiking. For the latter, I'll try to persuade him to go with our troop. A complete solo run by me will definitely not be allowed by our coach."

"Good idea. Keep at it, kid. Your eyes have never sparkled so much after the blind dates I organised."

"I don't intend to. He's really responsive to me without patronising or coddling me," I gush a little about Emilien.

"I'm happy for you, little one.", Marco says, pulling me
into a sideways hug for a moment, despite my protests.

***

I also spent the next few days with 'my' Frenchman. We accompanied the hiking troop and the rest of the free time we spent in the cross-country skiing. Emilien also seemed interested in me. But now, just before the hot phase of both our seasons, we promised each other to see each other from time to time after the biathlon season to decide if this could become something permanent between us.

A bit sadly, I watch Emilien's car as he leaves for the next World Cup stage after a last short visit to me in our hotel. I myself turn around with a heavy heart to take my place in the team bus so we can continue on to the training camp in the valley.

Marco takes care of me and pulls me close to him to give me at least some comfort with his closeness. Every now and then I glance at my phone to see if a message from Emilien has come in. This will remain our only means of communication, apart from video calls until spring, but I'm sure we'll manage, and nothing will be able to keep us apart after that.

Chapter Text

Benedikt's POV:

Crestfallen, I take my bag out of the boot of the car in which I was driven home directly from the World Team Challenge. I left as early as I could this morning.

It had been a messed up day. Again. I couldn't seem to get into this season. My better results seemed to be almost exceptions and I don't know how I could have met the Olympic standard so far. Depending on the course, my running is sometimes better or worse and I can keep up with the first chasing group of World Cup contenders on favourable courses, but at the shooting range it looks different. Especially in the standing position I make many and decisive mistakes.

Right after the event I called Arnd. I miss my best friend very much. He had already hinted at the end of his career to me last year before he made it public. Nevertheless, the separation was difficult. Especially between him, his eternal roommate Erik and me, a close friendship had developed over the years.

I unlock the door and am surprised that I only need half a turn before the lock clicks and I can push the door open. Had I not locked the door properly? What if someone unknown has gained access?

I let my gaze wander searchingly through the wardrobe area, but even my keys are still hanging neatly in the small box above the shoe cupboard. There, however, I notice an extra pair of shoes. Older but well-maintained trainers stand neatly between mine. They are Arnd's trainers.

"Arnd? Are you here?", I call out questioningly as I get rid of my shoes and jacket. I put my bag carelessly to the side. It will have to wait if Arnd is actually here.

"Yes! And I brought you some fresh coffee right away," he answers me and steps through the open kitchen door into the hallway. In his hands he holds a cup of streaming coffee each, one of which he now hands over to me.

"Thank you.", I smile at him briefly before sipping the hot drink. It's perfect. Arnd had memorised exactly how I drink my coffee some time ago. People are right when they say that coffee is a real elixir of life and can revitalise you.

With his presence and a little attention in the form of coffee, Arnd has managed to turn my day around.
"How did you get in here? I didn't really forget to lock the door, did I?" I ask curiously.

"I asked your neighbour. She also knows me by sight and from an odd chat here and there. She was very obliging about it," he winks. Yes, Ulrike, my neighbour, is really nice, and she is also a good judge of character and wouldn't give my key to just anyone. I just nod briefly in affirmation because of that.

"Come on, knowing you, you only munched a little on a piece of bread this morning and didn't really eat anything. I've prepared a little buffet so you won't starve yourself," Arnd says and pulls me into the kitchen behind him.

My eyes get huge when I see the selection in front of me. Arnd seems to have gathered the content of both our fridges and kitchen cupboards, as my poor little kitchen table is almost bending under the weight of the food on it. Everything from various spreads to scrambled eggs and bacon, rolls and what appears to be freshly squeezed orange juice.

A little “wow” escapes me. I'm completely speechless at the sight I've just been presented with. It's almost as if I'm caught in a dream. "Erik snitched on me, didn't he?", I ask, slightly embarrassed. Not only had I not eaten much this morning, but I had already eaten yesterday for lunch and dinner.

"You bet he did," was Arnd's only response to that.
I let Arnd lead me to the table. As soon as he too sits down me, there is no stopping either of us. The offer in front of us is just too tempting. My previous bashfulness is also long forgotten.

It tastes damn good and we fill our bellies.
Afterwards, we clean up the small battlefield together. With good music from the kitchen radio, we make quick work of it. Even the washing up is fun. Arnd put a little too much washing-up liquid in the sink and now a small mountain of foam is piled up there.

Now, in a much better mood, I couldn't help taking some foam, when Arnd wasn't looking, and smearing it on his head. His indignant expression is worth its weight in gold. From then on we succumbed to the urge to decorate the other with more foam and a real fight broke out.

When, after a few minutes, we both have to gasp for air and agree to a truce, there is just enough foam left to finish the washing up.

When the kitchen is finally cleared of the rest of the food and some foam splashes, I have to give Arnd a change of clothes, as we are both completely soaked. We quickly put ourselves under the shower one after the other before lounging on the sofa to end the morning.

While we zap through the TV channels without really wanting to watch anything, I can't help but think once again what great friends I have at my side.

Chapter Text

Note: Hint of smut present

Tarjei's POV:

I leave the terminal of the airport in Oslo as the tail end of my team. Finally the season starts again and it's time to hit the slopes to compete for medals with the other biathletes from all over the world.

Every year it is something special, this first race. Until then, you don't know exactly what the competition is like and who is moving up the rankings, or striving to get there, and how you will do in direct comparison with the best. Within a team, you usually know it well, but otherwise it's really difficult to predict before the first competition what might happen this season.

My gaze falls on my brother. Johannes is still a bit ailing because he had a cold, but he is demed to be fit enough to start competing with the rest of us. Nevertheless, I am also a little worried about him. I will probably never be able to stop that. I am his big brother and in our childhood days it was my job to look after the younger ones. This urge is especially strong towards Johannes because we spend so much time together, through the same sport, and besides, he is the little slob of the family.

For most people, Johannes seems to be a role model, when in reality he is the one who is a real klutz when it comes to interpersonal matters. He closes himself off to feelings and doesn't allow them, instead concentrating on sport, which is not wrong in principle.

So far, that has always worked out well. He has never had a real relationship. Every now and then a girl would accompany him for a handful of months at most before they broke up again. Building and containing friendships is much easier for him.

Since last season, everything has changed. Johannes came out as bisexual to our family and me at Christmas. Something I would never have thought he would do. But there is a reason for that and that reason has a name: Sturla Holm Lægreid.

That he also loves men or that he has a crush on our teammate is not a big deal. But he himself doesn't want to see the second part, and Sturla, whom I often enough observe looking at my brother with desire in his eyes, is no better than Johannes. They don't manage to talk to each other about their feelings.

I myself am gay and have a boyfriend who also does biathlon at our level, but I seem to be more open about my feelings. And my boyfriend is German and therefore a competitor of ours as a nation. It's probably also simply because of Benni's cheerful nature that he's so attractive to me and I haven't been shy about talking to him about my feelings for him.

For my brother, the excuse that a homosexual couple wouldn't be well received doesn't apply either. Benni and I have been officially outed as a couple since last season, at least to the other biathletes.

Least of all can I understand why the two of them, spurred on by their close head-to-head race for the overall World Cup victory, ended up in bed together several times last winter. Often enough I had to listen in, unintentionally of course, in the next room as they chased each other through the sheets. Last night was no exception.

I think it's because of their strong personalities. They are both fighters and suspect that if they were to talk about feelings, they would give the other the upper hand and so they will also have to lose out down the line if they dare and get rejected.

I really have to think of a way to convince them to talk to each other about their, so obvious, feelings. And if they don't want to do it directly, I guess I will have to gently force them to be happy.

---

In the evening at the hotel, I meet Benni in a small room where we can sport and rest and also have some more private conversations.

My darling is already there and seems to be very engrossed in his current book. For some reason he sits there with a pencil, several pieces of paper and his mobile phone in his lap.

"Hey, how are you? Arrival gone well?", I ask him after lightly tapping a knuckle against the door to get his attention and not startle him. As I speak, I enter the room, close the door behind me and then turn my full attention to Benni, giving him a small kiss on his lips.
He blushes slightly and looks a little taken aback as he quickly puts the book and the rest of the stuff in his lap aside on a small table.

"Hi. I'm fine. Getting here is never nice, but I've had worse. How about you?" he finally replied.

I let myself fall onto the second armchair before answering, "Yes, that's more or less how it was for me too. Johannes and Sturla kept me awake half the night. Again. I'm slowly reaching my limits with these two. I hope I can come up with something this week so that we don't have to struggle with it the whole season," I sigh. Benni just nods in confirmation.

"What are you reading?", I ask curiously, hoping to start another topic with it. For today I don't want to waste any more thoughts on my brother or Sturla.

I reach for the book and slam it shut so that I can see the cover but Benni's reading spot is not lost. Surprised, I raise an eyebrow. It is my book. And it's only available in Norwegian.

"I wanted to develop my language skills. The 10 words won't be enough if I actually have to face your parents soon," Benni admits, his cheeks flushed.

"Oh, Kjære, you could have just asked me. I'll teach you everything important if you're really interested in the language. You don't have to learn Norwegian for my parents, they both love to be able to speak English from time to time," I assure him.

"I really want to learn it! It's just a part of you and being able to have at least a few simple conversations might be an advantage in the future," Benni looks at me enthusiastically, no longer embarrassed.

"Then I'll teach you a few words every now and then and simple sentences later," I promise him.

***

Over the weekend I kept giving my brother truthful nudges to get him to talk to Sturla. The stubborn one is unfortunately the world champion in being stubborn and will not manage to talk to his beloved without my stern looks.

I also tried to make Sturla understand with my looks that he could also take the initiative. But of course, he is no less stubborn than Johannes.

Chapter Text

Johannes POV:

I can certainly understand that my brother has had enough of me lurking around Sturla, like a puppy that had lost its mother and turns to the nearest trustworthy creature around.

It's almost sad how afraid I am of a head on confrontation with my feelings for the younger one.

It doesn't make it any easier for me either when Tarjei, as a well-meaning brother, interferes. It's really nice of him to worry about me to this day, but it's too much for me at the moment. At least I don't have him around all the time, because his boyfriend had got it into his head that he would like to learn some Norwegian and so Tarjei is often studying with Benni.

In the meantime we have arrived in Oberhof and have been travelling from one place to the next for almost two months. Today we have the pursuit and I don't feel the least bit prepared. In addition, I, by my own standards, was very bad in the sprint and now I have to start far back in the middle of the field. The sprint was one of the worst races I have run so far in my career and I should not repeat it today.

I blink tiredly and push the blanket, including Sturla's arm, off my upper body. We hadn't slept together last night, but every now and then we wake up cuddling when sharing a room. Although the alarm hasn't rung yet and it's still dark outside, I should get up already. Maybe I'll think of a good tactic for later under the hot jet of an extensive shower.

As soon as I sit up. I start to feel sick. Something I haven't been able to shake of for the last few weeks.

Something is incubating in my body. I had spoken to our team doctor and in an extensive examination, as far as diagnosis while travelling goes, he had not been able to find anything that could physically trigger the nausea. So far it has always been only feeling and I have not had to throw up. Stupid stress.

After a few seconds of rest and calm breathing, I carefully stand up, just to make sure that the proverbial pot wouldn't boil over and I would have to run to the toilet as quickly as possible. But everything where it was, as usual.

As quietly as possible, I grab my already laid out clothes and disappear into the bathroom. While I’m relaxing under the hot jet of the shower, the rest of the nausea finally disappears.

---

In the afternoon, after yet another messed-up race on my part, I sit in the back seat of the car with Sturla, who finished in fourth place right behind Tarjei, while we are driven back to the hotel. I close my eyes because I’m so tired and nearly half asleep, I almost didn't notice anything outside the car anymore.

Within a second, which seemed terribly long to me due to everything happening around me, a jolt went through the car. I tear open my eyes in shock as the jolt was directly on my side of the car. Screams could be heard. But I only felt a stabbing pain in my left leg and look dazedly at the dented door, my bloody arm and last the eyes of the driver of the other car widened in shock much too close to me than I would like before I lose consciousness.

***

A dull pain in my left leg is the first thing I feel when I wake up again. Mixed in with this is the steady beeping of a device in my vicinity.

I carefully move my non-painful leg and notice that there is something on my thigh that is taped off and I also feel a slight pain when I move it. My left hand also seems to be wrapped in something and I suspect an IV is stuck in there as well. With my right hand I can't do more than briefly press something I'm holding in my hand. However, this works without any problems or pain and also this movement feels quite normal.

Cautiously I open my eyes and to my luck it seems to be either early morning, late afternoon or even night, as a pleasant darkness prevails in the room, broken only by the dim light of a single lamp. I quickly realise that I am lying in a hospital bed. While trying out my limbs, I had somehow already suspected this.

Someone stirred beside me and I became aware that I was holding someone else's hand in my right. The relatively light, short hair that is so familiar to me is currently the only thing I can make out besides the hand in mine. My brother is sitting next to me in a decidedly uncomfortable-looking position and had laid his head on the bed next to my shoulder. He seemed to have fallen asleep in this position. I lightly squeezed his hand again to really wake him up. In fact, he stirred more clearly and blinks up at me shortly afterwards.

His relief at me being awake is clearly visible in his gaze and his shoulders, which he now slumped again a little.
"Hey, you're back.", he smiles at me and helps me take a few sips of water before I can answer.

"What happened?", I ask him in a slightly raspy voice. Apparently some time had passed since we were in the car.

"You guys were in a car accident. The other driver was speeding and didn't brake at the intersection when you wanted to cross it according to the right of way. The other car crashed right into your door. Luckily he was still able to brake a little, otherwise the impact would have been even more violent. You got the worst of it. With deep cuts on your leg, lighter ones on your left arm and a broken femur. The driver of your car has similar cuts to yours on his arm and Sturla has had nothing at all except a small shock. You've been here for over 24 hours now and the other two have been discharged already."

The broken bone isn't good, but at least it's not all the way through and hopefully I won't be out of action for too long. Injuries are always stupid, even if they are quite rare in biathlon, although it is a strenuous sport that is also very physically demanding.

Tarjei tries to cheer up as best he can until he has to leave two hours later at dinner time. A doctor had checked me out beforehand and was at least able to remove the heart monitor and the infusion. So at least I'm no longer wired up.

***

The night was long and not very restful, because my leg doesn't want to rest and I am constantly brought out of sleep by pain. But I had to wait with the painkiller until I would be examined first thing the next morning.

Later, examined and given a new dose of painkillers, I doze off a bit. It doesn't really make up for the loss of sleep last night, but it does me good.

When there is a knock at the door around 10 o'clock, I am surprised to see my visitor. I had possibly expected Tarjei or even Benni, but not necessarily Sturla.

My teammate and love interest stands in the doorway somewhat indecisively before I invite him into the room.

He seems even more troubled by the sight of me than Tarjei had been yesterday. He also sat down very timidly on the chair next to my bed, as if he expected that if he breaths in the wrong way, I would throw him out again.
Silent, but not surrounded by an uncomfortable silence, we sit like that. Me in bed leaning against the raised headboard and him in the chair. Outside the window in the foreground of the winter scenery, a flock of birds had gathered in some trees and we watch the activity.

Cautious fingers suddenly sought out my hand and I glance at both of ours, smiling slightly. Sturla grops blindly forward, his gaze still stubbornly directed outwards. I come a little closer to him and together we manage to interlock our fingers. We had never done anything like that before. We had never allowed ourselves such small affectionate gestures before. Seems like my big brother had been right.

As soon as our fingers are firmly intertwined, Sturla turns to me with a slightly nervous and hopeful look in his eyes.

Within my chest my heart seems to burst with happiness and I'm glad I'm no longer hooked up to the heart monitor, otherwise he could have seen it too and the nurses would have come into the room full worried about me.

Time seems to stop for both of us. We continue not to speak a word, but it seemed that the only way we could talk was through the now uninterrupted eye contact.

Gently, Sturla lifts our hands and presses a small kiss on my intact hand. A pleasant tingling sensation immediately emanates from the spot and spreads throughout my body.

Sometimes love needs no words. Still, we will have to talk when I am out of here.

Chapter Text

Note: Part 1 and 2 are complete in themselves, this part is an extra, for those who like Mpreg.

Johannes's POV:

After Sturla leaves, I am alone again in my hospital room.
I struggle to call my parents. Yesterday I had briefly rung them together with Tarjei. Naturally, my mother is almost sick with worry about me, and our call yesterday seemed to have helped her only to a limited extent in overcoming these worries.

After she had reassured herself at least 10 times that I was doing well under the circumstances, she relaxed again and told me about the news from our home and family. Normally I don't mind listening to her stories, but today I feel a strong wave of homesickness overcoming me. Probably because I'm lying here in a hospital, abroad and don't yet know exactly what my future will look like after the accident. I'm sure I'll be back on skis as soon as I can, but will I be able to return to the team so easily? Will I suffer permanent damage? All the tests are not quite finished as of the first examination date.

I let my mother's voice lull me a little for a moment. I didn't really listen to the stories anymore, but just let myself be taken in by the soothing voice. In the end, my father was also allowed to talk to me. He was much shorter, but I am touched that he also talked to me on the phone, which he doesn't really like to do.

Now somewhat reinvigorated, I managed to finish my lunch, which was brought to me shortly afterwards.

The following waiting time until I am taken to an examination is bridged by writing back and forth with Tarjei and Benni. Shortly before I was picked up, Sturla also sent me a message:

Sturla: I am now officially excused for the training camp and may join you. For me you are much more important at the moment.

I couldn't help but smile at his words. Shortly afterwards, a new message popped up:

Sturla: standing in front of the hospital with a rental car. May I come in to see you?

Johannes: come on up. But I'm about to be picked up for examinations.

Sturla comes walking towards me in long strides. The nurse behind me, pushing my wheelchair, didn't sound too thrilled about Sturla being there, as she greeted him, but she'll have to live with it.

Arriving outside the examination room, the nurse was already rudely trying to get Sturla to stay outside, but I intervened. Something told me to take him inside. Our still very tentative bond, which has connected us since earlier, seemed to want it that way.

The doctor was already in the examination room and greeted me first before turning to Sturla, who stood protectively behind me.

"Hello, Mr Bø. It's good to see that, compared to yesterday, you seem to be a bit healthier already. I just received all the results of the tests that I and my colleague did with you yesterday and this morning from the lab. And you must be Mr Bø's partner. Are you also the father of the child?" The doctor seemed relatively excited to be talking to me and also babbled straight away. He seemed to accept Sturla in the room without batting an eye. Only the last sentence confused me. Child? What child? I don't have one and neither does Sturla. Briefly I look up to the man standing behind me.
In his eyes I can read confusion as well. As if from the same mouth, we answer accordingly:

"What child?"

"Oh, you don't know yet?" The doctor now looks a little confused. "Then I am sorry. I assumed they knew because of my test results yesterday," he admitted.
He seemed to take another deep breath before continuing, "Mr Bø, you are pregnant. Already almost five months along, as I found out yesterday during the ultrasound when I checked you for, fortunately non-existent, internal injuries. You also told my colleagues this morning that you had been suffering from nausea for some time. I would attribute that to the pregnancy as well. Before I speak further and possibly reveal personal information to you, Mr Laegreid of Mr Bø, I must ask them if they are or can be the father of the child according to the information."

I look up at Sturla again, from my seated position. He had grabbed the back of my wheelchair at the doctor's revelation to stand a little more securely. I can completely understand. I too am a complete mess and if I wasn't sitting, I would have found myself on the floor for sure. My head is spinning. I can't even realise that I'm supposed to be pregnant. And so far along at that. At least I know that only Sturla can be the father. I had only been in bed with him for a year. So, I nod at him in confirmation. The expression in his eyes thereupon is so soft and triggers a wave of emotion in me. The look in his eyes tells me that he is by my side. His voice is suitably firm as he answers the doctor's question in the affirmative. He seems very relieved to be considered the only possible father.

After the doctor asks a few more questions specifically about my pregnancy, it's over to the couch where he first examines and re-bands my leg and hand before pulling the ultrasound machine to the couch and now directly introducing us to our baby. It's amazing what could be hidden under my abdominal muscles, which have hardly changed compared to a year ago.

It is incredible to be able to see our baby on the screen. It's almost a finished little person already. It's truly impressive how quickly you start to worry about a little person you didn't even know existed until a few minutes ago.

I could hardly tear my own gaze away from the screen, but still, I force myself to do it. My gaze slides to Sturla, sitting to my right, holding my hand in both of his. His gaze, still fixed firmly on the screen, speaks of the same wonder I myself feel. Apparently, he noticed my gaze, which after a few seconds of looking at him undisturbed, he turns to me. He didn't need to say anything, his gaze said it all. That admiration and caring in him said everything that I was cared about at that moment. And he gave me confidence for the long overdue conversation that was about to take place.

After the doctor had declared me and our child healthy, except for my obvious miracles and my broken leg - for which he can do nothing more than instruct me to keep it still as best I can - this time Sturla takes me straight back to my room. It's really sweet how worried he is about me and our child that he takes it upon himself to push me instead of asking one of the nurses.

We arrive safely at my room. As I no longer needed to be hooked up to any equipment, he now seemed to really want to take my wellbeing into his hands. Without hesitation, he placed the wheelchair, with me in it, next to my hospital bed and lifted me out of the chair into my bed. I couldn't help but burst into - very manly - giggles.
He is just too cute! After making sure I was lying comfortably and the blanket was covering my legs and lap, he put the wheelchair to one side and grabbed the chair for my visitors to sit by my side of the bed again.

"I think we should finally switch off our egos and talk things out for once, don't you?", I made a direct start while he was still settling down on the chair. His facial expression, which must have been practically petrified in anticipation of what was not going to be a pleasant conversation, visibly loosened up and he nodded gratefully at my start of the conversation. Encouraged by his reaction, I went straight on: "When you came up from IBU Cup and could directly show what you are made of, I was a bit intimidated. So far, no other talent from Norway has been so successful so quickly after me. You really fascinated me with your work. At some point this fascination became more. I don't remember exactly when it was, but it was definitely before the World Cup. Do I regret having ended up in bed with you after our relay victory and all the times after that? No. My only regret is that our first time together was under the influence of alcohol, and I couldn't muster the courage to push my ego aside and talk to you until now. I was, and still am, terrified of losing you, of you wanting nothing more to do with me."

During my confession, I clutched my right hand to his left, which we had given away when I first spoke to each other. My other hand clutched tightly into the blanket on my lap.

As I wait anxiously for his response, I dare not look directly at him. Instead, my gaze is fixed on my hand clutched tightly in the blanket. I am too afraid that he will either not return my feelings or get up and leave. I try to breathe calmly and prepare myself inwardly to have to let go of him right away and watch him leave me without us ever having been in a classic relationship like, for example, my brother and Benni Doll are. I don't even want to talk about our child together, in my belly. I would be left as a single father and that is the worst scenario I can imagine, after all, it is not only my own feelings that now hang on his decision. What am I going to say to my child later? 'Sorry, but your dad dumped me when I was hurt and soon after we found out about you, just because neither of us spoke up before?

"... look at me, Jojo. Come on, look at me. It's all right. I'm here and I'll stay here by your side, but you need to calm down. Come on, let's breathe together. Stress is not good for you and our little treasure,' Sturla's voice snaps me out of the depths of my thoughts.

Slowly I begin to imitate his breathing and notice how it releases me from my panic.

When I am calmer again Sturla begins to speak on, "I'm not leaving. I love you too. You were something like my role model when I came to the World Cup and when you turned your attention to me from time to time, this idolisation has turned into a real crush. I too just enjoyed what you gave me and didn't want to destroy it by addressing my feelings for you. I think we both closed our eyes to reality for self-protection, otherwise we wouldn't really be talking about it only now. But believe me, I wanted you before the baby. Now maybe just a little more."

Touched by his words, I blinked at him through a veil of tears. Carefully, he wiped the tears of joy from my cheeks where my laugh lines now appeared.

"I think we have some catching up to do before we become parents. It's going to be sporting," I joke.
"All in a row. First, we have to get you safely to Norway and to your family.", Sturla smiled lightly at me and leaned over to give me a kiss full of love and not filled with desire and lust as usual to disguise our actual feelings.

***

The very next day I am discharged. My wounds are stitched up and are already healing quite well. I don't need any more painkillers, but I am supposed to continue taking them if necessary. I had to promise to report to the local hospital in Norway for further treatment of my wounds and the broken bone, as well as a psychologist and a specialist for male pregnancies. Only after I agreed to these instructions did they let me go with Sturla by my side.

---

My parents and Tarjei are already waiting for me at home. My brother had to leave Germany earlier because he had not received permission to skip the training camp.

While my parents are happy that Sturla had brought me home, they are a little suspicious of him, what our sudden proximity means. Unlike Tarjei, who knows about our nights together and is only too curious to know if we used the time at the hospital productively to talk.

We waited for the evening until we could reveal the secret in Benni's presence via video chat why Sturla accompanied me home and will stay here for a few days.

When we are all gathered in the living room after my mother's delicious dinners, Tarjei can no longer contain himself.

"Does Sturla's presence mean that you finally talked instead of just ending up in bed?"

"TARJEI BØ! That's not acceptable language!" our mother scolded him directly before turning to me, "And you don't even have to grin like that at the reprimand for your brother. I raised you better than, excuse me Sturla, doing intimate things with someone outside of a relationship!"
"Yes, mum.", comes a simultaneous response from Tarjei and me.

"But to come back to your question, Tarjei, yes, we finally talked, even if a doctor held us a bit in the process."

"What do you mean?" comes from Benni, who used the evening to put his Norwegian, which my brother is teaching him, to the test.

"I'm pregnant. We're going to be parents. I'm also almost five months along and neither of us knew about the child until yesterday," I revealed.

Tarjei is the first to recover his words: "You better not make me a godfather! I've had enough of that from you in the last year!" he demanded.

"It's a good thing we've already established that," I smile at him conciliatory.

"Better be.", Tarjei returns still a little miffed, but nevertheless a slight smile creeps onto his face in consideration of the fact that I will soon make him an uncle.

My parents are beside themselves when they realise what I have just told them and my mother in particular is already making a preliminary list of things I would need, what we still have in the attic and what needs to be purchased for my little darling. Benni, in his hotel room in Ruhpolding, jumps around the room with joy and switches back to German with enthusiasm, mixed with a few English words.

I lean against Sturla's shoulder and proudly get a kiss pressed on my temple as we watch the chaos in front of us, grinning broadly. Our hands find each other and lay protectively on my belly, which will probably finally grow in girth over the next few weeks.

Chapter Text

Erik's POV:

I didn't realise how much Arnd meant to me until the end of last season. Only now that he is no longer active does it become clearer to me with every training camp or competition what he means to me.

Everything between us had always remained purely friendly. Until recently, I at least had a steady partner by my side and Arnd had also had someone he texted, phoned or skyped with every now and then. For the latter, he had always kicked me out of our shared hotel room. Not that I would have done it differently the other way round.

And yet we have more in common than with the others on the team. Somehow it's probably related to the fact that we've been roommates for years.

How big an impact Arnd's presence had on me became especially clear at night.

During the preparation, I had had a different teammate in my room at every training camp.

It was a new adjustment for everyone to this person. But it was also always reassuring to have another person around, even if the breathing rhythm is not the one I have known for years and which can always get me to rest and sleep on my own.

Still, it was better than now living in a single room here in Östersund and being exposed to the complete silence of the night.

But there is one thing in particular that I miss. The physical closeness that we had consciously and unconsciously built up to each other again and again. Everything remained purely friendly, but we had both sought this closeness only with each other and not with the other team members.

How often, when we had to share a large bed, we gestured to each other at night is almost impossible to count. One of us had always woken up with at least one of the other's arms threaded between our own. Especially on cooler nights, one of my legs liked to slip between mine or one of mine between his. Sometimes we just lay right next to each other. But especially in the last season, it also happened more and more often that one of us wrapped himself completely around the other and it undeniably became a real cuddling together.

But even away from the nights, we are undeniably the two most closely alienated of the whole team. Franzi and Simon excepted. During the last 'Corona season' we also had afternoons together, which I appreciated and enjoyed very much. Often enough we are confined to our room to keep the risk of infection low. And so we add movie nights, reading evenings and the like. I let Arnd take the lead. After all, I could tell from his lively chats that he was taken, at least at the beginning of the season, while I am single and he is, as far as I know, the straight one of the two of us, while I am bi myself.

And although I find Arnd attractive, of course. Who wouldn't? He's just the perfect package of good character and good looks - I haven't had the feeling of being in love with him until now. I've only ever thought of him as a teammate with whom I'm just a bit closer than with the rest of the guys on the team.

That I had fallen in love with him nevertheless. Quite unnoticed, he had crept into my heart. If I couldn't distract myself somehow, my thoughts were with him. And that was a lot of free time, at least during the first week here in Östersund, as I still had to cure a small cold. That's why I had a single room. The motto was: don't stab anyone.

I decided to skip Saturday after all. I didn't feel fit enough to take part in the singles. It was only on this day that I cancelled and left my starting place, already in the last starting group, unfilled. For the rest of the day, I had to gather enough strength for tomorrow's sprint to at least be able to take part in it.

The sprint the next day didn't go so well, but despite a slight sniffle I managed 44th place. It is a pity that there is no pursuit this weekend.

Although I am considered recovered after Sunday, I actually stay in my single room. Since the next competitions start on Thursday, it makes little sense to leave for a few days. After all, you can use the time to train on the track.

But on my Monday off, which I took two training days ago, there was a sudden knock on my hotel room door. Apart from a bit of easy skiing on the track in the morning, I only had one more appointment with the team physios and some self-analysis to do. But according to a glance at my alarm clock, the rest of the team will start in an hour at the earliest and I suspect that the other nations will be no different. Who could possibly want anything from me now?

I roll off my bed, where I'd just been lying and texting with my family for the last hour, and slowly sleep my way to the door. Whoever it is now, the someone can wait a few seconds longer if they are already knocking at this hour.

I open the door briskly and look directly into an open smile on a very familiar face. Arnd was standing in front of me.

Of course, I had heard that he would be the expert for ARD next weekend and that we might meet. But the fact that he is now standing in front of me is a surprise. I wouldn't have thought that he would miss me so much that he would just stand right in front of me completely unannounced. Okay, we had sent a few messages back and forth a few times, but that had been it for the last few months.

"Hi. I brought something. Do you have time and feel like it?", Arnd asked me, holding a DVD case in his hand, from a movie we hadn't watched last season, and I turn my attention back to him. I hope that with the less light shining on me from the corridor, he can't see how red I've become because of his presence and because I've just drifted off into my thoughts for a moment. His smile, however, remained the same friendly one he always wore, not a bit of impatience evident on his face and, as usual, prudent, he waited for my answer when it took me a few seconds longer to manage a nod and for him to open the door a little more and step aside.

I go purposefully to the small desk where I left my laptop after a small unit of self-analysis. Arnd hung up his jacket and put his shoes next to mine on the coat rack. The sight made me swallow dryly. It was a sight that seemed so familiar and yet so surreal at that moment.

A little tense and cautious, I sat down next to Arnd on the bed, where he had already made himself comfortable. I tried to keep a little distance from him. Arnd seemed to sense that I wasn't in the mood for small talk on the side and, as we had managed so well in recent years, I switched on the laptop and Arnd slid the DVD into the drive.

We left the laptop at the foot of the bed, elevated on a pillow, and made ourselves comfortable during the opening credits, leaning against the head of the bed.

I couldn't exactly follow the plot of the film. Arnd's presence and my own tension were the reason. It was only during the course of the film that I got used to Arnd next to me and sat down a little more relaxed and was also able to concentrate more on the plot.

Thus engrossed in the action, I was able to fade Arnd out well towards the end. This way I’’m startled by a casual touch on my hand from his, because he had been sitting so far away from me when I last looked in his direction that this movement of his to touch me could not have been a coincidence.

I tried not to let on how much this light touch was making me feel. Everything inside me was tingling, even after the touch had been a few seconds.

As no further touch immediately followed, I quickly relaxed again and continued to follow the film, which was just starting into the grand finale.

Feverishly, I blanked out everything except the action on the screen. It wasn't until the credits rolled and my adrenaline levels dropped that I noticed that, apart from the excitement, there was another reason for the renewed tingling and goosebumps. Arnd.

My former colleague had unnoticed put his left arm over my shoulders during the last minutes of the film. Thus he came impossibly close to me. Our sides are pressed tightly together. From the shoulders down to the feet our bodies are touching.

It is too much for me and I jerk away from him. To make it look less like an escape, I start fiddling with the laptop until it spits out the DVD again and I could put it safely in its case. But that's as far as I got.

No sooner had the hut closed with a soft click than two strong arms reached around me from behind. Of course I had felt Arnd's movements through the mattress, but I had assumed that he was standing up completely and not that he was approaching me like this. The fact that I'm kneeling here on all fours doesn't make it any better.

I couldn't think any more about my position, because Arnd skilfully pulls my arms out from under my body, only to turn me over while lowering my upper body so that I lie on my back. Good thing we are in the soft bed.

