Predictable (Blades of Glory)
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queer_festTitle: Predictable
Author: Missy
Fandom: Blades of Glory
Pairing/characters: Coach Robert/Jesse (The choreographer); background Katie/Jimmy; Chazz
Rating: PG-13 for language and content
Prompt: Blades of Glory, any character, figure skating isn't any less homophobic than other sports.
Warnings: (if any or choose not to warn): stereotypically homophobic language; adult content; adult language; raunchy humor
Summary: Coach thinks he knows what he’s in for when he comes out of the closet, but his profession – and his family of skaters – surprises him.
He doesn’t quite know how they’ll take it, but he definitely knows how the world will.
There’ll be the occasional snickering joke on Leno. Half of his friends will pretend that this turn of events was inevitable, and the others will condemn him. There will be one of those damn memes dedicated featuring him making some godawful expression and then people will cart around oversized cardboard cutouts of his face wherever he appears to lead another succession of talented kids through their paces.
So a few will laugh at him. A few will boycott his work. And even with that all said and done, a few people will say he’s behaving like a stereotype: making it harder for the straight man to catch a break in skating. Somehow he’s magically oppressing them instead of simply behaving the way any man in love might and should.
But none of those opinions matter as much as the thoughts of the three people who are gathered around his kitchen table.
A few moments of silence pass before words arrive and escape.
“That’s…good,” Katie says, bouncing her twelve-month old upon her knee.
“It’s…really…” Jimmy struggles for the right words and finally comes up with, “keen.” Then he tents his fingers together anxiously. “You’ve been doing it with Jesse?”
“Now James, my brother,” said Chazz, slapping Jimmy on the shoulder. “There are some things your innocent little mind can’t comprehend, and one of them’s the beauty of man-man loving.” He lifts his soda in Coach’s direction. “Mazel Tov, bro, let me know when the commitment ceremony is.”
Coach took a deep breath. “I’ve been dating your choreographer for ten years, and I’ve been in love with him for fifteen. Chazz, shut up about what you think you know, because we’re in love as we’re not getting married. Katie, this changes absolutely nothing, so stop wrinkling your forehead and bouncing your kid, she’s starting to look green.”
Katie reaches for her forehead with one hand, handing her daughter off to Jimmy. “Um, well - whatever makes you happy, Coach.” She lifted her Pepsi and said, “to Coach! And his boyfriend!”
Jimmy’s toast is slightly lackluster, but his heart is definitely in the right place. Coach decides he’ll have a good talk with him – later on, that is.
***
“How did they take it?” asks Jesse as they drifted off to sleep that night.
Rob slings an arm behind his head. “About the way I guessed they would. Jimmy’s sheltered head’s about to pop…”
“Are you worried about him?” the bedcovers shift as he tilts his head to listen properly.
Rob grumbles into his pillow, “a little. I’ll help him figure it out.”
“And the other two?”
“Chazz thinks he’s gonna be the world’s best ally and Katie’s trying not to make waves.”
“We’ve got a hell of a weird family, Rob.”
“I know,” he smirked. “Ain’t it great?”
***
If he’d always been a coach it would have been easier.
He’d chosen how to come out and where, but not the reaction of the media. One day after practice he found the boys huddling around a digital copy of People. “Little Bobby Gracey,” read Jimmy in surprise, “sixty, thriving and ready to mingle, America’s former skating darling prepares to lead McElroy and Michaels into another Winter Games…”
“No reading during practice,” he tuts, confiscating Chazz’ Ipad with a quick slap. “We’ve gotta have blood in our eyes if we wanna take down Mary and Bobby Smith.”
Jimmy awkwardly tucks his hand into his pocket. “I’ve heard they’ve doing something to Like a Prayer.”
Chazz nods solemnly. “The power of Madonna’s killed lesser men then we. Let’ go back to the tapes.”
“DVDs,” Jimmy sighed, as Chazz insisted you should still call them tapes anyway.
“Hey Jimmy,” said Coach, as the younger man tried to escape toward the practice rink. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, Coach, it’s just kinda…hard to think about.” He ducks back down the tunnel and
***
The summer’s a tightrope, and Rob walks it carefully and endlessly. There’s the public, asking him the stupidest questions possible about his sexuality on one hand (no, he doesn’t know Martina or Greg personally, that’ now how social). On the other is Jimmy, who can’t keep his head in the game, who keeps looking at him like he’s an alien.
After he falls at Nationals, Rob corners and confronts Jimmy in the locker room with Chazz hovering like a worried and very hairy cherub.
“I was raised to think of people like you as bad guys,” confesses Jimmy to the lockers. “The nuns weren’t holding bake sales for GLADD every week.”
