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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Emil takes a moment to be objective, thinking back over what Reno had done. He puts on a mostly professional tone for Reno's benefit.

"Your jumps need work. You've got height and rotations, but not finesse. Your outside spread-eagle is perfect, just not the pull out of it. You've got charisma pouring out of your ears. Audiences like that sort of thing." He cools it and grins at Reno, butting his forehead against the other man's, intentionally hamming it up this time around just because Ondrej insists on being antagonistic. "And for the record, you don't even need a lot of frills. You're doing beautifully with just your basics."

He lets himself glide back, keeping his fingers loosely laced with Reno's to encourage him along. "If I asked you to do a short exhibition, would you at least consider it? I want to be able to skate with you competitively one day...You could be really great."

He listens, nodding, not at all crestfallen. His ego was much more brittle in the past, when he hadn't believed he was god for anything, or anyone. They would still argue, still unintentionally wound one another. Just not this way. Or, at least not in any way that had to do with skating, specifically.

"You think...you'll fall in love with me again?" He asks, looking away as the drift along together, fingers careful not to clutch, even if holding on is all he wants to do.

"It was stupid...but I thought if I was skating and someone would pay attention...notice me...maybe you'd see me. Past everything else. I'd try and try until one day someone would say my name on television. Show my face. I thought 'This is what he loves as much as stars' so it had to help us find each other. It didn't, obviously. Happenstance was all it was. I'm almost angry about it," Reno admits, shrugging.

"If it's what you want, I'll keep trying. I'll get better...maybe. I mean I can't promise anything; I kind of shit on the sport, let's be honest."

It hurts deep in his heart that Reno has to ask, but it makes sense, too. It's been so long, so many missed connections and opportunities, fruitless searching. But it had never snuffed out the feelings that were still mutual, even if Emil wasn't good at showing them anymore. His expression softens, slightly too-bright eyes back on teal ones as he digs his toe pick into the ice and lets Reno drift close enough that he would be the only one that can hear.

"I don't think I ever fell out of love in the first place," he admits, taking the other hand and dragging his thumb across calloused knuckles. "And it wasn't stupid. Sometimes, things just don't work out like you want them to. I'm sorry I didn't try harder. I think...maybe I gave up on getting you back. The only time I actually gave something up and yet here you are. Showing me how stupid that was.

"I want this, I really do. Maybe it's selfish, but I don't want you to give it up. If you can dig your heels in now, then so can I."

"It's not your fault. For all you knew I was still out in space somewhere. Or not real in the first place," he points out, shrugging a shoulder lightly and gesturing with his free hand.

"Turns out I was still in space. So honestly, what could you do? I was stuck out there and you were gone, you were home and I wasn't here. I mean...I'm not mad at you, or myself. They did this to us. Whoever they are." He shrugs, leaning in and sliding his hands down Emil's arm's to lace their fingers together, drifting aimlessly on the ice as Ondrej clean up the mess he made in his fit.

"If you gave up it's only because you had a life that you couldn't just set aside chasing something that might not have even been real. I couldn't give up. You were all I had," Reno reasons, glancing off across the rink at nothing in particular before sighing with a small nod.

"I'll get my records sorted so I'm a citizen...even if it's shady, it's the best we can do. I'll keep skating. For you. I just do it for fun - competing is only fun for me if I'm winning bets," the redhead smirks, arching a brow and thumbing over his shoulder at Ondrej.

"Then maybe just for the coming year, you keep working on sorting your life out a little better. If you can compete with the rest of us before next year I'd be surprised but it would be the greatest 'rising star' story. You could take my place in the record books." He smiles at that, just a little bit wet around the eyes as he leans to steal a kiss, featherlight but lingering, in time for Ondrej to see and make another retching noise at the two of them. He squeezes Reno's hands to keep him from flipping the man off again.

He draws away again and slips into place at Reno's side, just easing into a slow pace around the outside of the rink, more like a traditional skating date if not for the sheer ease with which the share the ice. "How long should I wait before dragging you to meet my family?" He peeks over with a soft smirk, facing forward as he keeps his tone terribly casual about the idea of subjecting the man to the Nekola clan.

He snorts softly at the idea of taking Emil's place in anything. Even if he could, it's not of interest. He just wants what Emil wants.

It's nice, moving about the empty rink, carrying along idly with the only person he's ever loved. A year, hm? Well, now that he didn't have to keep chasing Emil around the world, maybe he could afford to focus on the skating...

"Huh? Family? Uhh...I...I don't know. What's good? I don't know how many dates you're supposed to go on for anything, Emil. If you'll recall, I didn't exactly have a track record for long-term shit. This is your show. I'm not sure you wanna show me off to anyone, though," he murmurs, wrinkling his nose.

"I mean...what are you supposed to tell anyone right now if they ask where I'm from or what I do for a living, y'know?"

"I thought maybe you'd have an idea of some kind of a standard? I don't know either. It isn't often I bring anyone around at all so this will be novel by all accounts."

Emil laces his hand with Reno's a little more firmly as he considers it. "I'd tell them the truth: You were running with a rough crowd but you're working on turning things around. You're a terrible influence, I've never known you to be able to cook, you used to be an alcoholic but you were at least working on that, last I checked, and you're one of the only people I've ever met that can not only keep up with me, but give me a run for my money. I'll convince Mama that she needs to feed you, and then I'll turn you over to my brothers."

"Wow. Woooow, what the hell, Emil! I'm...I'm...Actually, no, you pretty much got it in one. I'm probably that bad. But I'm not a terrible influence! Come on. Before me, you backed down from every social challenge you had. If we didn't fight and it wasn't worth it, you'd still be a chicken shit," he points out, reaching up and poking the skater's nose.

"I've literally killed people and you blow that off like it's nothing, to tell me off when you think I'm being a twat. If that's not a reasonably good influence, what even is? Am I supposed to inspire sainthood or something? You already go that on your own. It's your job to be the good influence," the redhead snorts, tugging the other man lightly and spacing them out, arms stretching to spin them sharply about.

"You're the golden boy. We can't both be perfect. Shit."

"Even a killer needs to know when he's being stupid sometimes," Emil points out, once more showing that, yes, while he is very well aware what Reno used to do, it doesn't affect the way he feels given that there is very much a choice in the matter now and that he knows Reno wouldn't. Not when he's got more to live for and no pseudo-government branch to cover his ass.

He moves easily in the spin and lifts their hands, spinning beneath and reversing their positions, then doing it again until he's turned around to move backward while facing Reno. "The way I think about it, you make me look better because I still adore you no matter your faults or the fights we get into, and I make you look better because I've influenced you to be a better version of you. Does that sound right?"

"Sounds pretty accurate. If nothing else, it's a good sales pitch for the 'rents," he chuckles, turning them in another wide spin, easily gripping Emil's forearm to turn himself over, skates kicking off from the ice so he can so a double high-kick and spin, landing surprisingly light and adjusting his grip again.

"I don't think anything makes me look that good, but everyone will definitely say whatever relationship I may have been in, in the past, I've traded up," he chuckles, winking at the brunette.

"And I mean, have you looked at me? Bad influence or not, who can blame you. I'm fuckin' hot, yo."

It's easy to counter-balance when Reno flips himself up from the ice, Emil lifting his skate in an easy, elegant spin that terminates in a dip around the other man that he straightens out of at Reno's back.

"People are going to think you're younger than me, you know," he points out, wrapping his free arm around Reno's middle with their linked hands held up as if in a tango. "I can't very well explain to them that you're about eleven years up on me without them thinking you're an alien. Or maybe a vampire."

"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."

redheadedstepson Terra Firma

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