I didn't have time to straighten up again before he pushed himself over me on all fours. Using his left hand in the process to lock my own hands above my head on the mattress. His eyes captivate mine with a gaze that goes to the marrow. "What the hell was he doing?"

As if he understood my intended question, he begins to speak, "Do you have any idea how much you've driven me to despair over the past few years? Well, first you were taken, to a woman, but even after that you seemed deaf to my advances and your own body. You avoided me, answered my messages only sporadically and withdrew. Do you actually know how much it hurt when I realised that. But then Benni told me about your mood swings and your secretiveness. I just have to take the chance and visit you here. To be able to do this..."

No sooner had he spoken than his head lowered towards me and soft lips touched mine as light as a feather. It was heavenly and all the sentences I had been thinking up during his monologue fizzled out in my head, which is too busy with the kiss and Arnd.

I return the kiss just as intensely as he does. Spurred on by my response, he loosened his grip on my hands to place them against my cheek. I myself used my now freed hands to pull him closer to me.

"Are you going to keep rejecting me?", Arnd asked me with a trace of fear in his voice after we had to pull away from each other to breathe.

"Never again!" I said in a sure voice and pulled him down to me again with my hands on his neck. I pulled him down to me again with my hands on his neck. I will not voluntarily detach myself from him again.

Chapter Text

Erik's POV:

It was already late in the evening when I looked at my smartphone. Today's race had been exhausting and immediately afterwards came a seemingly endless meeting. A new message from an unknown number immediately caught my eye.

???: Thank you for the offer with the bike. I would like to accept it. Anton also forwarded me your number. - Eduard Latypov

I quickly save the number of the Russian who is currently in quarantine because of a positive test.

Erik: Gladly. It's nothing complicated 😌. I live around the corner. Anton?

Erik: Ah, you mean Babikov. It's okay that he forwarded it to you. I have no idea where he got it from, though 🤔.

Eduard: Exactly. Yes, sometimes you're quite amazed who all has his number 🤔

Erik: If it makes you feel any better, I didn't have yours before either. 😇

Eduard: Must be a coincidence. As well connected as we all usually are. 😂

Erik: I guess you're right. 😜

***

The next day at noon, my mobile phone flashed with a new message from Eduard. He had sent me a picture.
Eduard: 'Photo of him on the bike'.

Eduard: Arrived in one piece and works perfectly. 🎉💪🏻

Erik: That makes me happy! Especially because you're fit enough to use it too.

Eduard: Yes, that's the only positive thing about it. I'm alone and have to stay in this room, but at least I'm otherwise quite well 😷

Erik: Feel free to write to me if it makes you feel less lonely. 😇

Eduard: Thanks. I'll be in touch every now and then. 👍🏻

***

Over the next few days, Eduard and I wrote more and more to each other. The outwardly very self-contained organisation of the Russian federation seemed in parts to be just a façade to appear aloof. Eduard is practically on his own, except for the support of some team members, and also seems to be almost dying of boredom. These are probably the reasons why my bike goes down so well with him and he also seeks contact with me.

After a few days, the text messages were joined by phone calls and today we have arranged a video call. It will probably be a relief for him to see another face for a change.

"Hi." suddenly comes from the side where my laptop, already logged into the conversation, has been waiting for Eduard to log on.

"Hello, to you as well", I return, drawing my attention to him.

Eduard is apparently lying on his hotel bed. He had rested his head on his hands, which themselves are in turn resting on his pillow. His legs appear in the background from time to time because he has bent them so they don't hang off the bed.

He looks good, especially because his hair is all tousled and has obviously been wet recently. Stop! I should discard these thoughts as soon as possible! After all, he's my colleague and also a Russian, and homosexuals are not very popular with them.

Over the course of the conversation, we get to know each other better and better. He is a very pleasant person to talk to and also very open with his answers. I don't think any of his compatriots would have voluntarily talked to me like that. He certainly didn't give me the impression that he didn't like the conversation. And when he suggested doing it again at the end, he confirmed my assessment.

***

While I went on to Ruhpolding, he had to stay in the hotel in Oberhof. The next few days we didn't have another chance to make a video call, as I'm almost always too exhausted in the evening to talk on the phone for a long time.

While on the one hand I mourn not being able to see him for a while while we talk on the phone, another part of me is glad so that I can put Eduard out of my mind.
Eduard tends to take the first view, as he happily continues to send me pictures of himself and his progress. Even photos in sportswear or topless are not uncommon and I always have to force myself not to stare too long at his well-built torso or arms.

Through his updates, I'm practically live while the last needed and hopefully negative coronal test is done on him. I'm practically cheering along with him at the other end of our chat and have to stifle my cheers when I get a picture of his beaming smile and the negative test he's holding next to his head. Benni gave me a funny look anyway, having seen my smile. I guess I'll have to prepare myself for some histrionics, especially if he gets Arnd involved. They've been hoping for a long time that I'd find someone new.
***

I had already decided in advance to skip Antholz and to go home again to recharge my batteries. Now I have the additional advantage that Eduard is still in Oberhof with only a small group of staff, and I can see him.

At least this afternoon we will be able to see each other. The first time in person for a fortnight.

I know that he is still training here until his entry to Italy is in the clear, so I strap on my skis as soon as I can and start my rounds as well. I'm skiing today more for fun and exercise than for any real serious training. So I glide slowly but steadily over the snowy track and just let my legs carry me, the track is in my blood anyway.

"Erik?" suddenly comes from behind me in a strong Russian accent. I turn around and sure enough, a much faster Eduard, dressed in official gear, catching up to me. His grin is as radiant as the single rays of sunlight that occasionally make it through the cloud cover.

He hurries and quickly catches up with me. Still riding, he takes his poles in his right hand and as soon as he has reached me, his left arm is around me and I am pulled against him.

I become more aware of our size difference. According to the internet - my inner voice, which has missed him and wants to know more about him, had overruled that of reason and so I had googled him - it is a whole 18 centimetres that I am shorter. His head comes to rest on mine for a moment. At some point he murmurs softly, "I have to keep training now. In a few days I have to show your teammates in the mass start what I can do despite the infection.

"But only you think that! I bet at least one will finish ahead of you!", I return, defending the honour of my teammates.

"We'll see," he grins challengingly.

At the end of his training, we meet in the stadium to take a photo. Our respective followers want to know what has become of my good deed and how we are getting on. At the same time, it's Eduard's health message to his fans.

As soon as the photo is taken, he turns a little more towards me and whispers in my ear: "I'm taking you out tonight. I got a secret tip."

My heart almost stopped. Had I actually just heard that? Or had it just been my imagination?

He looked around briefly to see if his minders were still there or had already moved on. Seeing that no one was really in sight anymore, he leaned towards me properly.

"See you tonight, love." he said goodbye and for his millisecond he leans in a little further so that his lips lightly grazed the corner of my right mouth and cheek.

---

In the evening he whisked me away to a new restaurant, a little out of town, which I hadn't yet tried myself, and made it clear that this was a real date.

He brushes aside my concerns about the homosexuality thing in Russia. For him, I'm more important and that's all that matters.

***

When he came twenty-fifth on Saturday and Benni first, he had to admit defeat for the moment. But on Sunday he overtook Lukas in the relay on the last kilometre and secured Russia the second place behind Norway. We remain third, which nevertheless gave me a good feeling for the Olympics. We are ready!

As a belatedly agreed bet, I demand a massage from him to be redeemed later.

From a sporting and also private point of view, I am justifiably looking forward to the Games and to spending time together with my boys, but especially with Ed.

Chapter Text

Day 1:

Our team outing did not go well. Well, scratch that! It went CATASTROPHALLY!!!

We got caught in a snowstorm and only with luck did we find this hut. And of course, as badly as my personal luck seems to mean it, I'm now trapped here in this cramped space alone with Jacquelin. All the others are together in another. We don't have to worry about supplies. We don't have to worry about supplies. The hut is equipped to keep 10 people alive for a fortnight. Outside it is still storming and it is supposed to get even heavier.

***

Day 2:

The first night is over. We have been here for exactly 24 hours now, with no prospect of an improvement in the weather situation any time soon. Outside it is white-grey and only now and then can we glimpse the fir trees, which are actually relatively close to the house, through the veil. Jacquelin and I can avoid each other quite well. I briefly contacted the others in the other hut today. At least everything is OK with them as well. I was also able to radio the base station earlier and register us, so to speak. As soon as the weather permits, they will get us out of here.

***

Day 4:

No more important news. Jacquelin is starting to get on my nerves. We only have electricity for a limited three hours a day through a generator and that's probably not enough for him to occupy himself with his smartphone. Well, if you don't take the precaution of downloading enough e-books to read throughout the season while travelling or in bed at night, I think it's your own fault. I even had the presence of mind to take my tablet with me on the hike, including the charging cable, so I don't even have to read on the screen of my mobile phone, which is far too small for that. Sometimes it's good to pick up a few habits of the older generation who didn't have mobile phones when they were growing up. From tonight onwards, an additional cold front will settle over us. How long it will last and how cold it will get nobody can say exactly yet.

***

Day 5:

Last night was very unpleasant. We had to follow the safety regulations and therefore only stayed in the living area of the hut. Jacquelin has moved to his room in the evening in between, but even he had to realise that it has become very chilly outside the living room in the house, which is warmed by the fireplace. I cannot suffer his suffering expression for much longer. Even though it is he who makes this expression, it does not pass me by without a trace.

***

Day 9:

It's getting really boring. You can't cook anything interesting with the stored food, social media and TV are falling flat and even our playlists on Spotify are slowly being exhausted as far as new music is concerned. When all you have in the background is the dominant whistling of the wind and even the fireplace can't make up for it, the hours just drag on. Emilien is already wearing down. Yes, Emilien. He apologised for his statements. They were reckless and not adult, and he's right. After all, I don't brag about my successes either. So at least the subliminal mood here in the house has improved. Weather-wise, there is no relief yet, but at least the cold front should slowly disappear in a day or two.

***

Day 11:

It's afternoon by now and even though the blizzard is still indispensably raging outside, the cold is actually a bit more bearable. I think we can take down our sleeping camp here in the living room again tomorrow, but for now the two mattresses would remain side by side in front of the fireplace. Emilien, after I accepted his apology, buzzes around me more and no longer disappears into one of the bedrooms during the day. But this way it is also quite pleasant to have another person around. Every now and then we manage to have quite innocuous conversations and that makes me feel positive for the indefinite rest of the time we will have to spend here, and also for the rest of the season. It's best not to even think about the season and the races we've already missed, as we're stuck here.

***

Day 12:

The normal bedrooms are habitable again, at least the two we chose after we arrived. Somehow, I will miss not sleeping next to Emilien in the living room anymore. Especially last night we talked for a long time and this morning I had to realise that he probably becomes a koala in his sleep when he knows his bed partner, because when I opened my eyes this morning, he was clinging to me with his arms, one leg had been thrown over mine and his head was lying in the hollow between mine and my shoulder. Even if we don't love each other, it's nice to cuddle with someone again. It's been too long since my last relationship.

***

Day 15:

Since the cold front has left, it has become steadily better with the snowstorm. It is still too dangerous to go out and our rescue mission will have to wait a while. If we're lucky, it will clear up in the next 24 hours and they can come and get us tomorrow afternoon. Emilien and I found board games yesterday and spent the evening playing them. It was something different for a change. Day by day our relationship is getting better, and I would go so far as to call him a friend. In the future I won't complain when the coaches want to put us in a room for two again, so far, we had always swapped then.

***

Day 16:

Finally! We are back at the hotel! We arrived on time for dinner. The others also arrived a few minutes after us. First, we all went back to our rooms, which were fortunately kept free by the hotel. After more than two weeks with limited possibilities for a change of clothes - there was at least a small clothing store in each house - I am now looking forward to putting on fresh clothes from my suitcase after taking a hot shower, which I also missed, as we only had lukewarm water at most for showering. Tomorrow, we go directly to Antholz for training before the next World Cup. Probably Emilien and I will have less to do with each other, which is a pity, because now I have seen behind his pride, arrogance and self-confidence and got to know the person behind it better.

Chapter Text

Quentin's POV:

We all made it to Antholz on time and with only a small training gap. The altitude air is a bit oppressive at first, as it is very similar to the one we breathed during our time in the hut in the middle of the snowstorm.

It is a big hello when we enter the facility on Monday to make up for our lack of training. On Thursday, we men already have the singles and we have to be able to fully attack again, despite the long time where simply no training was possible for us.

Immediately after our rescue, Emilien started to hold on to Antonin again, whom he hadn't seen for more than two weeks. It sounds strange, considering the fact that until recently Emilien and I only lived next door to each other and were more or less just teammates and nothing else, but I do miss the younger one somehow. I guess I just got used to his presence during our time in the hut, and now it's just weird that he's not around me so much anymore.

I'm not complaining about having Simon back as my standard room partner, but in this respect, too, I notice how much I miss Emilien. Simon is tidy, almost fussy, and although I'm relatively good at tidying my own things, he often finds fault with them. Emilien is the complete opposite, he often just leaves his things where he last used them, and I had to clean up after him once or twice. On the other hand, he doesn't mind if something of mine isn't one hundred percent in its place.

***

In the meantime, it became Friday and we men only have training on the programme for today, as it is the women's turn with the singles.

Yesterday was definitely disappointing for me. Emilien still finished 10th, while I myself only finished 20th. Simon and Fabien did a little better with 6th and 8th place. Unfortunately, this concludes the scoring for this discipline and thus the winner of the small individual globe is already certain. Tarjei Bø took it.

I just came from the track when I saw Emilien standing with the coaches. They are heatedly discussing something and Emilien is wildly waving his arms in the air while probably explaining his view.

Emilien seemed to declare the conversation over just as I passed within a few metres of the group. Since he had already turned away from the trainers and was probably heading for the wax truck, Emilien is standing so close to the entrance to the track that I can clearly see his eyes and the expression in them.

"Jacquelin, with that we'll also take you off the list for the relay and let Eric run. You'd better use the time and do your best at the Olympics, otherwise we'll have to think of something for you for the rest of the World Cup. We can't go on like this!"

"Yeah yeah," Emilien just turns around and I can clearly see him rolling his eyes.

'What has just happened?'

In the evening I find out from Simon, the biggest gossip in our team, what exactly was going on between our coaches and Emilien earlier. Emilien had forbidden our coaches to use him in the mass start because he wasn't 'in the right mood'.

I can only shake my head at his childish behaviour. Emilien could really do with a bit more responsibility on some days. He gives up too quickly for my taste. For him, everything has to fit exactly so that he can get everything out of himself in the competition. Sometimes, during such a phase, I wish I had Martin back. He used to reprimand the younger one.

***

The next afternoon, after the mass start, I had time and the opportunity to talk to Emilien.

At the mass start itself, I made too many mistakes and therefore only finished eighth. Not very good, but at least I could keep my lead in the World Cup and secure something.

Emilien had been given a comprehensive training programme by our coaches for this day, so that he wouldn't be able to lunge and make the most of the day if he wasn't taking part in the race.

The younger boy comes towards me in the corridor outside our rooms, mumbling petulantly to himself. I had hoped that his bad attitude had improved at least a little during our time in the hut, but that was obviously not the case. His mood seemed even worse today than yesterday, and that was saying something.

"Emilien?", I address him.

Piercing blue eyes tax me with a callous look. But behind the wall of ice I can see something that gives me hope and that spurs me on once more that it is right to speak to him.

"What, you want to tell me now that my behaviour is childish and that I should finally change it? If you want to give me a telling off, feel free to get in line. There's a long line of people who want to do that, though," he snapped at me.

"No. I don't want to lecture you. I just wanted to ask you if you'd like to play that one card game we used to play in the hut. I bought it last few days and Simon dismissed it as not for him after a practice round," I invite him. In fact, I only got the game through a supervisor last night and Simon doesn't know anything about the game at all. I just had the feeling yesterday that it might be quite good to distract Emilien a bit and refocus him.

"Okay.", he returns somewhat wilfully. "But don't you dare squeeze me in the process, I'll be out of your hair so fast you won't believe it!" he demands.
"Deal!", I accept his demand.

I let him take his stuff to his and Antonin's room before we meet in Simon's and mine.

Things quickly heat up in the game. Emilien is a worthy opponent and won't let me win so easily. As promised, I don't squeeze him, we just talk about the game we are engrossed in.

Emilien wins the first round and I demand a rematch. Through his small victory, true ambition now seemed to have taken hold of him and he put all his concentration on our game. He stuck his tongue out slightly in concentration when it was his turn. His whole attitude is not so tense now and I read from it that my idea with the game had been the right one.

As in the hut, I notice once again how attractive he is when he relaxes and takes off his facade. He sits there relaxed. Legs bent, with one resting on the bed and the other propped up, and he rests his arm on it with the hand in which he holds his cards. With his free hand, he keeps running it through his hair when he's not playing a card, fixating on my turn. Due to his almost constant thinking about how to beat me, his previously unstyled but stylishly tousled hair, is now completely messed up. He truly looks, as they say, scrumptious.

I probably let myself get too distracted by his looks and actions, as he also wins the second round.

"You've got to be kidding me! Come on, one more round!", I urge him. My gaze is fixed doggedly on the cards that have sealed my second defeat.

"And you think this will go better than the last two rounds?" jokes Emilien, and his eyes, so cold with emotion before, are lively again and there is no trace of his put-upon façade left in them.

"All good things come in threes."

The next round is closer, but Emilien wins this one too. I could have flattened him with my next move, but by then he had no cards left in his hand and is done.

Depressed, I let myself fall backwards. My head now rests on my pillow and I could stretch out again after more than an hour in a similar huddled position to the one Emilien had adopted during the game. My legs in particular thanked me, having already carried me through a match today.

"Has the lad ripped you off again, old man?", Emilien teases me as he tidies up the game. "Have no fear, he who is unlucky at play is lucky in love," he echoes the famous proverb.

"Since love doesn't work out that way for me either, I'm not very optimistic about it. But thank you for being concerned about my love life."

"Really? And what about one of the two girls who come to visit you, every so often, at competitions, besides your family?" he asks, turning to me.

"That's my best friend since primary school and her, now, fiancée. There was never anything going on and never will," I explain to him.

Before he can say anything in response, his mouth already open, there is a knock at the door. When I say 'yes', our coach sticks his head into the room. His astonishment at seeing both of us in the same room is clearly written on his face. But he quickly regains his composure and informs us that dinner is coming up in a few minutes, followed by a meeting with those who took part in the mass start today.

"Come on," Emilien urged me, who, unlike me, had risen more quickly and was now holding out a hand to pull me to my feet as well. Inwardly, I could hear my body complaining about me leaving the damn cosy bed. Good thing I'm not scheduled for the relay tomorrow.

The momentum I have because of Emilien's pull up brings me to a stop right in front of him. Our gazes seem to bore into each other's eyes. In his eyes I clearly read his feelings. He seemed to be struggling with them on the inside. Desire and a damn soft undertone manage to flash through his rebuilt façade for only very brief moments. We still hold each other's hands and neither is willing to let go for now.

I take this slight glimmer of his true feelings as a silent plea and place my hands on his cheeks. It felt so ... empty inside me as I let go of his hand. But the feelings that come over me as I frame his face with my hands are so much more intense and better.

Demandingly, I pull his head down towards me. After one last searching look into his eyes, I close the last few millimetres between our lips. His lips are velvety soft and his movements are restrained and inexperienced. That Emilien, of all people, who is usually so self-confident, is so reserved when it comes to kissing is so different from his usual manner, and yet it suits him.

Breathing heavily, we released ourselves from the kiss after what felt like an eternity, and so we stand facing each other, looking firmly into each other's eyes again, leaning against each other forehead to forehead as we fight for breath.

Another knock finally makes us pull apart and breaks our eye contact. We both find our shoes and hurry out of the room, not wanting to have to address this spontaneous moment between us just then.

---

After the meeting, which immediately follows dinner, Emilien waits for me outside the conference room where the meeting took place.

As I'm the first to get up, I'm the only one who notices Emilien's uncharacteristic pacing back and forth. I quickly pull him behind me. Simon had plans with a few others and so our room would once again be perfect for some privacy.

As soon as the door closes behind us, Emilien falls into my arms. He begins to whisper softly into my shoulder: "I'm sorry that I sometimes turn into a toddler and annoy you and the others with it all the time. The time with you up in the hut was very good for self-reflection and your presence has made me a little calmer. You were so patient and loving with me today without being demanding. And that's exactly what I needed."

"It's okay, like that. We complement each other, in that respect, perfectly, I guess. You, the whimsical little mess, and me, the guiding saviour." A soft laugh comes from my shoulder. Apparently Emilien also finds my role assignment suitable. I lift the taller but narrower-built one up and sit him on the bed. We use the time until a tired Simon finally comes in to sleep to talk about everything in great detail. It's especially important for me to tell Emilien that he can always come to me when his moods seem to get the better of him again. Where this delicate bond will take us over the next few weeks is still unclear, but I am sure that I would hate to be without Emilien by my side in the future. He makes my world a little more colourful and interesting in his chaotic way.

Chapter Text

Note: neither of them have children, but they were previously involved with their current partners.

Since the actual coaches and support staff of the Germans are foregoing Antholz in order to prepare for the Olympic Games, some coaches from the youth departments have moved up, since the athletes who do not want to forego Antholz still want to be trained and supported.

Thus, Andreas Birnbacher has also travelled this time. He had already been involved in Ruhpolding, albeit somewhat in the background, in order to discuss the current situation in the run-up to his deployment.

But now he is fully involved as a shooting coach. The majority of his former competitors and teammates are no longer active, but those who still know him always greet him in a friendly manner and one or two even stop by for a quick chat.

Johannes, Tarjei and part of the Norwegian men's team, who have travelled here with a large cast after their training camp, are in the middle of a conversation with their former teammate Ole Einar Bjørndalen when Andi walks past them with the rest of the German coaches who are on site.

Johannes nudges his brother Tarjei as he noticed Ole's gaze lingering on his former competitor, seemingly absorbing his presence, plus he stopped a little longer after one sentence before continuing with the next than he normally would.

When Ole had said goodbye to them, because he still had to go to his athletes, as the perfect picture-book biathlon coach that he now lets hang out with the Chinese, Johannes then leaned towards his brother: "Do you have a plan, what was going on there just now?"

Tarjei, who is a bit more into biathlon gossip, of course knows the answer to his younger brother's question, or at least part of the answer: "I think I heard somewhere that Ole and Daria have split up and are only training the Chinese together. I don't know anything more. I don't have much to do with Birnbacher. I can only guess."

"But do you think something might be going on. Or has been going on?" asked Johannes.

"Could well be. It's up to them whether they like each other or not. We can observe a bit what they're up to. Don't look at me like that, I know you well enough that I know you'll do it until you have a satisfactory answer," Tarjei lectured his brother.

"As if you don't do it that way yourself," the latter returned, disgruntled.

"I never ruled that out.", Tarjei returns with a wink, before answering the call of one of the ski technicians and walking to the wax truck.

***

Although the two brothers spend a lot of time watching Ole and Andi, they both manage to achieve respectable results in the individual on Thursday and in the mass start on Saturday. Tarjei finished second in the individual and can thus take home the small crystal globe in the discipline. Johannes also managed a second place, only in the mass start.

After the mass start Tarjei joins Johannes and Benni Doll, who are engrossed in a conversation. Benni's surprising victory in the race seemed to be the main topic of conversation between the two.

"Hi, Benni. Congratulations on your victory.", Tarjei greets the German.

Benni accepts the congratulations thankfully, with a slight blush visibly settling on his cheeks, visible even with the mask on his face. The three of them stay standing together a little longer. The award ceremony has already taken place and they have also all finished running out.

"Did you also have an exchange with Birnbacher? He's not at the track that often," Tarjei Benni asked a bit abruptly as he pushed the German to the rest of the German coaches.

"Yes, he does. I still have contact with him from time to time. Especially since his separation a few months ago, we have written more. He wanted to distract himself from the break-up by working, that's why he's here this weekend," Benni admits, with only slight hesitation.

"Why do you ask?" he inquired about the motive behind Tarjei's question.

Tarjei was about to answer when, because of an inspiration, he looked up and spotted Ole standing a little away from them, looking in the direction of Andi. Glancing towards the German, Tarjei noticed that there was also only Andi, who was busy with his smartphone, and Daria in the background.

"Look, as inconspicuously as possible, over there to Ole and tell me if he could be watching Birnbacher right now. Especially considering the fact that he and Daria probably broke up a few months ago too," Tarjei drew Benni's attention to the two ex-biathletes.

"And you mean...?" asked Benni in wonder at this assumption.

"It was worse a few days ago. He stopped in the middle of a narrative when he saw Andi," Johannes reported, "Moreover, the two of them were at an IBU coaches' training together shortly after Ole's presumed break-up. That would also roughly fit into the timeframe."

"You're right, there could be something to it. Andi's breakup was like two months before the advanced training and afterwards he was in a much better mood. I've blamed it on work so far, but of course Ole could also be the reason for his better mood. After all, they say that time and love can heal wounds."

"I think that somehow reads differently," Johannes smiles at Benni.

"It doesn't matter. It just fit so well. Well, I have to go. We're leaving in five minutes. We'll keep in touch, won't we? I'll let you know if I hear anything from Andi," Benni said goodbye to the two brothers for the day.

***

Until the next morning, shortly before the start of the warm-up before the men's relay, the three curious biathletes had heard nothing more about the possible couple, except that Benni was able to find out that Andi was indeed taken again.

"Hi, you two.", Benni greeted the two Bøs when the two find him in the throng of athletes and coaches. He himself is only at the track as a motivator today.

"Good morning. Have you thought about the best way to proceed without forcing them to do anything, harassing them or making them do anything they don't want to do, just because we had some pipe dreams after all?", Johannes asked Benni curiously.

"I think we should just observe. If there's something going on, I think they can do it without us. If not, it's better to leave them alone anyway." Benni was still thinking long into the night about Tarjei and Johannes' guess and the connection between Andi and his new happiness, the training camp and Ole.

---

When the three meet again after the relay, which ends with a good third place for Germany, while the two Norwegian brothers bagged a convincing victory together with Sturla and Vetle, they just wanted to say goodbye to each other, as the Norwegians are leaving soon and they won't see each other again so soon. The three get on very well and spend a few minutes longer at the track, engrossed in their conversation, than the majority of the team members of all the teams.

Only when they really want to say goodbye to each other until they will see each other again in a fortnight at the Olympics do they notice two people who are also standing together, somewhat apart.

In the shelter of a small hut, the three can make out two men in team clothing. One of them is wearing the German coach's clothes and leans against the wall, while the man in the Chinese clothes leans towards him, but not without waiting for an okay first, and gives him a kiss. The German then runs his bare fingers through the other's hair.

"Oh God, they are so cute!" comes Johannes. Benni could only nod in affirmation at the Norwegian's statement.
"Then I guess there's really no need to ask. We'd better leave them alone, not that we'll scare them off with our watching. Besides, I don't think it's a little caries-inducing right now," Tarjei asked his brother and Benni to follow him to a car belonging to the Norwegian team and offered Benni the possibility of driving back to the hotel with them, which he gratefully accepted.

Chapter Text

Explanation: 90% of people over 14 have a symbol with a personal meaning somewhere on their body that matches that of their soul partner. Everyone has 3 chances to show it to a possible soul mate, which is also documented by numbers near the symbol. Family members are not counted and neither are people who are known not to be. The latter does not happen often. Those who have missed their three chances lose their symbol and thus also their possible soul mate. Soul partners are always pairs of lovers who fit each other perfectly. Love without a soul partnership is rare and not as fulfilling.

Antonin's view:

A little more than half of the season is already over and I feel almost dead emotionally. Not because it's only sporting that's so exhausting, but because I always have to pull myself together when I'm around HIM.

I have been in love with Vetle for a long time. With his tall stature, he is the complete opposite of me, even though our careers are so similar to each other. We are both the substitutes who occasionally perform surprisingly well in the World Cup for our respective nations. Well, Vetle has done a lot more relay races than I have, but he has also had an athletic career with ups and downs until he found his feet here in the World Cup.

My gaze is on the snow-covered forest outside the window. We have just arrived in Antholz and have settled into our rooms for the few days. Emilien, my roommate for the week and my best friend in the team, is messing around in the bathroom, where he is trying to fit his large selection of different care products into a small cabinet.
As is often the case, I wish Emilien were my soul mate, but unfortunately, he is not. Even though he hasn't found his either, we compared our symbols some time ago, knowing that they won't match and that we are practically, like brothers to each other. I feel so empty and unfulfilled with the possibility of having a partner practically right under my nose and yet being so far away from my greatest wish - to find my soul mate - yet to be fulfilled for me.

"Don't worry your head about thinking about him! He's not worth it," Emilien suddenly addresses me. I hadn't even noticed that I'd stopped his goofing off in the bathroom and he'd left it shortly afterwards, until he now addresses me.

"I can't help it. I'm just really in love. Get dry mouth, flabby knees and butterflies in my stomach in his presence, can't help thinking about him every spare minute and so on," I sighed.

"I know. I also know it's especially hard for you to hold back, but it's better this way," Emilien whispers gently, putting his arm around my shoulders as he settles down beside me on the edge of the bed.

Gently, he places his left hand on my left forearm to free it from the shirt over it and turn it to reveal my symbol. His movements are gentle and deliberate.

The little picture consisting of a comic book style drawn mountain and some small gossamer snowflakes is so appropriate to my life and at the same time can have meaning to so many different people. It is so delicate and beautiful that I can look at it for hours.

The only thing that ruins this little idyllic picture is the little '1' next to it. One chance out of three is all I have left before I have the chance to find my perfect match.
With the first chance, one is often very careless. The one 'miss' still acceptable. At my school, it had been a popular game among the 14 to 16 year olds to get their classmates to lose their first chance right away. I fell for it too and so my first chance was gone before I had even been properly in love for the first time.

With the second chance, one is more thoughtful about revealing the symbol. So was I. I had two relationships, one with a boy and one with a girl, without showing each other our symbols. When I was 22 and after four years of what I considered a happy relationship, my girlfriend at the time, Marie, and I showed each other our symbols in the firm belief that they were identical. They weren't. In fact, they were the complete opposite of each other. Marie couldn't handle it and ended our relationship right there and then. I have never seen her since.

The last chance is the sacred chance. You become more careful once again about who knows about the symbol and who you show it to. It is truly the last chance before you are labelled a loser or a slut for wasting it. I guard my symbol like the apple of my eye after the disappointment with Marie. Only Emilien had I shown it because I could be sure that we felt nothing romantic for each other. Apart from him, no one has joined my list of privy people since Marie.

For years I didn't really care, and I managed to avoid falling in love in a big way. But then Vetle came into my life and turned everything on its head. I'm glad that I have such a good friend in Emilien, who looks out for me and thus also protects me from myself.

I had to swallow dryly before I could answer him. I truly have a frog in my throat.

"Thank you for being such a good friend to me. I wouldn't know what to do without you sometimes. But I can't just give up on love either. And my heart has chosen Vetle."

"I hope Christiansen will appreciate it later, if he should somehow find out how you feel about him and what he actually means to you. But I hope, no matter what you do, that you don't turn off your head in the process and never forget yourself and your goals," whispers Emilien, somewhat depressed. He himself is also unhappily in love, with our compatriot Quentin, and he currently has a girlfriend and, by his own admission, doesn't care for the principle of soul mates either.

"You will also find your great love. I'm sure of it," I assure him. He too had already lost a chance to a friend with whom he had also been together for a good two years at the time. They also broke up shortly afterwards because of a lack of compatibility.

"I hope you're right about that," he sighed and together we look outside as we fall into a comfortable silence.

---

I couldn't sleep. It is now 23:48 and I just can't get any peace in my thoughts. My heart is literally screaming for love, from Vetle of course, and my head was doing the same. Normally it is said that heart and head are never of the same opinion, and one should always decide for one of the opinions depending on the situation and the person, but with me it is just different in relation to Vetle. Besides my heart, which is practically screaming for Vetle, my head tells me all the advantages of a relationship with Vetle and of course Vetle himself.

Emilien had already turned away from me and to the other side of the bed with a low, dissatisfied growl, although he is fast asleep, apparently I toss and turn too much for his liking.

Carefully I get up and in the light of the moon in the clear sky, which shines into the room because of the open curtains, I get dressed. At the door I also take my jacket off my heels, then I leave the room as quietly as possible.
I just let my feet and my subconscious guide me.

Somewhere I'll find a corner I like and where, if I'm lucky, I'll find the peace and quiet I need to get at least a few hours of sleep right away.

In a small area outside the back door of the hotel, I pass a coffee machine. Almost mechanically, I reach into my jacket pockets and actually find enough coins to pull one out for myself and a hat so that my ears don't freeze off outside in the current temperatures.

With the hot brew in my hand - what can you expect from the cheap coffee from the vending machine? - and my cap on my head, I step out into the freezing cold.

As I had hoped, a certain clarity immediately spreads through my mind after I have taken my first breath of fresh night air. My thoughts seemed to sort themselves out and for the moment I have no direct thoughts of my situation other than that he is particularly beautiful out here at night.

