huggingcompetition | redheadedstepson Terra Firma

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reno,
rp threads

redheadedstepson Terra Firma

Getting shot through space would be traumatic if you weren't asleep and/or being beamed through it at the speed of life itself. It only felt like he'd had a long, restless sleep when Emil's eyes opened to focus blearily not on the smooth metal ceiling of his tiny apartment, or, more often than not, someone else's, but on the generically spackled ceiling of a hotel room in Malay. He was sure he was dreaming at first; he'd had dreams like this before, where he was back on earth and preparing to go about his day, at least until someone new happened out of the bathroom, or turned over beside him in the bed, but a quick glance around told him the one thing that made his heart sink straight into his stomach.

"Reno?"

Silence. just wind and surf and birds outside the cracked open window, and his own pulse plodding along strangely placidly.

He checked his phone to confirm what the date was, finding himself only a little bit alarmed to find out that time had passed here. Not much, but some. Enough to have taken up his vacation before he had to head home and begin arranging for the next winter sports season.

It would go like that for months after arriving back home and settling back into his routines. Wake up, work out, practice, visit with friends and family, with the underlying feeling that something was just off. It almost felt wrong just going back to his life now.

Sometimes, he'd try to talk to a concerned friend asking questions. Explain that he wasn't sleeping well. Making an effort to rationalize that he wasn't unjustified in feeling like something was missing or wrong. He had so much on his phone that confirmed what he already knew: this "dream" of his, about all of these people he'd met, couldn't be fake. He had photos taken of the park, of ladies he'd made friends with, of interesting people he'd met in the observatory or at the rink, of Koller and Reno and Mo Guanshan and Sam. He still had messages from some of them.

He reread those a lot as time went on. He couldn't possibly have fabricated those, surely. He'd start doubting every so often, wondering if it was all an elaborate, staged thing, like he'd been brainwashed. He joked that he'd been abducted by aliens, which did throw off some concern with the humor of it, but feeling so left of center never really stopped.

Even when the world started turning into the sort of low-key hell that had always been predicted by the sci-fi writers of the last century, Emil kept going. He went to the finals another few times, even making it to the Four Continents, with a piece that he'd choreographed on his own, to a remixed piece that he'd once worked on when he was still in his "dreamstate". That year he dressed in red with a yakuza-style phoenix emblazoned on his costume's back.

The summer after, he opted to take time off from his normal busy schedule to spend time close to home with his family, to reflect on what he wanted to do with the few years he had left in his skating career. He only had a few years left in him after all, as his body filled out and matured. He'd kept his hair short and feathery, but let his beard grow fuller and make his face much more mature. He walked the streets of Prague like anyone would the streets of home, having moved here the year prior after leaving his parents' home. It had been a move advised by his coach and some well-meaning publicists after some suspicious occurrences, including redirected phone calls and some increasingly freaky "fan-mail" that had apparently never had a name or return address attached. He'd been curious, but followed the advice nonetheless, if only to keep his actual fans from going on some kind of witch hunt.

Pulling out of his distraction for a moment, he stops in his meandering path through a small city park to sit and take a moment to zone out, a tablet in his lap for his fingers to flick across mindlessly. It's become home to a massive photo gallery, transferred from his phone when it was finally on the verge of death. The background of it is, predictably, a starfield, though if anyone looked closely enough at it they would realize that it isn't the view from anywhere on earth. In one corner of the image is a figure standing without paying attention, a shock of red hair tied and twisted into a haphazard bun over a simple tshirt, hint of tattoo peeking from the collar. Emil finds himself glancing back at it as he scrolls through an article linked from his Twitter feed, barely absorbing a word as his mind wanders.

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"Psh, bullshit. I've seen your Hollywood stars in the US and those pop-stars in South Korea. I just age well, and that's the truth. I mean, I'm not immortal. No one back home is, technically. Not counting Sephiroth, but that's...not the same," he muses, wrinkling his nose.

"Old man Bugenhagen was pretty old. Older than people in your world get, evidently. We'll probably age at a completely different rate, but for now, anyone that matters can just assume what they like. By the time we get that old, we'll probably live off the grid or something with a hundred dogs and wrestle bears under waterfalls."

Emil chuckles against the back of Reno's neck, letting him drift away again until they're slowed by their hands still being linked. "My new goal in life is to live to at least a hundred and fifty just because you'll probably live at least that long. I'm twenty-four now, I've got all the time in the world. If you think you'll like old me as well, anyway.

"You should tell my brothers all the stories from your world. They love tales of action and intrigue. They'll tell anyone that listens all about being mob contacts, smugglers, elite information brokers. They'll love you, even without knowing you're not bullshitting them."

