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The Olympic Village in Beijing was smaller than Svetlana had expected. She knew that they'd cut it down a bit from 2008 and that it was supplemented by the two other villages, but things still felt underwhelming.
"Pyeongchang was bigger," Rose said from her left, and Svetlana smiled.
When Svetlana had been new to the American team — after she'd left Russia and her father for a life in Boston — Rose had been the first to welcome Svetlana in, and they'd become close over the past few years. Svetlana hadn't been able to compete in Worlds or most other major competitions since the previous Olympics when she'd represented Russia, but Rose hadn't seemed to care unlike most of the other singles women's skaters.
Conversely, Rose was the youngest on the American team, and Svetlana didn't mind. Rose Landry was a figure skating prodigy as far as Svetlana — and their coaches — were concerned. Rose hadn't been old enough to compete in the 2018 Olympics for figure skating, but she'd done spectacularly well at the US Championships that year.
"It was, wasn't it?" Svetlana agreed, then did a little mental math. "Wait, how do you know that?"
"I was there!" Rose said. "Well, I was attending anyway. But I was friends with some people on the team and they let me hang around a little bit."
"Weren't you, like, thirteen?" Svetlana added, incredulous.
"And?" Rose cast her a glance, and Svetlana couldn't do anything but shake her head and smile.
"They had better shopping in South Korea too, huh?" Svetlana said, and that perked Rose back up.
"Totally." Rose held out her bag. "Hold this for me?"
"Why?" Svetlana asked, already reaching for it.
"You'll see." Rose winked as Svetlana took her bag, then Rose launched into a series of rolling cartwheels, startling Svetlana into laughter. After about five or so, Rose stopped, coming back to her feet and dusting her hands off on her team America jacket as she waited for Svetlana to catch up. "So?" Rose asked, cheeks ruddy and a giddy look on her face.
"I think we better run the rest of the way to the stadium before the coaches kill you," Svetlana half-joked, looking behind them. Sure enough, Rose's coach was looking furious, so Svetlana took Rose's hand and they ran, giggling, into the stadium for the team women's free skate.
They took silver.
It was magnificent showing, and Svetlana was proud of her team, even though it hurt to see her former teammates on the Russian Olympic Committee team win.
It hurt worse when the award ceremony got pushed back. The rumor was that Kamila, who Svetlana had never trained with but knew in an offhand way, had been found doping for the competition. Svetlana knew in her heart that it was the coaches, not Kamila herself, but the semantics didn't really matter. It was Kamila's body, and it would be found to be her fault.
Instead of shedding tears for her old country or celebrating with her new, Svetlana found herself by Rose's side, watching the men's short program.
She'd gotten to see Ilya a few times during the team competition, but since they were skating for different countries now, she missed him with a pain that was akin to a stitch in her side. When he came flying off the ice after his short program, Svetlana found that she was hoarse from cheering during his performance. She watched as he put the protectors on his blades, then as he was walking away, she ran forward to hug him.
"You were amazing!" Svetlana exclaimed in Russian.
"I was okay," he countered, and she shoved him playfully as they made their way to the bench to await his scores.
"Since when are you humble?" she asked, leaning into him and lowering her voice. "You only under-rotated one, it'll still be enough."
"Not against Shane Hollander it won't be," he whispered, and then they were both leaning forward as the numbers were announced.
Canada's Shane Hollander was the last to skate, just after Ilya finished, and he beat Ilya's score by a mere two points. Ilya and Hollander exchanged a few words that Svetlana didn't catch as she was shuffled away, and then they were all being ushered out of the stadium, and Svetlana lost Ilya altogether to the crush of people.
Fortunately, everyone wanted to party that night.
On their way back to the Olympic Village, Rose leaned into Svetlana. "Want to swing by Rozanov's room on the way to the party? I know you two are tight."
"That would be amazing, yeah. You haven't partied until you've partied with me and Ilya," Svetlana said, winking at Rose.
Rose was cute.
Rose was also, as far as Svetlana could tell, unfortunately straight.
