Chapter Text
Some may say that a select few are destined for greatness. Others may say that talent fades with time. And nowhere have these ideals been more prevalent than the Olympic games.
Athletes from all corners of the world put themselves to the test in the hopes of capturing the gold, bring pride to the countries they hail and cement their name in history. Those who achieve all of this are considered legends in their own rite.
But whether it's destiny or pure talent, to get to the world's grandest stage, you must take the first steps.
- Four Years Ago -
"*And in the last lane, we have Keith Kogane of Team USA, making his Olympic debut.*"
A woman silently braces herself in the sofa she's been glued to the moment the broadcast station switched over to the current program. All attention transfixed on the screen just a few feet away until-
"*You're watching BMXing? Mama, you don't even get into that type of sport.*" A tall, slender young man booms as he enters the room.
"*Ay! Lance, don't do that! One of these days, you'll give your poor mama a heart attack.*" The woman replies.
"*Sorry, mama.*" He says in a sheepish tone before taking a seat next to her.
Just then, a roar of cheers fills the room.
"*He's done it! Keith Kogane has won the gold!*"
On screen, the camera tracks a single helmeted man. To the surprise of likely millions, he doesn't carry himself the way you would expect one who's just completed a victorious run, choosing to collectively walk away with his bike. At least a dozen or so reporters hot on his tail to get every detail out of him.
"*Heh, he actually managed to win.*" Lance scoffs, unamused by the whole spectacle.
"*Well, if you ask me, that boy is going places.*"
"*But aren't I going places?*" Raising an eyebrow at that.
"*Yes, my boy. And I believe that someday you'll be up on that podium, too.*"
She sends him a fond, reassuring smile, which is mirrored by his own.
"*Yeah... that'll be the day.*"
"*Up next, we have women's archery. Where all eyes are on Great Britain's own and reigning gold medalist, Allura Altea.*"
"*Allura Altea? Now we're talking.*" He perks up at the aforementioned athlete's name, finally willing to pay the TV any mind.
- Present Day -
Lance McClain, now the fresh faced raising star in the swimming pool, finds himself on the seat of a plane, midway into the hours of airtime he and his coach must endure. Needless to say the past few years have been a whirlwind for the young swimmer, but it all seems to have payed off because he officially made it into Cuba's Olympic swim team and is inbound to the hosting city.
Adam, to his credit, is displaying the patience of a saint considering his pupil isn't exactly the calm and collective type. Luckily for him, Lance has been keeping himself content long enough to grant him a moment of rest, so... all is well... for now, anyway.
"Adam?" Lance asks, repeatedly poking a long finger into his coaches shoulder.
Or maybe not.
"Mmph. What is it?" Mumbling out the question in a soft groan while keeping his body completely stone like and his eyes sealed shut.
"How much longer do we have until we land?"
"We'll get there when we get there, Lance. For now, just relax. We have a busy three weeks ahead of us, so you could use this time to rest up... we both could."
The athlete takes pause at that. Obliviously, he hadn't thought about the implications of spending hours in the air without so much as a wink of sleep. But now that there's ample time to spare, it would be in his best interest to follow suit.
"Right. Yeah... I'll go do that." He flops back in his seat, strapping his headphones on while sifting around his phone's extensive catalog of playlists.
'Relaxing Vibes', he opens. An endless medley consisting of waterfalls, seashores and delicate rain showers lulls him with the tranquil sounds nature provides until his consciousness fades.
Once they land, everything seems to feel like a swift blur to Lance between lugging bags out from the baggage claim, jogging through the airport, loading up the car and finally going en route to the hotel. He does however get to take in the fleeting sights of the city, marveling at the monuments and lights if only for a passing moment until they come to a stop at hotel's entrance.
The lobby could be best described as 'organized chaos' with athletes from near and far huddled into tight knit groups. From where he stands, Lance can name off a few as Great Britain, Samoa and, of course, USA. They are by far the largest group amongst everyone in attendance and... is that Keith Kogane?... Wearing THAT?
Sure enough, he spots a figure who stands out from the bunch. Lance desperately tries to hold back his grimace because he's clad in the most dull set of lounge wear known to man and his face is almost completely blocked by a ball cap, sunglasses and a face mask.
'Geez, I think I might gag here...And please tell me that's a wig and not his real hair. Not that it looks bad or anything, but... surely he could've picked something more... in with the times.' His mind cringes as he turns away to spare his eyes from the horror. 'Whatever... his awful taste in fashion is not my problem.'
But now, just like that, Lance's thoughts are abruptly snuffed out by the sound of snapping fingers. Adam's snapping fingers.
"Hello? Earth to Lance?" The man's assertive tone hammers out, commanding an audience.
"Huh? What?" He answers. A bewildered look no doubt plauges his face.
"We're heading up now. Here, this is your key."
Adam effortlessly passes the key card from between his fingers to Lance's with a flick of the wrist. The relatively plain paper sleeve keeping it's accented dark colored plastic hidden.
"Oh, right. Sorry."
To that, Adam can't help the urge to revert to the soft motherly figure Lance seems to bring out of him. Something that Lance himself could tell just by the look in his eyes.
He doesn't remember how or when it started but somewhere along the way, they managed to create this almost familial dynamic that he can appreciate in times like this. Whenever his actual mother can't be physically present, Adam helps to fill that role. Advocating for her and making sure Lance is on his best behavior.
"Just try to pay more attention, okay?" His coach softens "Now, let's go."
"Yes, coach." The young swimmer salutes, to which is accepted with a small nod as they head to the elevator.
'Can't believe I'm really here... Now that I am it's time to show the world what I got.'