"Well, you know I've got a weakness for older guys. If you get bulk after you move on from skating, I'll probably be hot for teacher forever, man. Look forward to your twilight the way other people don't. Already got someone that loves you and has a thing for daddies. You can spank me when I act up," he grins, winking, sliding out of Emil's grasp to drift around him, leaning easily, unafraid of equilibrium issues. He may not even experience them.

"Well, I mean, I'll have to come up with a good overlap tale so I present as a citizen but have stories about some foreign country. I can keep most of it on the down-low because obviously wouldn't want them accidentally involved in my nefarious past."

"Be as candid as you like with the boys, but...yes, definitely present your case a little better to Karolina and Mama." Emil turns on the spot to stay facing Reno as he goes around, his arms coming up with his hands laced behind his head. "You know, out of everything we did before, that was one thing I never did. I can think of a few things we never tried actually. Maybe...we could compare notes on all that, when we get back to that point."

He can't say he's not looking forward to being with Reno in the physical aspect again. He misses the closeness, the intimacy, even in the more unorthodox things they did together. He smiles to himself after a moment's thought, eyes closing as he shifts around in front of the other man again.

"You know what I miss most though? Just laying there, talking and going slow for hours, as many times as we could. Like going for endurance, but in the laziest way possible."

"Emil I really can't afford a hard-on in these pants," Reno hisses, waving both hands in the other man's face and clearing his throat.

"I haven't had sex in two years and I'm not really in a position to start fantasizing right now," the redhead adds with a soft huff of frustration, turning his back to the skater and doing a tight little figure-eight to right himself from his lean.

"I miss you. I don't give a shit about anything else. I could give up sex if I had to. Just seeing your stupid face..." he sighs, shaking his head and turning to drift backwards away from Emil.

"I feel like I can keep living in this shit-hole as long as I can see you. Even if I can't have you."

"You know I wouldn't have minded if you had gone for something else," he points out with a sigh. He'd never have begrudged Reno a one night stand, a fling, a prostitute if he'd wanted. Just because he hadn't slept with anyone in the time they'd been apart absolutely didn't mean he would have wanted Reno to stay abstinent. But it's a non-issue at this point, not worth an argument.

"And my couch is always on offer if you might want it. It's big and firm, very comfortable to sprawl out on." There, an innocent segue out of boner territory.

"It mattered to me," Reno murmurs, shrugging dismissively. "Plus your world has all these sexually transmitted diseases and stuff and if I found you I didn't want to come carry baggage outside what we already have," he remarks, looking over his shoulder to arch a brow at Emil.

"Trust me...there's a lot of fuckin' temptation in this country. There's all kinds of shit I would totally do but...I had more important stuff going on, y'know?" he snorts, smiling vaguely and raking a hand through messy red hair.

"You think we wouldn't fool around if I stayed over? You wanted to start over...Go slow..."

"Also treatments for those diseases, but...yeah, that's a fair point." He doesn't actually know if Reno can catch any diseases here or if the man would react differently if he did catch one,and he'd just as soon not have to find out.

He hums quietly, pushing himself along on one skate with the other held up just behind the first. "You remember the first night I stayed with you. We didn't do anything but talk. About you, about stars. You forewarned me about coming to see you and everything. There were plenty of times afterward too, when I just wanted to stay in with you instead of handing myself to other people, just...hanging out, watching a movie, napping. We'll be fine. I think the most I'd ask of you is a kiss goodnight." No matter how he might have liked to fall back into old rhythms, it's still important to him to keep his promise.

It'd be a test of his own willpower, really, but he doesn't want to fail at the assignment. It matters to Emil, and thereby to him. Inhaling deeply with a small shrug, Reno smiles and scratching an eyebrow.

"So invite me over."

Simple enough, putting the ball in Emil's court, making him responsible for the speed at which they moved. He himself would be a poor decision-maker in that regard. If he could just...reach out...pull him in. Then again, what's a hug? So he turns abruptly, sliding out in front of Emil, colliding roughly. He keeps them both up, arms wrapping around the other man, face tucking between neck and shoulder as he just stands there holding Emil, breathing in the scent of him. Nothing more, nothing less. Just reconnecting, physically, without pressure for more.

He's not expecting that, so when he collides with Reno, his first instinct is to just hold on so neither of them fall. He relaxes after a second though, his fingers curling into the back of the other man's shirt and his face against Reno's shoulder.

"Alright." He would, when they got back to his building. He'd invite Reno up just to stay the night in the most innocent capacity he could manage.

They stay that way for some time, the music long since stopped. Eventually Ondrej clears his throat, prompting teal eyes to look up from under a fringe of red, warning the other man off. The manager doesn't back down, though, propping both fists on his hips.

"You two done?" he asks, gesturing vaguely to a few people who started skating on the far end of the rink, trying to be unobtrusive to the apparent couple.