He shrugs. “No matter what those nuns said,” declares Rob, “I still think I’m a good guy. Don’t you?”
“Listen to him, bro,” urges Chazz. “He’s the god-dad to your little kid, man, he’s not trying to sneak a peak at your summer sausage and your rocky mountain huevos…”
“…What?” Jimmy asks.
“He’s not trying to rub up on you and get you to oil his manly trunk of masculinity…”
“Chazz, shut up,” Coach says. “Jim, what he’s said is kind of true – the first part of it. I’m not trying to hurt you. Trust me.”
Jimmy chews his bottom lip. “I’ll try.”
As much as it hurts, Rob lets the promise linger.
***
He doesn’t know who’s more surprised, he or Jimmy, when the kid punches out Bobby Smith for calling Rob a fag during a pre-games press conference.
When they finally skate – after Jimmy’s paid a completely exorbitant fine – it’s in rainbow-emblazoned tribute set to the music of Lady Gaga. Rob can almost hear Jesse snickering over the whole affair from the bleachers, but damn if it’s not a beautifully-created, tightly skated, harmonious program, complete with moves that set him on the edge of his chair with anxiety.
But they land it, get their nines, tens, and the gold yet again.
After they exit the arena Chazz holds court with the press, lost in a wave of emotion. “We couldn’t be here today without our family. Little Aggie! Who’s the newest member of the Chazz-nation…”
“The Mackle-pack!” shouted Jimmy in protest.
“And Katie! POLISHER OF OUR SKATES! And holder of my friend’s balls as well as his big heart. And This!” he grabs Rob around the neck and pulls him into the floodlights. “THIS IS MY COACH!” Chazz shouts into the microphone, “HE’S THE BEST. AND I DON’T CARE IF HE PACKS FUDGE.” He slaps Coach on the back. “BECAUSE IT’S THE BEST DAMN FUDGEPACKER IN THE ENTIRE USA!” Tearfully, he throws his arms around Coach’s neck. “I LOVE MY BIG, GAY COACH, MAN!”
“Oh God,” groans Jimmy, rubbing his eyes.
Coach’s smile is enormous but pained. It wasn’t the most prosaic way to come out of the closet, but as the past six months have taught him, with his odd extended family at his side, he’ll be able to a triple lutz over any bit of prejudice thrown in his path from now on.
Author: Missy
Fandom: Blades of Glory
Pairing/characters: Coach Robert/Jesse (The choreographer); background Katie/Jimmy; Chazz
Rating: PG-13 for language and content
Prompt: Blades of Glory, any character, figure skating isn't any less homophobic than other sports.
Warnings: (if any or choose not to warn): stereotypically homophobic language; adult content; adult language; raunchy humor
Summary: Coach thinks he knows what he’s in for when he comes out of the closet, but his profession – and his family of skaters – surprises him.
He doesn’t quite know how they’ll take it, but he definitely knows how the world will.
There’ll be the occasional snickering joke on Leno. Half of his friends will pretend that this turn of events was inevitable, and the others will condemn him. There will be one of those damn memes dedicated featuring him making some godawful expression and then people will cart around oversized cardboard cutouts of his face wherever he appears to lead another succession of talented kids through their paces.
So a few will laugh at him. A few will boycott his work. And even with that all said and done, a few people will say he’s behaving like a stereotype: making it harder for the straight man to catch a break in skating. Somehow he’s magically oppressing them instead of simply behaving the way any man in love might and should.
But none of those opinions matter as much as the thoughts of the three people who are gathered around his kitchen table.
A few moments of silence pass before words arrive and escape.
“That’s…good,” Katie says, bouncing her twelve-month old upon her knee.
“It’s…really…” Jimmy struggles for the right words and finally comes up with, “keen.” Then he tents his fingers together anxiously. “You’ve been doing it with Jesse?”
“Now James, my brother,” said Chazz, slapping Jimmy on the shoulder. “There are some things your innocent little mind can’t comprehend, and one of them’s the beauty of man-man loving.” He lifts his soda in Coach’s direction. “Mazel Tov, bro, let me know when the commitment ceremony is.”
Coach took a deep breath. “I’ve been dating your choreographer for ten years, and I’ve been in love with him for fifteen. Chazz, shut up about what you think you know, because we’re in love as we’re not getting married. Katie, this changes absolutely nothing, so stop wrinkling your forehead and bouncing your kid, she’s starting to look green.”
Katie reaches for her forehead with one hand, handing her daughter off to Jimmy. “Um, well - whatever makes you happy, Coach.” She lifted her Pepsi and said, “to Coach! And his boyfriend!”
