Chapter Text
Jon had been here for two weeks–thirty hours at least–but he still hadn’t gotten used to it. The difference in the ice texture, the slightly warmer temperature of the rink, and most importantly, the people.
They weren’t bad but different. Tim and Sasha, the pairs team, and Martin, another ice dancer, were sure to give him a warm welcome but even then, Jon still didn’t like them necessarily. Some of the other skaters spoke with him in passing but thus far it had primarily just been those three. And his coach, of course.
Elias was one of those coaches. A skater robbed of a national title, filled with unaddressed rage and now dedicated to making the next big star. Despite being a freestyle skater with many accolades, Elias coached ice dance.
“You still aren’t on beat!” Elias scolded.
Jon sighed as he skated from his finished position over to the boards where his coach waited.
“You were ahead,” Elias finished explaining, every word slow and pronounced. “Also your twizzles were atrocious but that is beside the point for now. Don’t think I will go easy on you because you are new . Your first competition is in just a few weeks and if you keep skating like this, Peter’s student will beat you and I cannot have that happen.”
Elias glanced up at the clock with its bright red numbers. “Now it seems we have time for one last run through before your lesson ends.”
— — ❆ — —
“Peter cancelled our lesson again .” Martin sighed as he untied his skates…or attempted. His fingers felt like penguins without blubber or like nothing at all which, obviously, is quite a hindrance when trying to untie triple-knotted laces. “I don’t know if he is going into the time of the month where just avoids everyone or what but it’s quite annoying.”
“You make it sound like he is getting his period or something.” Sasha laughed.
The two of them and Tim sat at the plastic round table. The lobby of the rink was warm and slightly humid due to the wet weather outside–typical for London in July, or really, London during any month. It was a normal routine. After Monday summer practices, the three of them would take off their skates together then grab lunch at the Itsu right around the corner.
Tim began, “You didn’t hear this from me–”
“We are hearing this from you,” Sasha interrupted.
“Ok, well, if someone asks, you didn’t.” Tim lowered his voice. His two friends leaned in to listen as he continued, “But I saw him and Elias fighting in the coaches room today.”
“Divorce fight or…?” Martin began.
Tim shook his head. “I don’t think so, it was something about Elias getting a new skater from your level, Martin, that could potentially beat you out.”
“So he’s still bitter about me betting his precious little Sarah last season before Sarah quit?!” Martin said in disbelief. “And mind you, Sarah quit because of Elias! Also, if Peter is so worried about me being beaten by this new guy then why is he cancelling our lesson! I bet this new guy is just as much of a prick as Elias.”
Tim shrugged. “Beats me, Peter Lukas will be Peter Lukas. Last I checked he’s here at the rink but just…avoidant of everyone but if you feel oh-so pressed to speak with him–”
“No. If he wants to cancel our lesson, he can cancel our lesson. Less money out of my pockets.” Martin shrugged. “It’s not like he needs more anyways.”
“Touche, touche,” Tim agreed.
“But it’s still a dick move.” Sasha wiped the ice off her blades. “He should have at least told you why he cancelled it rather than just leaving it up to our poor speculations regarding his love life and feud with his…husband? Ex-husband? Do we know which it is right now?”
“Ex. No ring.” Tim pulled off his skates with a loud grunt.
Sasha glanced over at Tim, her expression blank. “You realise you won’t have to play tug-of-war with your skates if you actually got ones that fit.
“But these ones have character .” Tim gestured to the rhinestones adorning the back of his skate boot. “All the other ones were boringggg. ” He drew out the word.
“But they would actually fittttt ,” Sasha parrotted. “You could get ones like Elias’s. Those have character.”
“Yeah but the type of character that you would punch in the face solely on the basis that they are unbearably obnoxious. These have class, elegance.”
Sasha lightly nudged Tim in the shoulder. “You are literally wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Who are you to speak about class? All jokes aside, I imagine the stones alone added at least a thousand dollars to their price.”
“How did he even pay for them?” Martin questioned, placing his skates in the medium blue suitcase he used to keep his skating gear. As he took off his gloves, he continued, “I know his family is rich and all but I thought after the whole nationals thing they kinda…stopped supporting him and his endeavours? At least that is the read I got from it.”
“My money is on Peter,” Tim chimed. “Speaking of.” He nodded in the direction of the rink doors, swinging open with Elias and Peter walking through, bickering about something or another, with Elias’s new protege following close behind.
“I do not care if you already had the off-ice room booked, I need it tomorrow,” Elias hissed at Peter as the two of them walked away.
Jonathan Sims, the new man at the rink, though, walked to the same table as Tim, Martin, and Sasha. Jon’s bag was on the other side of the round table–thank goodness. His expression was blank as he untied his skates and placed them in his bag. Of course, he was one of those skaters with the £200 skating bag.