"Not hardly, but if that's my queue to bounce, I can collect my money and head out," Reno drawls smugly, arching a brow slowly and rubbing his fingers together in the universal gesture for money. He keeps an arm around Emil, pressing their bodies together, unwilling to let go immediately. He still releases the other man after a few moments, leaning back a bit and shrugging.

"Maybe next time we could go where you practice. Might be nice to be on a full-size rink. I can only imagine what I could pull off if I didn't have to stop so fuckin' soon on straights."

Emil laughs quietly and draws away, heading to the edge of the rink first. "You go collect your money, Renik. I'll go to the locker room and collect our things." He nods at Ondrej, only a little bit embarrassed at the man's scoffing. He could give them all the hell he liked, it wouldn't stop them being quietly schmoopy.

He's waylaid on his way out though, someone recognizing him among the little group of skaters and approaching with enthusiastic chatter. He shakes his head at the question of whether he was here practicing for the next season, why would he be in such a small rink, when would he be announcing his theme for the season, and more, some questions about the handsome redhead he'd been clinging to. He tries to be gracious and enthusiastic right back, but he's anxious to get going.

When he does eventually manage to politely ease out of the conversation he's more than a little embarrassed, looking back at Reno apologetically before he heads off to actually do what he'd meant to to begin with. He stops on a bench to at least remove his skates first.

That teal gaze flicks up again at that name, lips curving in a vague, happily lost smile. So good...so good to be close to the only thing in his life that ever made sense.

"Yeah...don't take too long," he mutters, snorting a soft laugh before heading over to shake Ondrej down. By the time Emil comes back, Ondrej looks a little wore for wear, grumbling and rubbing a sore shoulder where Reno had knuckled him a few times. Boys being boys.

Reno had stopped long enough to watch the exchanges, wondering if he should pull the man out or not. Eventually he wanders over, leaning against the wall and arching a brow before sliding next to Emil, tugging his own laces off.

"You oughta tell 'em I'm your ingenue or some shit. Stir the pot. Get people talkin'. If there's a record of you toting me around, we can cover and say I've been on your radar for a long time. Make it sound even more likely that I've been in the country a while. I'm pretty good at the whole fake identity thing by now."

It's really very good to him that Reno, in all this frustration, has managed to make friends out here in this brave new world. He deserved it.

When the man plopped down beside him, he leans his shoulder against Reno's and works his skates off, laying them aside on the ground.

"It's mostly true too, there was just a lapse in my being able to work with you for a while. Just change names and dates around a little bit to fit and it's entirely believable."

If there's anything Reno is good at, it's making friends. Or frenemies, at least. Hard to tell, sometimes. If nothing else, Ondrej doesn't seem genuinely put out, and Reno is happier for leaving with more money than he came in with.

"If the others remember at all, I bet they'd back up the story. At least Otabek would, anyways. And Vaclav, though he's not much of a character witness," Reno chuckles, freeing his feet and setting his skates aside, wiggling tingling toes.

"You take me where you want me to skate, I'll skate. But you're gonna take some lessons from me. No arguments. If you don't do the training I set for you, I won't skate. I'll just lay there and make a spectacle and completely embarrass you. You know I will."

"I can imagine you would do that regardless," Emil points out, sitting back against the wall and tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants, though he'd really rather just keep holding onto Reno's hands instead. But he doesn't want to draw attention to the two of them more than they've already done. "If any of the others recognize you, it'll be interesting. Maybe some time we should get together with them and see what happens. There's usually a dinner before the major competitions, something for everyone to sort of get together and see what the rest have been up to while everyone was training. I could wiggle in a plus-one."

"I might. I don't know. Depends on my mood," the redhead drawls, giving Emil a lazy-eyed, unamused look before neatly tying the laces of his skates together.

"Well, it's worth considering. That's still a way off, though, and may be a moot point by then. We'll see. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to stay in your life," Reno murmurs, clearing his throat and lifting the skates.

"Be right back. I'm gonna put these away and change. I ain't walkin' around in public in fuckin' jeggings," he snorts, nudging Emil gently as he passes. Sure enough, he's in and out, wandering back over in his painfully loud shirt, damp hair a riot of spikes.

"Where to next? I'm at your disposal for the day, my dear."

"I thought you said we were going to call it a night after this." Not that Emil is going to turn it down. After all, he still plans to invite Reno up when they get back to his place. But... "I don't have anywhere else in mind, but if you do I can certainly come along. We could go to the market, pick up something to drink. Maybe watch something later?"

Maybe his tone is a little too hopeful. But as much as Reno doesn't want to be left alone now, neither does Emil, and at times like this it definitely shows. He bends to pick up his skates to return to the front desk, wishing he'd thought to bring proper training gear in the first place. Next time, when they went to his normal rink, he'd be much better prepared.

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redheadedstepson Terra Firma

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