[AU][C] More Jumps

"No babe. He's complained about drawing me too much. He's drawing you."

That alone meant that Giacinto clearly knew Dick's admirer.

"Give him a little show," she goaded.

He pushed back a little against Giacinto's hands to look, craning his neck. No Luck.

"He?"

Blue eyes snapped back to look straight ahead.

"I'm not giving him a show."

How many times had he insisted he didn't want a relationship of any sort? 

"Can you push down a little more, please?"

"Party pooper. That boy needs some action."

Fleck spent more time hanging around the rink than socialising. it was almost ridiculous how little he socialised. She wouldn't like to know what his sex life looked like, if he even had one to begin with.

She did as told, pushing down on his back. And at the same time she raised her head and called out to someone in Italian.

A minute later a fairly tall, muscular young man sat down on the bench next to the one Dick was stretching in. He greeted Giacinto and Dick in Italian as he set his sketchbook down next to him.

"Then he can look elsewhere. Besides, I don't even-" He made a face that Giacinto Couldn't see- "you know. Look that way."

Although he had a feeling that she was one of the very last people to believe him. 

He heard Giacinto call out a name and the bench next to him creek. He turned his head again, curious.

Shit.

He had to be fit. 

Dick hoped he had a bad face. But it wasn't looking good from what he could see from the corner of his eye.

"Please," Giacinto snuffed the bullshit immediately. "No man who can do the splits like this isn't batting for home."

She patted Dick's thigh and grinned. "It was the best thing about being with Alek. Do you know how many men we played with together?"

Clearly not. It was a part of their private life that had stayed private. Their ventures into polyamory weren't open to the public.

Giacinto opened a casual conversation with Fleck, who returned it pleasantly, leaning back on the bench, bracing himself with his thick arms as they chatted.

Dick's cheeks burned. At both Giacinto calling him out on his bullshit (which he hoped she would at least humor him with) and thoughts about his coach he really could live without.

"Rather not."

He held the stretch longer than normal, listening to then chat in Italian. A few minutes later he finally interrupted them.

"Thank's Giacinto - you can let go now."

Giacinto laughed at something Fleck had said as she pulled her hand away from Dick's back.

"I'm leaving you in good hands, Richard. Enjoy yourself. Try and get in good with him. Kids as frustrated as you are."

Fleck groaned. "Giacinto, you know I'm English," he whined, his accent was clearly Italian, but his grammar was spot on, much like Giacinto's own English.

"Now you guys can chat about how good the motherland is while you're banging." She hoisted her bag over her shoulder. "Ta!"

"Mio Dio, that woman."

He lifted his arms above his head and pulled them back, spine curving.

The other man's well spoken English surprised him. And now that he can see him, so did his face. Damn, it looked just as good as he suspected.

Dick's face darkened at his coaches words.

"Giacinto!" He hissed, letting go of his arms.

While she may have worked out his bullshit, he didn't want everyone else too.

Fleck crossed his arms over his chest, looking pretty uncomfortable.

"That woman could piss off a saint if she had the mind to."

Even if not, he could wager. She ran her mouth like any good over the top Italian woman.

Dick snorted.

"I bet she already has."

He stood up to complete the rest of his stretches. 

Balancing on one foot he pulled the other against his ass. There was no need for him to balance on anything.

"You are English then?" He asked.

The man in front of him didn't look it with his tanned skin and accent.

"Yeah, I've seen her piss of Chrys." That was close enough.

"Half. My pop's English."

He'd obviously got most of his appearance traits from his mother because there wasn't much of him that looked English.

He switched to his other leg.

"Where is he from?"

Giacinto was right, it would be nice to speak to someone about home after being here for so many months. Just without the banging part.

"Plymouth."

Not the biggest city in England, but certainly one that most people that had any interest in English history knew about.

"She never did formally introduce us. I'm Fleck."

"Oh? I'm from north London myself."

A smile graced his lips.

"Richard."

He let go of his leg then moved into a wide stance. He dropped impressively low, one leg straight and the other bent.

"Do you sit and draw people a lot when they are not watching?"

"Seems like ninety percent of people travelling abroad come from London."

Did English people hate London so much that they had to travel abroad to get away from it or something?

"Richard. Rich? Dick?" Did he go by nicknames?

"Yeah, artists have a lot of bad habits like that. Do you mind?"

"Dick is fine. I have heard every joke under the sun about the last one that I really don't care now."

He shrugged, sliding his weight to the other side.

"It's fine... Just surprising."

He curled a loose curl behind his ear, bashful for being an unsuspecting model. 

"Could I look after I'm done?"

"Unless you change your name to Cazzo, you won't get much flak for having the name Dick. The best thing about being in a country that doesn't speak English."

His lips quirked upwards.

"Sure. They're not amazing, though. Just gesture drawings."

It would be nice to not be given shit over the nickname for once.

"Might take advantage of the lack of English speakers then. And why Cazzo?"

He finished off by lifting his hands up and stepping on his tiptoes, holding it then. After a few moments he dropped the stretch and settled back down on the bench opposite Fleck.

Leaning forward he grabbed the sketchbook.

"Cazzo's our version of dick. Every language has their nasty slang for the penis. Cazzo is ours."

He doubted that Dick would choose to go by that name anyway.

Fleck leaned back when Dick picked up his sketchbook, watching Dick intently to see what his reaction would be.

The sketchbook was filled with drawings of ice skaters, some very simple gesture drawings done in just a few strokes of his pencils, and some highly rendered likenesses of the people he sketched.

There were two figures that appeared many times through the sketchbook: Giacinto and Chrys.

Dick himself showed up a fair amount in the latter part of the sketchbook.

"These are really lovely," he said as he flicked through the pages.

"You have really captured how they skate- especially in this one."

He pointed at one of Giacinto and Chrys skating together. Even if it wasn't rendered right down to each individual nail, it was still easy to pick out it was them.

Colour returned to his cheeks as he flicked to the newer sketches.

"Are these all from today?"

"I've spent years drawing skaters. I'd like to think by now I can make my sketches look pretty good." He grinned.

He'd been drawing Chrys on ice since he had decided to do life drawing. That was seven years ago. He did more sketches of ice skaters than he did most other things.

"The last couple pages are."

His eyes lingered on the last few sketches. Seeing himself sketched out was odd and embaressing. Yet he also felt a little flattered.


"I don't know why you said they weren't amazing- they are."

He passed the sketchbook back to Fleck.

"You saw me fall on my ass then?"

"Thanks."

He toyed with the edges of his sketchbook, and smirked a little. "Yeah, once or twice."

Or fifteen times. But who was counting?

He groaned.

"That is so embarrassing. I hoped only Giacinto saw that."

And her incredibly large amount of Instagram followers. But he will die in embarrassment over that later.

"Thank you for not sketching that out."

"Oh, no. Only big brothers get that privilege."

How many times had he drawn Chrys falling on his ass? Probably a hundred and some change. It was hilarious to try and capture the desperation in his attempts not to fall, and his expression when he realised that he was definitely falling.

He had a sadistic streak when it came to his brother.

All siblings did. It was a necessity when you had a sibling.