Jimmy’s toast is slightly lackluster, but his heart is definitely in the right place. Coach decides he’ll have a good talk with him – later on, that is.
***
“How did they take it?” asks Jesse as they drifted off to sleep that night.
Rob slings an arm behind his head. “About the way I guessed they would. Jimmy’s sheltered head’s about to pop…”
“Are you worried about him?” the bedcovers shift as he tilts his head to listen properly.
Rob grumbles into his pillow, “a little. I’ll help him figure it out.”
“And the other two?”
“Chazz thinks he’s gonna be the world’s best ally and Katie’s trying not to make waves.”
“We’ve got a hell of a weird family, Rob.”
“I know,” he smirked. “Ain’t it great?”
***
If he’d always been a coach it would have been easier.
He’d chosen how to come out and where, but not the reaction of the media. One day after practice he found the boys huddling around a digital copy of People. “Little Bobby Gracey,” read Jimmy in surprise, “sixty, thriving and ready to mingle, America’s former skating darling prepares to lead McElroy and Michaels into another Winter Games…”
“No reading during practice,” he tuts, confiscating Chazz’ Ipad with a quick slap. “We’ve gotta have blood in our eyes if we wanna take down Mary and Bobby Smith.”
Jimmy awkwardly tucks his hand into his pocket. “I’ve heard they’ve doing something to Like a Prayer.”
Chazz nods solemnly. “The power of Madonna’s killed lesser men then we. Let’ go back to the tapes.”
“DVDs,” Jimmy sighed, as Chazz insisted you should still call them tapes anyway.
“Hey Jimmy,” said Coach, as the younger man tried to escape toward the practice rink. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, Coach, it’s just kinda…hard to think about.” He ducks back down the tunnel and
***
The summer’s a tightrope, and Rob walks it carefully and endlessly. There’s the public, asking him the stupidest questions possible about his sexuality on one hand (no, he doesn’t know Martina or Greg personally, that’ now how social). On the other is Jimmy, who can’t keep his head in the game, who keeps looking at him like he’s an alien.
After he falls at Nationals, Rob corners and confronts Jimmy in the locker room with Chazz hovering like a worried and very hairy cherub.
“I was raised to think of people like you as bad guys,” confesses Jimmy to the lockers. “The nuns weren’t holding bake sales for GLADD every week.”
He shrugs. “No matter what those nuns said,” declares Rob, “I still think I’m a good guy. Don’t you?”
“Listen to him, bro,” urges Chazz. “He’s the god-dad to your little kid, man, he’s not trying to sneak a peak at your summer sausage and your rocky mountain huevos…”
“…What?” Jimmy asks.
“He’s not trying to rub up on you and get you to oil his manly trunk of masculinity…”
“Chazz, shut up,” Coach says. “Jim, what he’s said is kind of true – the first part of it. I’m not trying to hurt you. Trust me.”
Jimmy chews his bottom lip. “I’ll try.”
As much as it hurts, Rob lets the promise linger.
***
He doesn’t know who’s more surprised, he or Jimmy, when the kid punches out Bobby Smith for calling Rob a fag during a pre-games press conference.
When they finally skate – after Jimmy’s paid a completely exorbitant fine – it’s in rainbow-emblazoned tribute set to the music of Lady Gaga. Rob can almost hear Jesse snickering over the whole affair from the bleachers, but damn if it’s not a beautifully-created, tightly skated, harmonious program, complete with moves that set him on the edge of his chair with anxiety.
But they land it, get their nines, tens, and the gold yet again.
After they exit the arena Chazz holds court with the press, lost in a wave of emotion. “We couldn’t be here today without our family. Little Aggie! Who’s the newest member of the Chazz-nation…”
“The Mackle-pack!” shouted Jimmy in protest.
“And Katie! POLISHER OF OUR SKATES! And holder of my friend’s balls as well as his big heart. And This!” he grabs Rob around the neck and pulls him into the floodlights. “THIS IS MY COACH!” Chazz shouts into the microphone, “HE’S THE BEST. AND I DON’T CARE IF HE PACKS FUDGE.” He slaps Coach on the back. “BECAUSE IT’S THE BEST DAMN FUDGEPACKER IN THE ENTIRE USA!” Tearfully, he throws his arms around Coach’s neck. “I LOVE MY BIG, GAY COACH, MAN!”
“Oh God,” groans Jimmy, rubbing his eyes.
Coach’s smile is enormous but pained. It wasn’t the most prosaic way to come out of the closet, but as the past six months have taught him, with his odd extended family at his side, he’ll be able to a triple lutz over any bit of prejudice thrown in his path from now on.