I hold on to this simple thought and only allow new thoughts that have nothing to do with love, my symbol, my last remaining chance or the like. Every now and then I sip the hot drink in my hand and let my eyes wander over the landscape in front of me, focusing only on it.
"Antonin? Is that you?"

That voice. That unmistakable voice. The voice that belongs to Vetle was almost too loud in the stillness of the night and it snaps me out of my concentration.

I turn around. The giant is striding with long strides across the snow-covered summer street of the hotel we are both on, apparently my turning around had been enough for him to recognise me. He too is dressed in somewhat dishevelled clothes, as if he too had snuck out of a hotel room shared with a teammate due to insomnia.
"What are you doing out here so late?" he asked me and I could hear his concern resonating in his voice.

"Probably the same thing you are. I can't sleep and I didn't want to disturb Emilien, with whom I share the room, any longer with my tossing and turning." An approving hum on his part is all the confirmation my statement needed.

"Does the coffee taste good?" he asked after a few minutes of relaxed silence where we just stood side by side looking at the scenery. I held out the cup to him. I didn't want to destroy this tender silence between us any further.

Large, warm fingers lightly touched mine as Vetle carefully took the plastic cup from me. The small jolts of electricity that run through my body with the touch could bring the dead back to life.

Out of the corner of my eye I watch as Vetle lifts the cup to his lips and takes a quick sniff of the black liquid just before drinking. Although I know that already the smell of the coffee is not particularly appealing, Vetle takes a sip. With a clearly disgusted expression on his face, he gulped down the sip and placed the cup on the boundary wall in front of us.

"Why did you buy that slop? Calling that a coffee is an insult to all the good kinds of coffee!" he asked me. He sounded seriously concerned now, knowing from our countless conversations over the years that I'm really squeamish about coffee.

"I don't know. Just been there.". My gaze now remained steadfastly fixed on the mountain range in front of me. I know if I looked directly at him, I would emotionally break before his eyes.

"Shit," I hear him whisper to himself before he continues louder and directed at me, "What's wrong? What's bothering you so much that you're ignoring even your coffee principles?"

"Love.", I give a short answer, careful not to really reveal anything.

Vetle doesn't even seem to think about a verbal answer, but steps directly closer to me so that he's behind me and takes me in his arms from behind. His head was now right next to mine and his hot breath gently grazes my ear with each of his breaths. Inwardly, I scream at myself that I can't say anything back, lest I get even more caught up in my infatuation and jeopardise my last chance.

"Would you be hurt? Did someone take advantage of you? Are you out of chances?" The last question was filled with his own pain and I noticed his entire body tense behind me. Had he run out of them himself? I can feel my heart slipping into my pants. When a soul mate runs out of chances, the symbol of his actual soul mate also changes to another, if there is a matching person with the same fate or a completely unmarked person who then - usually belatedly - still receives a symbol, matches one.

"One. One last chance I have." I don't know why I revealed this to him. Just the number of chances a person has left is a sensitive subject.

His body slumped a little at my answer. As if he was relieved about it. But why is he relieved? But his relaxation is short-lived, then his body tensed again.

"I still have two," he reveals himself. So there is still a small hope for me that he could be my soul mate.

For a few seconds it remained silent. I could tell he was struggling with himself over something, so I stay silent too.

Cautiously, his left arm released from its position on my belly. I watched his movements tensely. What was he up to?

Turning his palm carefully downwards, he pushed up his jacket sleeve a little with one finger of his right hand. He wasn't planning to...? Yes he was. He inhaled a little hesitantly and then turned his wrist.

At the sight of the little symbol, I couldn't help but burst into tears. On his forearm, near his wrist, is a cartoon drawing of a mountain and falling snowflakes.

Sobbing and with trembling fingers, I loosen my grip on his right arm, which I had clawed at when he had stretched his left arm forward. For my part, I now push my sleeve back and stretch my arm forward where his still hovers lonely in the air until I hold my arm right next to his and we can both see the symbols in the soft moonlight.

The symbols aren't just similar, they're the same. Exactly the same. Before our eyes now they seemed to light up and the small numbers underneath fade until they are no longer visible. Gradually the glow fades, but our symbols are a little more visible and the previous simple black lines are now joined by shades of colour, but we can't really make them out in the moonlight.

This confirmation on the part of our soul partner symbols, now truly makes me burst into tears. All at once so much burden and tension falls from me. And that it is Vetle who is the fated perfect partner for me somehow makes it even better.
Vetle also seemed surprised by this revelation, but from the way his body reflexively wraps around my body, he is also relieved and doesn't seem to mind that I am his soul mate. He caught himself considerably quicker than I did and seems to be just worried about me.

"Hey, it's all good, yeah? I'm here and I'll never leave you again," he tried to reassure me. I turn in his arms and wrap my arms around his neck and his wrap around my waist. This embrace gives me the strength I need. His arms around me, his smell and his warmth that I could feel despite our jackets is all I need right now. I just nod against his chest to let him know I heard him and understood.

"Let it all out, Kjære. All the pain, the loneliness and it despair." he whispered and I just let these tears come.
Once my tears have dried up, we reluctantly disentangle ourselves from each other.

"Come on, it's time for bed. I'll walk you back to his room," he assures me, pulling me back inside by our intertwined hands and upstairs to the floor where both our rooms are. The almost full mug of coffee is left alone.

"Good night.", I whisper, not knowing what else to say or do.

"Good night, Kjære.", he whispers back and takes the initiative in his turn and gives me a small, gentle kiss on the cheek before turning around with a soft smile to go to his room himself.

***

The next morning, not even the alarm clock seemed to be able to disturb my sleep. Only Emilien's tireless shaking of me managed to wake me up. "Wake up, sleepyhead! Breakfast is about to be served! I'm already done, so get a move on!"

Tired, I try to push him away from me with uncoordinated movements. I just want to sleep. It would still be best if Vetle would cuddle with me while I'm doing it, but unfortunately that's not possible."

"Anto! Your symbol!", Emilien suddenly calls out and holds my left arm, with which I tried to fend him off.

"You...? When...? Who...?" he only managed to utter haltingly in astonishment.

I am finally awake enough to answer him. I fast-forward and tell him about the events of the previous night. In the end I have a best friend on my lap who is happy for me.

***

A few months later, I get his picture of Emilien and another young man sent to me by my best friend. The two met by chance while hiking and saw each other's symbol and it happened.

With Jacob, that's the name of Emilien's hiking encounter, he made a really good catch who really cares about my friend and who fully supports him.

It's a nice coincidence that we both found our soul mates so abruptly, but I wouldn't want to change it even if I could.

Chapter Text

Inspired by the first part of the OneShot: 'Emilien, Exhibitionism and Eric' written by Riclercforever on ff.de

Eric's POV:

Of course! You can do it with me! As soon as I'm on the road with the World Cup team I become the girl for everything! And by that I mean EVERYTHING!

Especially Simon and Quentin use me mercilessly as the youngest in the team. Eric, get me that. Eric, could you do that? Eric can you hold this for me? Eric, this and Eric, that. I'm really getting tired of this! Doing something for your teammates once in a while is okay, but all the time? Without a word of thanks? No, not with me anymore! I may be the youngest and most inexperienced of the team, but I'm certainly not going to let them make me a maid like this!

At least Antonin always asks me nicely and thanks me every time. Emilien does too, but that had only happened once before on the course, when he asked me to take his poles as well as mine, and he gave me a few tips during the warm-up later on.

Just now I'm on the road again. In my hands I have a bag from Antonin, which he gave me when he found out that I would be leaving the course earlier than him and returning to the hotel. Since it is not too big a favour and Antonin, as always, asked nicely, I do this for him.

I knock on the door to the room Antonin shares with Emilien and hope that the latter is there and not at a physio appointment or something. I won't run after him. At the most, I would keep the bag in my room until Antonin himself is back here in the hotel.

I was about to turn around again and go to my room when I hear Emilien's voice from inside the room: "Who is it?"

"It's me, Eric. I have something here from Antonin that I was supposed to take from the track earlier," I reply.

A few seconds later the door swings open. Since it is quite gloomy in the hallway, the light from the room, which is flooded with light because of the windows, blinds me a little and I had to wait a moment until my eyes got used to it. What I catch sight of when I perceive Emilien as more than a shadow makes me stop breathing in shock.

Emilien is naked. Really naked! He's not even wearing pants! In typical Emilien fashion, he is leaning confidently and calmly in the doorway, although he has just shown himself completely exposed to me. Something I would never dare to do.

Completely fixated by this sight, I don't manage to free myself from my stupor. The sight is very aesthetic and Emilien definitely doesn't have to hide with his body. I have to fight myself to keep my gaze from slipping down further than is necessary for normal conversation, but it's hard for me to fight the urge to look more closely at exactly what Emilien normally hides in his trousers.

"Eric? Hey, Eric!" Emilien's amused voice snaps me out of my stupor. Of course he had noticed exactly how I was looking at him just then. I can't help it and turn bright red with embarrassment. 'Damn it, Eric! Now pull yourself together! That's your teammate first and foremost and therefore strictly off limits!', I scold myself inwardly.

"Do you still want to give me the bag or would you rather keep looking at me. Because you can, I don't think I have a body to hide for. Just let me know if you want me to stand differently so you can get a different angle." that confident, winning smile, so typical of him, curls his lips. Bloody hell! He's really got a clue how to get me completely off my game.

"That...um...isn't necessary," I quickly press out, setting the bag down right in front of him. "Bye!", I mutter before I quickly rush to my room with deep red cheeks.

Something like this must definitely never happen to me again! If Emilien blabs anything about this encounter, I'm screwed and can put my skis in the shed before the start of my World Cup career. Who wants a gay teammate!

***

Since that encounter, I try to put distance between me and Emilien. That works quite well, because especially at the Olympics the separation of the top athletes of a nation from the reserve athletes is even more noticeable than in the World Cup.

However, I spend more and more time with Antonin and he is very good friends with the free-spirited fanatic in our team. For me, that means: I still see Emilien very regularly off the track.

At least here in the Olympic village we all have single rooms and I can hide away very well. Even though I try to avoid it, the sight of Emilien naked with split fibres still buzzes through my head if I don't manage to distract myself. Which, however, has had only moderate success.

---

It is already late evening after an exhausting day of training when my last bit of sanity capitulates and leaves me alone with the image of naked Emilien in my mind. I'm already lying in bed, as most well-behaved athletes do at this time of night, and I realise more and more with every moment I lie here motionless with despair that I won't be able to fall asleep until I've taken care of the problem in my boxers, which must be getting my involuntary mind very excited.

A cold shower is out. The rooms are already very bright and I would have to deal with at least one annoyed room neighbour in the morning. And I definitely don't fancy that, as it's Quentin and Simon who have the rooms directly to my right and left.

Surrendered, I let my right hand wander under the waistband of my shorts and clasp my now fully erect penis while I try to stifle my moan with my other hand. Just my own touch feels soooo good!

My feelings take control of my body. How my hand strokes my penis and how much pressure I use. A film with Emilien plays in my head. How he slowly undresses in front of me, and then leisurely licks me.

My left hand moves to my breast, where I caress myself and occasionally pinch one of my nipples. To quickly stifle my moan, I bite into my bedspread, which I have wiped aside. It feels so good! For the last few weeks I've been frantically trying to suppress it, but now it's like a knot has burst on me. And it's a heady feeling. I push my shots aside with some effort to have more space.

"Emil'," it escapes me between my gasps and my hand around my penis independently changes the angle to an even better one and I lose myself further in my ecstasy.
Only incidentally do I notice the bed lowering a little and someone joining me. I am almost on the home stretch to my orgasm.

It's only when a hand decisively replaces mine around my penis that I realise I'm no longer alone.

Blue eyes flash mischievously at me before Emilien leans forward and takes my tip in his mouth. Both my hands are now clawing into the blanket and bed linen. My teeth dig deeper into the fabric of the blanket in an effort not to make a sound that might wake my neighbours.

It feels like I'm in a dream, but when I tentatively release my right hand from the varnish and bury it in his hair, I really realise that Emilien is actually here in bed with me right now, giving me a blow job.

His movements are practiced and so he expertly sucks on my tip while he continues to spoil the rest of my best piece with his hand. When he returns my gaze with his blue eyes still flashing so mischievously, it's all over me and I fall over the cliff.

My scream is muffled to some extent by the ceiling and Emilien's hands steer my hips through the movement of my rearing pelvis so that he doesn't threaten to choke on my penis. Carefully he swallows everything I inject into his mouth after weeks of suppression.

Breathing heavily, I release my teeth and hands from the blanket and his hair. Gentle circular movements of his thumbs on my hips do the rest to bring me back to reality.
He leaves me alone for a moment to fetch a towel from the bathroom, which he now uses to clean me before dressing me normally again. He even pulls down my sleep shirt, which had been pushed up. I let him do it, as I myself am still reeling from the aftershocks of what just happened.

"What are you doing here?", I ask him still a little out of breath.

"I heard you. I was just over at Simon's and since his room is set up the same as yours and I was sitting on the chair by the little table I was right on the other side of the wall at the head of the bed. I asked who had the room next to Simon's and when I left his room a few minutes later I listened at your door and heard you moaning my name. Your door was still open and I thought I'd help you directly. And don't worry, it's locked by now and no one can come in here unasked."

"Oh.", I could only make embarrassed and notice how I was getting even redder than I already was.

The shade of red became even stronger as Emilien stripped off his shirt and sweatpants and crawled into bed with me. He was now apparently wearing his favourite outfit again: a puff of nothing.

"Come on, sweetie, it's time to sleep," he whispers gently at me and pulls the covers over us.

With his strong arms he pulls me to him and I immediately feel safe in his arms. Slowly I drift off lulled by his closeness and my still lingering orgasm.

"You don't happen to have any donuts stashed away, do you?" suddenly comes from him out of the silence and even as I chuckle in amusement at his sentence, I drift off completely to sleep.

Chapter Text

Benedikt's POV:

I'm standing by my skis and other competition equipment to take everything to the wax truck, where I'll leave most of it overnight. For me and everyone else, it's routine to take care of your things personally after a race.

I already have my backpack on my back, my rifle case in my left hand and all I need to do is grab my skis and the pair of poles I used in today's race so I can call it a day.

But before I could do more than reach my hand out in the right direction, another hand slides into my field of vision and grabs my things.

The clearly legible, and for me very familiar, lettering 'Norge' on the sleeve of my jacket lets me know who is just taking my work without me asking.

I turn around indignantly, but my helper is already on his way to the trucks. On his shoulders he was carrying a total of three pairs of skis and poles. Instead, my eyes fall on the second Norwegian, who is watching the whole thing with a mischievous grin on his face, and who is standing right next to me. Johannes Bø.

This fact lets me know that my helper is Tarjei. Johannes is not wearing skis himself, but he is also carrying his brother's gun.

I blush under my mask and am secretly happy that we have to wear it because of Corona and the two brothers can't see the effect they have on me when they take care of me like this. The two of them seemed to have made it their business lately to pamper me and confuse me with it. One of them was constantly giving me a hand or trying to flirt with me non-verbally. And they did this very obviously right in front of each other and sometimes they also seem to agree on who is allowed to do what and when.

I am totally confused by all this. After all, they are brothers and yet very different. Although I have to admit that I have a similar crush on both of them. It started with Tarjei and at some point Johannes wormed his way into my heart.

Why they both wanted to help me all the time, wink at me or otherwise seek my closeness is a complete mystery to me.

And the worst thing is that last season Arnd and Erik already noticed that I liked the Bøs quite a bit and they started watching them more closely. I suspect that they passed on my secret to them and now they're all making fun of me for being too overwhelmed by the situation.

Erik, and last season Arnd too, tried to convince me that they both didn't spill the beans and that everything the two brothers do comes from them alone. But that would mean that they both fancy me, and that is definitely not the truth.

At an inviting hand gesture from Johannes, we start moving. We walk amicably in silence after Tarjei, who leans my skis next to the door to our wax truck. I thank him and say goodbye to both of them before grabbing my skis and quickly entering the truck.

Erik's knowing grin awaits me and the redness on my cheeks that has remained there noticeably gets a shade darker. Great! Now I'll probably be pestered by Mr Lesser all evening and if I'm unlucky, he'll invite his partner in crime on a video call as well.

***

'Next stage, new luck,' I told myself as I put away my wardrobe. Even though we're never in one place for long, I always make an effort to make sure all my things are organised and that I'm not living completely out of a suitcase.

No sooner had I finished putting away the last of my clothes than there was a knock on the door before Roman poked his head into my room, at my confirmation.

"Hi, Benni! We're all supposed to gather downstairs. I guess the IBU wanted to give us some new information," he informed me.

"Thanks for letting me know, Roman," I thank him.

I quickly put the last two piles of clothes in the wardrobe before looking for my mask. Since I can't find it right away I have to take a fresh one from my stash. Then the lock on the door doesn't work the first two times I try it, so I hurry to the meeting, hoping that I'm still on time and that my slightly late arrival won't be noticed.

Inwardly I curse as I step into the hotel car park. I should have known the meeting would be outside because of Corona. Apart from my normal team clothes, I have nothing on to protect me from the freezing temperatures that prevail here.

Shivering, I stand in the last row and am happy that the race director is still at the general welcome. At least I hadn't missed anything yet.

I concentrated on what was being said and tried to block out the merciless cold.

Because I was concentrating so hard, I didn't notice two people approaching me. Only when one of the fluffy blankets from the lobby is placed over my shoulders am I jolted out of my concentration. Carefully, a cap then finds its way onto my head and a scarf its around my neck.

Almost immediately, a pleasant warmth seemed to gather under the blanket. To finish the situation, one arm from the right and one from the left wrapped around me and now I stand trapped between two tantalisingly warm bodies.

Once again, I blush under my mask. As furtive a glance as possible confirms to me that the two are Tarjei and Johannes. Who else. Today at least their attention had something good, as they probably saved me from a cold.

I allow the closeness to the two of them to draw me in for the few minutes and enjoy it. Their stout bodies are practically pressed against me. Luckily, no one seemed to notice the three of us standing here like this, practically cuddling. All the other athletes are focused on the speech, only Erik seemed to be actively watching us. Great! I won't be able to get rid of him tonight without explaining everything in detail to him and to Arnd, who is on the line.

"Thanks.", I murmur shyly to the brothers before quickly making my escape. The two of them throw my feelings out of whack. I love them equally and if it came to it that I had to choose between them, I wouldn't be able to. But getting both of them is not possible for me.

The rest of the day I was allowed to listen to Erik's and Arnd's well-intentioned suggestions after I had recounted every detail of what happened earlier. They both have really funny ideas about what the two brothers might be thinking with their behaviour.

***

I slept even worse that night than I already did because of the predicament I had been in for the last few weeks. I have to find a solution, or I'll go completely crazy and won't be able to concentrate on my job.

Slightly tired, I walk across the corridor to at least pay a visit to the breakfast room. Whether I would get anything down is doubtful. Fortunately, we men only have light training today and we only have to get ready for the competition the following day. As long as I'm back in full force tomorrow, it's all good.

But I didn't get any further than passing a few room doors on my way. From one room, with the door slightly open, a hand suddenly appeared, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me into the room.

Somehow, I managed to suppress what was probably a VERY male scream. Eyes wide open, I come to a stop in front of Tarjei Bø. I put my free hand automatically, through shock, on my rapidly rising and falling chest.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, Kjære. But we really need to talk to you without anyone overhearing or interrupting us," he apologised. With a welcoming gesture of his hand, he invited me to step further into the room.

Still a little in shock, but thoroughly curious as to what this was all about, I did him the favour and stepped further into the room. Apparently, it was really important to him and we probably won't be able to sort it out within a few minutes. I head for the armchair in the corner of the room. As I pass by, I recognise Johannes lying on the wall bed of the two beds available in the room. The other one by the window is vacant and I assume this is Tarjei’s. I remembered that Tarjei had spoken in the plural on his second sentence.

I tried to hide my tension. Now I am sitting in a room with my two crushes and I don't know what to do. Looking for a clue, for the conversation to come, I look at them in turn. Again, it is Tarjei who takes the initiative.

"You've probably noticed that we're both courting you," he begins and promptly receives a critical look from Johannes, who would probably have phrased it differently.
Under their watchful gaze, I only manage a nod. My mouth is dry as dust with nervousness and I dare not speak.

"We've been watching you for a while and have both been in love with you for a correspondingly long time, but we only really dared to answer your very thoughtful, furtive glances with courtship on our part last season," Johannes now takes over. "We also realise that you would never choose one of us because you don't want to hurt the other by doing so. That's why we've pulled you into the room now, so that the three of us can untangle and solve the situation."

"Benni, to make a long story short: We both love you equally and know, thanks to your reactions to us, that it's no different with you. Since no healthy two-way relationship can develop from all this, because one of us would always be left with heartache, there is only one solution for us. And that is a triangular relationship. Nothing would change between Johannes and me. We are brothers and remain brothers. No incest. But we would have a relationship with you at the same time. You're the one who decides this. If you say no, we'll have to live with it, but at least there's no jealousy,' Tarjei explained her proposed solution.

'I'm overwhelmed by the offer. 'You love me? Both of them? And they want me as their partner at the same time? I would be in a relationship with Tarjei and Johannes at the same time and they would continue to act as brothers to each other?' It's almost too good to be true. But why not. Tarjei was right, there would be no jealousy and I wouldn't have to choose between them or ignore them both permanently. Apparently they had talked the scenario through well, as they both seemed to have no doubts about their joint proposal.

I let my heart make the decision. It had also played a good hand in my last relationship until we had simply fallen out of love and separated. Before that, my ex was always there for me and I never doubted his love for me.
"Yes. Yes, I accept your proposal," I finally bring out. My voice doesn't quite sound like my normal one yet, but I don't think that matters much right now.

I can really see the tension falling from her shoulders and slight smiles slowly creeping onto her lips.

"Thank you, Kjære, for giving us both a chance. We'll take it all slowly. And we have to communicate everything openly, otherwise it won't," Tarjei thanked me.

"Now, don't paint any bogeymen on the wall. We'll work it out together," Johannes slowed him down. The redhead stood up and went to the dresser with a tray of breakfast on it. I hadn't noticed it before, although it smelled pleasantly close to fresh rolls.

"Let's start with a relaxed breakfast first," he urged Tarjei and me.

All three of us now sat down on Tarjei's bed and feasted on the delicacies.

When I was finally well stuffed, I let my upper body fall backwards. My legs dangled off the bed and I touched a brother on each side. An inner peace had taken hold of me because we have finally settled this between us and I remain lying between them like this with pleasure.

Quiet laughter comes from my bedfellows before a pair of lips grazes me on each cheek. The comforting, warm feeling inside me grew a little more intense at their touches. All in all, it feels so damn right to be lying here between the two of them.

Chapter Text

Erlend's POV:

I say goodbye to my morning ski course for adults, unstrap my skis and head to our office for a well-deserved lunch break.

Two years ago, my friend Johannes and I took over the local ski school and thus fulfilled us a little lifelong dream. We were able to take over most of the previously employed ski instructors and thus keep most of the courses running. And so far, the team has remained more or less the same and we can rely on each and every one of them.

On my way, I pass the mini practice slope for the little ski fans. The two to five-year-olds learn to ski there. Mostly it's just getting to know the snow and a few simple techniques. They learn most of it later, when they are older and have more body awareness, but starting so early is a good basis for later.

The course currently taking place here is also just over and so I wait patiently on the sidelines until the group's ski instructor, my boyfriend, returns his charges to their parents' care. He shows one little girl something again when most of the group has already left. She seems quite shy.

A pleasant tingling sensation spreads through my heart. I can hardly wait until our child is ready and learns to ski herself. And that won't take too much longer at all. Johannes is pregnant and almost six months along.

Normally Johannes would also teach advanced courses for adults, but because of the pregnancy I had to stop him for his protection and that of the child. If what should happen to them on the slopes, I could never forgive myself.

Johannes fought for himself vehemently, especially at the beginning, but finally saw my reasoning two months ago and now keeps his feet somewhat still. For the life of me, I couldn't separate him completely from the skis, but with the kiddies on this little slope, which is really just a slightly sloping, meadow, there is no danger, except that one of the kids might run into him and even that shouldn't even get him off his feet.

I pick up the small bundle of sticks to help the little ones with weight shifting in the cures, while Johannes also says goodbye to the last little mouse for the day.

"Kjære, I'm pregnant and still perfectly capable of carrying a few light plastic rods. You don't have to wrap me completely in cotton wool. At least not at the moment," he scolded me and my protective instinct with amusement. He himself now carries only the bundle with the neon orange loafers, which the kids had worn for better recognition, the few metres to the hut with our office and storage room.

It is pleasantly warm inside and after putting the materials away we make ourselves comfortable in the office. In his thick ski clothes you can't really tell that Johannes is protecting a baby belly from the cold under a few layers of clothing, but now here in the warmth he takes them off of course and I'm really always amazed at how big his belly has already become because of our little treasure.

One of our staff ski instructors comes in as soon as we are seated. In his hand is a bag with today's lunch. Today we have schnitzel rolls and homemade coleslaw from the local butcher for everyone. The rest has been delivered directly to the second small hut, where the break room and the others' compartments have been placed.

Hungry, we make do with the food. It's not often that we order food for everyone, but every now and then we do. For Johannes and me, we often just have a small cold dish or leftovers from the previous day's dinner.

The break goes by quickly and I have to leave again for the second part of my course. Johannes is not really happy about this. He is on office duty for the rest of the day, as the courses for the very young ones only take place in the mornings.

"I'm sorry, but I have to leave you again," I say goodbye to my boyfriend, who looks at me with a pouty lip.

"Get out of here already, oh great protector of the birthing and unborn, and leave me with this stupid paperwork," he complains. Off-piste work is not particularly fulfilling and until a few months ago we used to take turns with it, but now it all falls to John.

"Don't get too bored, okay," I instruct him.

"I'll try. It's going to be hard though. If I don't feel like it, I'll go home. So you should already ask someone to drive you around later," it comes back. He had already leaned forward a little and seems to be reading something parallel on the screen as he answers.

"It's fine, I will," I take note of his statement. "See you later, Kjære. Take care of both of you, okay?", I say goodbye and give him a kiss on the lips and stroke the baby bump gently, to which I receive very light kicks in response. It's always nice to feel that our little darling is doing well and is already so lively when we're both there.
"I will. See you later.", John calls after me just before the door to the anteroom slams shut behind me.

---

When I finish my afternoon part of the course, Johannes is actually already home. So our employee Filip takes me home.

As I unlock the door of our house, soft melodies come to me. I put down my ski things before stepping into the actual living room. It smells good of the fireplace running and of the incense sticks that Johannes has presumably lit.

My friend is busy with his now favourite pastime, besides teaching. He first got to know yoga through a good friend who had done it herself during her first pregnancy and is now practising it during her second. Johannes finds relaxation and movement in it, which he is missing now that he is no longer jetting down one slope after another with a course all day.

I know he has noticed my coming, but he seems to be still in the middle of his exercises and I can understand that he doesn't want to interrupt them. So I let him do it and go to take a shower first.

When I come back down a few minutes later, the normal radio is playing instead of the relaxation music and I can hear clattering from the kitchen. Apparently Johannes is done with his exercises for the time being. In addition to the smell of the fireplace and the incense sticks, there is now also the smell of food in the air.

Attracted by the delicious smell, I step into our kitchen, where my friend has just set the table. Here the smell is even more intense and makes my mouth water.

"Perfect timing. Dinner is just about ready.", my boyfriend smiled at me and points to the oven, already open and turned off, from which this wonderful smell emanates.
"That's just me," I return. "What's that delicious thing?", I ask, curious and hungry.

"Potato casserole. Shopping was on the agenda for today anyway, and then I just decided at the shop that we hadn't had it in a while and got it all. You can get it out sometime."

Of course I did as my pregnant boyfriend told me and carried the rather heavy and hot casserole dish to the table. The casserole, with its lightly browned cheese on top, looks very appealing and invites us to feast.

For the next few minutes we enjoy the food Johannes has conjured up in silence. It is as damn delicious as it smells and looks. So it's truly epicurean silence.

No sooner are the plates and our bellies full than my friend, attentive as he is, wants to start cleaning up.
"No, Kjære, you've already cooked for us, you don't need to clean up as well," I contradict his action and step behind him when he had just placed our plates on the sideboard and put my hands on his hips to gently push him out of the kitchen and towards the couch.
"What are you doing?" he laughed at me, amused.
"Sending you off to work."

"That's sweet of you. Even if it wasn't necessary."

"Oh yes it is! All you have to do today is relax and look your best, which you always do," I put an end to our little discussion as I helped him find a comfortable position on the couch, which as a pregnant woman is not so easy.
"I can manage that. It's one of my easiest exercises. Can I have a kiss first?" he gives in and purses his lips demandingly. Laughing, I lean down to him and gently place my lips on his. Even though we've been together for so long, each kiss still makes me tingle, just like the first.
I hurry to the kitchen so I can get to my boyfriend as quickly as possible and cuddle with him while we watch something on TV. I'm not fussy about that, only cuddling is sacred to me.

Johannes has meanwhile put a blanket over himself and when I join him, he slides forward a little on the seat in his semi-recumbent position so that I can lie down behind him and we can finally enjoy our after-work cuddle session. I adjust the blanket a little so that I too can find space underneath, which elicits a small indignant sound from Johannes at the temporary cold. My hands find their way onto his belly, where they find his, and together we feel our baby's gentle, gradually more languid movements. It is the perfect, relaxing end to a busy day.

Chapter Text

Benni's POV:

"Surprise victory for Benedikt Doll in mass start in Antholz."

"Bø's form crisis continues. Only second despite chance to win in mass start."

"Doll wins because Bø lets him go."

"Chances at the Olympics? Bø lets victory slip away."

"Bø just lets Doll go and only finishes second."

"Sensational victory for Doll because Bø gives up on the final lap."

This is how the headlines sounded after my victory in the mass start in Antholz. Although I surprisingly won a race again after years, the whole world is concentrating on Johannes.

I don't begrudge my boyfriend. I really do. But still it's strange to win and to read these headlines afterwards. For me, the general, summarised message is: "You only won because Johannes Thingnes Bø didn't deliver what he is actually capable of. That's why your victory is also less important than his continuing dip in form this season."

After my interviews, I had ducked out as quickly as possible. Somehow I felt as if my opinion didn't count that day. And I was right. Hardly anything from my interviews made it into the press, only the opinions of the reporters. Even John's interviews were not mentioned in a big way and so only the opinion of the reporters goes through the press.

Today, the day after the race, there seems to be no other important news from the world of winter sports and so no matter which medium I use, I am surrounded by these headlines. I had already switched off my mobile phone and now I also switched off the TV. I had tried to relax a bit before the men's relay later on, before cheering on my colleagues on the track. This is also seen critically, as I was the best yesterday and now the relay team, already quite compact because Erik is not even competing here, will start without me.

Frustrated, I fall back on my bed. Soon we'll be off to the track and I'll be at the mercy of the reporters again, who are guaranteed to want to hear my opinion about yesterday's coverage. I would love to hide under my blanket, but I can't and I'd rather face the press here than have the whole thing hovering over me like a storm cloud for a few more weeks.

A knock on the door brings me back to the here and now. A glance at my mobile tells me I'm not too late to leave, so I'm surprised that someone wants something from me now.

"Come in! It's open!", I call out about it and sit up again in time.

A smile creeps onto my face as my boyfriend enters the room. After more than two years, we are still exactly the same 'lovebirds' - as Arnd, Erik and Tarjei call us - and I hope that won't change anytime soon.

The younger one grins at me too, as he overcomes the remaining steps to me and leans down to give me a kiss of welcome. He then sits down beside me and lets his head sink wearily onto my shoulder. He, unlike me, is about to take part in the relay and so I'm a little worried because in this mood I couldn't send him out on the track.

"What's wrong?", I ask him worriedly, taking his right hand in mine to make him stop fiddling with his birthday present from me last year, a leather bracelet with our initials embossed in it, and also to reassure each other.

"The stupid press futzis. It upsets me the way they report on both of us. You deserved to win. I misjudged the race and had to be careful not to go blue on the last lap and then fall back even more. You won fair and square and it pisses me off that it's not being reported like that," he sighs, frustrated.

"You should focus on your race today. Don't let something like that distract you. We'll deal with the press together after the race. Until then, I'll secretly cheer you on and you'll let yesterday disappear from people's minds," I try to cheer him up. "And we'll train again for the Olympics," I tease him, trying to cheer him up a bit.

"Hey, that's not fair!", he protests, but then becomes serious again: "I'll do my best, just for you, Kjære.", he assures me and I can see his usual ambition sparkling in his eyes.

"It had to be done now. And I know that, but you also know that I love you even despite bad results," I assure him again.

"I know that and the same goes for you. I'm so happy to have you by my side, Kjære." Soft lips settle on mine again and it hurts my soul that we have to part quickly as we both have to go.