But the apparent pretentiousness of the elusive Jonathan Sims didn’t deter the assigned-rink-cool-man Tim Stoker–who was now stretching, better not pull a muscle on the way to sushi!
“Do you want to join us for lunch?” Tim abruptly asked.
“What?” Jon, Sasha, and Martin said in various states of confusion, shock, and “Tim what the actual fuck are you thinking”.
“The three of us normally go to Itsu after practice on Mondays and seeing as you are new to the rink, we were wondering if you would like to join us.”
“Tim this isn’t a we–” Martin began before being off by a dirty stare from Sasha.
Jon paused, seeming to turn the offer over in his head, weighing the pros and the cons. “Erm…I was going to stay here and do some off–”
The lights cut. The buzz of the air conditioning ceased.
Well, fuck .
“That seems out of picture, now,” Sasha observed. “So, Jon, are you gonna stay here until the power is back on or are you coming? No pressure.”
“...ok.” Jon sighed. “I’ll come.”
— — ❆ — —
Itsu wasn’t that far of a walk, four hundred metres at most but it was still miserable . Jon began to have second thoughts, maybe a rink without power was better than whatever was going on with those three. From what he had gathered, Tim and Sasha did pairs skating together. They were currently working on a program to the song “Caesar on a TV Screen” by The Last Dinner Party. He already knew Martin was also a solo ice dancer–Elias told him to “look out for Peter’s pupil” but in Jon’s eyes, Martin was as much of a threat as a small rabbit with rabies, or better yet, a possum with rabies (possums cannot get rabies).
The bags and suitcases of the four skaters clattered across the pavement, an annoying white noise but one he was used to nonetheless in Jon’s mind. The skies were grey with a promise of rain and the air was sticky. Maybe just this once Jon understood how midwestern and southern Americans claimed they could “smell a storm coming” because the air held a distinct odor of ozone. And as the heavens began to open up with a drizzle, they reached Itsu. The four filed into the mostly empty restaurant to be met with a familiar face standing behind the counter.
Her hair was cropped closer to her chin with dark overgrown roots and a decent blue dye job–unlike the guy who Jon saw wipe out while trying to do a triple loop earlier today–Jon knew exactly who she was: Melanie King.
It was back when the two were 12 or so, they had a whole debacle over Melanie taking Jon’s belt–a neon green stip of felt to indicate that he was practicing a program to music, a loud sign for people to get the fuck out of his way–after saying she was just “borrowing it”. A few weeks after that she moved to a new rink and Jon only saw her in passing during competitions where they would exchange dirty looks and the occasional verbal altercation.
“Oh, I didn’t know you added another to your lunch group,” Melanie sneered.
“Er…this is Jon, he recently moved to our rink,” Sasha explained.
Melanie scowled. “I know who he is. For the rest of you I just got your usuals ready but what does Sims want?” She said Jon’s last name like it was a swear word and she was in church, hell bent on sinning against God.
“I am right here, Melanie .” Jon shared Melanie’s expression. “And Thai stir fry bowl.”
Melanie retrieved all the food from the back as Tim paid–Jon offered to pay for his own meal but Tim argued “we invited you, we pay”, Jon wanted to protest more.
“You didn’t poison his food, did you?” Martin attempted to joke with Melanie as he picked up his food, a veggie gyoza noodle bowl and English breakfast tea.
“You wish. But no, I would rather stay out of jail.” Melanie laughed dryly.
After the awkward encounter, the four finally sat down. The small talk was insufferable, in Jon’s opinion. He didn’t want to talk about the drizzling rain or the Bakerloo line closure. But rink politics and gossip? He would never admit it but that was something he could listen to.
“Helen and Michael are trying to restart the synchro team, at least that is what I have heard,” Sasha whispered (rather dramatically) as she took a sip of her drink.
Tim grimaced. “I am assuming Nikola will not be the coach after last year’s fiasco?”
“In her defense, she didn’t know that one of the judges was coulrophobic,” Martin said between a bite of his food.
“I don’t know, I think she may still be the coach but with less creative liberties.” Sasha shrugged. “Jon, Nikola is the coach with short dark hair, wears shirts of clown-themed horror movies. And Michael and Helen are the two who dress like they stepped out of the new-wave scene, were put into photoshop, had saturation turned up all the way, then showed up and skated.”
“And don’t confuse Michael and Mike. Or the other Michaels that are frequent open skaters,” Tim added.
“Er…will do…?” Jon replied.
Sasha smiled. “Good. Also, if you ever wonder who someone is just ask us. We don’t bite.”
“Well, Tim does, only on Sundays though,” Martin joked.
“Lucky for me that is my day off.” Jon’s unease began to melt away like the ice during a heatwave and a power outage. Not enough to make him fully trust the three sitting with him, God knew what he thought of them, but enough to soften the edges a bit.
He still had to focus on beating Martin, he couldn’t let himself get too soft.
For now, at least.