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[annapeace.livejournal.com]

Title: Technicalities
Rating: G
Involving: Ian Thorpe/Pieter van den Hoogenband
Summary: It ends the way it began.

Before the cool done run out
I'll be giving it my bestest
Nothing's going to stop me but divine intervention
I reckon it's again my turn to win some or learn some

I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait, I'm yours

"I'm Yours" - Jason Mraz

--

Technically, only the athletes were allowed in the changing rooms, but Ian had never let silly things like technicalities stop him from getting what he wanted. A flash of white teeth, a friendly clap on the shoulder and it was “all right, Mr. Thorpe, just this once.” He breezed inside like the room belonged to him, as it used to only a few years ago.

Things had changed so much since then. The people who had surrounded him during his glory days were practically all gone, scattered to coaching and schools and jobs in media. The new kids roaming around, well, they were mostly wide-eyed brats fresh on the international scene. But Ian didn’t begrudge them their excitement, he could still remember how it was for him.

A few of the swimmers looked up as he passed by. Some of them smiled and nodded, others merely stared, but none talked to him, which was fine by him because he’s got nothing to say to any of them. He only wanted to see Pieter.

He found the Dutchman packing his bag in a corner. Pieter was quiet, bobbing his head to the music from his headphones while carefully tucking away his things. And suddenly it was like the first time they met: Ian, standing awkwardly, waiting to be noticed, and Pieter, with his easy charm and unconscious grace, moving tantalizingly out of reach. Ian shuffled nervously, feeling out of sorts. It was as though he couldn’t talk to Pieter without having raced first, without being the other man’s rival or training buddy. Yet they were supposed to be friends.

Only Ian had been kind of a shitty friend since he’d left the racing circuit. He didn’t know how to approach Pieter without a swimming pool.

But he was going to change that right now, before the post-Olympics obscurity set in and Pieter vanished from his life for good. Ian cleared his throat. “Hey, Pieter.”

Pieter turned and broke into a genuinely surprised, happy smile. “Ian!” He tugged off his headphones and pulled Ian into a hug. Ian breathed in deep; he’d forgotten how much he missed the smell of chlorine and generic shower soap found in locker rooms the world over.

“How did you get in?” Pieter shook his head. “No, I know. How are you? Have you been in Beijing all week? Why didn’t you ring me up earlier?”

Ian looked down at his feet. For nearly two years, he’d avoided Pieter completely, and now Pieter was talking to him like nothing had changed between them, like there had been no injuries or retirements or scandals. And, a tiny voice in the back of Ian’s mind whispered hopefully, maybe nothing had changed.

“Well, I didn’t want to make a big deal of it and be a distraction. Been lurking around, mostly.”

“Hard to imagine you lurking among a billion Chinese,” Pieter pointed out mockingly, punching him in the shoulder.

“I can be incognito when I want to be,” Ian claimed, grinning. Yes, it was just like old times, the joking and teasing and the way Pieter so casually touched him. “But I wanted to come down and congratulate you.”

Pieter ducked his head deprecatingly. “Ah, I didn’t even medal.”

“We both know medals don’t count for everything. You had a great swim.” It was Ian’s turn to reach out this time, and he squeezed Pieter’s arm. “You stuck with it until the end.”

“And now I’m finished.” Pieter looked up and Ian was caught in his gaze. Platitudes and meaningless dribble came unbidden to Ian’s lips, but he managed to hold them back. There was no need to ask if Pieter was sure, to assure Pieter he was making the right or wrong choice, Pieter knew what he was doing. Just as Ian knew what he had to do next.

He nodded slowly, then shifted his hand to take Pieter’s. “I also wanted to come down…and apologize.” For a moment, it seemed as though Pieter would pull his hand away, but the flash of hesitation subsided and Ian pressed on.

“Things were easier when we both competed. But that’s only a reason, not an excuse. So…I’m sorry. I should have tried harder.”

“Well. Yes.” Pieter let his thumb run over Ian’s knuckles slowly, as though in consideration. “And it won’t be easier now that we’ve both left the sport. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

“It will be even more difficult,” Ian acknowledged. “But I’ll try. I want to try. I’ve really missed you, Pieter.”

And Pieter slipped his hand out of Ian’s with a sigh. “How does it take you two years to admit it?”

“Well, I couldn’t even go to pools at first without the press running me over, and it was tough to adjust, you know, and then there was that stupid doping stuff and your daughter…” Ian paused in his panicked explanation, realizing that Pieter was smiling at him. “I’m a really big, huge idiot?”

“The biggest,” Pieter agreed. He glanced around quickly, and seeing no one paying them any attention, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Ian’s. It was only a fleeting touch, but it was enough to make Ian feel suddenly seventeen again, thinking, Oh god, Pieter van den Hoogenband just kissed me.

Pieter’s eyes crinkled at the corners in an artfully resigned expression. “Ah, good thing I’m used to it. You’ve no idea how I’ve missed you, Ian.”

It was nearly too good to be true. Ian had expected an argument, possibly pleading and impassioned declarations…except he’d forgotten: Pieter had attended four Olympics. Pieter was an old hand at waiting to get what he wanted. For Pieter, waiting through Ian’s insecurities and growing up was nothing.

Ian took a deep breath and grinned like a fool.

“Come on, I want to get out of here,” Pieter said, gathering up the last of his things. The Dutchman zipped up his bag and swung it over his shoulder. “Let’s go to the hotel first so you can meet Daphne. Imagine, her being a year old and not knowing Uncle Ian yet.”

“Sure,” Ian said amiably, following Pieter towards the exit. Their footsteps were hushed on the floor tiles, and it struck Ian that they were, in effect, leaving the Olympics together – perhaps not in the way they’d planned four years ago, but here they were in Beijing, and that was what mattered. Ian looked over at Pieter. He’d kept his promise after all.

“Should I tell you what we’ll do after?” Pieter asked in a suggestively wicked tone.

“I think I know,” Ian retorted indignantly. “I’m not that slow.”

“You’ll never prove it without a race!” Pieter laughed, pushing open the changing room door. He held it open for a second, allowing Ian to step through with him. And then they left the pool.

Technically, Ian thought as the door clicked shut behind them, this was an ending. It was a good thing Ian never cared much for technicalities.