Together we still walk downstairs to our meeting places, but then we part ways until after the race.
---

Today things are going much better for my friend. The Norwegians are far in the lead and he can even extend it. It's a pity that I can't cheer loudly for him, but I know that some cameras are always focused on me at the side of the track, too.

The last lap is a thriller for Lukas, our German last runner, but he fights his way through and manages to secure third place for us.

In his interview afterwards, Johannes makes it clear that he really had to conserve his strength on the last lap yesterday and that he didn't just let me go.

In the evening, yesterday is completely forgotten and I enjoy the time with my boyfriend, who has snuck into my room for the night and no Corona rule in the world will be able to separate us now. We have truly earned our togetherness.

***

And then comes the last competition at the Olympics for us. A mass start. And Johannes is superb on the track and with a little luck in the last shooting, as far as the wind is concerned, and a lot of effort, he races to a brilliant victory.

Chapter Text

Note: Erik is a self-confessed F1 fan and so I chose him for a crossover with F1 fandom

Daniel's POV:

Relaxed, I sit on my couch and watch in amusement as Lando spams all over our shared WhatsApp chat. The spamming itself is nothing new with him, but today the reason why he does it concerns me directly.

Today we are meeting for a double date. So Lando and Carlos and Erik and me. Only no one from the F1 paddock, except Michael, knows who my partner is. That's why Lando is now spamming me full of curiosity and nervousness with his guesses, all of which are miles away from reality, as he's still moving around the paddock with his guesses.

The noise from the kitchen quiets down and so I get up and put my phone on the coffee table. Lando will also do without me and my answers for a few minutes.

I enter the kitchen, which I normally hardly use but from which a damn delicious smell emanates today. Erik has categorically refused to order food and has agreed to cook for the four of us. I helped him with the chopping, everything would have been a bit much for one person.
"How does it look? It already smells tempting, darling," I ask him. He's just about to take a searching look into the pot of potatoes.

"According to plan so far. The salad is ready in the fridge and already soaking a little. The chicken is well on its way to being crispy and the potatoes look like they'll be ready on time too. Could you keep an eye on everything and I'll use the time until the potatoes are ready and do some target practice," he asked me and I, being a good partner, agreed. Looking after the things cooking away is well within my limited abilities in the kitchen. So Erik gently pulls me down to him by my hair and thanks me with a soft kiss.

Shortly afterwards, I hear him preparing for his exercise in the hallway. For some time now, targets for lying and standing have been attached to the door to my office, so he doesn't have to keep reattaching them at the right heights.

I put away the last of the cooking and don't take my eyes off the potatoes or the chicken in the oven for too long. Then I finish setting the table. The familiar soundscape for me, after more than two years as Erik's partner, makes me stay calm and not become my hyper self just yet. I can still do that when Lando and Carlos are there then.
I wasn't even paying attention to the time, but suddenly the bell goes off. But a glance at the clock also told me that if it's my two driver colleagues. Carlos really deserves a medal, as Lando usually tends to be exactly on time or late.

I open the door and sure enough, the two of them are standing opposite me. Carlos seems to be able to control his curiosity about my partner, while Lando curiously tries to peek past me into the flat.

From the door we can't see Erik, who I know is deep in concentration right now and will only stop when he has finished his exercises.

I invite the two of them in. Just as I'm about to step into the living room with them, Erik starts a new series. A squeak sounds behind me. As I turn around, I see Lando clinging to Carlos and looking diagonally behind us down the bent hallway with fear-filled eyes. From our position, Erik can now be seen standing, and this seems to have startled Lando. Erik has his back to us, but apparently it is enough for Lando to see part of the gun and the sound of the practice rounds leaving the barrel.

Erik releases his stop at that moment, having finished the series, and turns to us with a worried expression on his face. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare anyone. Are you okay?" he immediately inquired of Lando. Once again he shows his caring side, which I have fallen in love with and appreciate so much about him.

Lando still seems uncomfortable with the situation. He watches Erik's deft handiwork in disassembling his weapon with a wary eye. He does not loosen his grip on Carlos' arm one bit, so that I worry about the affected limb myself, as Carlos has a slightly pained expression on his face.

I take my two colleagues into the living room while Erik takes care of safely stowing his weapon. Lando kept looking over his shoulder as he did so, as if expecting Erik to now point his gun at his back. For once, I kept my normally cheeky mouth shut. I know Lando and I know that he first has to digest what has happened for a while and then Erik is there to explain as well as back and also better suited for the job.

Lando's skin colour, which previously looked more like my pale beige painted wall, is getting rosier again, even if he is visibly not one hundred percent comfortable with the whole thing. I'm already providing them both with something to drink when Erik joins us with an apologetic expression on his face.

"I'm sorry for the strange reception just now. I'm Erik.", he introduced himself to Lando and Carlos and extended his hand to both of them. Carlos does seem very curious about who exactly Erik is. But Lando still looks at my friend somewhat suspiciously. We will have to do some convincing with him until he trusts Erik without further ado.

"Why do you have a gun?" the youngest of the group asked directly, demanding.

"I'm a biathlete. Or rather I was until a few months ago, now I'm saddling up and becoming a coach. For me it and my skis are what your cars are for you. And since I thought I still had some time before you arrived, I wanted to take the opportunity to train a little," Erik explains calmly.

I leave Erik alone with the other two for a moment to take another look at our food. Lando and Carlos in between ask my friend a few questions about his sport and my friend tries to answer them as objectively and comprehensibly as possible.

I drain the potatoes, get the salad out of the fridge and mix it up again before taking the chicken out of the oven last.

The three of them join me in the kitchen, lured by the delicious smell. Erik in front and Carlos with Lando behind. Lando is still eyeing Erik's back very suspiciously.

My friend, however, grins at me knowingly. He had a very good grasp of things and a good sense of the interpersonal. But I'm sure that in time he'll develop a rapport with Lando too. The two of them are both not the kind of people who hold on to arguments for long, but are more in need of harmony.

Carlos seems to see it similarly, as he too looks rather amused. He is also a very good judge of character and so it is easy for him to see that Erik and Lando can get over today's fright from their first encounter, which went a little differently than planned.

Lando sits down opposite me to eat and pulls his friend closer to him. Again and again he looks critically at Erik, who is sitting to my left.

Over the delicious food, from my darling, the mood becomes more relaxed by the minute. You can lure them all with food. Lando doesn't shy away when Erik offers him something and gets more and more involved in the conversation between the rest of us. It's a bit like the Snickers commercial: 'You're not you when you're hungry.'

***

Two months later Erik and I are visiting Carlos and Lando, or rather Lando in his new flat in Monaco. While I and Carlos stand on the balcony guarding the barbecue, our partners sit together in the living room.

As we step into the living room with the first round of meat, the two of them sit right next to each other and bend over Erik's mobile phone together. Their boisterous laughter and Erik's explanations of what is being shown tells me that he is just showing Lando some fail videos of biathletes.

Relieved, Carlos and I exchange a look. At last Lando seems to have put aside his reservations about Erik and gives my friend a chance.

The rest of this meeting and all the others are very harmonious and relaxed. Lando gave Erik the chance to become a good friend and my darling gladly accepts this opportunity.

Chapter Text

Arnd's POV:

Whistling happily to myself, I unpack our van, in which all the microphones and equipment specific to ARD are transported. After a break of almost a year, this weekend is my first World Cup where I am back as an expert.
The first athletes are already there and I have already been able to greet my former team colleagues.

I did miss the hype. Towards the end of my career, it became a bit too exhausting for me. At that time, I wanted to concentrate on delivering the best performance I had left in me and the chaos and the reporters bothered me a bit. It wasn't until I left at the end of the 2020/21 season that I realised how much that chaos had defined my life and how much I missed it. Now, as an expert, it's different, but it's nice every time I get to be a part of it again for a short time.

Packed full, with my already third load of accessories, I make my way back to the commentators' booth. At least that was my plan. My plan comes to an abrupt end when someone runs into me from the side. I hadn't seen the person coming, as he came shooting out of a small lane between two trucks at a decent speed. By the time I noticed them it was too late.

Although I stumbled a little on the slippery snow, I kept my feet. The two boxes I was carrying, however, unfortunately slipped out of my arms. I needed one of them to hold on to the one that caused the accident. Nevertheless, the person was much more stable than I was and I took advantage of that to hold on to him.
As soon as I am standing reasonably securely again, I look up at the person who caused this situation. Brown eyes look at me just as surprised as I am because of the collision.

And I know those eyes well. Very well. But I didn't expect to see those eyes this weekend. Martin hasn't been at the tracks too often in the two seasons after his career ended. And yet now we were standing so close to each other that our jackets brushed against each other with a funny sound and I can make out little golden speckles in his eyes.

Martin and I have a very colourful past. First and foremost, he was always my competitor, the one I had to beat, but then he was also always very concerned about fairness and expressed himself critically on some topics, and besides, I fell for him years ago.

I struggled with the last point in particular for a long time. I always hid my feelings towards him behind a wall. Only a few people know that I have a crush on him. For the last two years I have finally come to terms with my feelings. That was only possible when he wasn't around me almost every week. Actually, I thought I had fully processed them too, but at this moment when, me holding onto his shoulder and him keeping me from falling with an arm around my waist, we are so close, the feelings are suddenly and very strongly back.

"Hi.", I greet him still a little breathless, the almost falling down and the sudden closeness to him, are the triggers for this. To distract myself a little, I gently remove myself from his protective grip with a heavy heart, and start picking up my dropped belongings again so I can take them with me as soon as possible.

"Bonjour, let me help you." he offered and without me being able to say anything in response, he already picks up the first things and puts them back into one of the two boxes.

Busily we continue to work in parallel. One should never complain about voluntary help. Everything is quickly stowed away again. A glance at my watch tells me that I have to hurry. As part of the TV crew, one often has a tighter schedule than an athlete.

"Thanks for the help. I'm afraid I have to leave straight away," I thank him and pick up the two boxes again.
"You're welcome, Arnd. I'll definitely see you another time this weekend," he says goodbye to me in turn.

Embarrassed, I grin at him a little wryly. And after a brief grateful nod, I really do turn away from him and make my way back to my actual destination.

I risk one last look back, however. Martin is still standing where I left him and when he sees that I am looking at him, he even waves to me before he too starts moving in another direction.

***

In the evening, we sat together for some time with all the German-speaking TV people, I decided to walk alone the short way to our hotel. There was a small, prepared path through the fields leading directly from the track to the hotel.

Halfway along, in the middle of a hill, I stopped briefly. It has long been dark and so the brightly lit village stretches out below me in the valley. You can make out the two churches and the town hall very well, as these buildings are illuminated. It already looks very Christmassy. Even though I have seen such sights many times before, they always enchant me anew. I have chosen some music that is now playing through my headphones. A perfect evening to end the day.

I am so absorbed in the sight and the music that I don't notice that I am not standing here alone. I only notice the person standing right next to me. In the darkness, it takes me a few moments to recognise her. It is Martin. But what is he doing out here so late?

"It really is a beautiful sight, isn't it?" he breaks the silence between us. I have unconsciously taken out my headphones and so I can understand him too.

"Yes?", I confirm slightly questioningly, still confused that he is suddenly there. We were, as far as I know, the last ones still at the track. Not that he voluntarily waited for me in the cold? But why would he do that?

We lapse into silence. He now seems to be enjoying the sight of the village at length and I am firstly still very confused about his sudden appearance, and secondly I have no idea what to say. I don't want to ask him directly what he was doing here. And somehow I also enjoy being near him again after such a long time.

We stand next to each other for a good two minutes. Finally he begins to speak again: "Come on, let's go on together."

"Gladly. I'm starting to get cold after all," I agree. Again in silence we walk further down the small hill into the village.

We have almost reached the transition from the small path we were walking along and the beginning of the asphalted transition to the road when he speaks up again: "Are you hungry?" he asks me.

Astonished, I look at him. A low grumble from my stomach does the answering for me. What to eat does indeed sound fantastic. My last meal was a sandwich as part of a quick lunch and by now it's just after eight in the evening. I consciously acknowledge the grumble again with a nod.

Martin's face has been adorned with a slight smile since the grumble and the rest of his equally visibly questioning expression is completely distorted as I nod.

"Come with me then." Quicker than I could have reacted, he grabbed my hand and ran off. We walked for another five minutes until we arrived at a small restaurant on a small side street. Although I had been here so many times before, I didn't know it. But it looks clock-like and you can already hear laughter and voices from inside the restaurant, plus the very tasty smell of the food. From the first impression, a good choice.

Martin unconsciously snaps me out of my brief analysis of the restaurant, as he runs up the few steps to the door and pulls me behind him by our hands.

The dining room is exactly as I imagined it would be. A bit clock-like and busy, which is typical of places near our World Cup courses.

A motherly-looking waitress, presumably the owner's wife, immediately rushes up to us and takes us to a free table.
The warm atmosphere also enlivens our conversation. Instead of silence, a relaxed conversation flows between us. Fuelled also by the good and plentiful food that the waitress brings us.

At some point, over an extremely delicious apple compote and cinnamon mousse dessert, fatigue finally caught up with me. The day had been long and actually, if Martin hadn't picked me up, I would now be in my hotel room, eating food from room service and relaxing with a film.
Martin, attentive as ever, notices this and waves the waitress over to order the bill. Before he can take it, however, I have pulled it towards me and put my amount plus some tip on the table. With a slightly grumpy look, which I return strongly and slightly challenging, he accepts that I pay for myself. I would never let myself be held out voluntarily.

"On our next date, I'll pay for both of us," he finally says as we leave the restaurant and walk towards my hotel.

"Date?!", I gasped as I directly choked on my own spit once in shock. 'Did he really just say that?!'

'Yes. If it's not what you want, then it's going to stay with this one.'

''No, I'm just a bit taken aback. Next time, though, with a little more notice than today's spontaneity, please?", I reply. I still can't believe we just had a date.

"I can live and work with that just fine," he replies, giving me a full, honest smile, which sends a massive swarm of butterflies flying wildly back and forth in my stomach.

"Good night. I'll see you tomorrow.", he bids me farewell as we come to a halt in front of my hotel.

"See you tomorrow.", I reply mechanically as he pulls in for a round of right-left kisses.

Finally standing in the lobby, I glance after him as he walks himself to his hotel.

It had been a crazy day. But as crazy as it had been, it had also been just as beautiful.

Chapter Text

Note: Pure fiction. I made it all up about Ed and his attitude to the war

*September 2022

Erik's POV:

I am very worried about my friend. Ed has been stuck in Russia since the war started. The possibilities of us writing to each other or having a video call are very limited. So far we have managed to keep in touch and have struggled through the last few months.

Ed is there as a distraction for the Russian people. I have to play the good face to the bad face of their president. But apart from shutting himself off from the rest of the world and serving as poster boy now and then, it hasn't been dangerous for him so far. He has done the bare minimum.

But now Putin is going too far! The first athletes are being drafted into the army. And yesterday Ed revealed to me that he, too, is high up on the list. Unlike most, he is experienced with firearms.

Nervous about what news he might have, I call him. Several times. Via FaceTime, regular mobile and also on his landline number. I tried everything, but he didn't answer. Over and over again I tried him throughout the evening but I couldn't get him to answer the phone or otherwise get in touch. Yesterday he told me that he had a more intense training session planned for today, but he should have finished that by now, right? I am proud that he is also working on a future in our sport once the war comes to a, hopefully good, end.

***

I don't hear from him for three days. And they drag on like chewing gum. Again and again I try to reach him, but I still have no success.

Meanwhile, I'm dying of worry about him. What has happened? Is he in police custody? Injured in hospital? On a war mission? Or possibly even on the run? I don't know. At least he hadn't spoken to me directly about escape plans. The only way I could sleep was if I just slumped on the couch or in bed from exhaustion for a few hours.

I'm poking around listlessly in my salad, my appetite also having suffered from my emotional stress, and I have to partly force myself to eat something, when my landline phone rings. The noise sounds so strange to my ears, as even my parents are now calling my mobile and the device correspondingly rarely answers, usually only with the annoying I-must-be-on-a-charging-station tone.
"Lesser?", I answer after having to search for the phone for a moment. The number is not German or Russian and is completely unknown to me.

"Erik! It's Ed, I'm sorry I couldn't get back to you but I had to wait until I was safe," it comes excitedly and quickly from the line.

My heart leapt as I recognised the voice. It's Ed. In the background it is loud. Many people seem to be around him.

"Ed.", I breathe into the phone with relief, but immediately my concern for him comes to the fore again, "How are you? Where are you?"

"Fine by now. I've escaped. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I had to keep my plans a secret. No one could know anything, including you. I've been in Finland for a few hours. But had to do all the paperwork first before I was allowed to join the line on the phone. I don't have much time either. Listen, I need help. I need proof that I know someone in Germany and that I can stay with them." He then lists in more detail what I have to do so that he can come to me as soon as possible. After that, we have to hang up again because it's the next one's turn.

Relieved, I look at my phone, which I continue to look at for a few moments, unmoving, although the screen has already dimmed again. Finally I know where my boyfriend is. I still can't believe that he has actually dared to escape. I don't think it will really sink in until I can hold him in my arms again.

With much more verve and appetite, I set about finishing my salad after putting the phone aside. The task now is to lose no more time and secure Ed's entry.

***

Another two days later and after a few administrative procedures, I'm finally standing at the airport in Berlin waiting for the plane from Helsinki to land.

Ed had bought a new mobile phone and was using spots with free wifi to chat to me about the progress on his side of the authorities and I do my best to keep him happy with funny messages.

When it finally shows which baggage carousel to use for the Helsinki flight, I am one of the first to line up at the nearest exit outside the customs area. I know that Ed has even managed to take his rifle with him and will therefore take longer than a normal traveller.

Finally, the automatic doors open to reveal my friend, who is one of the last passengers on his flight to enter the arrivals area.

I open my arms and after a few quick steps, he is with me and drops into my arms. Only briefly, as we are in public, but we both enjoy it anyway.

For both of us it can't go fast enough until we are finally with me. Whereas, it will now also be Ed's home, if that's what he wants in the long run.

As soon as the door is closed and his bags are put down, I pull him down to me. Starved, our lips meet. Finally we are together again. Without having to stress, worry and fear for Ed's life.

Chapter Text

The media always have a lot to say about Johannes. The prodigy of Norwegian biathlon. The next Ole Einar Bjørndalen. The great talent. The fastest. But also negative. They occasionally pick apart his whole life to pin something on him.

Johannes never understood or liked all the media hype around the sport. Once in a while it was okay, but that's not the norm. Annoying, repetitive questions at every interview, personal questions or ones about his teammates. He always tries to avoid them.

Last season was a feast for the reporters and journalists in the sport. At the Olympics, he convinced with a brilliant performance. In the World Cup, he got off to a bad start and broke off his season.

There was a reason, but it was not publicly known. Hedda and he had separated shortly after the start of the last season and also filed for divorce.

Their relationship broke down over decisions they couldn't agree on and lack of communication. The latter refers to deep conversations and not the regularity with which they spoke even while he was away from home, for that was a given.

For Johannes, along with his family, she was the driving force that stood by him in his thoughts even in difficult moments.

---

By leaving the World Cup early in 2022, he had more time to find himself anew.

It started with him moving out. He wasn't an asshole and didn't kick his ex out of the house they shared, which she also furnished almost entirely on her own. They didn't break up in a fight, it's just that there is an ice age between them.

He took a flat, which was sufficient for him, near the plant in Oslo. As a single person living alone, you don't need any retreats in your flat and you don't need too much space. Tarjei doesn't live far away and her family can stay with him when they visit.

Hedda and he had been together for so long that he has forgotten what it is like to live alone. Cooking, washing clothes, cleaning and tidying up were now left to him. And when he is at home, the radio or the television is always on to fight the silence.

The time he would otherwise have spent with her he now has at his disposal. He puts a lot into training. He adapts the times and units better to his needs. And if he overdid it now and then, at least there wasn't an outraged woman waiting for him in the hallway because he missed an appointment or something. He didn't do too much. Duration and exercises hardly changed, but the small changes to the plan were enough to make him feel better than the year before.

And the biggest change is that he spends much more time with the others. It is only through this that he also notices how small his world has been in recent years. His brother, whose focus is also always on the team, takes him under his wing, just as he did when he was a child. Vetle, who trains with them at Holmenkollen, also makes it very easy for him with his open manner.

Even when the news of the divorce hits the press, Tarjei is there. Johannes sticks to his interviews and statement fairly towards his ex-wife. He does not want to start a war of the roses. But she also tries not to speak badly about him personally.

***

*in the summer*

Vetle invited to a summer party at the end of her time off shortly before the official start of training. All biathletes from her team who had already competed in the World Cup were invited.

Somehow Vetle had persuaded them to each host a few of their colleagues at home to save on hotel costs.
The plan would have worked out rather well if it weren't for Antonin visiting Vetle and Tarjei having less space than last year with his pregnant girlfriend and guest room turned into a nursery.

Grumbling, as he loves his privacy, Johannes takes in his colleagues. Sivert gets the rather cosy couch in the living room, the Andersen brothers his guest room and Sturla has the choice between Johannes' second half of the bed or an air mattress in the living room. He had planned the brothers in the guest room from the start. Sivert, who arrived before Sturla, preferred the couch to Johannes' bed, despite the offer. Sturla, slightly late because he had driven with Johannes Dale and he had dropped him off at Vetle's beforehand, accepts his limited choices. His choice is the air mattress.

Johannes, relieved to still have his bed to himself, is inwardly happy about this. Especially since it is Sturla with whom he would otherwise have shared it. As the 20/21 season opens, they engage in a duel. Who will beat the other and in what. John's training is geared towards beating him with the start of the younger's career. They both found it easy to become rivals. It was a tough battle, but in the end Johannes won it. Last season was very different. He had a bad season. Only Olympia was a highlight. Their duel was partly put on hold because he could not get everything out of his skis and rifle. His early season exit was just the tip of the iceberg.

After a short settling-in period, they all meet at Vetle's place in the garden. Antonin, his partner, hardly stands out among the Norwegians. Over the course of their relationship, they have often met in this or a similar constellation.

Vetle stands at the barbecue and provides them all with meat, while Antonin takes care of the drinks and the small salad and bread buffet. The mood is cheerful and good. The weather is great and they can stay outside for a long time. The first chill is also driven away by a campfire, around which they gather as the hour progresses. Johannes lets himself get carried away.

Even though he talks little with Sturla himself, the disciple seems to be constantly listening or in the corner of his eye or in the background.

And later, in the night, wild brown hair, sparkling brown eyes and Sturla's unique mischievous smile seem to fill his dreams.

***

Tarjei, typical big brother, had of course noticed Johannes' thoughtful behaviour following Vetle's garden party and had questioned his little brother accordingly, finding out the rest through observation. Diagnosis: Johannes is in love. He confirmed Tarjei's suspicions with a shouted: "IT'S STURLA DAMN IT! I JUST CAN'T GET HIM OUT OF MY DREAMS AND THOUGHTS!"

This sentence is completely true. Johannes thinks about the younger boy all the time. Only when he thinks about his training, his outdated weapon or something similar can he banish Sturla from his mind for a short time.
With Hedda he had been together for so long. Since the summer of 2015 to be exact. Before that, he had had no real interest in relationships. His sexuality hadn't been something he thought about either. With Hedda he had had a largely happy heterosexual relationship and so the question had not been interesting until now. Now the first step was to realise that he could probably do more with men than just be friends.

Over the summer, he seeks contact with Antonin, who is a better conversational partner on serious topics than his partner Vetle. The Frenchman helps him a lot in processing the realisation of the barbecue evening and did not make fun of him either.

Step two, after realising that he finds men quite nice too, is to watch Sturla. Single this one is, he knows. But is he also interested in men and then in him? Johannes doesn't want to make a fool of himself and ask him openly or simply attempt flirtation. He hesitates.

Gradually he has also opened up to Tarjei, who has only taken him in his arms and whispered in his ear, "You are and will always be my brother and I won't think any differently of you than I did before. I love you."

As an outsider, Tarjei has a good observation post. The next time Johannes and Sturla meet, he watches them closely. Johannes didn't seem to be able to assess Sturla and he wants to help his brother there and thus possibly make him happy. Through his concentration on Sturla and his behaviour towards Johannes, he notices every little thing. An arm that is raised a little and lowered again, as if Sturla has to refrain from putting it on Johannes' arm or shoulder to direct him towards the conference room rented by the team and the like. And the looks first. He suppresses his feelings well, but when he's sure no one will see, a sad yet loving expression creeps into his eyes. He also has this expression, only weaker, when he is looking for Johannes.

Tarjei describes his findings to his brother after the next course. Together they work on a plan for a first date. This is to take place at the next course. At least if Johannes dares to ask Sturla.

And he dared. Sturla, surprised and at first cautious and full of disbelief, says yes and thus makes Johannes the happiest man in the world.

The first date, a picnic at the edge of the forest near the hotel where they all stay during the course, is a complete success, and the others also bring the two Norwegians closer together. After five dates, they end up together for good.

***

When Johannes goes into the Christmas break after the last of the first three World Cup stages of the 22/23 season with a clear lead in the standings over his friend, everyone in the press speculates before his good form might come.

One reporter wrote: "In my opinion, Bø's sporting form could be dependent on his love life. When he is happy, he performs better. With the divorce last winter he had more stress and therefore performed worse. Nothing is known about a new girlfriend at the moment, but that doesn't mean there isn't a new woman at his side. Whoever she is, she's helping him have an impressive season so far with her love, just like Hedda did in their happy times as a couple."

John grinned as he read these lines. If the journalist knew that his theory about love being his driving force was true, he would surely look amazed. Amused, he slides the report to Sturla's right. Right now they are all sitting comfortably together in his parents' house, all having breakfast together on Christmas morning. His parents, like Tarjei before, have taken well to Johannes's sexuality and his boyfriend, and have invited them directly for Christmas of their own accord, after they found out about Sturla before the season started.

Johannes couldn't be happier.

Chapter Text

Quentin is a neat and organised person. Especially when it comes to his work. His desk is always tidy and his diary is carefully updated. His boss has also never had to call him on lateness, missed deadlines or his way of working. He is only ever praised for completing his tasks conscientiously and on time.

And while things are looking so good in his job, he has become the deputy head of department within a very short time, things are different in his private life and especially in his love life. He is in contact with his family, but it is not a particularly close one, and all his previous relationships have broken down because he or they could not cope with his demands in terms of order and organisation.

Currently he has an office to himself. His former colleague, Rosie, retired almost a month ago and since then the desk opposite his has been empty. However, that will change next month when his new colleague has his first day. He had asked his boss if he could get an office on his own, but he appealed to the team spirit in his department, which is also fostered by the two- to three-person offices. So, willy-nilly, Quentin has to accept that the temporary calm will come to an abrupt end tomorrow.

***

Quentin is already at work and engrossed in the report he is writing when there is a knock at the door.

His boss enters. He is followed by a younger man holding a messy pile of papers and writing supplies. "Here we are. This is your new desk. Feel free to put your things down first before I introduce you to your new colleague," their boss instructs the new one.

Quentin saves his document and rises to greet his new colleague. He observes him openly. He himself would have filed the documents and etc. neatly, the new guy on the other hand, simply put them on the table, whereupon a pencil rolls straight off the stack and hits the tabletop loudly. Quentin rolls his eyes inwardly. The other's clothes also make him doubtful. Everything he has on conforms to the dress code, but a sweatshirt and jeans will never be seen on Quentin at work. Suit trousers and a short-sleeved shirt are his summer look, and in winter a jumper occasionally comes over a shirt or a matching jacket with trousers. And yes, he wears a tie every day too.

"This is your new colleague, who will also help you settle in a bit. Quentin Fillon Maillet. Quentin, this is Emilien Jacquelin. He already has some experience with the programmes and the subject and shouldn't need quite so much help. But if you do, give him a hand, will you?" their boss introduced them to each other. With that he sealed Quentin's fate.

***

After only a few days it became clear that Emilien was the complete opposite of Quentin. His desk quickly looks as if an avalanche of papers has descended on it. On some days, Quentin really wondered how his colleague could work, as now and then even the keyboard and mouse are covered in papers.

At least he seems to understand almost everything about his subjects, so Quentin doesn't have to enter Emilien's side of the office too often.

Emilien is also very communicative. He gets on very well with most of the team almost from the first meeting. Especially you two single ladies seem to watch him closely and have their eyes on him. Of course, he also tried to have a few conversations with Quentin, but as soon as they left the subject area of work, the older one shut down. After about a month, the younger one gave it up. And that in turn made him more interesting in Quentin's eyes.

Quentin only tries to make well-considered decisions and that always requires sufficient observation.

Because of the close proximity during work, he already gets to see a lot. Because of Emilien, many more of her colleagues come to the office than before. Rosie had also had someone in from time to time, but Emilien's circle of people is almost beyond counting.

Well hidden in a colleague's notebook, which he always takes home with him so that no one can look inside, Quentin prepares a pro and con list. He can't really classify his feelings for the younger man, but maybe the list will help him. Pro: friendly, likes to laugh a lot, charming and open, adventurous. Cons: exhausting, messy, sometimes just too much of a good thing.

Especially in the beginning, Emilien often asked Quentin for help or his opinion. This way he knew his colleague's work and can evaluate it. Professionally, he could not find fault with him. The younger man seemed to have an overview of his chaos. He also kept his appointments, although he was tighter than Quentin.

***

Months pass and a certain normality has entered her office.

A month ago, Emilien broke up with his girlfriend. The two had been together for a long time, but she seemed to have already looked for someone new before the break-up. At the same time as the news of the break-up, Emilien came out as bi. This development brought in a new aspect. Emilien was now not only charming, he was really flirting. A colleague who is single keeps trying to push herself to the fore because of this.

Emilien also made a few attempts on Quentin. Outwardly, the latter remained unmoved, but inwardly he lost the battle. His thoughts, when not focused with iron concentration on his work, are always back at the fuzzy head sitting opposite him.

Quentin feels like the female role in the song "Opposides Attract" by Paula Abdul. And Emilien is the corresponding male role.

After his last girlfriend, he didn't really want to let anyone get to him like that. She had hurt him particularly. She had only stayed as long as she did because he earned quite a lot in his position and she could try her hand at being an influencer. For the human and physical, she kept two other men warm on the side. After the break-up, Quentin's heart froze, never wanting to be hurt like that again. Now, three years after the breakup, Emilien is unknowingly starting to melt that ice.

***

No sooner has Quentin admitted to himself that Emilien means more to him than Christmas is just around the corner.

When Emilien enters their shared office on the first of December, he is engrossed in an important section of a report for her boss and mumbles more of a greeting without looking up in Emilien's direction.

Only half an hour later, when he has finished that part of the text. He dares to glance over the edge of his screen at Emilien. If he had done it before, all his concentration would have been on Emilien for the time being and his work would have suffered. But here he can count on his sense of duty to keep him from embarrassing moments and prioritise his work. Unlike usual, he can see above the edge of Emilien's screen not only his hair, but also a kitschy headband with two wiggly figures on it. A snowman and the head of a reindeer bob along with Emilien's movements.

Puzzled, he can't take his eyes off it. The sight is too funny and cute at the same time. It warms Quentin's heart slightly.

Later, Quentin notices some small decorations on Emilien's desk. Apparently he is a little Christmas fan.

Spontaneously, Quentin decides to do something for his colleagues.

***

The next morning, their entire office is unrecognisable. Quentin, who always starts a good hour before Emilien, has taken advantage of the time to put up some decorations he got. A small plastic tree stands on their mini-meeting table, on his whiteboard for brainstorming he has put a string of lights with small glowing balls on top and on the table facing their desks there is an Advent wreath with electric candles.

Emilien arrives just as Quentin begins to answer his emails. He looks around the room with his mouth open. Quentin can't help smiling when he sees Emilien standing there. Today he wasn't wearing a headband, but a jumper with a rather discreet Christmas motif.

That broke the ice between them. Emilien doesn't let up and his flirting becomes stronger towards Quentin. The latter to the displeasure of her colleague, who had fancied her chances with Emilien.

Quentin now doesn't want to close himself off to Emilien's attempts to get to know him and flirt. As before, he remained a little more reserved than the younger man, but that's also more his style. Emilien, even though it seems hard for him, gives him time.

Just before Christmas, they all go to the Christmas market as a little Christmas party after work. In the course of the evening, Quentin allowed Emilien to lean on him from time to time so that he could join Quentin under the blanket of the drinks stall to warm up. There is not much alcoholic drinking as they all have to work the next morning.

When it's time to leave, Quentin insists on taking Emilien home. The latter lives almost without detours, halfway from the Christmas market to Quentin's home.

They stop in front of the door of the apartment building with Emilien's flat. Undecided how they should now say goodbye. At work it was easy: a 'Have a nice evening and see you...' now and then paired with a wave was enough. Now they are alone and have become closer over the course of the evening than normal colleagues do.

Emilien takes the decision from Quentin. His patience thread seemed to have snapped now after the evening and by being so close to Quentin. He leans slightly to bridge the last few centimetres between their faces and puts his lips very briefly and lightly on Quentin's. "Good night, see you tomorrow.

"Good night, see you tomorrow. Get home safe, yeah?" the younger man says goodbye.