Still, it was no bad thing to have a night out with her old best friend and a new best friend, especially with plenty of alcohol and a break before anyone had to skate for competition again. The men's competition would resume on the day after next, and then Svetlana would skate three days later.
Plenty of time.
When she knocked on Ilya's door, Rose close behind her, Ilya answered wearing only his boxers and his confidence.
"Hurry up," Svetlana chided him, rolling her eyes. "We're going out."
"Or we could stay in," Ilya countered in Russian, seeming not to have noticed Rose yet.
Huffing a sigh, Svetlana stood to the side, gesturing behind herself. "No, we are going out," she countered, still in English. It was rude to do otherwise, especially to someone who had become a good friend to her.
"Hi, I don't think we've met!" Rose said, giving a little wave. "I'm—"
"Rose Landry," he finished, smiling and switching to English himself. "Sveta has said many good things about you."
And that was what Rose looked like when she blushed but was keeping her composure, not risking herself on something that might be a bad idea. That was… interesting. Maybe Svetlana would break her own heart a little playing matchmaker — and a win for Ilya was practically a win for herself.
"Go on, get dressed then," Svetlana said with a shove to Ilya's shoulder before they got further distracted. He grinned, then turned back into his room and started picking out clothes and dressing without bothering to close the door. Svetlana turned back to Rose. "Apologies for his appalling manners; he was raised… what do you say?"
"In a barn?" Rose asked, a sparkle in her eyes. "By wolves? Both seem accurate, from what you've told me."
Svetlana laughed. "Yes, in a barn by wolves, that is Ilyushka. But, he dances well," she sighed over dramatically. "It makes up for his faults."
"Bah! Liar!" Ilya called, and Svetlana ignored him with a smile for Rose.
"Did you talk to Madison about where she wanted to go? Same place as yesterday?" Svetlana asked.
"Yeah," Rose said. "Just the same place. Should be fun, and probably a little less dour this time."
"Now that we actually have something to celebrate? Certainly," Svetlana agreed.
"Don't count your eggs!" Ilya called from where he was struggling with a shoe. "We still have the free skate!"
"Besides, why would you be celebrating? You're an American now, remember?" Rose teased, rolling her eyes good naturedly.
"Only half," Svetlana said, feigning primping her hair. "Besides, you like it when I speak Russian."
"Da," Rose said. "I'll have to get you to teach me more than swears one of these days."
"Then you'd be absolutely unstoppable," Svetlana said, shaking her head. "World domination!"
"Sounds like a nice world," Ilya said, having reappeared in the doorway in a tank top and his ROC jacket. "Does Rose Landry's world come with a fully stocked bar too?"
"Of course," Rose said without hesitation. "Onward?"
At the bar, mostly crowded with other Olympians and the crowds from the games, they smuggled Rose in without much issue and took over a table. Svetlana and Rose had found a few of their team along the way, while Ilya had elected to come alone, leaving his fellow ROC teammates in their rooms.
"Aren't you going to text them?" Rose asked Ilya, nodding at Madison and Evan as they waited at the bar. "Your teammates, I mean."
Ilya snorted. "If they want to have fun, they know where to find it."
"I take it you and Alexandra didn't get along so well after you showed her a good time?" Svetlana asked. When Ilya only grumbled in Russian, Svetlana grinned and turned to Rose. "Ilyushka, for all his many redeeming qualities, has a propensity for having too much fun. Isn't that right?"
When Svetlana moved to pinch his cheek, Ilya batted her hand away, glowering.
"Alexandra Trusova thinks she is God's gift to figure skating while completely failing to notice the greatness she is surrounded by," Ilya said, and that made Svetlana laugh again. "I'm serious!"
"Right, because God's gift to skating is clearly you," Svetlana said.
"Obviously." Ilya grinned for a moment, then seemed to remember their topic of conversation and scowled. "Alexandra said she couldn't sully herself before the skate."
