Prompt Meeting in Tokyo, Gymnast Scully and Swimmer, or Triathlete Mulder. Loved the Amazon AU sequel.
This was SO fun, thank you so much for sending it. And I actually wrote roughly 6,000 words of itâŚ
1. When she first arrived, the cafeteria in the Olympic Village was her favorite place. The people watching was top tier, and she and her roommate had befriended the US volleyball team, which was pretty hilarious when they all sat together, the diminutive gymnasts and the willowy volleyball Amazons sitting side by side like kindergartners mingling amongst middle schoolers.
The last few days, though, she tended to grab something quick and take it up to her room.
She moved over to the beverage station to grab a mineral water and stopped behind a tall guy that was filling up a huge glass with soda. He was standing in such a way that she couldn't get past him. She glanced down at his tray while she waited and her brows rose up. It was absolutely piled with food. How the guy was going to even get the soda on his tray would be a feat of Tetris. She looked at her paltry salad and the grilled chicken she'd gotten to cut up and throw on top, and chuckled.
He turned when he heard her.
"Oh shit, sorry," he said, moving to the side.
His accent was either American or Canadian, she wasn't yet sure which.
"No worries," she said, and moved up closer to him to grab a bottle of Perrier. She again threw a look at his tray.
"Is that... all for you?" she asked.
He smiled and shrugged as he popped a lid onto his soda and then reached for the last bottle of chocolate milk in the cooler. She let out an involuntary groan of frustrated jealousy.
"God that looks good," she said.
He offered the milk to her.
"You want it?" he asked, "it's the last one and I probably can't fit it on my tray."
"My coach would kill me. Restricted diet," she said, looking pitifully at her own tray.
He looked at her a moment as though he wanted to say something, but held his tongue.
"What's your sport?" he finally asked.
"Oh, big draw," he said, and she smiled.
"Swimming,â he said, tilting his head humbly.
"American?" she asked. He nodded at her. "Me too."
"You, uh... want to sit together?" He nodded his head toward a nearby open table. "I'll covertly share my chocolate milk. We can practice the words to the Star Spangled Banner."
She huffed a laugh at him, then looked over her shoulder. The gymnastic coaches were sitting nearby and Derek, the dietary coordinator for the team, was looking directly at her. "I usually take it up to my room," she said on a sigh.
"Okay, well... Good luck out there, Gymnastics," he said, taking a step backward while still facing her.
"You too, Swimming," she said, and turned toward the exit, a small smile on her face.
2.She and Jessica had their feet up on the balcony railing, watching the sun dip below the horizon. They were several floors up and had gotten lucky with their assigned room. The Australian team across the hall had balconies that looked out at a beige, towering apartment complex, with nothing to look at but potted plants and mismatched patio furniture.
"I'm going out tonight," Jessica said, smirking a bit, "you should come."
"Curfew is at eight, Jess."
"And we're alternates, Dana," Jessica said, "unless Alicia Kopenkoski takes a half-gainer off the interview stage with Al Roker, we're just here to smile at the cameras and cheer on our team. Iâm going out."
Dana sighed and bit her fingernails. She had been .05 points from making the actual team and had been devastated when she'd only qualified as an alternate. Her floor routine had been perfect, but she hadn't stuck her landing quite as steadily as she usually did (and hadn't since). She was 24 years old. This was her last chance to be an Olympian. Her last chance to win that medal and stand on the podium â it had been her dream since she was six.
Jessica reached over and squeezed her arm.
"I'll put snoring sounds on my laptop and we'll Ferris Bueller it. Come on, it'll be fun."
"No thanks," Dana said, finally looking over at her friend and smiling. "You know me, I'm too Suzy Rulefollower."
"You're missing out," Jessica said. Dana was still in her leotard and warm-up, but Jessica had showered and blow-dried her hair and was in full make-up; fake lashes, the whole nine yards. "I met a German equestrian," she went on, "I have big plans to be his little Pichelsteiner."
Dana laughed. Jessica was trying to cheer her up, and she loved her for it.
"I'm serious," Jess said, "I told him I could do the Bavarian Pretzel."
"Plan to let him take his weiner to my schnitzel."
"Gonna gobble that Bratwurst."
Dana was doubled over with laughter. "You're nobody's wurst anything," she finally said, dabbing a tear from under her eye.
"Other than being this team's wurst gymnast, amiright?" Jess stood, and Dana sobered.
"Iâm 20. Iâll have a shot at Paris. Itâs fine,â Jessica said, and squeezed Dana's shoulder. âText me if you change your mind,"
"Have fun," Dana said, "and grab a handful of those Olympic condoms, huh?"
Jessica laughed and slid the door closed behind her, leaving Dana on the balcony with only her thoughts and the setting sun.
All of a sudden, something shot up over the side of the balcony railing and landed with a plastic clack on the floor near her feet. She gave a startled yelp, then looked to see what it was. A small plastic bottle of chocolate milk rolled on its side and came to rest by her left shoe. She picked it up -- it was still cold.
You can find the rest here on AO3.