"Good night. I'll be there. It's not far to my place," Quentin replies.

Neither of them wants to end the moment between them and so they continue to face each other. This time it is Quentin who makes the move and kisses Emilien briefly and gently before turning around with a smile on his lips and heading home too.

There is one more item to add to his list under Pro: kisses well. And Quentin can hardly wait to add more points.

Chapter Text

Side Pairing: Benni Doll x Florent Claude

Justus POV:

After having a taste of the World Cup here and there last season, I finally made it to the shortlist for the team.
We are currently in the final stages of preparation. I'm getting more and more jittery every day. Benni, who has become our "leader wolf" after Erik's retirement, is doing his best to calm me down and give me advice.

Two days before arriving at Kontiolahti in the morning, I was officially added to the chat group with all the other male athletes in the World Cup. I didn't dare write more than a little "Hi".

Nothing else came from me until late afternoon. But I kept catching myself looking in to see what the others were writing. One message in particular from Quentin Fillon Maillet aroused my curiosity.

'QFM: As last season's World Cup winner, I'm in charge of Secret Santa this year. For all newcomers: For some years now, we have been organising a group Secret Santa among the men and women separately. Thanks to Ole, it is an unwritten law that everyone has to take part. The Secret Santa gifts are exchanged after the last race before Christmas. You can (must) enter your name at the following link within the next 48 hours. After the time has expired, you will receive a message with the name of the person who has been drawn for you by the system. Minimum value is 20€.'

I signed up straight away and forgot about the Secret Santa again because I'm so busy with the rest of my preparations.

***

I have satisfactorily completed the training before the first race. Freshly showered, I made myself comfortable on my bed. Dinner would not be served for another half hour. So I still have enough time to answer my messages or at least read them. David, with whom I share my room, now takes over the free bathroom.

Quite high up on the list of chats is the message from the platform where we signed up for Secret Santa. My heartbeat quickens with nervousness. It must be the message telling me who the system has assigned to me.

'Dear Justus, the registration period for Secret Santa has closed. The following participant will surely be happy about a Secret Santa gift from you: Niklas Hartweg'

I have to read this message several times to understand it. My heartbeat is not slowing down, it is only increasing. My breathing is correspondingly faster.

Niklas. I have pulled Niklas. The one I've had my eye on for so long. I saw him at two or three races last season and immediately fell in love with him.

My eyes are still glued, from shock, to the mobile phone display when first there was a knock and then, without prompting, the door to the room opens.

"Justus? Is everything okay?" asked Benni in a soft voice, sitting down carefully on the bed with me.

"I pulled Niklas," I breathed after a few seconds in which I couldn't make a sound at first.

Benni once caught me looking after him a little too long. According to him, I looked like a 'dog puppy kicked by his favourite person'. I then told him in private that I loved men and was in love with Niklas. Benni, the good soul, took me in his arms, talked me down and then showed me his mobile phone with a photo of himself and another man. Only after a second look did I recognise the man as Florent Claude. Since then I have practically been adopted by the older man and Florent also gave me a friendly welcome when Benni introduced me to him.

"But that's great! Then you can give him something really good and get his attention that way," Bennis tries to encourage me. And he is right. This is my big chance!
"I will. Thank you," I agree, still grinning at him a little shakily.

"See, you'll be fine, kiddo.", Benni grins at me and waves through my hair.

"Hey!", I complain. While I'm trying to get even with him, David comes out of the bathroom and interrupts us. The three of us then make our way to dinner, besides Benni actually just wanted to pick us up.

***

*18.12.2022*

The day of the Secret Santa has come. My present has been ready and wrapped for a few days.

As soon as I got over the first shock, I started to look for everything.

Niklas loves music and does a lot of it himself. Now that we're on the road, he can hardly bring his equipment with him, so I bought him a notebook with blank pages and one with sheet music. I stumble across matching stickers in the bookshop. But the big surprise I got straight away first. By chance, I overheard a conversation between him and Joscha Burkhalter in which he was telling his teammates about a concert by one of his favourite artists that he wanted to attend, but hadn't yet found the right company for. After that, I fired up Google and found out more. The music is really good and it was not a difficult decision to get two tickets and a tour shirt for a concert in the free time after the season. It was good that I acted so quickly, because the concert was sold out a few days later.
But before I could give him his Secret Santa present, I got mine myself. By chance, Fabien Claude had drawn me. He also admitted that he had received many tips through his brother.

With my heart pounding, I stood in front of the Swiss wax truck. Although he wasn't at the start today, he's still here. I knock on the door. Joscha opens it. "Is Niklas here?" I ask, lifting the bag in my hand slightly.

"Ah. I see. I'll send him out to you." he smiles kindly at me before disappearing inside.

About a minute later, the door opens again and this time Niklas comes out.

"Hi.", I greet him. There is a little more nervousness in my voice than I would like.

"Hi. Jascha, said you had something for me?" he asks, squinting curiously at the bag in my hand.

"Um, yeah. I pulled you.", I say quickly and hand him the bag.

Curious, he rummages through it. I deliberately put everything in. From bottom to top: the concert tickets, the shirt, the notebooks and at the very top the stickers.
"How did you know I liked this artist?" he asks me as he pulls the shirt out of the bag and holds it up devoutly. He seemed to be having a fangirl moment inside.

"I overheard you and Joscha talking about him shortly after the draw," I explain, "There's one more thing," I add. He didn't seem to have noticed the cards at the bottom of the bag yet.

"You got me cards too.", he seemed speechless. His gaze went back and forth between the cards and me a few times in disbelief.

"Yes. Was that okay? Or did you get some yourself too?", I asked nervously.

"That's mega! Thank you so much! No, I didn't. No one wanted to go with me and when I looked for myself, all the tickets were gone."

"If you want, I'd go with you. I haven't listened to this genre before, but after the talk I at least read up on this rapper and I don't think his music is that bad," I start talking.

"I would be happy about that.", he smiles at me and that smile makes my knees go all soft. I return it tentatively. With joy, he pulls me into his arms. I let myself sink a little into the embrace. It is just too beautiful not to enjoy.

"Thank you." he breathes into my ear again as he breaks away from me again. When we broke away, I think I briefly felt his lips against my cheek and the hug had also been a little longer than one between friends usually is. Or am I just imagining it?

A distant call from Bennis for me bursts the bubble of togetherness between us. After another thank you and goodbye, I make my way to my team.

With red cheeks, not only because of the cold, I walk back to the team. Maybe, just maybe, I have a chance with him.

Chapter Text

Quentin's POV:

My alarm clock rudely jolts me out of sleep.
With my fingers still slightly shaky and with several attempts to catch the right spot on the display of my mobile phone to stop the alarm, pleasant silence reigns again in my hotel room.

For once I have a room to myself. Actually, I would have shared a room with Emilien at this World Cup stop, but he ended his season early after the World Championships.

Tired, I run my hands over my face. First I have to wake up properly. Today is 04.03.23, a Saturday, I'm in Nove Mesto and today I have a pursuit coming up in which, with a 15th place in the sprint, I definitely have the chance to fight my way up even further.

Now that I am a bit more awake, I take my mobile phone off the charging cable and wake it up from sleep by deactivating the flight mode. I always check the most important messages immediately after waking up. Messages from my family and from Vetle. Today it is my mother and Vetle who have already written to me this morning. My mother wished me good luck for today's race. I quickly reply to her. Then it's my boyfriend's turn to write. He has been my steady partner for two years. Just before we got together, I thought I would never find someone who would accept me as I am and who would literally carry me on his hands. And then Vetle came along and surpassed my wildest imagination. He asks me if we are going to meet for breakfast. I reply that his suggestion sounds good.

But first I have to get up. Leave my warm and also quite comfortable bed so that I can get ready for the day. Driven by the possibility of having breakfast with Vetle right away, I put my mobile phone aside again and start to get up.

As soon as I push the blanket aside, the cool air of the room hits me. Brrr. I sit up briskly. The quicker I get dressed, the warmer I feel.

My circulation does not agree. Swaying, I have to support myself with one hand on the wall at the head of the bed. I stand like this for a short while and wait until the room stops revolving around me. Unfortunately, I have had this feeling a few times in the last few days. But that doesn't make it any nicer and also worries me a little.

I slip on some loose team clothes that we wear when we move around the hotel. That way, we always quickly find ourselves together as a nation in the shared spaces, like the dining room and so on. It is also compulsory for us to wear them when we are outside the room. Exceptions are shirts under jackets, from the team.

My getting up is perfectly timed with my coach knocking on the door. As soon as I'm dressed, I just have to slip into my shoes before going to the dining room for breakfast, there's a knock on the door.

"Good morning, Quentin. Test I left for you at the door. See you in a minute!" comes a muffled knock from the other side of the door. The test is the obligatory coronary test. Without a negative test I would still not be allowed to leave my hotel room.

By now, the handgrips are in place. I bring the test in and put it on the small table, disinfect my hands, prepare everything, put the cotton ball in my nose, then in the small tube with the test liquid and transfer the contents of my nose into the liquid as well as I can, and finally I put 3 drops of the mixture on the actual test.

I always spend the same 15 minutes waiting time. I put my lucky necklace around my neck, a quick glance at my mobile phone. My mother had written to me and Vetle, my partner for two years, also wishes me a good morning. I reply to both before tackling my last item in my morning routine.

The rest of the messages I only briefly check for relevance. But everything else I can answer later or even after the race.

The last point of my morning routine is the bathroom. Morning toilet, hair styling and also some skincare are on the agenda.

On the way to the toilet, my gaze roams over my things, which are lying on a narrow ledge above the sink. It lingers on a box. 'Shall I? It's the last one I have with me,' it goes through my head.

Without consciously moving my arms and hands, I reach for the box. Inside it is a pregnancy test.

Shortly before I got together with Vetle, it became public that some men from our generation, due to a genetic change, can carry children themselves. As a bisexual single man at the time, I had myself tested for exactly this change using a new test procedure. The result: Yes, I have the predisposition. That alone is not enough for pregnancy. We still don't know exactly when we produce an egg and under what influences it happens more often or less often. None of us has a period like women. We produce eggs one at a time according to the body's presumed needs, but regular sexual intercourse is supposed to help if you really want to get pregnant. And that's exactly what me and Vetle have been having for a few months now.

Vetle had long since given up on the idea of raising children of her own when we really got to know each other while dating. With the news that I could get pregnant under the right circumstances, this desire has become more present again. After more than a year of a stable relationship, we finally dared to stop using contraception. Now nature decides what happens or doesn't happen.

My gaze is incessantly glued to the packaging of the test. Why not? Then I'll just have to buy more tests inconspicuously when the opportunity arises,' I finally come to a decision.

Two minutes later, I brush my teeth and can hardly take my eyes off the mirror. Through it, I can see the test lying on the edge of the bathtub in the background. The small loading bar on the equally small display of the test seems to drive me to despair with its eternal flashing.

These tests are spawns of hell. If you don't want a child, they may tell you the worst news of your life, namely that of a new life. If you want a child and take the tests and keep hoping it will be positive and then it is not, it is equally bad news. But in both cases the waiting time is eternally long until you then have certainty or not.

The minutes the test takes, I try to keep myself busy with my routine. Shortly before the pregnancy test is ready, my alarm clock rings for the coronal test.

At first, at a brief glance, I don't really notice the result of this test. So far I hadn't had a positive one and I feel quite normal today too. Apart from my little stumble with my circulation earlier. But unlike usual, I think I have noticed a second line. A second, longer look unfortunately confirms my first impression.

I can't really believe it. I swallow dryly for a moment before fetching my mobile phone to call the person in charge from our team. The phone call is short. I am told to stay in the room and another test is brought in for review.

The second test in the bathroom is no longer present in my mind at that moment. Mechanically, I repeat the Coronatest as soon as it has been delivered to me. And this time I stay at the table for the 15 minutes and watch it closely. Unfortunately, the second stroke makes itself felt after only a few minutes. Crap! With a second phone call, I confirm the second positive result.

I quickly upload a photo of me and one of the tests. After all, I want the fans to know that I really can't compete today. No sooner have I posted the picture than my friend comments on it. The little disappointed emoji tears my heart more than the actual test.

The next moment my phone rings with an incoming video call from Vetle.

"Hi.", I manage to get out. My day has gone down the drain in 15 minutes.

"Oh, Kjære, it'll be fine. How are you feeling? Any symptoms?", Vetle inquires anxiously.

"No, not really. A bit of circulation when I get up, but not bad," I sigh and let myself fall backwards onto my bed. All my energy has suddenly left my body.

"I wish I could get to you and take care of you or give you a hug."

"I'm afraid I can't," I manage with a weak smile.

I close my eyes briefly as Vetle continues to speak lovingly to me on the other end of the line, trying to cheer me up. As I lie there like this, a fleeting thought of a third test comes to the fore again.

Hastily I jump up, ignoring my circulation, which does not like this at all, and run with hurried steps to the bathroom.

"Kjære? Quentin, what is it?" asks Vetle, who is surprised by my sudden actionism.

I had stopped beside the bathtub. My gaze is glued to that small screen. I am unable to answer Vetle. Instead, a suppressed sob shakes my body. With trembling fingers I lift up the test, but even in the better light the result remains the same. Overwhelmed, I lower myself onto the closed toilet lid.

"Quentin?" comes softly and anxiously from my mobile. Vetle, judging by the attitude of my phone, has just seen my shirt and got no answer from me either.

At first I point the phone back so that he can see me. Only when I can see myself in the small window at the edge do I realise that silent tears are rolling down my cheeks. But I smile a little. With shaky fingers I finally bring the test into view, so that Vetle can read the result herself.

'Pregnant 3+ Weeks', it says in the small display.
This test was the first I had done in over a month. Our hopes had dimmed a little with the start of the new year. Became more realistic. We knew that pregnancy was not easy and not without risk and that I would not get pregnant at all.

Accordingly, our reactions to the positive test were completely unprepared and without a filter. Together we sob in our shared joy and at the same time with sadness, as we can't be together directly because of my coronary test. At least not for the next few days.

***

I was not fit enough for Sweden. That was certain with the positive test. Since I'm not running for anything this season either, I decide to end it right away.

Until I test negative again, I stay in my hotel room in the Czech Republic. Then I travel to France. Back home. The day after my arrival, I have an appointment with my doctor. First he does the necessary tests to see how I am generally feeling after the illness, and then another pregnancy test. This is positive again. He takes some blood before examining me briefly with the ultrasound. He already recognises something there, but it is still too early for a clear picture.

So I made another appointment after the World Cup in Norway, when Vetle can be there.

It took a long time, but it was worth it. The doctor can show us a clear picture of our child and I am showered with kisses from Vetle.

In retrospect, a positive test would have been enough for me. But if it's the terms of fate that I have Corona so that I can get pregnant in the first place or have a test done, then I'm happy to put up with it.

Chapter Text

Note: Both Sturla's schedule and Julian's game plan are completely made up to give me more creative freedom.

Sturla's POV:

We are gathered with the complete Norwegian men's team for dinner. For once, not in the hotel, but in a restaurant nearby. The table is full and I have all the opportunities in the world to talk. Not that I didn't do that at the beginning of the evening. By the time our starters arrived, I had been involved in various conversations, as had everyone else at the table. With the main course and the gluttonous silence that ensued, I disengaged from the plodding conversation. My mind had wandered to my boyfriend instead.

Julian and I had been dating since the summer. A chance bump in Oslo at a supermarket fruit display in May was our first encounter. We clicked immediately. Love at first sight, as they say.

Whenever we can, we spend time together. We savour every single minute of it. As a pair of athletes with two different sports and two different home countries, it is sometimes really difficult to find a weekend off together or even to plan a holiday. One bright spot is that the Norwegian footballers didn't take part in the World Cup, so Julian had some free time that he wouldn't have had in the usual years without the World Cup.

I kept squinting under the table at my mobile phone. Julian wanted to get in touch with me as soon as he got to his hotel. We arranged to Skype.
" ..., right?"

"Huh?", I ask less than intelligently. My best friend, John Dale, had nudged me and thus pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Sturla, you dreamer!", Tarjei grins at me. The grin softens his played stern tone with which he addresses me. A slight flush of red creeps onto my cheeks. Caught daydreaming.

"Yes?", I ask, spearing an unwilling lettuce leaf with my fork to avoid looking directly at him.

"I asked if we all wanted to play the game I brought together tomorrow after practice. For that, there must be at least four of us, but at best, six," Tarjei repeats for me.

"Why not. I'm in," I agree. We have training tomorrow morning. After noon, the women, whom we still can't support as we did before the pandemic because of Corona, will start. At 7 p.m. we will have dinner, because tomorrow morning we have the last race of the weekend. And at 19:30 the whistle blows for Julian's game, which I will definitely watch.

Tarjei nods with a grin. For the rest of dinner I pay more attention to the conversations around me. I don't want to produce another embarrassing situation.

As we walk back to the hotel, with everyone except Vetle, who is meeting Antoin, and I wanting to sit down for a beer in the pub next to the hotel, I get the message from Julian that this way in 5 minutes he has the room to himself and can call. I answer him with a thumbs-up emoji.

Johannes, the younger one, is my roommate as always when he is part of the team (unfortunately too rarely, we both find) and since he goes to the pub with me, I automatically have the room to myself.

He doesn't know anything about Julian either. Of course, he has noticed that I am at least writing with someone more intensively, but not with whom. I return his insinuating wiggle of the eyebrows with a roll of the eyes. Inwardly, I brace myself for him to question me as soon as he gets to the room. After all, I've known my best man for a few years. At least he's known about my sexuality for a long time, so that if I ever tell him about Julian, this point won't shock him too.

Sighing contentedly, I open my laptop and start Skype before I have even taken off my jacket. Only my shoes have I stripped off in the small entrance area of the room.

Julian is apparently already waiting for me, as he immediately answers my call. When he sees me still in my jacket sitting on the bed, he smirks amusedly, "Kjaere, while I'm glad I'm more important to you than a jacket, you could have taken it off before you called me."

"Like you'd mind," I grin at him and only get a playful roll of the eyes from him.

"Who are you rooming with this time?", I ask him. Since his move to Dortmund, to strengthen the team feeling, he has always changed room partners. At Union it had always been the same one, and he always got him very well driven out of the room for our couple time back then.

"Mats. I haven't shared a room with him yet. But I've been forewarned that he probably snores from time to time, and not always quietly," Julian purses his lips. I would do the same in his place. Sleep is very important for us professional athletes and that doesn't really sound restful.

"My condolences. I hope for your sake that tonight is one of his quiet nights," I try to cheer him up a bit.

Our conversation switches to my race today. Once again I have come second. The victory was snatched by our personified Hulk. There's no beating JT Bo this season.

We are so engrossed in our conversation that I don't notice that Johannes has come into the room. Startled, I look at him as he has made himself known by clearing his throat.

I have the bed against the wall facing the bathroom. To make it a little more comfortable, I leaned against this wall for the call and put the laptop on the bed next to me at a slight angle. And Johannes is now leaning against exactly the same wall, only at the foot of my bed. From his position he can only look sideways at the screen, but he definitely sees something on it.

I blush red. The feeling is worse than that of being caught from dinner.

"Sturla, what's wrong?" comes a worried voice from the speaker of my laptop. Julian. He can't see Johannes and has been alerted by my sudden silence and my, no longer directed at him, gaze. I open my mouth a few times, but no answer comes out for my friend. My gaze instead keeps wandering back and forth between the two most important people in my life.

"Julian Ryerson, then?" asks John, amused, into the silence of the room. I only manage a mechanical-looking nod in reply.

Johannes pushes himself off the wall and is with me in a few quick steps. He throws himself on the bed next to me, on the side where the laptop is not, and leans against the wall next to me. Smiling, he greets my friend. Julian seems a little surprised. He visibly swallows dryly, knowing from my stories how important Johannes is to me, before he greets me back.

A little small talk develops between the two. I only speak when one of them addresses me directly. Otherwise, I observe the first interaction between the two. They seem to understand each other at least to the extent that subliminal threats are necessary.

Julian finally ends the conversation, as he himself expects his own roommate to return soon.

"Don't worry, I'll look after your sweetheart here. After I long his ears, since he hasn't said a word about you yet," John assures Julian, winking at him. He flicks my ear, whereupon I have to shoo his hand away like a pesky fly.
Julian raises an eyebrow. "Hurt him and I'll hurt you!" he replies.

"Deal. Even though that should have been more my line," my bestie concedes defeat for now.

No sooner is the connection, of course after a goodbye between Julian and me alone for which I banish Johannes to the bathroom, disconnected and the laptop switched off than Johannes is back.

"So now you tell me everything!" he demands, looking at me with a look that tells me he wouldn't leave me alone before either.

I surrender to my fate and begin to tell him about everything in great detail.

"Wasn't so hard, was it? I'm happy for you. The way Julian was just now and the way your eyes just lit up when you told me, he's the one for you," John states and pulls me into a hug.

The last of my tension falls away with that. My quiet and murmured "Thank you" sounds correspondingly relieved.

Chapter Text

Note: I forgot, if he said it at all, where exactly Lando was travelling in Winter. Same with Aleksander. When Lando was on the road (according to Instabild), it was the European Championships and he was not part of the team, but on the road elsewhere (according to pics from Insta and Reels). At my place they meet in Geilo, where Aleks lives and trains. Whereby I actually only use the name of the place.

Lando's POV:

Desperately I try to bring my mobile phone back to life. My fingers are stiff with cold and my teeth keep hitting each other through my trembling.

Damn. I had only been to the toilet for a moment and my troop has run ahead to the hotel we are staying in for a few nights. Due to my delay, of only a few minutes, I only stepped out of the small inn when they had long since disappeared around at least 2 house corners.

I have been trying to find my way to the hotel for a good quarter of an hour now. Unfortunately, the long day has taken its toll on my mobile phone battery. The screen remains black. Black like the night that surrounds me. I can't suppress a stronger shiver as a cold chill runs down my spine.

As best I can, I crawl into my clothes. My mobile phone ends up in my jacket pocket and I quickly put my glove back on. No matter what plan I come up with, I should protect myself against the cold as best I can. I breathe the cold night air in and out slowly a few times to calm myself. I will make it! Soon I will be able to sit in front of the fireplace and warm up again! I just have to make it!

"Hey.", a friendly and slightly accented male voice snaps me out of my inner monologue. I whirl around to look at the person the voice belongs to. I almost fell over. My tired body cannot follow my head as fast as I wanted.

"Careful." comes in a warm tone from the voice and a gloved hand appears in the corner of my eye. Apparently my stumbling has caught his eye too. My cheeks, if that's even possible because of the cold, turn a tad redder.

"I'm okay," I say in a shaky voice once I'm standing safely. The man in front of me can't be much older than me. His blue eyes seem friendly and open. Small, fine laugh lines at the corners of his eyes make me type a good and cheerful character. He is taller than me and his hair makes me think a little of Carlos, except that the slightly wavy hair of the man in front of me is blond. How anyone can get by in weather like this without a cap and min apparently a layer less clothing than me is a mystery to me, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"From the look of you, you're not quite okay. Is there anything I can do to help?" he offered kindly.

"If you don't mind?", I meekly try to play down my situation.

"I don't. And I don't want to see you standing here freezing any longer. I'm Aleks." Apparently he has seen through my facade. His smile remains just as friendly as before, and doesn't turn gloating in any way.

"Lando. You're welcome, then. I've lost my group. My phone battery died and I can't remember the way to the hotel," I admit.

"Don't worry, we'll get it all fixed," he promises me. I tell him the name of the hotel in stuttered English. Bloody Norwegian language! He seems to know immediately where I have to go and asks me to follow him with a wave of his hand.

We walk slowly along the snow-covered paths. Out of an inner impulse, I trust him to bring me safely to my hotel. My gaze roams over his body. Despite his winter clothes, I suspect he has an athletic build. His gait is powerful and sure. He is definitely my type.

My gaze slides back up his thighs, buttocks and back to his head as he turns and smiles at me again. His smile seems warmer to me than before. I'm probably just making it up, but that doesn't change the fact that I notice blood rushing to my cheeks again.

Trying to be inconspicuous, I let my gaze wander further to our surroundings. Hopefully he hasn't noticed anything. 'I can't fall straight for the first man I find attractive!", I admonish myself.

Unconsciously, my gaze wanders to the sky. There are only a few small clouds on the way, otherwise it is starry. And starry skies in Norway are simply breathtaking. Here you can see stars that you can otherwise only see with a telescope. They seem almost close enough to touch. "Wow," I say breathlessly.

I hadn't even noticed that I had stopped to better enjoy the sight of the stars. Next to me I hear the soft crunching of snow under Alek's shoes.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he asks and I nod in affirmation. He sounds close and I almost don't dare turn around. But I do and sure enough, he is standing right behind me. Only a few centimetres separate us. Contrary to what I expected, it doesn't seem to bother me that he is so close. Again the blood rushes to my cheeks.

"Come on, you really need to get warm," he urges me to start walking again. His left hand rests loosely on my hip. It must be my subconscious, but I think I can feel his touch and his body heat through the many layers of our clothes. During the last few metres of our walk, we walk side by side like this.

Without batting an eyelid, he follows me into the lobby. Only he has let go of me before. As soon as his hand is no longer on the spot on my hip, I miss it and feel the cold more strongly again. Slightly sad that I'll probably never see him again, I'm about to say goodbye when he beats me to it, "Wait a minute." His smile alone makes me swallow my half-formed goodbye and nod.

With quick steps he walks to the reception desk. The young woman behind the counter seems surprised by him. He talks to her quickly in Norwegian until she hands him a piece of paper and a pen. He takes both and seems to make a note of something, thanks the woman and turns back to me.

"Here. I'd like you to get back to me as soon as your phone has battery and you're thawed out." Again that warm, gentle smile that lights up his whole face is there and I feel so warm again. A slight tingling sensation even seems to spread through my stomach.

I take the note from him. His name and a mobile number are written on it. "I will," I promise him.

"Good. It was nice to meet you, Lando," his smile intensifies again and the tingling in my stomach gets a little stronger.

"Me too," I answer him a little breathlessly. The situation is almost too good to be real.

"Have a good night.", he whispers and takes me in his arms for a moment. My head comes to rest on his shoulder for a moment. I hardly dare to breathe it feels so good. I could definitely make out muscles under his clothes and he is the perfect height for me. Even after the hug, I immediately miss his touch.

"Good night, Aleks.", I wish him.

He gives me one last, loving, smile and then he turns and disappears through the door into the night.

As soon as I can no longer see him, I make my way to my room. I just quickly kick off my shoes in the entrance hall. Then I hook up my mobile phone directly to the charging cable and place the note with Alek's number underneath it. Only then do I take off the rest of my clothes, get out new and comfortable clothes to sleep in and disappear into the bathroom to warm up again with a shower.

Half an hour later I leave the bathroom, warmed up and ready for bed again. I make myself comfortable on the bed. My mobile phone has a few percent battery again and also comes on when I switch it on. As soon as I could, I go to my contacts and create a new one for Aleks. Before my courage leaves me, I set about writing a message to him.

L: Mobile phone is back on and I'm thawed out so far. Thanks again for your help.

A: That reassures me. You're welcome. I hope it doesn't stay with just this one meeting.

L: Me too. But first I have to sleep now and leave the cold behind me. Brrr!

A: Little frostbite 😉

***

Over the next few weeks we write to each other every day. In the process, I learn that he is a biathlete. Whenever it suits me, I watch the livestreams of his races. There aren't many this season.

Carlos, Charles, George, Alex and Pierre often tease me because I now have my mobile phone in my hand every free minute to text with Aleks. I can no longer deny that I have a real crush on him and he also flirts with me very obviously at times.

I can hardly wait until I can see Aleks again. Until then, I only have a few pictures he sent me privately and his pictures on Instagram to look at. And of course my memories of the magical night in Norway when we met. I will never forget that night again.

Chapter Text

Note: School AU; Fabien is only two years older than Emilien and Eric, who are also the same age here.

Eric's POV:

I always found it terribly clichéd when the girls in my old class talked about the latest young adult romance books. The protagonist falls in love with her new stepbrother, her best friend's older brother, her best friend, or most popularly, the coolest boy in school who ALL the girls in school fall for. Puke!

And then came the move. My dad took a new job in another city and we all move with him. At 15 I leave my group of friends, most of whom I've been in with since the toddler group, to move from Bourg-Saint-Maurice to Épinal.

To coincide with the new school year, I am starting at my new school. So far, I have always had good grades, and to be honest, I don't really care about grades in the first few weeks.

My new class teacher introduces me to my new class. A friendly smiling boy from the second row invites me to sit on the free chair at his table. Our teacher is delighted and almost pushes me to my new seat.

I sit down and observe my new classmates a little more closely while our teacher takes attendance. One group of girls looks like a typical bitch group, in the back sit some boys, they must be the 'cool' ones in the class. Next to my new seatmate, I make out 6 other students and pupils who probably don't belong to either group. Of the groupless, a boy nods at me with a grin and a girl raises her hand briefly in greeting.

The boy next to me, who introduces himself as Emilien, begins to roughly prepare me for the lesson and also warns me about the formation of groups in the class.

***

Over the next few weeks, Emilien turned out to be a real friend. Fabienne, the girl who says hello, and Casper, the boy who says hello, with whom he has mostly spent the breaks so far, give me a friendly welcome. The four of us are quickly inseparable. Fabienne and Casper are definitely in love with each other, but don't want to tell each other. Emilien and I keep taking turns trying to get them to do so. Because two of our group of four are busy secretly idolising each other and Fabienne is tutoring Casper in maths, Emilien and I spend a lot of time together.

While I had many good friends back home, Emilien is best friend material. I've never got on so well with anyone before. My gut told me that I could trust him unconditionally and so I confided in him things that no one knew about me before. I told him openly that I suspected I was bi. His reaction knocked my socks off.

"I'm gay." he had whispered in my ear after suddenly throwing himself at me with his full weight.

After coming out to each other, we also went on a date. We picked a good movie and holed up in my room.
Popcorn eating and giggling as we threw candy at each other more than watching the movie, it was a lovely evening. Finally, just before he had to go home, we kissed. After the kiss, we looked at each other briefly before we started shaking our heads at the same time. Although neither of us has much kissing experience, we could definitely tell after that one kiss that we have no feelings for each other and harmonise better as friends.

***

Two weeks after our kiss, I met the person who confirmed my secret assumption of being bi. Emilien's older brother, Fabien, is coming back home from Germany after a three-month student exchange.

The first time I see him, he opens the door of the Claude family home for me. It takes me a few moments to sort out the picture in front of me. Fabien, whom I have only known from one or two pictures in the family's hallway, looks even better in real life than in these very photos.

"Hi. I'm Eric. A friend of Emilien's," I introduce myself, my mouth dry with nervousness.

"Hi Eric. I'm Emilien's brother. Fabien. Nice to meet you. Emilien is upstairs in his room, probably waiting for you," he greets me too and gives me a smile that takes my breath away.

I can only nod and almost flee to Emilien's room. Why does Fabien have to be so good-looking and also the brother of my best friend,' I thought to myself desperately.

***

After that encounter, I can't get Fabien out of my mind. When I see him or just hear his name, the butterflies in my stomach do an artistic dance. And when I talk to him, I have to really concentrate to keep the conversation going because I'm so nervous.

I can't believe it. I have become one of the protagonists in the books of my former classmates back home.

Emilien noticed right away that I've changed. He doesn't press me to tell him what it is exactly that has brought about this change. It was only a few weeks after the first meeting with Fabien that I told him about my crush on his brother. He spent the night at my house and after a few seconds of silence, he crawls into bed with me and takes me in his arms without comment. He also holds me tightly in his arms when I go into a crying fit after he confirms that Fabien is only into girls. Even when I asked him which sex Fabien liked, I knew that the answer would blow my mind. But Emilien is there for me.

***

Up until the summer, I was always struggling with a touch of heartbreak. Emilien does his best to distract me. I also told Fabienne and Casper, who actually managed to confess their love for each other at Christmas, around Easter and they helped me a lot too.

***

In the end, it's not them who help me over the heartbreak because of Fabien, but someone else entirely.

On an outing in town during the summer holidays, I was inattentive one moment because I'm looking at Emilien walking, and the next I'm sitting on the seat of my trousers.

I am looked at apologetically out of chocolate brown eyes. The boy in front of me, about our age must not have seen me either and now we are both sitting on the floor in the pedestrian zone.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to do that. Are you okay?" the unknown inquired of me. Genuine concern resonates in his voice.

"I'm fine. Nothing hurts me either. And I must apologise too, I wasn't paying attention to the road ahead," I reassure him.

"Oh, good.", he says relieved. "I want to make up for my faux pas. Can I buy you anything?" he asks me, smiling softly at me as he gently helps me back to my feet. Two dimples appear on his cheeks, which I immediately think are great. In general, he looks damn good. Even much better than Fabien.

I am so absorbed in looking at him that I don't answer him directly. It's only when Emilien clears his throat that I snap out of my analysis of my counterpart's features. I guess the stranger hasn't noticed them yet either.