"Seriously?" Svetlana knew of some superstitious skaters, but Ilya was a generous and attentive lover. His ministrations would only loosen muscles and make skating better, besides the fact that they had days until the womens singles short program. "Well, anyway, I'm sure we can find better for you here than Alexandra."
"Hear hear!" Rose said, raising her glass. She had only asked for a mocktail, and the red syrup swirled in her glass, lights glinting on the glass and reflecting in her eyes and—
Jerkily, Svetlana grabbed her glass and raised it. "To finding someone better than Alexandra!" She did not look at Ilya to see the knowing look she knew would be waiting there. If Rose didn't go home with Ilya tonight, maybe Svetlana would take him home. It would certainly be a good distraction anyway.
And Ilya was a good lay.
They clinked their glasses together and drank as the music got louder — with the finish of events for the day, the bars were getting steadily flooded with athletes and spectators. Madison and Evan eventually made their way over along with a couple of other skaters, and Svetlana managed to swap seats with Rose at some point so that Ilya and Rose were sitting next to each other.
When she did this, Ilya gave her another look.
But then they were drinking and dancing, and Ilya and Svetlana were flirting with each other and everyone else on the dance floor, and even some people off it.
Including, Svetlana noted, Shane Hollander from Canada. When Svetlana was back at the bar for another round, she looked over to see Ilya leaning into Shane fucking Hollander, and smiling. That, in and of itself, was not unusual.
When Svetlana got closer though, ready to rescue the poor Canadian from Ilya's clutches, Ilya was already backing away, still grinning. Hollander didn't seem to be blushing, only staring as far as she could tell under the pulsing lights, but she could swear that his lips formed around the words not here.
Hmm.
Ilya murmured something back before Svetlana got close enough to push a drink into Ilya's hand, and Hollander startled as though he hadn't realized they were in a packed club. Svetlana leaned in close to Ilya and said, in Russian, "He's pretty."
"Is he?" Ilya pretended to look Hollander up and down cooly. "The straight ones always are," Ilya said eventually, but he didn't take a drink. He didn't look back at Hollander to flirt and get a rise out of him. He just turned and waded back into the dancing bodies.
That was odd.
Usually, Ilya was like a dog with a bone between its teeth when he was flirting with someone, even if that person wasn't interested. Then it became a game, trying to draw the other person into doing something stupid or laughing at the joke with him.
But Ilya leaving Hollander alone? Well, that was a sign of something for sure.
Svetlana turned back to Hollander. "Enjoying the party?"
"I was just leaving," he managed, and Svetlana raised an eyebrow at his retreating back.
"Idiots. Obvious, oblivious idiots," she muttered to herself, then went to find Ilya on the dance floor.
He had, of course, already found a hot woman to dance with — and foist his drink onto — but that was no great hurdle.
She leaned into the woman and said, "You should be careful taking drinks from strangers."
The woman blinked at her. "No English," she said with a furrowed brow, then began speaking what sounded to Svetlana's untrained ear like Mandarin.
The rude way it was then.
Svetlana smiled at her, then wrapped a firm hand around Ilya's bicep and dragged him away, her other hand in the air to keep her drink safe from the undulating bodies.
"What?" he asked as they exited the dance floor. "I was having fun."
"You were flirting with Hollander," she accused, and Ilya just shrugged.
"He was there. Now he's not. Can I please—"
"No." She tried to marshal her thoughts, though they were coming a little more sluggish now. "Come on. Leave with me."
"Why—"
"Just come." Svetlana pulled on his arm again, and Ilya went where she led like the good boy he had always been. He might have a bad boy exterior, but she knew him better than that. By the time they collected their coats and made it outside, her ears were ringing.
"Now will you tell me what that was about?" Ilya asked as they made their way back to the village.
It wasn't too late, not compared to the nights where they really went at it partying, though they had started early. Still, Svetlana felt more drunk than she'd meant to get, so she threaded her arm through Ilya's on the walk back.
"You were being too obvious," Svetlana said, trying to keep her voice low, but she wasn't sure how successful she was with the ringing still in her ears. Hopefully the language barrier would be enough to keep other people from overhearing.
