Work Text:
Stéphane tends to overwork himself. In the middle of the season, Chris watches as Stéphane stays at the rink from the morning to late in the evening, working with the skaters on their sequences and jumps. Some days, Chris emerges from his stack of paperwork to find Stéphane still in the rink long after the skaters have left, working on footwork on his own or trying to get just the right expression down before he demonstrates it to the skaters tomorrow.
“Go home without me,” Stéphane says most nights when Chris gets ready to leave. Stéphane loves skating, loves coaching with his whole heart. And because Chris loves Stéphane, he knows that Stéphane doesn’t see staying at the rink late into the night every day as a burden. He understands that for Stéphane, giving this sport all the energy he has in him is an act of love in itself. When they are in the thick of the competitive season, Stéphane won’t let himself rest until he’s done all that he can to help his skaters.
So Chris supports Stéphane as best as he can. He kisses Stéphane by the side of the rink and holds his hands, warming them as much as he can before he leaves. He whispers, “Don’t stay too late. I’ll wait for you back home. I love you.” And they repeat this ritual week after week until it feels like months since Chris walked home with Stéphane.
All this means is that when the competitive season ends at last, Stéphane is of course exhausted. And as much as Stéphane is stubborn and likes to pretend that he doesn’t need rest, sometimes the most important thing Chris can do is push him to take a break.
Today is an off day, one of those rare days where neither of them have to go to the rink and they can stay at home instead. Chris does administrative work on his laptop in the living room. Across from him, Stéphane is on the couch, jotting down things in his journal while music plays from his phone out loud. The song is something soft with an uplifting melody. Chris wonders which skater Stéphane is envisioning a program to this music for.
It is late afternoon and sunlight sifts into the room. Chris watches as Stéphane closes his eyes and leans in the direction of the sunlight. He looks so serene that Chris cannot help but stare.
The sunlight falling on Stéphane’s face highlights the new lines on his face that weren’t there a year ago. Chris’ dear love is growing old along with him. But at the same time, the sunlight makes Stéphane glow all the same, beautiful as the day Chris first met him.
The song playing on Stéphane’s phone ends and a new one begins. Stéphane doesn’t move to replay it. Slowly, his breathing slowly evens out in sleep, and the journal in his grip drops to the floor.
Chris isn’t going to let Stéphane tire himself out on a rest day, not if he can help it.
He sidles up next to Stéphane and rubs his hand over Stéphane’s shoulder. “Hey,” he murmurs. “Tired? Come take a nap.”
Stéphane protests, which Chris is expecting because getting him to stop and rest is never easy. “But Chris, I’m not too tired. I still have notes I want to make,” he says and picks up his journal from the ground.
Sometimes, getting Stéphane to take a break requires extra measures.
Chris makes a show of yawning and stretches his arms. “I could use a nap,” he says and yawns again, which, sue him - it this what it takes to make Stéphane nap, then so be it. “The notes can wait,” he promises. “Come on, it doesn’t have to be a long nap. Just a half hour.”
He leans down to kiss Stéphane. “Please, love?”
Stéphane relents. “Fine, but you are going to cuddle me.”
Chris smiles. As if having to hold Stéphane and cuddle him has ever been a burden. “Of course.”
He holds Stéphane’s hand and leads them to their bed, still neatly made from the morning as Stéphane is fond of doing. He lowers the window shades so the sun doesn’t shine into the room as brightly and then climbs into bed. “Come here,” he says with his arms open.
This is an old dance they are both used to. Stéphane climbs into bed with him and presses their bodies together. Stéphane tucks his head in the crook of Chris’ neck while Chris brings his arms around Stéphane and rubs circles in his back. In this configuration, Chris loves how easily he can lean down and kiss the crown of Stéphane’s head, in the center of his hair.
“Enough cuddles for you?” Chris asks.
“Hold me a little tighter?”
Chris is happy to tighten his hold around Stéphane. Selfishly, he loves very much knowing that Stéphane feels safe in his arms, safe enough to ask to be held, to want to be held. “How is this?”
Stéphane hums. It feels like a little vibration in Chris’ neck. “This is perfect. Wake me up in an hour?”
Chris kisses Stéphane’s hair once again, along the strands of gray emerging with the black. “I’ll wake you up in an hour,” he promises and watches as Stéphane drifts off.
Sometimes, Chris thinks of his life in the scope of others. For the first time in decades, humans have travelled to the moon again. They’ve seen parts of the far side of the moon that no one else has ever seen before. And every day, comets visit the Earth, some of them with their future unknown. Some will disintegrate as they wrap around the Sun and others will survive the journey. Some will never be seen again within a single human lifetime.
Chris looks at space photos with Stéphane sometimes and they marvel at the infinite, grand scope of the cosmos together. He wonders how his life might have changed if he had never met Stéphane. If they had never started their skating school together, he doesn’t know who he would have become.
Human lives in the scope of the universe are microscopic. And yet, how lucky Chris feels to be able to spend his life beside Stéphane. How infinitely precious it is to have an irreplaceable piece of the universe in his arms and to be able hold his love tight.