We all introduced ourselves and decide to sit down in a nearby café. Oskar, that was the stranger's name, was also talking to the others, but I kept feeling his gaze on me and got my hopes up slightly. When he also pays for me, I am more sure. We exchange our numbers before he leaves us again.

I watch him for a few seconds before he disappears around the next street corner. Countless butterflies are running wild in my stomach. Many more than they ever were with Fabien. Emilien pulls me into his arms and hugs me to him. "Eric is loiiiiiove!" he sings softly.

***

Oskar, who goes to the other secondary school, fits in well with our group of friends over the next few months.
To my greatest happiness, after two months he asks me if I would go on a date with him. Of course I said yes, and couldn't be happier. I've moved on from my crush on Fabien and Oskar is the best first boyfriend I could ever have wished for.

Chapter Text

-Summer 2022 in Paris-

Pierre's POV:

Disappointed, I lower my head and run a hand over my face in annoyance.

As if this would undo the last few hours. As if this would undo the date I've just had.

Since my breakup with Caterina, Charles and his girlfriend have been trying to set me up again and again. They started a few months after the breakup and so far I had had about 10 first dates. And that despite the fact that I had to put the brakes on Charles properly.

My Best Friend had developed an almost unhealthy obsession with my love life. It seems as if he and Charlotte spend almost every spare minute picking out interesting candidates for me. Charles, who knows about my real sexuality, also sends me some candidates. But I always turn them down immediately. Even though I am currently longing for a relationship with a man, following the example of the relationship I had with a classmate during my school days, I have vowed to wait with men until my career is behind me or I have found a woman who has completely blown my socks off.

First date number 10 with a woman has just been ended by her. She has to go on to a model casting. Camille has been younger than me, runs quite a successful Instagram account - I had to talk her out of taking photos of our date - and models on the side, not very successfully. She definitely hadn't been keen to get to know me better. She was more interested in my career and fame. Her questions were therefore very impersonal. She also answered some of my questions very briefly and in a slightly huffy manner or avoided me directly.

The other dates with the other women were similar. The search for a nice woman seems to be a bit tricky these days. At least with models I'm through for good now. Why is it no longer fashionable to be a bookworm? Somehow I would be more attracted to a woman who likes to read and is rather educated. It doesn't have to be the great love that I want to find, but someone with whom I can build up a relationship of trust and with whom I can also be myself sometimes. But that seems to be asking too much.

"Hi," I hear a man's voice near me say. I only realise that it was me who was addressed when I see, through my fingers, someone sit down opposite me on the chair that has been vacant for a few minutes.

Blue eyes sparkle at me with interest as I straighten up and pay attention to the stranger opposite me. I clear my throat slightly embarrassed and blush slightly under his gaze. 'Come down! Men are off limits for the next few years,' I rebuke myself inwardly.

My counterpart now smirks slightly. Apparently he has noticed my reaction. My eyes scan him more closely for a moment. Tousled, dark blond but soft-looking hair that is shorter than mine, expressionistic and slightly greyish blue eyes, a light beard - clearly fuller and nicer than mine - and amused lips twisted into a smirk that practically invite a kiss. 'How am I supposed to stick to my code when I've got such a doozy sitting across from me and, by my reckoning, interested in me too!'

"Hi.", I reply, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"You looked so forlorn after the Madam left, so I thought I'd sit with you. Let me guess: first date and it was a total bust?" he explained his sudden appearance. Puzzled, I look at him. He seems to be a good judge of character.

"In fact, you're right. My best friend has been trying to get me back with into dating for well over a year," I explain to him. Triumphantly, he looks at me over the rim of his cup as he takes a sip.

"That's quite a long time. Don't you want a relationship? Not the right one at that so far, or don't you want a woman at all?" he goes straight for the small flaw in my previous sentence. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. We don't even know each other, but sometimes it helps to talk to someone uninvolved. I'm Emilien, by the way. Nice to meet you," he introduced himself as an afterthought, extending his hand across the table to me.

Before I answered, I grabbed his hand and shook it briefly. "It's okay. Pierre. Nice to meet you too," I start and briefly let my gaze wander around the small restaurant, but all the other diners are further away from us and we're sitting in a corner that's hard to see, "I tend to like both sexes equally. I wouldn't mind a relationship, but then the second person has to fit too. I need someone I can rely on and with whom I harmonise. My job is stressful enough, I can't have a relationship with constant ups and downs on the side. When it comes to men, I have a code: don't look or touch until after my career," I don't know why I do it, but somehow it feels good to pour my heart out to him.

Emilien tilts his head slightly and looks at me thoughtfully for a few seconds. I hear him whisper my first name softly until he finally remembers where he knows me from. His eyes light up and he leans slightly towards me. The fact that his arm muscles tense as he does so, briefly drawing my attention to them, makes me swallow dryly and reach for my, now cold, coffee. "Pierre. Pierre Gasly. Formula 1, right?" he guesses correctly.

Holding my breath, I nod. What will he do with this information? But a gentle smile creeps onto his lips. Again he holds out his hand to me: "Emilien Jacquelin, biathlon. Competeing for France in the World Cup, World Championships and Olympics," he introduces himself again and winks at me, "So we're on the same level of knowledge," he explains his reintroduction. Again I take his hand.

"Emil', we have to go," another man addresses him. He had stopped a few steps from our table and also so that he cannot see me directly.

"Just a minute, Quentin, will you? I'll be right there with you," Emilien replies. The one I don't know turns around grumbling and leaves the restaurant with quick steps.

"Nice to have met you. Unfortunately, Mister I-also-keep-to-the-most-boring-rules is right, and I have to go. Especially some days I wish Martin was back as team leader," he smirks and rolls his eyes as he talks about his colleague.

"Likewise. I know that only too well. But sometimes people like that are quite practical," I reply, amused. I'm glad to see that things are similar in other sports, as they are for us drivers.

"Yup. But sometimes it's just too much," Emilien agrees and quickly drinks the rest of his coffee.

As he stands up, he turns to me again, "I'll get back to you," he says goodbye for real now and with a final wink and smirk in my direction, he turns around. He sets his cup down on the counter, puts a note next to it and leaves the pub with quick steps to meet a group of men outside, who start moving as soon as he appears.

I remain seated for a moment. Now, however, not as dejected as before Emilien sat down with me.

***

That same evening I got a DM on Instagram from Emilien. He doesn't need to know that I've already taken a close look at his accounts. My treacherous heart immediately started beating faster when I received the message.

For the next few weeks, Emilien and I exchanged dozens of messages every day. Funny but also serious. I can talk to him about anything. Text messages turn into phone calls and eventually video calls.

I brush Charles off with the excuse that I have found another woman online and am now writing with her. With that, the project 'We'll get Pierre a girlfriend' was finished for the time being. Only now he started asking me about my acquaintance.

Whenever it somehow suited, I also meet Emilien in person. Our connection grows stronger with every meeting. When we were able to see each other briefly between the start of his season and the end of mine, we finally kissed for the first time. Sadly, it was goodbye and with the certainty that there would be little opportunity for us to see each other until Christmas.

Apparently, my code had a weak spot. And the weak spot is called Emilien. For him, I become a fangirl and also start looking up everything I can find about biathlon and him. I read countless reports and pages on the internet about biathlon to inform myself about him and his sport and thus be at least somewhat close to him.

Even if we have to hide our relationship, it's nice to be together. The fact that Emilien is also an athlete and therefore in the spotlight of the press helps because I don't have to explain anything to him. Together we'll get through the next few years and after our careers we'll get the happiness we're paying for by hiding.

Chapter Text

*Summer 1940 - World War 2

Sturla's POV:

After almost a year of war in Europe, and thanks to good observation by our own military, we managed to save a lot. Our royal family has fled to England and is safe there. Only we remain. The ordinary people.

As a half-swedish half-sorwegian, I have not been called up for military service for the time being. Instead, I signed up for service in a military hospital. I am one of the first men to learn the profession of nursing in Norway, which is typically practised by women. And if I can't actively fight back for my country myself, I can at least help those who do.

I am assigned to a larger military hospital. Injured people are first treated in small medical posts at the front before they are brought to us to get back on their feet or receive more intensive care here. If we are unable to treat a case because of the severity of the injuries, it is taken to a real hospital. The ones who stay with us are usually those who are supposed to fight again after their recovery and therefore should not be treated too far away from their troops.

---

I am treating a burn on a patient who has been with us for two days when I hear that new patients have arrived. I finish treating him before I go to receive one of the new ones.

Only this morning we were able to release some soldiers and also civilians who had been caught in the crossfire. But the war gives us no respite and keeps producing casualties and deaths.

"Lægreid. Here!" a doctor immediately calls to me when I arrive at the first reception.

Apologetically and hopefully reassuringly, I smile at the soldier on the stretcher in front of me. He is not really spiritually present with pain, but eventually it does get to him.

"What do we have?", I ask the doctor.

"Two gunshot wounds. Grazing shot on the right forearm without a bullet and left shoulder with a bullet lodged in it. Pain on the right leg and minor burns," the doctor gives me an initial overview.

Together we get to work. We remove the bullet and carefully treat all open wounds. He has burns on the back of his hands and on the right side of his forehead. Once they are treated and he has received something for the pain, the doctor checks the leg. Fortunately, it is only more badly sprained and should get much better in the time it takes for the other wounds to heal.

I take him to my ward. Once there, he is washed by a student nurse and his broken uniform is exchanged for our patient clothes. Meanwhile, I create a medical record for Officer Vetle Sjåstad Christiansen. When I check on him afterwards, he is sleeping peacefully and I leave him alone. Shortly afterwards my shift ends.

***

The next morning, my shift begins with the admission of two more patients who have been brought in as part of a larger group.

The room I work in is big. Twenty beds fit into it. We have four such rooms in total, plus the admission and examination ward. With the two new patients, we have nineteen of the twenty beds that are now occupied. No one will be discharged today and probably not tomorrow either. This means that the next wave of new admissions could already make things tight. Six additional folding beds can still be built by pushing the normal beds together if necessary. Anything more than that will be uncomfortable and far too crowded. So far we've only had this once, but the number of days we need one or more of the six extra beds is increasing.

First aid done on the new ones, I set about treating the remaining patients. The last in line is Officer Christiansen. Today he is awake and his expressive blue eyes look at me only slightly clouded by pain.

"Good morning, officer. I'm nurse Laegreid. I'd like to take a look at your wounds and give you some medicine, yes?" I address him kindly as I arrive with my treatment trolley next to his bed.

"Hei. You're welcome. Especially the painkiller is starting to wear off and the burns are stinging a bit." He smiles at me honestly. No disparaging face, as men in nursing are not liked to be seen, or rejection of me caring for him. That and his feedback about his condition and concerns makes it easy for me to care for him thoroughly.

"Don't worry. We'll have that in a minute," I promise him and immediately administer the painkiller. It works quite quickly and so when I start to tend to his wounds a few minutes later, he already feels less pain.

I work thoroughly and do not let myself be disturbed by an incoming emergency. I still listen with one ear in the direction of the treatment room in case they need assistance there. But the situation seems to be under control.

The last wound I treat is the burn on his forehead. In the process, we come forcibly closer to each other. My gaze briefly slides down a little to his eyes. They are already clearer again and the blue of the irises only seems to glow more as a result. 'Beautiful...', it runs through my head. Inwardly, I give myself a slap and force my concentration back to my treatment of his wound.

"Well, that's at least the obvious. Does anything else hurt you?" I ask him dutifully.

"Thank you. Nothing else hurts me. Could I maybe get one of those big pillows to lean on?" he asked, pointing to another soldier sitting upright in his bed, with a thick pillow in the back, leaning against the headboard, reading a book.

"But of course. I'll bring it to you right away," I promise him.

Two minutes later, and with my help in sitting up, he is leaning against the headboard with the pillow and thanks me again.

I wave him off and get back to work. Caring for patients and admitting new ones, maintaining or even creating patient records and briefing a student nurse so she can help us more effectively.

When I am in his field of vision, I have the feeling that Officer Christiansen is watching me. It's not a strange feeling, but it gives me a pleasant tingle in my stomach. And every now and then I catch myself risking a glance at him.

***

The following two days pass identically to Officer Christiansen's first full day with us.

He presents himself as a model patient. He accepts all treatments without comment, builds up other members of his troop when they are brought in, and he makes an effort to keep his body mobile without us having to add anything.

What also doesn't change are his glances in my direction. He does not give it to any other nurse. There is a great discord between my heart and my head. My heart has fallen head over heels for him. My head is more rational and knows that a relationship with a man, especially one from the army can end in heartbreak and tears. At least my head acknowledges that despite wounds, the officer is really attractive and he must be taller than me.

Today, if all continues to go so well with his treatment, is his last full day with us. The doctor saw him yesterday and will make the final decision tomorrow morning.

After the days in the hospital bed, he is due for a full body wash today after the ward round. Yesterday the doctor gave him the okay to get up, so I can take him to the washing cabin where he has more privacy.

After all his clothes are off and all the bandages are removed, we start washing him from upstairs. I force myself to concentrate only on my work. With my head on the back of my neck, I can wash his hair. His eyes do not leave me for a second while I work. I still take over washing his head, arms and back. He is fit enough for the care of his other body parts. I turn around and prepare his change of clothes, while at the same time listening if he needs help and myself trying to ignore the feeling of his skin under my fingers.

I guess I wasn't paying that much attention to him after all, because out of nowhere I'm turned around and suddenly I'm standing in front of him with my back to the wall. Because of our size difference, I have to look up at him. This time there is no escape as our eyes meet. He braces himself against the wall at my sides with his hands and encircles me with them. But I am only peripherally aware of this. My head is full of him. His eyes, his body, his scent, the feel of his skin under my fingers or just the complete package that he is. Like two magnets, our heads move towards each other until our lips meet. The kiss is not careful or affectionate, rather it bears witness to the longing of the last few days. We kiss uninhibitedly and I send my hands exploring on his damp skin. A beautiful and trained body is hidden under his clothes.

The clatter of something falling tears us apart. Luckily for us, no one came to check on us. Taking advantage of the surprise, I slip past him into the ward. One of my colleagues has dropped a tray for treatment utensils.

I leave the officer to get dressed on his own. He appears a good five minutes after me behind the curtain that separates the washroom from the sickroom.
Shortly afterwards, my shift ends.

***

The next morning I have to help out with some new patients. In return, my colleagues take on the task of looking after the officer, among others.

I only see him briefly later when I bring a first-time patient into the room. He seems to be waiting for the doctor. The next time I come into the room, his bed has been abandoned and an assistant is reclothing it for the next patient.

***

In fact, I don't see him again. Until the end of the war and the liberation from the Germans, he is not a patient with us again. During the course of the war, I try to get involved as best I can and help my countrymen and countrywomen.

After our royal family is back in the country and the most serious problems have been tackled, some particularly deserving people receive awards from them. Surprisingly, I also receive an invitation to receive a medal. For: 'deserving non-military solidarity to the country'.

Wearing my best suit, I go before the king. Besides me, about twenty other future medal holders are invited. Not only civilians, but also some members in the army are there. The more important medals have already been distributed yesterday, today it's rather smaller ones.

I let my gaze wander through the hall. At least that's what I intend to do, but I get stuck on an officer. I recognise him despite the years we haven't seen each other. It is officer Vetle Sjåstad Christiansen. He too has spotted me and looks at me both pleased and surprised at the same time.

I smile at him and shrug my shoulders as if I don't know what I'm here for. I am pleased to see that he recognises my gesture and returns it.

We don't get any further than that, as the king is now ready to receive us. The ceremony is short and choreographed. At the end, the king bids us farewell with the following words: "May fate prepare better ways for you from now on." The eyes of the officer and me meet as he speaks.

He approaches me in front of the palace. "I am Vetle.", he now introduces himself as a private citizen and holds out his hand to me.

"Sturla." I place my hand trustingly in his. His strength and warmth leap from him to me, making me tremble inside. Repressed feelings come to the fore again.

"Sturla, would you do me the honour of joining me for dinner tonight?" he asks me.

"Yes." I don't have to think for my answer. Perhaps our king is right and fate is now on our side. With Vetle by my side, I would give it a try.

Chapter Text

An eyesore. This is how two retired couples describe the plot between their two allotment gardens in a quiet, small complex. The Müllers, Uwe and Monika, and the Scholz's, Manfred and Christiane, are anything but pleased about the current state of the neighbouring garden.

The plot has not been cultivated for one and a half years and has since been left to decay. The family that owns the eyesore still owns it, but has not shown up for months. The two couples have gone to the administration several times, but so far they have not been able to do anything either.

But for the past two weeks, rumours have been circulating that the garden has been put up for sale. Since then, the two couples have been on the lookout. Anyone who looks at the garden is watched mercilessly. A family with two primary school children, a group of four students and a couple with a baby have already been there. Their assessment: too loud, too much partying and too inexperienced. So far there has been no one they could make friends with as neighbours.

***

"And here were the beds of the previous owners. But again, I'm afraid you'll have to start from scratch." The pitying-sounding voice of the association member responsible for selling the gardens greeted the Müller couple when they turned up at their garden on a quiet Tuesday afternoon in spring.

In the neighbouring garden, the eyesore, Dirk the responsible person from the association is standing with a young man. Short blond hair and an athletic figure give the two pensioners hope.

"It is very important to us that we can grow our own vegetables here. We will have to get to work later with a distribution. You can make a really nice lawn there under the apple trees. So, if it's up to me, we'll take the garden right away," the blond-haired man explains and follows Dirk out of the garden.

The Müllers greet reservedly and are greeted back in a friendly manner. Dirk leads the interested party in the direction of the club playground. Let's see if they will see the young man again.

***

Christiane Scholz is weeding one of her countless flower beds by hand when a bicycle approaches on the path. She looks up to greet the passing cyclist. However, the cyclist does not continue, but stops only a few metres away from her at the fence of the eyesore garden. Friendly, a blond young man grins at her. Her friend Monika had told her in detail about his visit to the garden, at least he comes very close to her description.

"Good afternoon. I'm Benni Doll, the new owner of the overgrown garden here," he introduces himself directly and offers her his hand over the fence.

"Christiane Scholz, pleased to meet you. Me and my husband have been here for almost 20 years. I hope that you will also find happiness in the garden," she greets back. The young man makes a reasonable impression on her. Perhaps they have been lucky and found someone quiet with a green thumb.

"Thank you. Speaking of which, we have a chance for our friends to help us out on Friday and Saturday. Would they be okay with it, what with the volume and all?"
"Of course. Go ahead. I'd rather have the noise than the scrub."

"Then we'll get on with it. At the moment it's the opposite of a recreational oasis, unfortunately, but we're determined to change that. We'd like to have a barbecue on Sunday. Would you and your husband like to join us for the first day? I would have asked the other neighbours too, but they don't seem to be around right now."

"We won't say no to that. Good neighbourliness is important. Let me know if I can bring a salad or something. I can pass on their invitation to the Müllers, your other neighbours."

"That would be nice. So, I won't keep you any longer and I need to make an approximate plan for the mission so that we can be as effective as possible. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other now."

"Go ahead. I'm sure you will. See you then."
"Bye!"

As she continues weeding, she glances over at the neighbour's garden from time to time. The young man really seems to be very affable, and she has justified hopes that they will have few problems with him as owner. At least he seems to analyse his garden very carefully for the tasks that lie ahead.

***

When the two couples enter the garden grounds on Friday morning after having breakfast together at a café around the corner, there is busy activity in the garden between theirs. Benni the owner wasn't lying, as a total of 8 men, mostly in teams of two, are working in the garden.

Two of them, they seem a little older than the rest of the group, are busy doing minor repairs to the garden house. The terrace in front of the house has been cleared and Benni is scrubbing the stones, which have turned greenish, so that they regain their original colour. The lawn has already been trimmed in a makeshift way. Another collects what the remaining two groups fetch from the field and from the trees and bushes. It is truly a large-scale operation.

Benni looks up briefly and waves at them before smiling apologetically and continuing to work.

The four experienced gardeners are amazed at how quickly the men make progress. By the end of Friday, the garden is already unrecognisable. The beds are empty, the trees and shrubs trimmed. The house no longer has half-hanging shutters and working lights illuminating a clean terrace. They have always taken the garden waste to a rental container in the small car park belonging to the compound.

---

The next day was similar. This time the house and tool shed are cleared out and painted, garden furniture is set up on the patio, the lawn is decently mowed and other green work is done.

At the end of Saturday, the garden looks as if it could become a real oasis of relaxation. Now it still looks a bit too bare, but the experienced gardeners are sure that it won't stay that way for long.

***

On Sunday afternoon, a barbecue is on the agenda.
Benni and another man are already in the garden when their neighbours arrive.

"Hello, it's best if I introduce myself again. I'm Benedikt, please just call me Benni, Doll and this is my fiancé Tarjei Bø. We bought the garden together, but I'll probably spend most of my time here as I don't live far away and Tarjei spends most of the year in Norway, where he's also from by birth," Benni begins.

"Nice to meet you. My German is a bit rusty, unfortunately, but I'm trying hard and think I'll be able to speak more fluently soon. I can understand more," Tarjei smiles at the German pensioners and hopes that they don't notice his nervousness.

All four falter briefly - they have never had a gay couple in the club before - before they introduce themselves and offer the two younger ones a "you" as well.

After introducing themselves, they prepare the barbecue. The four men fetch more tables and chairs from the other two gardens so that everyone has a place. And the women take care of setting the tables and the side dishes.

Just before Benni and Tarjei's helpers arrive, the latter turns on the grill.

The helpers turn out to be two former colleagues, Erik and Arnd, of Benni, Tarjei's brother, Johannes, with his partner, Emilien, who comes from France, and two current colleagues of Benni, Johannes and Philipp.

Again, expecting the introduction of the pensioners and considering the minor language barriers, everyone gets along well. The experienced allotment gardeners give tips, and the young men offer them their muscle power in return, should it be needed. Clinking glasses of non-alcoholic sparkling wine are raised in a toast to good neighbourliness and a successful clean-up.

In the evening, during a phone call, Christiane and Monika can only conclude that they seem to have won the neighbourhood lottery with Benni and Tarjei. Under their supervision, the garden will probably not become an eyesore again.

Chapter Text

Alek's POV:

Alone, I sit opposite three men in a small but very elegant meeting room. All three were hardly known to me until today. They form the executive level of the Federation of Norwegian Winter Sports.

Their presence, the reason for our meeting and the atmosphere strain my nerves.

"By signing this document, you confirm that, with the exception of your brother, you will have no further contact with members of the federation. Not even with HIM. Otherwise we will be forced to go to court. And expect no mercy from us. Breach of contract is breach of contract."

The chairman of the three men slides me a rather simple piece of paper. This note will change my life even more than the last few days haven't already. It will take away my freedoms. It will hurt me. It will break my heart. But I have no choice but to sign it.

With a trembling hand, I put my signature on the paper. With a signature, I end my career. There is no turning back now.

Without any further detours, I leave immediately after the appointment. Away from the training grounds and regions, I want to collect myself.

***

Arrived in my own four walls, I put my suitcases down in the hallway for the time being, kick my shoes off my feet and hang up my jacket before going straight on into the living room to let myself fall onto the sofa there.
My right hand unconsciously lands on my stomach. There, in my belly, is the reason for it all.

It started with a routine check-up by our team doctor. For the federation, we have to attend this check-up regularly in order to be allowed to enter races at all. It is a standard procedure. Pulse, joints, lungs, a short conversation and a blood sample.

I got through all the tests without any problems. At the end of the appointment, I received a provisional certificate because of the outstanding blood results. This was not valid for long. They must have noticed something wrong with me at the lab. That's why I went back to the practice early this morning.

I had expected many things, but not that they would tell me that I was pregnant. My blood put them on the scent and an ultrasound confirmed the suspicion. I didn't know until then that I was part of the quarter of all men in my generation who have this predisposition in their genes. It was a proverbial slap in the face.

After the examination, things went quickly. A conversation, the handing over of my medical documents including the ultrasound picture and directly afterwards the exclusion from the association.

Reality is gradually seeping through to me. Although I don't yet know exactly how I should feel about the human being in my belly, I am aware that it is there and will now need me. Because there is no one else either.

And that is directly the second topic. With the contract I have signed that I will not tell HIM. HIM is the only man who could be the father of my child. Sturla. The federation doesn't want me to burden their currently second-best biathlete with this and refuse him from the sport.

And that hits me hard. Sturla, too, probably, because he won't get an explanation why I won't be there anymore. We have had a loving romantic relationship for some time. My brother says that we are like grandma and grandpa. They love each other but are rather detached about it.

The small gestures count more than bigger ones like you see on social media. I just wrote to him that I needed distance and blocked him everywhere as a result. It tears my heart apart to have to leave him like this, without explanation and for no apparent reason.

I only take my hand off my stomach again when my stomach starts to growl. I haven't eaten since breakfast. I pick myself up to make myself something to eat.

***

Before I tell my family what the reason for my sudden and unplanned career end is, I have to figure out one thing first: Will I have my child? Would an abortion be an alternative? And if I have the child: Will it stay with me, or will I find a nice couple who want a child?

Cliché-like, it is the first real ultrasound at the specialist's that makes the decision for me. Beforehand, I got some information material on all the options and read through it, but that alone didn't help me much. It is the sight of the 8-week-old foetus in my belly that makes me decide. I could not end this life, which is just beginning, before then.

I am a little proud that so far, without much knowledge about pregnancies, I have managed to live in such a way that my child is doing well. It seems to be doing well and, from what can be said at the moment, looks healthy. I have respect and esteem for my child. But I can't call it real love at the moment.

I miss Sturla terribly. There is no other way to put it. My heart cries, even if I stifle the real tears. Falling into a hole would not be good for me and the child under my heart. I cling to the thought that fate will bring us together again. That keeps me going.

It is an overcoming to tell my family. But it is also an enormous relief for me. I am no longer the only one who knows. Their reactions are amazed and positive. They didn't know about Sturla and me before. The only exception is Filip. And it's hard to talk him out of telling Sturla too. He doesn't understand. For me, he wishes I could have my partner by my side. But that is not the case. From then on, two days after the decisive ultrasound, I have my family by my side.

***

On the very evening of the opening of my pregnancy, my mother brings the idea to me that I could document the pregnancy. Pictures of me with my growing belly, ultrasound pictures and notes about the developmental steps I will feel later in the pregnancy.

The very next day we buy a suitable album, fancy leather-bound, and take the first photos with a Polaroid camera, also newly bought.

Besides the album about my pregnancy, I also start keeping a diary. There I write down everything that is bothering me, collect ideas for the nursery or put memories on paper, mostly something I had experienced with Sturla. It hurts from time to time, but it also frees me.

My days are now filled with baby-related topics. Doctor's appointments, everything about the pregnancy itself, preparations in the nursery and for the first time after the birth. My mother, with all her experience, is always at my side and advises me.

And like this days, weeks and months go by. My belly grows and grows. At the ultrasound in the 18th week I find out the sex of my child. It is a little boy. Shortly afterwards he begins to kick gently and only noticeably for me, before he really gets going and amazes my brother when I invite him to feel what his nephew is doing.

I carefully record each milestone in the album and in my diary. From week to week, it is easy to see how my relationship with him changes over time. At the beginning it's quite neutral and new, but the further you turn the pages, the more the love for him that has developed over time comes through.

With the current week, week 32, everything is set for the arrival of my son. I can't wait to meet him.

***

Sturla's POV:

I don't know what possessed Aleks to write me that cryptic message and block me immediately afterwards, but it will have an important reason.

Nevertheless, I am depressed and heartbroken. I just can't pinpoint a reason or a trigger.

And as much as I ask Filip and even squeeze him, he keeps quiet. And I can see how much he doesn't like doing this. Something is preventing him from speaking openly with me.

I'm beginning to think it's something bigger. Because my enquiries about Aleks don't get me anywhere with the association either.

In the end, I am left with what I had long refused. A direct visit to him is an invasion of his privacy and he has kicked me out of it. But on the one hand I want answers for his disappearance and on the other hand a feeling leads me there. It's as if I can't help but go to his home.

And thats why, about half a year after his news, I stand in front of his door and ring the bell. Hoping that he will open the door for me.

Sure enough, I hear footsteps from inside and the door of the small house is opened.

A stone falls from my heart when I see Aleks standing there. But with a second glance I notice that he looks different from half a year ago.

With a quick scan of his body, I also realise why. His belly, well covered by more and cosy clothes, is clearly rounded.

The love of my life is pregnant. And with that, the pieces of the puzzle put themselves together in my mind. And in the end, one culprit remains: the bandage that had relegated Aleks to silence. But before I can think any more about taking revenge on the association, I first have to take care of my friend.

Aleks has turned pale, has tears in his eyes and is trembling. "Sturla." I hear him whisper my name.

"Kjære, it's all right. I'm here. Come we go inside, then you can sit down." I step forward a pace that separates us and steer him gently into the living room. There I shift him on the sofa.

Carefully, so as not to startle him, I lower myself into the poster beside him. His trembling hands are with me immediately. They stroke my hair, my face and parts of my upper body. I let him do it. Because it seems to do him good.

Slowly he calms down. He slides closer to me and leans against me. "I... I'm ... so sorry!" he finally brings out through his tears.

"Whatever happened, Aleks, it's not your fault, okay? I don't know what happened because no one talks to me, but now I'm here with you and I'm going to stay. Come what may," I promise him.

And this promise breaks the wall between us. Aleks tells me what happened. One after the other. How overwhelmed he has been and how his family supports him.

Finally, I am shown the album about the pregnancy so far. I leisurely leaf through it. I take it all in and immediately fall in love with our son. Before I put Aleks to bed for a nap, I am allowed to put my hands on his belly for the first time. The kicking inside surprises me with its expression and frequency and makes me incredibly happy.

From that day on, we are a family. And no one will ever manage to separate us again!

Chapter Text

History AU - adapted reality for this OS

The year is 1750 and Queen Mary gives birth to her last child with King Louis XV of France. At 47, she is old at this birth. The pregnancy had not been an easy one and the birth trumps it by a long way. But her efforts are rewarded. A healthy boy, even if this birth has no effect on the succession to the throne. They name the little one Quentin Fillon de Bourbon.

Over the years, the boy develops splendidly. He enjoys the freedoms that come with his position in the line of succession. As a good pupil, he always surprises his teachers. A good understanding of human nature allows him to start thinking about his father's government at an early age. The latter lives a pompous lifestyle and makes some mistakes in the boy's eyes.

Ludwig August is born only four years after him. His elder brother's son is above him in the line of succession. But the younger boy idolises his uncle, who is only a few years older.

In December 1765, Quentin's elder brother dies. He had been his father's heir to the throne. Before that, the brother's eldest son also died. These two events now promoted Ludwig August to the first position in the line of succession. As a result, the time the two had spent together in the library was now limited.

While Quentin devoted himself to the life of an educated man, the same could not be said of his nephew. The boy, by order of his grandfather, is forced to undergo a strict upbringing as heir to the throne.

During a period of study in Paris, Quentin met a daughter of a younger but progressive French aristocratic house. The two hit it off from the first second. Together with her, he works for a fortnight on numerous private writings, which he collects in the hope that he can later share them with others in order to implement his ideas. The two subsequently kept in close contact through countless letters. In 1768, his father agrees to their marriage.

Charlotte Sophie is the best wife he could wish for. She shares his attitudes to life and together they can spend hours philosophising about the possible future. The two retire to a small estate not far from Versailles. But they are not often there. Several trips take them halfway around the world. They want to enjoy the time before they have children for themselves as a couple. Once she has children, Charlotte Sophie is reluctant to embark on longer journeys.

They make a short stop between two journeys for the wedding of Ludwig August to Marie Antoniette. Quentin's nephew is only 15 years old at the time and envious of his older uncle's experiences and travels.

The vain Marie Antoniette is not understood by her husband and his favourite uncle. She is reluctant to fit in with the circumstances of the French court. Her attitude to royal life is clearly different from that of her husband. In letters, her husband tells his uncle about every quarrel between the two of them. He is the only one who listens to him.

In the autumn of 1772, Quentin and Charlotte interrupted their travels. On the one hand, winter has just set in at home and, on the other, they are expecting their first child.

The latter triggers jealousy in Marie Antoniette. She criticises the amount of attention her husband pays to her compared to the amount he pays to his uncle and his family. The latter shows himself to be devoted. The result is that she too is soon pregnant.

In the early summer of 1773, Charlotte Sophie goes into labour. After almost 10 hours, her first child is born healthy. Daughter Maria Sophie loudly proves to her parents after her first breath that her lungs are fully functional. Quentin is overjoyed about her first offspring.
Marie Antoniette follows the older woman's example a few months later. Only she bears her husband a son. Ludwig August proudly presents his family with his heir to the throne, Ludwig Joseph, named after his deceased elder brother. The reigning king is delighted with his great-grandson. Quentin swallows his complaint about the difference in the joy bestowed on the two newborns.

After 1773 had been a very joyful year, the following year is not. In May 1774 the king dies. Louis August became King Louis XVI of France at the age of 19. Quentin tries to give his nephew good advice.

But something seems to be happening in the population. Immediately after his nephew's coronation, they are more in a wait-and-see attitude, but given the country's financial situation, dark clouds of doom seem to be gathering over Versailles.