Ilya just blinked at her.
"With your boy back there. Hollander."
"He's not my boy," Ilya said, and he sounded bitter about that fact.
She just sighed at him.
"He is not my boy! He's a straight, Canadian boy who is trying to beat my score. That's all," Ilya continued, protesting too much.
"Okay, Ilyushka."
It was his turn to huff out a breath, but he didn't pull away from her, so they continued arm in arm.
Eventually, they reached the Olympic village again, and Ilya led Svetlana to the room she and Rose shared. Rose must've still been out at the club, and Svetlana frowned at the memory of her original goal for the night.
"Shit. I was supposed to set you up with her," she said, for the moment forgetting to keep her intentions obfuscated. The walk had sobered her a little, but not enough it seemed.
"With… Rose?" Ilya asked, then laughed when Svetlana nodded. "She was too busy looking at you. Or didn't you notice?"
Svetlana scoffed. "We're friends."
"So are you and I," Ilya countered. "And we still fuck."
Shaking her head, Svetlana took a step into the room. "Goodnight, Ilyushka."
"Goodnight, Sveta."
When the sun started peeking in through the curtains, Svetlana groaned.
Waking up from a hangover was never fun, but it was a little better when Svetlana cracked open an eye to see Rose there with a bottle of water and some painkillers.
"You were already asleep when I got home," Rose said quietly as Svetlana took the offered pills, swallowing them down before reaching for the water. "Otherwise, I would have made you drink some water before bed. Think you're up for a Gatorade?"
Svetlana paused drinking the water to nod, then decided to try something approximating getting up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Sitting up was a mistake.
On the other hand, it got Rose to laugh, and that was no bad thing.
"You should probably finish that water before you try to go anywhere," Rose said before coming back with the promised Gatorade. "You're really making me glad I didn't decide to drink with you last night."
Grumbling something unintelligible, Svetlana cracked open her eyes — she didn't remember closing them again, but the sun was so bright.
"You're lucky we don't have anything but practice today. Should I talk to coach for you?" Rose offered.
"No," Svetlana said, and even she could tell it was a whine. She sighed. "No, I'll get there. I just need a moment."
"Sure," Rose said, and she sat down next to Svetlana, bumping shoulders with her companionably. "Last night was fun. You disappeared with Rozanov though; I didn't think I'd find you here at all."
"Oh, no, I just had to talk to him and realized I should probably stop drinking," Svetlana explained. "He walked me home, that's all."
"A proper gentleman," Rose said, and it sounded like there might be something brittle there. Was Rose jealous?
"I'm sure he'd walk you home too, if you asked," Svetlana said, trying to make it better through the cloud in her head. "Nice girl like you. Pretty hair. Pretty smile." Svetlana let her eyes fall shut again as she lapsed into Russian. "Pretty everything. I wish I could kiss you."
"What?" Rose asked, and her voice sounded even closer.
Svetlana opened her eyes, turning so she could look into Rose's blue ones.
"You're pretty," Svetlana said dumbly, and then Rose was leaning in.
Rose was leaning in, and Svetlana did the only thing she knew how to do in that moment.
She kissed her.
Oh.
Rose's lips were soft, and though she made a startled noise, Rose deepened the kiss, one hand cupping Svetlana's cheek. The kiss was gentle and sweet until it wasn't, until Rose pressed forward and swiped her tongue against Svetlana's lips.
It was a kiss that Svetlana could get lost in — one that she wanted to get lost in.
When they broke apart, Rose's pupils had blown out, and Sveta's breath was coming rougher.
"Oh," Rose said, and she blushed. She was cute when she blushed.
"You're cute when you blush," Svetlana said, because she could.
"You're cute all the time," Rose countered, and Svetlana could feel her own cheeks heating up. "I've, uh, I've been wanting to do that for a while."
"Oh?" Svetlana raised an eyebrow, and Rose giggled.
The next hour was long and languid and full of sweet kisses. Svetlana had never been happier to be wrong about something in her life.