At the end of the year, fate seems to want to shake them up again. Marie Antoniette is the first to suffer. Several illnesses seize the queen's body at once. Due to the closeness to his wife, as they tried to give their son a sibling shortly before the first symptoms broke out in her, Louis also became infected. After only five days of torment, Marie Antoniette succumbs to the disease. Thanks to the knowledge gained during her treatment, the doctors manage to put Ludwig on a good path in the meantime, but his body is too weak to resist the stress of the disease for long. Two weeks after his wife, he also dies.

Deeply affected by the death of his nephew, Quentin becomes regent in the absence of other suitable people. He agrees to run their country until Louis Joseph has passed his 18th birthday and is in a marriage befitting his station.

Quentin and Charlotte are thrown in at the deep end from one day to the next. The country and the population continue to fare badly.

Quentin quickly rounds up all his politically important contacts. Not all of them are of noble birth, but they all have a deeper understanding of their individual issues than many nobles have. Together with them, he works out an initial plan to help the population.

In the midst of the chaos that comes with suddenly having to run an entire country, Charlotte informs him that she is expecting the second child. This means that from now on there will be three children living with them, as they have also taken in Ludwig Joseph, as if he were their own son.

In order to have better contact with the population, the family moves before the birth of their second child. A palace almost at the gates of Paris, less ostentatious and smaller than Versailles but not so remote, seems more practical to them. Versailles, his father's great inheritance, he leaves behind under the supervision of a maintenance crew. It in no way reflects his own lifestyle and is too expensive to inhabit permanently.

His own court is rather manageable. Charlotte and he do much of the work themselves and choose their few servants carefully.

Already in the first months of his reign, improvements for the population become apparent. The mood throughout the country improves noticeably. The willingness of the citizens increases from week to week. Their aversion to the monarchy decreases.

The birth of August Fillon finally marks a new high for the family. After the gloomy year of 1774, the future now looks much sunnier.

And so it goes on for two years. Quentin deals with the most diverse views of the monarchy and invites very different people to talk to him. He asks the citizens about polls or carefully evaluates their self-organised actions for and against him. Charlotte, far from being just the good-looking and uninvolved lady at his side, is his closest confidante.

With her he develops his most important project. Step by step he changes his country. The time is no longer that of the absolute monarchy. France could be so much more.

The destinies of his subjects are to be full of new possibilities. The nobles in their individual districts are given new tasks, the bureaucracy, where it exists, is renewed and unified throughout the country, the money from the state coffers goes increasingly into education and other state institutions, and in Paris, at the beginning of 1777, a newly introduced council, elected in part by the population, comes together to help and advise Quentin in making decisions.

Without war or fighting, or even major uprisings, Quentin manages to lead his country to his side. Even if he loses a good part of his power in his own country. His goal is to better distribute decisions within the country to clever heads. In foreign policy relations with other countries and monarchies, he continues to lead France. Because his decisions have positive effects, Europe seems to be getting into overdrive. One more and the other less. At least, however, there are no declarations of war in his direction and hostility is kept reasonably in check.

No sooner have all the major changes come into effect than fate strikes again in Quentin's family. His wife is in labour a good month early with their third child. Helpless, Quentin can do nothing but hold her hand as she lies in labour hour after hour. The midwives do everything for her, but the last contraction with which she brings another daughter into the world is Charlotte's last great act on this earth.

With tears in his eyes, he holds her while she breathes her last in his arms. Between them, her small but healthy newborn daughter.

A wet nurse suckles the little one and then hands her over to the grieving father. Tears of sadness and joy mix in his face as he holds her in his arms for the first time. He does not have to think long for her name. Felicja, one of his mother's first names, Charlotte, after his wife who died at her birth.

That same evening, he stands in front of the window of the couple's shared bedroom. It is dark outside, only the occasional lights of the city can be seen. The darkness embodies his soul. Today's loss is one he does not know if and how to escape from. Is there a light somewhere that he can follow?

Chapter Text

Quentin's POV:

The hall around me is the image of life in full bloom. A quartet is playing music and those present are laughing, gossiping and dancing merrily.

For this evening I have opened Versailles Palace. Over the years, the occasions for this have dwindled. The château is ideal for evenings like this, but not for everyday life. Too big, too ostentatious and too expensive. A final solution is needed. Urgently.

The occasion of the evening is Ludwig Joseph's fifth birthday. A big party was needed for it. I have had halls and squares prepared all over the country so that everyone can enjoy the festivities. He will be their king in a few years and building up a good reputation in advance can't hurt.

My children are travelling as a group. Not without supervision from their Aunt Victorie. My sister has taken them for the evening. That way they don't have to be bored at my side while I have politically necessary but boring conversations.

"My Majesty. Pardon my language, but it suits your beautiful face even better when you smile," I am cheekily addressed.

Slightly indignant at the stranger's language, I turn to face him.

Opposite me is a cheekily grinning man. Perhaps a little younger than me. He has light hair and eyes that sparkle with joie de vivre. His outfit flatters his slender athlete's figure exquisitely.

"And who am I supposed to forgive for that remark?", I inquire, getting involved in his game. I like it. It's exciting in a crowd to communicate with another man in this way.
"Emilien Jacquelin, simply the fourth son of a baron. Pleased to meet you, Your Majesty."

"The pleasure is mine, Emilien. Tell me, what do you think of tonight's ball? Your honest opinion, please."

"Great. I've never been to Versailles before, usually my older brothers take precedence, and I'm enjoying my time here. Even if everything is a bit oversized."

"I'm glad they like it. But yes, the size of the property is the big flaw. I don't know what it's best for without swallowing everything right up." I notice my features loosen towards him and am rewarded with intense stares on his part.

"You are, if I may say so, a practical person. Even if something is called 'nice to look at' for them, it must have some use. I think adding ideas from other people with different points of view would be the smartest thing to do here. Or at least that's how I would approach it," my counterpart philosophises.

"I like that approach. Please think about who you would talk to. I will write to you." With fluid but not hurried steps, I move away from him to mingle with my guests. If I could, I would have been only too happy to talk to him for longer. He has a refreshing way about him. In thinking and in talking. I can only benefit from his ideas.
A soft gasp and a quiet: "I'll put together the best possible list for you!" I still hear from him.

***

I should be right. Emilien has many new ideas. And especially the ones from his contacts and him for Versailles are future-oriented and well feasible.
Our correspondence remains not only business. We write to each other more and more frequently and also with an increasingly private touch.

His effect on me has not diminished. On the contrary. It has only become stronger.

And one night, sitting late with a glass of wine in front of the windows of my room, watching the thunderstorm hanging over us, I decide to promote him to my court.
If he accepts my invitation, he will be closer to me. We could see each other instead of having to write countless letters. I long for more contact with him.

Since Charlotte, my best friend, died, there was no one I wanted to be with so much. Charlotte had married me out of a sense of duty. And that was also the only reason why we had children. She understood that she was only my best friend and that I would never find her attractive. But she didn't care. She was even the one who occasionally asked me to find a man for one night or another. I never did. I remained faithful to her and it has remained that way until today.

But now there is someone new. Someone exciting. Someone who rekindles my inner fire and who deserves my love and affection.

Over the weeks, our letters had become more and more private. More and more curious, but not questioning. I enjoy putting an innuendo or two in my letters or reading his.

***

I'm lucky. Emilien, after long consultations with his father, travels to me in the immediate vicinity of my residence.

Convincing his father that his youngest son in particular fits the role perfectly took some time and I personally wrote the man a letter to persuade him. He doesn't know that we both might have something else in mind besides political exchange.

Emilien will have to prove himself at court. I won't put him directly in a high position. For now, he'll start in the outermost circle, around the court.

But my intuition had been right. He floated up the career ladder on his own. His superiors rave about him and within a year he is one of the assistants to one of my ministers and thus an official part of my court.

Our joint project, Versailles, is now something to behold. It has become a cultural centre. Space for balls is still there, but every other unused room has been converted for a new purpose. Rooms for artists of all kinds to exhibit in the Hall of Mirrors, rooms for training when students visit, rooms for experimentation, an extensive library and several social rooms now invite all kinds of people to explore Versailles. Only one small suite remains for the family. Versailles lives again.

With Emilien's presence at court, I go on the offensive and make my interest in him known. Touches that seem unintentional, glances so intense they give him goose bumps, invitations to tea or dinner.

One of the few places where we are undisturbed is my private chambers. An advantage, as it turns out later, because we never have far to go to my bed.

Emilien also gets to know my children and my nephew. He is more absorbed in dealing with them than I expected. He's not doing it just to please me either, but because he's grown fond of the kids over time.

Besides all the personal advantages of being in a relationship with Emilien, there are the public disadvantages. We can never appear as a couple in public and even for my children he remains just a good friend of mine to begin with. But privately, behind closed doors or in the darkness of the night, we are what we really are. And that is enough for both of us.

We get more freedom after Louis takes the throne. My nephew is a good head and has developed in an exemplary manner. I can confidently entrust him with our country and retire from the stage for a while.

Together with Emilien, I move into a smaller estate. The younger one has meanwhile risen to become my personal advisor, and our resulting closeness to each other gives us protection from possible questions.

Happily we lived there together until the end of our days.

Chapter Text

Philipp's eyes wander nervously around the waiting room where he is currently sitting. His luggage is waiting at home for the first three World Cup stages, not yet packed and only half prepared. And tomorrow he leaves for Sweden.

He returned to Germany for a few days after the last preparation race in Norway. His doctor, who specialises in Alphas and took his blood samples before the trip to Norway, was keen to see him before he travelled abroad for a month.

"Mr Nawrath? The doctor will be with you in a minute. Would you like to follow me, please?" a receptionist finally approaches him. He rolls his eyes inwardly. A good half an hour has passed since the scheduled start of the appointment. Valuable time today.

Another half an hour later, he leaves the surgery with a new prescription. After years of taking the same medication, his doctor has given him a different prescription because he suddenly has slightly elevated blood levels. In this case, the anti-doping concept states that the only option is for him to switch to a different medication if he wants to continue competing. So, after more than 10 years, he has to buy a new Scentblocker and Rutblocker. Unfortunately, he previously had very strong preparations and because of the rules he now has to switch to ones with a lower effect.

He should feel the first changes within the next few days when the effect of the old preparations slowly wears off. He has no choice but to take it as it comes.

***

Philipp doesn't notice anything unusual on the way to Sweden. Not even on the first full day on site. He shares a twin room with David, the youngest Alpha in the team. The two Betas Justus and Johannes are opposite and next door to them live their mated couple Roman and Benni. Benni, as the oldest and only Omega in the team, has the say in their room.

But on the third day with the new medication, something changes. His sense of smell has improved. Previously, his scent blocker had not only suppressed his own odour, but also his perception of the odours of others. Apart from that, however, they did not affect his sense of smell.

Today, he can at least tell whether someone smells sweet or bitter.

A slightly sweet odour hangs in the air in her container. It's not as sweet as Benni's Omega scent, but it tickles Philipp's nose in a playful way. He can't tell who it comes from. There are many Betas in their team and Benni is not the only Omega, if you count the companions.

He subconsciously memorises the scent profile. There is more to him and he can hardly wait until he can smell more of him. For the first time since the changeover, he is hoping that the new preparations will tease out his inner wolf. Because he licks his lips at the smell, growls with relish, wants more and wants to find the person he is coming from.

***

Another change can be seen on the track. Philipp already realised on the first weekend in Östersund that he is in very good running form. His energy reserves last longer and he is able to eradicate one or two mistakes at the shooting range on the track.

His inner wolf has also changed. Previously, it always lay quietly in a secluded corner of his head as long as Philipp was travelling as a human. Only then did he take the lead. Now he seems to be actively involved in Philipp's human life and sometimes adds his two cents non-verbally. A growl here, a contented snort there. Philipp's human side had to get used to this first. His wolf particularly likes it when they can compete with the others in races. After hearing that seductive scent for the first time, he seems to follow it. Unfortunately, he is never strong enough to recognise it exactly and in most situations where he does hear it, there are too many people around him to be able to place it.

And then, quite unexpectedly and out of his reach for years, comes the best race of his career so far. It's the second weekend in Östersund and the sprint is coming up. Philipp gives it his all. He makes no mistakes in either shooting. Due to his starting number at the back of the field, he can assess his performance well and judge how he is doing. The coaches and support staff on the course cheer him on like never before on his final lap. It feels good. He heads for the finish line with powerful movements. He's done it! His eyes widen as he looks at the display. With a lead of almost 20 seconds, he has knocked Tarjei Bø out of first place. He can't believe it. Can it really be that one of his greatest wishes could come true today? He has to wait a little longer, but when he is still listed first in the official results, he feels nothing but infinite joy. And once again that smell tickles his nose as he celebrates with his team.

Unfortunately, the next day he has to cede his first place to Sebastian Samuelson. The latter had simply been better in the pursuit. But second place tastes almost as good as first place the day before.

***

After this electrifying weekend, Philipp can't switch off on Sunday evening. David keeps giving him slightly annoyed looks over the edge of his smartphone as he gets up and walks round the room.

"I'm going out for another round," Phillip finally decides. His wolf is restless. Apparently he wants to take the lead more often now and he has a premonition that he won't be able to sleep until he has let him take the lead.

"Do that." David's slightly relieved tone doesn't escape him. He looks apologetically at his room mate before leaving their hotel room.

He stops just outside the hotel and lets his wolf take the lead. The transformation from his human form into wolf form is also much quicker than before.

Satisfied, he howls at the moon. It shines in the sky, surrounded by a few clouds. It is a beautiful night. At a gallop, he runs into the forest that directly surrounds the track. The cold doesn't bother him, nor does the wind combing through his thick fur. The drumming of his paws on the snow-covered ground wakes up some of the forest dwellers. Two birds fly away, scolding.

After a few minutes, he slows down and concentrates more on his surroundings. A rabbit is on the move nearby. All his senses are immediately focussed on it and he begins to chase the little creature and stalk it.

It looks good for him. He has already travelled half the distance to his prey. The prey is still unaware of his presence. But suddenly something cracks near it. The sound makes the rabbit look up. It also catches sight of him, although the sound did not come from him. His prey quickly takes flight. But Philipp doesn't care at this moment, because the scent has returned along with the noise. And now it is clear and not overlaid by many other scents.

This is his chance! Carefully, and in as unthreatening an attitude as possible, he moves towards the scent.

He only has to cover a few metres before he catches sight of another wolf. He is a little smaller, a beta, and stands there as if frozen. His gaze is wait-and-see with traces of uncertainty and fear. His eyes are bright blue and match the beta's light grey fur perfectly. Philipp himself has a darker complexion, just like as a human.

Philipp follows his instincts and takes a stance that is unthreatening as he stops in front of the other wolf. His wolf freaks out in their shared brain: "Mate!" he shouts again and again, barely containing himself with joy.

Philipp lets his human side take the lead a little more so that this encounter doesn't turn into a disaster.

The other wolf seems to notice this and the fear disappears from his eyes. His posture also becomes more relaxed.

Both begin to familiarise themselves with the other's scent. After a good minute, they begin to walk in a circle in silent agreement. As they do so, they make the circle smaller and smaller. Until they can touch each other.

Philipp turns round so that they can touch each other with their noses. They gently nudge each other a few times. The beta licks Philipp's nose teasingly and invites him to play with it. Philipp lets his wolf side come to the fore again and lets him do his thing.

The two wolves whirl around the small clearing where they are in a romantic game. The beta can keep up with him, but in the end it is the slightly larger alpha who has the upper hand.

During the game, Philipp has recognised who the other wolf is from his movements and the scent that is now all around him. It is Johannes Kühn. Hannes, who has been his team-mate for years and with whom he is friends.

Together they walk back to the hotel. After they have turned back into humans, Philipp holds out his hand to Hannes questioningly, which he shyly but firmly grasps. They only part in the corridor between their rooms.

David is already asleep when Philipp comes into the room. He quietly gets ready for bed. He is sure that he will be able to sleep very well after the last hour. Hanne's scent continues to linger in his nose as he snuggles into bed.

Today they didn't talk about what they were feeling or thinking, they let their feelings guide them. They will discuss what comes next in peace and quiet. Philipp hopes that this is the result he wants. An equal partner. And Hannes is undoubtedly that. And if his wolf is right, they were made for each other by fate. A team that is strong together and can overcome anything together.

But first he should sleep. After all, he will be travelling on to Austria tomorrow.

***

In Austria, they find time for a date in human form. They have chosen a small restaurant where they should not meet anyone from the biathlon circus.

Philipp begins by explaining to Johannes what the change in preparations has done to him and why he couldn't recognise Johannes' scent before. They also talk about the attraction they have both felt for each other for some time, which has now been revealed by chance. They decide to go on more dates together and see where the future takes them.

Philipp is blown away by Johannes' slightly reserved manner. He loves the fact that he can bring a slight blush to his cheeks. Add to that the shy smile and he has lost the battle.

Johannes loves Philipp's gentle manner. He is an understanding alpha who impresses him with his understanding and consideration for him. He has known this for years, but their date has reinforced the impression. He is happy to let his partner - whom he had closed himself off to since realising that Philipp is his mate - into his life.

Chapter Text

Vetle's POV:

At the end of a World Cup weekend it happens more often that all athletes meet. Today is no exception. Everyone who wants to can hang out in the large hall of the restaurant, enjoy a drink or just chat with their friends. It's a relaxed evening that helps you get the adrenaline down.

I lean against the counter of the small bar together with some of my countrymen. From there I watch the others around us and chat with my teammates. Every now and then I sip my beer.

My eyes linger on one man in particular. Emilien. I've been with him since last season. During the summer break, we spent a lot of time together and, when we couldn't because of our commitments, we wrote and talked on the phone a lot.

Emilien has an extremely attention-grabbing personality. When he's in a room, you notice it immediately. Always positive. The man can almost only be in a good mood. He is a born entertainer and every now and then the classic clown.

Tonight, too, he can't help himself and lets himself be carried from conversation to conversation. He can't help it, but he flirts unconsciously and almost constantly. As his friend, I always keep an eye on him. Even though I know he would never cheat, I sometimes can't suppress my jealousy and then show my presence at his side. Today it hasn't happened yet and it doesn't look like it will at the moment.

Looking at my boyfriend, something occurs to me. Some time ago there was a sound on TikTok that went around. 'There are plenty of fish in the sea. - Yeah. But that is my clownfish. - ... - Hands of my clownfish!' That reminds me that my mother was sceptical at the beginning that Emilien was really the right one for me. The term 'clownfish' fits Emilien like a glove. He's just the way he is, and you either like him or you don't. And I love him just the way he is. And the fact that one or the other can't help flirting back when Emilien subconsciously uses his charm is also fitting. Maybe we should make a video about it. Would certainly be a fun way to make our relationship public.

But that's it for today. Emilien gives me the agreed sign that he now wants to be alone with me. I nod to him, empty the small amount of beer left in my glass and say goodbye to my colleagues.

My roommate, Tarjei, is sleeping elsewhere tonight himself, so I can take Emilien to my room.

After watching a film cuddled up together in my bed, we slide downstairs to a lying position without breaking physical contact and also fall asleep shortly afterwards.
I've found my own Clownfish and I'm not going to let him go, unless he eventually doesn't want me anymore. But until then, I will love him as he deserves.

Chapter Text

Antonin is tired. The first four World Cup weekends of the 23/24 season are behind him. Östersund, Hochfilzen and Lenzerheide. But now they have a few well-deserved days off.

They landed in France a few hours ago and were sent home after a short debriefing of the first third of the season. With the exception of Fabien, who will be competing in the World Team Challenge in Schalke with Julia, they now all have a fortnight's break before the next competition.

The taxi dropped him off right in front of the house. His and Simon's house. They have lived here for two years now. They moved in shortly after their wedding. It's big enough for their future two children, who they plan to have, to each have a room. But so far they have had no luck. Simon is dejected every time he hopefully takes a test only to be disappointed by it.

Dragging his suitcase behind him in one hand and his gun case in the other, he makes his way to the front door. There he has to unlock it with one hand. He puts the gun case to one side and finally takes the suitcase into the hallway. Satisfied with himself, he lets the door fall into the lock behind him.

"Anto?" Simon calls through the house in a questioning tone. He seems to be on the upper floor.

"Yes, it's me, mon lapin," Antonin confirms as he slips his shoes off his feet, puts them in their proper place and hangs up his jacket.

A rumble can be heard from upstairs before Antonin can hear Simon's hurried footsteps. It sounds familiar, the way they sound on the wooden floor.

Less than a minute later, Simon approaches him. He almost flies into Antonin's arms. "I'm glad you're back," he sighs into Antonin's shoulder, burying his face in it.

"Me too. A few days just for you and me before the Christmas madness starts," Antonin confirms.

Antonin can't react so quickly because Simon has created some space in their embrace. Now he puts a hand on Antonin's bearded cheek. There is a beaming smile on his face. So radiant that Antonin is sure he is about to be informed of something important that will make his husband so happy.

"I have some news. I haven't tested myself for a while now because of the rainfall. I went to the doctor the day before yesterday. Routinely," he begins excitedly, "Antonin, mon beau, I'm finally pregnant! Quite far along, in fact. It should be week 10 as of today. So far, I haven't had any side effects that would have made me suspicious."

Antonin hangs on his partner's every word. After a cautious smile at the beginning, it grows into a more radiant one with every word. At last, their next big dream together has come true.

"I don't know what to say except: I love you. I love you to the moon and back, mon lapin," whispers Antonin. A small tear of happiness escapes from the corner of each of his eyes. He pulls Simon closer to him again for an intimate kiss.

His tiredness is completely extinguished by the good news. Simon's presence does the rest.

Antonin's stomach grumbles. He hasn't had anything to eat since a small snack before the final meeting. Laughing softly, Simon breaks away from him and pulls him by the hand into the kitchen. A potato casserole is waiting for them in the oven to keep warm.

Satisfied with their lives and their togetherness, the two enjoy their dinner together. They talk about their soon-to-be new family member. Plans hinted at months ago become more concrete or are brought up. As the weeks go by, they grow more and more into their new role as parents.

Later, after dinner, Simon shows Antonin the ultrasound images he has received from the doctor.

***

Simon comes to visit in Antholz. There are no races in France this season, so he has decided in favour of Italy.

He is now 14 weeks pregnant and has a small baby bump. One morning, shortly before Antonin left for Germany, it was suddenly there. It is not noticeable under the thick winter jackets, but it is noticeable in normal clothes if they are not very loose.

They want to tell the team. At Christmas, they informed their families of the good news. Everyone was happy for them. They realised that they had been trying for a while. But it's not just their families who know about it, their team-mates know too. They were cheering on their favourite couple, even if they didn't know about the countless negative tests.

There is a big hello in the hotel. They have all known each other for years. And when Simon proudly shows the latest ultrasound image to the group, there's no stopping them. Eric and Emilien C are completely engrossed in the picture and whisper excitedly to each other, Fabien and Florent sit next to them and wait patiently for their turn to congratulate them and Quentin tries to stop the joking Emilien J while they congratulate the parents-to-be. But there is nothing but chaos in Team France. Simon and Antonin would never have expected that.

The joy is omnipresent. Quentin even cries when they ask him if he wants to be the godfather. Antonin's sister has already accepted her role as godmother.

Between their families and friends, they have the certainty that their little family will thrive. And that's what counts for both of them.

Chapter Text

All the French travelling to Oberhof for the World Cup receive a message from their youngest team member, Eric, the day before departure: "Do any of you like tomato juice outside of a plane?"

His question is answered negatively by all of his teammates. He also receives several enquiries as to whether everything is OK with him. He ignores these flippantly. Even the next day, he doesn't tell them why he asked them that, just: "You'll see tonight. 8 pm with me and Emilien in the room." Emilien, Claude, can only shrug his shoulders knowingly as the questioning looks of the others are directed at him.

---

"What are you up to?" asks Quentin as soon as the door has closed behind the last Frenchman and nobody outside the room can hear their conversation. He and the other three athletes (Fabien, Emilien J called Emil and Antonin) had decided to come together.

"Nothing wild. We still have two hours until closing time and I thought we'd start the year with something fun. Have you ever played Never have I ever?"

"It's a drinking game," Emil realises.

Quentin is already building up to one of his infamous sermons, which looks funny on Eric because of their heights, when the latter saves himself: "Actually, yes. Instead of beer or schnapps, we drink orange juice and anyone who doesn't want to answer drinks a shot of tomato juice."

Emilien and Emil are immediately on board. Antonin and Fabien are infected by the joy of the three E's and look for comfortable seats on the carpet. Sighing, Quentin also takes a seat. He's not convinced, but he won't immediately reject his younger team-mate's idea either.

Eric hands out large glasses of OJ and small, still empty shot glasses. As soon as he is seated, they start the game.

The game starts harmlessly. Then it gets more interesting:

"I've never been in a relationship or had sex with anyone from Norway?" asks Emil, taking a sip straight from his juice glass. All five follow him. Sometimes more, sometimes less reserved. "What? I meant THE Norwegians, our competitors," he clarifies his question, "Does anyone want to move back?"

It remains silent.

"No way!" Fabien laughed, becoming more relaxed as he went on, "But now I want to know who's with whom and what! I've been dating Sturla since last season."

"I'm currently dating Endre," added his brother.

"As if you didn't know about me and Vetle? We've been a couple for over five years," comments Antonin. Only Emilien doesn't seem to know anything about it yet.

"Tarjei. For almost three years," confirms Quentin.

"Johannes Bœ. At first it was just sex, but now we have a normal relationship," admits Emil.

"I got together with Filip when I was still in the IBU Cup," confirms Eric with red cheeks.

Emil asks into the resulting, slightly tense silence: "I've never topped my current partner."

"Emil! No, that's going too far!" Quentin replies by return of post.

"Then drink the tomato juice!" Emil shoots back, toasting him with his OJ. The other four follow him with red faces. Quentin looks around the group before taking a sip of his OJ.

Instead of the slightly awkward silence, they all burst out laughing. The humour of the situation is just too much.

"Wait a minute!" Fabien shouts and hurries out of the room. The other five wait eagerly for him.

Less than two minutes later, he is back in the room with a grin that could be described as slightly crazy. In one hand he is holding a box of 10 pregnancy tests and a stack of disposable cups. "I have nine of them. Pregnancy roulette?"

The group's good mood and a bit of peer pressure persuade everyone to take a test.

"Mine will be negative. Endre and I aren't ready yet and everything else is in the past," explains Emilien as he picks up his.

"Then yours will be the control. If at least one isn't negative, the tests are broken," Emil laughs.

Fabien joins in: "I only did a test yesterday. With me, it's unlikely that nothing will turn positive all at once."

"Even better! Then we'll have two control tests," says Emil and is the first to go to the bathroom.

Shortly afterwards, when everyone has a cup of urine in one hand and the test in the other, the mood becomes more serious again.

"3...2...1!", Quentin counts down and at 1 they all dip the test strip into the liquid. The caps are then clipped onto the tests and collected in the box until the five-minute waiting time is up.

They use this time to remove the cups. The remains of never have I ever are also cleared away.

The timer makes them nervous all at once. Everyone reaches for one of the tests in the box. It is impossible to tell which test was taken by whom.

One after the other, they say what the tests show:

Anto: "Negative."

Quentin: "Negative."

Emil: "Negative."

Fabien: "Negative."

Eric: "Negative."

Emilien: "Positive."

There is a brief silence after Emilien drops the bombshell.

"How?" Quentin asks.

"The test is positive. There's clearly a second line here," Emilien confirms. They look at the test one after the other. But they also see the third line.

"And now what?" asks Eric, sounding slightly exhausted. After all, one of them is pregnant, but they don't know who it is.

"That makes sense. It can't be me. Fabien is very unlikely. The three of you who have been bottom recently will take a test. If all of them are negative, the one who didn't do a second one is pregnant, but Fabien or we have a false positive result," Emilien explains to him.

"That sounds like the best way to go. So who's doing one?"

"I've only been top since mid-November," comes from Quentin, who leans back. His foot tapping with excitement tells the others that he is anything but calm.

"We're happily changing. Should probably do one," Emil reveals, grinning mischievously at his colleagues.

"As a pure bottom, I'm the most likely," says Antonin in a shaky voice.

"I'm a bottom too," mumbles Eric as he takes the last unused test.

And so the game begins again. Only now each of the three testers keeps their test with them.

Eric is the first with a result. "NEGATIVE!" he says happily. You can tell that a huge weight has been lifted from his heart.

"Mine too," confirms Emil shortly afterwards.

All eyes are now focussed on Antonin, who is staring at his test and still waiting for his result. After about half a minute, they hear him take a startled breath. They are immediately very quiet, so they don't miss the whispered: "Positive." from their team-mate.

Fabien, who is sitting next to Antonin. Pulls him into a side hug.

Antonin needs a few moments to collect himself and process his initial thoughts. But he can't stop the gentle smile from creeping onto his face. A child with Vetle. His big dream for the time after his career. The unexpected often happens, and now it has come sooner.

"It's just a bit unexpected. But ... nice?" he whispers to his team-mates, who look at him worriedly.

***

Vetle is not part of the competition team in Oberhof and will only be back in Ruhpolding. This gives Antonin enough time to talk to her team doctor and get the appropriate examinations.

Armed with an ultrasound image and the positive test, he waits for Vetle in his room. Emil has left and is about to grab his Johannes for some time together.

Antonin has reckoned with everything. Anger, disappointment, joy and ignorance. He hadn't imagined that Vetle would instantly recognise the ultrasound image for what it is and lift Antonin up for joy and spin around in circles with him in his arms.

In the evening, the six Frenchmen sit together with Tarjei, Johannes, Sturla, Vetle and Endre. Filip is there via video call. Together they review the crazy team evening and have a good laugh. Antonin and Vetle are extensively congratulated on their offspring. The couple gladly accept the congratulations. Ever since Vetle found out, they have been on cloud nine together and are delighted with their baby. They have received plenty of babysitting offers from their team mates, who will give them enough time as a couple even with a child.

Chapter Text

Jesper: Shopkeeper, Martin: Policeman

Jesper's POV:

"Thank you very much. See you next week," I say goodbye to my delivery man. He had brought me my delivery, as he does every Monday.

I took over the shop three years ago from a friend of my mother, Lydia. She had opened it about 30 years ago. She no longer wants to take on the responsibility alone with me and wants to ensure the succession. She will still work in the shop until she retires. We sell everything from stationery, cards for every occasion, things especially for schoolchildren to handicraft materials and everything else you need for knitting, crocheting and so on. Lydia gives two hours of instruction for each wool hobby in a small room adjacent to the main area of the shop.

I use the hand truck to bring the last three boxes of goods inside. I have another 90 minutes to fill the empty compartments and refill almost empty ones before we open.

The start of the school year has kept us on our toes for the last two weeks, but I reckon it will calm down now and everyone will just want supplies in ordinary quantities.

Ten minutes before the shop opens, I'm as good as done. Lydia also arrived a few minutes ago and starts our checkout system. I take the goods that have not yet been put on the shelves to our small cellar and roughly sort them there. Then I enter what I have stored here on our inventory list on the PC. That way we always know what we still have and what we have to order again.

"Jesper?" I hear my older colleague call after me. Her voice seems excited and that makes me hurry to get to her.

She is standing behind the counter. Contrary to what I expected from her tone of voice when she calls out, there are no thieves on the other side, but just the opposite. Two policemen in full uniform. But from their expressions, they are not here to just buy new pens. A glance at the clock also confirms that it is officially two minutes until we open.

As I walk towards them, a strange feeling comes over me. I am not aware of any guilt. I run the shop according to all commercial rules and in private I am the typical good citizen.

"Hey, Jesper Nelin is my name. How can I help you?" I ask the two policemen frankly.

"Good day Mr Nelin, we have a search warrant for the basement of this shop. It seems to be part of a crime we are currently solving," one of them roughly describes the situation to me. He seems to be in the good-cop role of the two officers.

"Okay. We don't have a problem with that. We just store goods down there for longer periods of time," I reply.

"Let us be the judge of that. A second team is as good as here and will do the investigation. You two stay up here with us. The shop has to stay closed and we may have to take them to the Bureau for questioning." This time the bad cop answers me in a stern yet bored tone.

Lydia and I have no choice and confirm our cooperation to the cops.

Only a few minutes later, as announced by the original cops, three more enter the shop in a slightly different uniform. This is the starting signal for the search. We have to hand them the keys and explain the way downstairs.

While the three are working downstairs. We remain in the actual shop. Under the supervision of the patrolmen, we are allowed to pull up chairs and get something to drink.
We sit there for a good hour and wait. For the life of me, I can't imagine what they thought they would find down there. We only have goods stored there and in a cupboard older business documents whose retention period has not yet expired, which we don't need in normal operations. It is nerve-wracking.

But when they finally come up the stairs, I have to swallow my relieved sigh. One of the officials has a black rubbish bag in his hand. They hadn't taken it down with them. That in turn means it came from the cellar. I have never seen it before in my life. Lydia also doesn't seem to understand what is going on around us and doesn't seem to know the bag. 'What the hell is going on here?'

The two groups of police exchange nods. The searchers leave the shop without stopping. The other two stay with us.

'I'm afraid we'll have to take them away. If they don't resist, they won't get handcuffed. We'll lock the shop." Bad Cop's tone means no escape for us.

We have to follow them without doing anything, get into the car and watch them lock up the shop.

The drive to the police station does not take long. We are taken to two separate interrogation rooms after a brief registration of the police officers who brought us here with those at the reception.

Alone and with nothing to distract me, I wait to see what happens next. The room offers no decoration to look at and my mobile phone has been confiscated for perusal, as possible evidence for the time being.

"Mr. Nelin? I am Commissioner Ponsiluoma and I have some questions for you. Please answer honestly and don't leave anything out, will you?" A much friendlier policeman than the previous five I have encountered today enters the room and even gives me a small smile. I confirm his demands on me and continue to wait.

He is the type of man for whom the cliché 'men in uniform are sexy' was invented. And I can't help but take a closer look at the handsome policeman as he sits down opposite me and spreads a concise file in front of him.

"So, we've already analysed her phone. It will not be kept as evidence because it did not turn out to be one. You can take it back later. But in return, they have to confirm this with me and answer some questions," he explains to me.

"Okay." Is the only thing I can say that overwhelmed at this moment.

"Let's start at the beginning..." he suggests.

He guides me through the sequence of events of the crime they want to solve. A young man had stolen jewellery, caught on CCTV. It had taken the police two weeks to arrest him. That was yesterday. He gave the cellar of our small stationery shop as the storage place of the stolen goods. I was shown a picture of the perpetrator. But I have never seen him before in my life. Photos of the stolen goods don't tell me anything either. Afterwards I have to describe how we manage and secure the cellar. The latter apparently not well enough, as the thief found our hidden emergency key and was able to use it to open the cellar door, which is accessible from the outside."

At the end of the, in about half an hour, questioning, I feel squeezed. I get tips on how to improve the security of our shop, because he clearly criticises it.

Relieved, I am allowed to leave the room. In the corridor we meet Lydia and the policewoman who conducted her questioning. She too seems a little run over but thoroughly relieved.

All that remains is for us to sign some papers with security instructions, after which we are allowed to leave the police station freely and on our own.

We hurry to get to our shop and serve our customers for the rest of the day at least. Our basement will probably remain closed off as a crime scene for us for another week or two, but for day-to-day business we have everything on the ground floor or the ground floor anyway, there is the room for Lydia's classes, the office and our break corner.

So we successfully distract ourselves until closing time. Lydia is picked up by her husband shortly after closing time. I, on the other hand, go to the office. There I had put all the documents on the subject of safety so that they would not be in our way at work.

I start leafing through them. Relatively in the middle of the small pile, a business card suddenly appears. A business card of a commissioner named Martin Ponsiluoma. It says in handwriting: 'Maybe you'd like to have a coffee with me in private. Then just write to me'. The text is followed by his private mobile phone number.

I don't have to think long about whether to accept his invitation or not. I reach for my mobile phone shortly after reading the message for the third time to make sure. Apparently, not only did I like him, but he liked me too.

I'm curious to see what develops from this and what kind of person he is outside of his job and his uniform.

Chapter Text

Sebastian wouldn't describe himself as shy. But he feels most comfortable when he is surrounded by people he knows well.

He prefers to spend his evenings with documents relating to his work as an athlete representative and anti-doping training courses/conferences. His mother always says that this path was predestined for him from childhood. He was the eternal student, always looking for new information and material to read and comment on.

Over the years in sport, and for some years now through the international starting field, he has become more open. As a result, he has also made friends in other nations. But most of all he stays in his team bubble.

Sebbe is in the middle of reading a new study when he hears noise in the corridor. They have a hotel at their current World Cup venue, where many other nations have also stayed. Among them is the Norwegian team. Much to the chagrin of his coach, who would prefer to keep them away from the other Scandinavians. As far back as Sebbe can remember, the Norwegians are a loud and party-crazy team. When he delivers performances to match, like his victory in the pursuit in Östersund at the start of the season, he has nothing against parties, but the Norwegians usually seem to have no reason for theirs. It's only Wednesday and they haven't raced here yet.

Sighing, he rises from his seat at the small table and heads for the door. He peers cautiously out of a small crack in the door. Dale is standing outside in the corridor laughing at Vetle Christiansen, who is naked except for his pants. The latter is banging on the door of the room he is standing in front of and shouting something at the occupants in Norwegian.

The sight only partly surprises Sebbe. If any nation organises chaos, it is Norway and Vetle is usually not far from the action. Vetle's lift - after all, the hotel corridor is more of a public space than a private one - does surprise him.

The two Norwegians haven't noticed him. Dale continues to laugh at Vetle, who keeps banging on the door. Sebbe can't take his eyes off the almost naked man. Vetle looks good. His tall stature doesn't look fragile because of his muscles. He is a very imposing figure. That is probably the reason why he is the final runner in the relay. He seals the victory when he is the first of the last starters on the course.

Sebbe is so engrossed in the sight of Vetle's powerful back and the muscles that are clearly visible under his skin as the older man moves that he can't take his eyes off him in time as Vetle turns in his direction. He had also not realised until then that the door had opened in front of the Norwegian. Johannes Thinges is now leaning in the doorway, watching Sebbe with a suggestive smile on his lips.

Sebbe looks somewhat stupidly at Johannese and Vetle. Embarrassed, he realises that he is blushing. After all, he has just been caught staring. And then so spectacularly. It probably won't be long before the news has spread throughout the camp. Bø retreats into the room, laughing quietly and shaking his head. Johannes Dale follows him, also laughing quietly. As he passes, he pats Vetle on the shoulder. Vetle stands there for a moment and scrutinises Sebbe, who is still standing there transfixed and looking at him, then smiles mischievously at Sebbe, winks and follows his team-mates into the room.

Sebbe comes to life when the door to the room closes. He hastily turns round and, after a scrutinising glance into the now empty corridor, flees to his room.

Sighing, he leans against the door. 'You did a great job, Samuelson,' he mentally admonishes himself. Not only had it generally been a very awkward situation because he had been caught, no, he now also knows what his crush looks like in just his pants. 'Now I don't have to guess what's hiding under his skintight racing suit,' he realises dryly.

Shaking his head, he pushes himself away from the door. Maybe the report can distract him a little. Let his brain wait until he's in bed before it takes the situation apart and holds up a mirror to how stupidly he's behaved.

***

As expected, the report was unable to distract him. He could only concentrate on it with an effort. The film he watched afterwards did a better job of distracting him.

Now, the next morning, he gets ready for the last competition of this competition station. He starts and wants to achieve a good result. Tired, having spent the previous night thinking about last night and the upcoming encounters with the Norwegians, he goes to breakfast.

The Norwegians have not yet arrived and Martin is already sitting at their usual table. Sebbe doesn't hesitate and goes straight to the buffet to pick up his meal.

"Good morning," he greets his team-mate as he reaches the table where Martin is already sitting.

"Hey, did you sleep well?" he asks with a slightly worried undertone when he notices the circles under Sebbe's eyes.

"Yes," he counters, "I was working on a new report on doping yesterday and didn't look at the time."

Martin accepts the excuse. Knowing full well that Sebbe has something else on his mind. But if he doesn't want to talk to him, he won't force him. But he will keep an eye on the younger one.

Shortly after Sebbe has started eating, Vetle enters the dining room. Sebbe, who had been looking around the room, fixes his plate after seeing Vetle standing at the buffet.

---

Sebbe finishes the afternoon competition in the top 10, a respectable result, especially as he has often had his problems at the shooting range. Perhaps he should rethink his approach if nothing had changed much after years of trying. His, very obvious, weakness prevents him from really taking off.

He avoided Vetle. Once he had had the impression that the older man had approached him, but he had put on his headphones before Vetle could possibly speak to him.

***

Before he and the other athlete representatives can travel to the next World Cup venue, they still have half a day of meetings and informative presentations ahead of them. They will be travelling after the others a good day later.

Exhausted from the last competitions and the following event, Sebbe hurries to his room in the evening. His coach has assigned him the single room again. A fact he is incredibly happy about. All he wants to do today is eat, shower and sleep.

Once in his room, he doesn't bother to tidy everything up. That can wait until tomorrow. A change of clothes for after the shower, sleeping clothes and his toiletry bag are ready to hand at the top of his suitcase.

He puts the change of clothes and toiletry bag directly in the small bathroom. Only then does he go to bed. As he hadn't looked at the bed yet, he hadn't realised that there was a surprise waiting for him.

On the bedside table next to the bed is a bunch of roses in a vase and on his pillow is a bar of chocolate, a small sitting teddy bear and a letter.

Curious, he drops his sleeping clothes on the duvet, sits on the edge of the bed and reaches for the letter.

'Dearest Sebbe,

I understand from Martin that you won't be arriving until later than us because of other commitments. You're probably tired and just want to go to bed. That's why I've bought you a little mate to look after you while you sleep. If you need some nourishment, the chocolate is there for you. It's my favourite chocolate and I hope you like it as much as I do.

Have a good rest! And when you've done that, feel free to send me your answer to the following question to XXX 😉: Would you do me the honour of going on a date with me?

Love, Vetle ❤️

PS: If you're not into romantic attentions, I can also stand almost naked in front of you again and convince you of me, Kjære 😉'

Sebbe's heart beats faster as soon as he realises who has given and written to him. He can't suppress an amused laugh at the PS. Vetle has a sense of humour, you have to give him that.

He doesn't think twice and pulls out his mobile phone to send his reply to the Norwegian. 'Gladly ☺️'

He is curious to see what Vetle will come up with. He deserves a chance to prove himself. And forever turning red because of an embarrassing situation when he only sees Vetle is not something Sebbe wants in the long term. Now he has the chance to win over the man of his heart and he won't waste it.

Chapter Text

'Do you enjoy cycling long distances, even on unpaved roads? We offer you a week-long cycle tour through the south of France. Ten participants are accompanied by two guides. Overnight accommodation is partly in tents. The luggage and tents are transported to the destination by a support vehicle. Apply now for an unforgettable adventure!'

From time to time, the personal adverts also include an advertisement that actually appeals to you. This advert is shown to Eric Perot in an online shop for cycling equipment and clothing. And it sounds tempting.

Without thinking about it, he clicks on the link to take a closer look at the offer. The pictures and reports he finds on the website make him feel positive that this offer is really good. He clicks on to see what the availability looks like for the next two months. He also opens the calendar on his mobile phone. He finds a tour in which there are still two places available and which he could join. It's also in the next month and he only has to reschedule a dentist appointment to make time. He doesn't think twice and clicks on the tour on his laptop screen to register.

He carefully fills out the form and leans back with a sigh. It's a good offer. They have to do bike training anyway and the fact that he's not training with the others from the team can also be quite good. He might even learn something new.

He sent the registration form at around 4 pm. He received confirmation in the evening.

***

Four weeks later, he arrives at the meeting point in his car. A man, perhaps in his mid-30s, is standing there writing something down on a pad in his hand. He will be one of the guides. Two straight couples, about the same age as the guide, are standing a little further away talking to each other. No one else is there yet.

Eric decides to speak to the presumed guide and approaches him: "Hi, I'm Eric and I've signed up for the week-long bike tour." His voice is a little shaky. Approaching strangers has never been his best skill.

"Hello, Eric. I'm Mathis, one of the guides. Perot, right?" At Eric's nod, the guide crosses out his name on the piece of paper. "As you can see, not everyone is here yet. My colleague Alena and four participants are still missing. There's a van in front where you can pack your things. I hope you have fun on our tour," Mathis greets him properly and briefs him.

"Thank you." Eric follows the guide's suggestion and packs everything into the van, except for his bike and a small rucksack, which he will carry during the journey. He then joins the two couples. They greet him in a friendly manner. Overall, he has a good feeling that this will be a relaxed tour.

One by one, the remaining participants arrive until only one is missing. Eric uses the waiting time to use the toilet in the organiser's small office building.

As he leaves, he notices a new person in the car park. The man stows his things in the van at this moment. As he turns to face Eric and the group, Eric stops on his way back to the group. He knows the man standing there. In fact, he knows him very well.

It's his crush. Fabien Claude. His older team-mate and brother of one of his best friends.

He would rather have had Quentin in front of him. He's more the silent type and when they talk, Eric doesn't get his heart beating so hard that he's afraid his heart will jump out of his chest.

"Eric!" Less than five seconds after recognising his team-mate, Fabien recognises him in turn. The older man approaches him with quick steps and hugs him. The embrace is so brief that Eric's perplexity prevents him from hugging Fabien in turn. "I didn't realise you'd be here too!" Fabien says happily.

"You know each other? That's good. We now have to decide on the teams of two for the tents and hotel rooms. We only have 6 two-person tents and rooms available at any one time. I'll put you down as a team straight away." Mathis is visibly pleased that he has some easy teams and leaves us no other choice as he goes straight on.

This seals Eric's fate. Until now, he had been able to avoid having to share a hotel room with Fabien at competitions. But now he's in deep trouble and won't get out easily. Especially as Fabien is delighted: "Come on, it'll be great! We've never shared a room before." Eric has to swallow dryly before forcing a cramped smile on his face.

Eric is rescued by Mathis, who calls the group together so they can set off.

***

They are gone for a total of seven days and over six nights. They only spend the last day on their bikes until midday instead of the afternoon. After lunch, they are taken by van to their cars at the starting point.

Eric has already completed four days and three nights. It is a real torture for him to be so close to Fabien. Especially as the rest of their team don't bounce around them. He is always aware of Fabien. He knows where the older man is on his bike at all times, even when he is behind Eric. At night, he hears his every breath, no matter how quiet, and every movement, if he can't even feel it through the mattress they share in the hotel bed. Eric tries to act normal and relaxed. It works well in a group, but when there are only two of them, he has to make more of an effort. Judging by the look on Fabien's face, Erik isn't very convincing either.

They arrived at their hotel for the night a few minutes ago. They have ridden a very hilly off-road route today. Eric, who clearly realises how his muscles have been strained by the effort, is one of the first to collect the key for the room. He leaves Fabien talking to another participant. The participant, Paul, is a family man who is slightly older than Fabien. The two of them got talking yesterday at breakfast, in the middle of their camp, and since then Eric has had a bit more air. Air that the closeness to Fabien had previously taken away from him. On the other hand, he is now slightly jealous that Fabien and Paul got on so well together.

Tired, he drags himself up to the room. Fabien will join him at some point. But that also means that he has a clear path to the shower, which he has been looking forward to since getting off his bike. His change of clothes is already prepared in the bag upstairs, along with his toiletry bag. He prepares the bathroom in no time at all and begins to undress.

He is just stripping off his pants when there is a knock and he hears Fabien's voice from outside: "Eric? Are you in there yet?"

"Yes! Hold on, I'm coming," he calls back. He reaches for a shower towel to cover himself. He doesn't want to open the door naked, especially when it's his team-mate standing in front of it.

Cursing as he arrives at the door, he realises that in his haste he has not grabbed the shower towel but the hand towel hanging on it. This is not big enough for him to tie around his hips. Swearing under his breath, he holds it in front of his best part with one hand. A quick glance through the peephole tells him that Fabien really is at the door.

Eric opens the door for the older man so that he can hide behind it.

"What are you doing there?" Fabien asks Eric with a laugh as he enters the room. He swiftly puts his bags down next to the small wardrobe, while Eric closes the door just as swiftly.

When Fabien turns to Eric, he can see the exact moment on Eric's face when Fabien realises that he is naked except for a small towel in front of his crotch.

And what's even worse is that Fabien is standing between Eric and the bathroom. Breathing heavily, he waits briefly to see if the older man will let him pass. Eric makes a half-hearted suggestion with his free hand that Fabien should please let him into the bathroom. But he seems to be frozen. His eyes darken, or at least Eric thinks he can see this in the dim light.

"Fabien?" he asks cautiously.

His name wakes the older man from his stupor. There are only two steps between them, which he quickly bridges. He places one hand on Eric's cheek so that he can pull him towards him with his fingertips on the back of his neck, while the other rests on the younger man's hip.

"Tell me yes or no," Fabien asks Eric. Eric is still surprised by the sudden closeness to Fabien. The places where they touch are almost on fire, they are tingling so much. Fabien's eyes catch his at the same time, searching his face for a sign that he should stop. But how could Eric say no to something he wants with all his heart?

"Yes," he breathes. That's all he's capable of. Breathing heavily, he waits to see what Fabien has in store for him.

Fabien takes the lead and begins to get close to matching Eric's clothing status. When he is only wearing his sports shorts and pants, the older man straightens up and approaches Eric again. His hands find their way onto the younger man's cheeks and pull him slightly towards Fabien.

Their lips collide hotly. It was Fabien who had bridged the last few centimetres between them and decided on the kiss. Eric can't concentrate on anything but Fabien. The towel finds its way to the floor as they deepen the kiss.

Fabien growls contentedly and turns her round. Carefully and without breaking the kiss, he guides Eric backwards to the large bed. The edge of the bed forces Eric to sit down. Fabien goes with him and helps him crawl backwards up the bed. Once their heads are on the pillow, they pause for a moment.

A thread of saliva joins their mouths as they break away from each other for the first real breathing space. Eric is not thrilled about the break in the kiss. He tries to get closer to Fabien's mouth again with his head. But he has other plans, smiles mischievously before moving down a little and begins to lavish kisses on Eric's neck.

He moves from his neck, always taking his time, over his nipples and stomach muscles to the centre of Eric's body. Eric is now so hard that he thinks he's about to burst. His eyes are half-closed with excitement as he watches Fabien. He returns his gaze as he takes Eric's in his mouth. So far, Eric has been able to suppress a loud moan, but now he can't help but scream his excitement out into the world.

Fabien knows exactly what he's doing. He briefly leaves a whimpering Eric on the bed to get some lube out of his bag and get rid of the rest of his clothes. Less than a minute later, he is back with his lover and starts to pleasure him again with his mouth. This distracts Eric as he begins to prepare him.

Eric doesn't know what to feel. The mouth of his cock on his penis or the gentle fingers that slowly prepare him. The touches almost drive him mad.

When Fabien has reached three fingers, he releases Eric's penis from his mouth and pushes himself all over him. After Eric has given him the go-ahead for the next step with a begging look, he applies new lube to his own penis and then inserts it centimetre by centimetre into Eric. Eric can't get enough of it.

Fabien is hot and considerate at the same time. The first thrusts are slow before Fabien increases the pace slightly with each subsequent thrust. He found Eric's prostate with the first thrusts and now touches it every time.

Eric has just got used to everything and is almost at his climax when Fabien turns them round. Eric understands what he is supposed to do and immediately starts to move himself on Fabien's penis. This is almost better than Fabien's thrusts before. His hands run over Eric's sweaty skin and add to the emotional chaos inside him. He has to lean on Fabien's chest. He knows the bulging pecs only too well from pictures or from the odd glimpse in the changing room. But from up close and under his hands, they feel heavenly.

All of this takes Eric over the edge. Moaning loudly, he pours himself over Fabien's stomach. Fabien follows him almost immediately, fuelled by the tightness inside Eric and the erotic sight of the younger man.

Eric lets himself fall sideways onto the bed, breathing heavily. They both lie there for a few minutes, catch their breath and begin to process what they have experienced.

Fabien is the first to move. "Come on, we really need a shower now," he says lovingly to Eric and helps him to sort out his long legs so that he can stand up. Eric's legs are shaking with the effort, but Fabien supports him.

He doesn't leave him alone in the shower either. They start washing each other with the shower gel and shampoo provided. Fabien stabilises Eric or lets him lean on him.

If Eric wasn't already completely and irrevocably in love with the older Frenchman, he would be by now at the latest.

After showering, they get changed. It's soon time for dinner with the group.

Before they leave the room, Fabien starts talking: "Would you go on a date with me after the trip. For dinner, a walk or something else. I don't know about you, but I've liked you for a while now and would like to see where the future takes us."

"I've wanted nothing more than to go on a date with you for over a year," Eric admits with red cheeks.

"Is that a yes?" Fabien enquires nervously of Eric.

"That's a resounding yes," Eric confirms with a grin.

***

Two years later, this first yes, and another just before the start of the 23/24 season when they became a couple, is followed by a very official one at an altar. Their families, biological and found, are with them on this special day and clap wildly as they kiss for the first time as a married couple.

Chapter Text

*06.01.2024 - Oberhof*

Benni suspects that there is not one athlete in the world who likes to take doping tests.

Today it's his turn again. At least they are in Germany, and he doesn't have to communicate with a few words of French and his hands and feet.

He dutifully hands his sample cup to a member of staff at the test center. In return, he receives a clipboard with a sheet of paper to fill in. "Thank you very much, Mr. Doll. Just fill in this form and you'll be released," she promises him and disappears into the laboratory.

Sighing, he sinks into one of the chairs waiting for him and begins to fill in the familiar form. It has become more familiar to him with every season. It's something that doesn't make him proud and even makes him feel old.

"Mr. Doll, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to wait a moment," the assistant asks him as he hands her the completed form. He has no choice but to comply with her request and sits back down on the chair where he had been sitting before.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices someone sitting down next to him on the vacant chair to his left. A warm hand rests gently on his thigh and briefly applies soothing pressure. The action is familiar to him and gives him a pleasant feeling. It is Tarjei who has sat down next to him. His husband. They have been married for more than two years now. Within the biathlon bubble, many of them know that they haven't been hiding their love for a long time, but they don't advertise it either. The proof: The public and the press haven't noticed anything yet.

Benni sighs deeply. Time seems to have stood still here in the doping control. He places his hand on his thigh. To calm Tarjei down and also to distract himself, he begins to slowly draw circles on the back of his husband's hand with his thumbs.

Even after another 10 minutes, he was not called. He sighs again and lets his head sink onto Tarjei's shoulder. He changes the position of their hands on Benni's leg so that they are now holding hands.

"Sorry it took so long. Mr Doll, if you would follow me," the doctor in charge of the test center approaches him.

Benni pulls his husband behind him by their interlocked hands. Whatever she had to tell him, she can do it with Tarjei in the room. Because for some reason, his gut feeling tells him that he should take his husband with him.

The two athletes take a seat on two chairs in front of the doctor's desk in the doctor's office.

"I'd like to start by saying that I didn't make them wait because of suspected doping. Your test was positive," she begins immediately after taking a seat behind her desk. Benni relaxed a little.

"And what then?" It is a worried Tarjei who asks this question.

"One of our test strips reacts to a specific hormone in the urine, albeit differently to the drug for which it is intended. Namely to HCG, a hormone that only occurs in pregnant women. And this is exactly the reaction it showed in your test, Mr. Doll. In addition to the normal test report, I will provide you with a doctor's letter. I also recommend that you see a specialist as soon as possible," she drops the proverbial bombshell.

Tarjei and Benni look at each other, overwhelmed. They hadn't expected this. They have been sleeping together for years without contraception and Benni was told during the legally required test in his youth that he has the necessary organs, but only has a small ovary with a few eggs and therefore the chance of pregnancy is very, very low. When the subject came up before they got married, they decided to take life as it came. With or without a biological child.

Benni is speechless and tries to wrap his head around this new information. Fortunately, he had Tarjei by his side, who ends the conversation with the doctor and takes the documents.
***

Three weeks later, Benni has a crucial appointment with a specialist in Norway. It is the doctor who also looks after all the women stationed in Oslo and is also one of the specialists for male pregnancies. The Norwegian athletes trust him completely. That reassures Benni immensely.

When Benni submitted the doctor's letter digitally to get an appointment, a nice doctor's assistant pointed out to him that the values looked like an early-stage pregnancy and that he should ideally wait a few more weeks so that they could do an ultrasound and tell him more.

The doctor is only in his mid-40s and is keen to make his patients feel comfortable and taken seriously in his practice. At least that's how he makes Benni and Tarjei feel.

Benni's blood had already been taken before they were taken to the treatment room with the ultrasound machine.

Now the friendly doctor moves the transducer over Benni's still flat stomach. Three pairs of eyes look intently at the small screen, which shows Benni's inner life in black and white.

In the biathlon family, every new addition to the family is duly celebrated. The two athletes have already seen many ultrasound images and, together with the doctor, make out a small black dot in a bubble outlined in white.

With tears of joy in their eyes, they watch as the doctor measures the small dot, which looks more like a bean. The doctor estimates their bean to be 5 to 6 weeks old.

The couple drive home with the picture, in multiple copies of course.

***

Benni announces the end of his career shortly before the last two World Cups in Soldier Hollow and Canmore. Even before the news about their upcoming offspring, Benni had kept open the possibility of ending his career after this season and openly communicated this to the press.

In Canmore, at the farewell ceremony after the pursuit on Saturday, he can no longer hold back his tears. In the meantime, he stands a little away from the cameras to take a deep breath. Again and again, he catches himself as his left hand finds the still tiny bulge of his stomach.

Only those who carefully compare pictures from the first World Cups of the season with pictures from the last two could notice it and then you would have to consciously look for it. In the last two weeks, since Tarjei thought he could see this small change one evening, he has been doing this more often. Even now, with a jacket between them, this contact with his unborn baby grounds him.

The news about her baby helps him to come to terms with the end of his career. After all, biathlon is not just a sport for him, like all his colleagues, it is their life and has been since childhood. One of his lifelong dreams comes to an end, but the next one is already waiting for him.

***

Towards the end of Tarjei's break, the two post the news of their marriage and soon-to-be-born child on Instagram. Benni's little bulge is now bigger and clearly visible in tighter shirts. Their families broke the good news to them earlier.

They came up with something fun for the publication. Because a simple picture was too boring for them. So they made a funny video:

-

"I'm expecting a child with a Norwegian, of course we already have a baby carriage for him to take a nap in on our veranda." (Bennis turns into profile and with one hand he makes his baby bump visible with a grazing movement, with the other he moves said baby carriage a few centimetres back and forth).

"I'm expecting a child with a Norwegian, of course we've already been given our first skis." (Bennis holds the skis up to the camera with a grin. One hand lies protectively on his stomach. He is filmed from the front).

"I'm expecting a child with a Norwegian, of course we have shoeboxes full of information sheets about childcare and the like in the living room." (The shoeboxes are briefly shown.)

"I'm expecting a child with a Norwegian, of course we already have tickets for Holmenkollen next year." (Bennis stands in front of the camera, his hand on his stomach. Tarjei comes into the picture behind him, wraps his arms around him and puts his hand on Bennis' belly. Their wedding rings glisten in the Norwegian sun).

-

The video is a complete success. They receive congratulations from other athletes, friends, other family members and, of course, their fans. After a few weeks, the publication of their marriage and the news of their offspring are no longer on everyone's lips, and they can concentrate fully on themselves and their baby. There is still so much that needs to be prepared...

Chapter Text

Niklas: Student (music) transfer from Swiss university to Norway

Sturla starts the engine of his car. He is on his way to Gjøvik, where he is studying. It's not far from his home in Lillehammer.

He resumed his studies in the summer, part-time. On the one hand, this means that he is now focussing on his studies and, on the other, that he can get out of his daily training routine. Especially as renewable energy has nothing to do with nutrition, fitness and the like.

As part of his resumed studies, he also wants to get more involved with the university. Shortly after receiving confirmation from the dean responsible for his subject area that he could resume his studies and on what terms, he looked at the list of voluntary working groups and leisure groups. He came across a music working group. They are looking for new members for the new academic year. According to the description, participation can range from jamming together to writing songs.

He didn't hesitate for long and signed up. He claims to play the guitar. He has one of his acoustic guitars in the luggage compartment.

When he arrives at the university, he looks for the room where the study group is to take place. He has his guitar slung securely over his shoulder. If he gets lost and someone finds him, at least they will know where he was going.

He only gets lost once because he kept going straight instead of turning right. However, a map at the end of the corridor quickly puts him back on the right track.

The door to the room is open. Inside, it looks like a recording studio. Two young women are sitting on a corner couch talking.

"Hi, I'm Sturla," he introduces himself after knocking on the door frame and entering the room.

"Hi, nice to meet you. I don't need to ask you what instrument you play, it's obvious. I'm Josie. I've been playing the drums here in the group for a year and, thanks to my dad, since I was a little girl," one of them babbles and pulls him into a quick hug. Her hair lights up in every imaginable colour, from dark blue at the roots to a vibrant orange at the tips. Sturla can't help but smile at their warm greeting. His tension, even if only slight, has fallen away while she has been speaking.

"Mara, hello, I'm new too, but I've known Josie for a few days and I play bass," the other woman also greets him and offers him her hand. Unlike Josie, who doesn't seem to know him, the look on her face says that she can recognise him exactly.

"Make yourself comfortable. We're just waiting for three more members. Two new ones, one of whom we've already worked with, and an old hand," Josie invites him.

Sturla doesn't need to be told twice and joins them on the sofa. Josie holds out a bottle of water to him, which he gratefully accepts.

"I didn't realise you were studying here," says Mara.

"I only resumed my studies this semester. I needed a little break beforehand, but I've come to the realisation that I did miss it."

"You know each other?" Josie asks excitedly, leaning forward to get a better look at them both.

"No. Sturla is a full-time sportsman. That's how I know him. But only by name," Mara explains to her.

"Oh, I don't care about sport," Josie shrugs and smiles apologetically at Sturla. It's no big deal for him. That's exactly why he's here. To spend time with people who aren't athletes.

"Halöle!" another woman greets them. The blonde almost floats in the door, puts her handbag down next to the piano and falls into Josie's arms. She jumps up.

"Sturla, may I introduce you? Steffie, our artist at the piano!"

"Who are my eyes looking at? Sturla Holm Lægreid! I never thought I'd get to meet you and jam with you! This season I'm keeping my fingers crossed that you make it to the top. Last season was ultra-boring." Steffi and Josie are very similar in their cheerfulness. Without inhibition, Steffi pulls him into a hug and gives him a kiss on each cheek.

"Thank you."

"Hello, are we in the right place?" comes from the door again. Two men are standing in the doorway. One of them also has a guitar and the other a large rucksack.

Sturla's gaze lingers on the second man. He looks around the room nervously. His face reflects his emotions and that is exactly what attracts Sturla's gaze. He is handsome. Not a milquetoast face, although he looks as if he is the youngest in the group.

"Hello, Niklas! Nice to have you here. I hope you've settled in well here in Norway. And you must be Marcus?" Josie takes over the greetings again. This gives Sturla a moment to take his eyes off the man called Niklas and collect himself.

Josie continues to take the lead. She introduces everyone to the two new arrivals and decides that they should all get out their instruments and just start playing.

Niklas takes a moment longer as he takes an electronic percussion set out of his bag.

When they are all ready, Steffi starts with a simple melody, which they record one by one and develop further together. After a good minute, they seem to have found their common tempo and sound and it sounds better and better.

***

The next two weekly meetings are similar.

The attraction that Sturla had felt at first sight of Niklas had developed into a real crush over time.

Josie has noticed this. The lively young woman seems to have a nose for it. Even during the first session, it became clear that she was the one keeping an eye on all the group members and holding them together.

And that's why she holds him back after their third evening together, while the other group members say goodbye and leave the room.

"Sit down." She points to the couch and, after he has taken a seat, sits down on the table in front of him.

"There you go, my dear. As a woman, I don't miss amorous looks from blokes. Even if they're not turned towards me. Call it a seventh sense. And they're very strong. We urgently need to do something about that. Especially because Niklas is younger and more insecure. He's also a transfer student and new here. That's why you have to take the first step." She claps her hands enthusiastically. "And I already have the perfect plan!" she says happily.

Sturla listens to her in amazement and finally resigns himself to his fate. She won't let go until he agrees. And admittedly, he wants to know how Niklas feels about him. Since his rise to the World Cup, he has never had a boyfriend, nor has he been interested in any particular man. Niklas awakens long-forgotten feelings in him.

But maybe 2023 is the year of changes that will take him further.

***

A week later, he slips a note into Niklas's rucksack unnoticed. According to Josie, who is 99% sure that he also fancies Sturla, the young Swiss man will answer his question about a date with a 'yes'.

As soon as their session is over and they gradually make their way home, Sturla's nervousness starts to show. He had written Niklas on the note that he should get in touch with a text message. Josie had put the numbers of all the group members in a group on the first evening so that they could communicate with each other more easily and everyone had everyone else's number.

He is so tense on the journey home that he decides to go for a run on the cross-country skis. The exercise will do him good and he hadn't done any laps today, just weight training at the gym round the corner.

When he sets off for the nearby track, he has not yet received a message from Niklas. But when he makes himself comfortable on his sofa after his lap and a relaxing shower and checks his messages, he sees a new message from Niklas among the chats from Johannes Dale and Vetle.

Niklas: It's a pleasure to go on a date with you. Due to my lack of local knowledge, I'll leave the choice of restaurant to you. I think that would be a suitable place for a first date.

Sturla doesn't hesitate for long and picks something suitable in Lillehammer. After a brief discussion with Niklas, he reserves a table for next week.

One date turned into many more. Shortly before the start of the season, Sturla finally asks Niklas if he would like to cheer him on as his boyfriend and the Swiss says yes.