Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.
Just a Number
Summary: What if Sasha never came to The Rock? He was never her coach, and she was never his gymnast. Now all that stands between them is the age gap . . . and the Atlantic Ocean. Not to mention his reputation, the competition, and the fact that everyone seems to have an opinion on how she should feel about him and nobody thinks he's right for her. Nothing between them but age, and well . . . it's just a number anyway, right?
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Just a Number - Caught Out
Payson just drifted on the edge of consciousness, her eyes fluttering against the beam of sunlight hitting her from the bedroom window. The first sign that she wasn't where she was supposed to be, as Lauren would never leave a curtain open to interrupt her beauty sleep. She turned her head away, snuggling up into the warm body beside that provided the perfect shelter from the glare of the sun.
Sasha held her closer for a moment and then asked in quiet tone, "Are you awake?"
"No," she answered him, burrowing her head into his chest. She felt more than she heard him chuckle at her reply, his chest vibrating slightly under her grasp.
"We should get up soon," Sasha suggested against his better judgment. It wasn't something he actually wanted to do – not with her curled so wonderfully against him wearing little more than the plain t-shirt he leant her the night before – but he was still aware that she wasn't supposed to be there right now and that if Marty or anybody else caught her sneaking back into her room there would be hell to pay.
Payson mewled in protest, shaking her head in disagreement. Then she pulled the sheets up over her head defiantly, hiding beneath the covers as though that would somehow allow her to pretend that it was still night and let her go back sleep. Any attempt of doing so was thwarted, however, by Sasha's complete lack of cooperation. He dragged her over him, his hands sliding up her sides and tickling her under his shirt until she had no choice but to beg for mercy and admit that she was awake and that sleep was for sissies.
"You're mean," she declared with a childish pout, glaring up at him now from their altered positions. Sasha hovered over her, smirking at his apparent victory. And yet she had him right where she wanted him. She slid her hands slowly up his chest, watching as the smirk slowly slid off his lips and his stormy blue eyes darkened. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling her body up against him and pressing her cheek against his as she whispered softly in his ear, "You don't really want to get up, do you?"
He swallowed thickly and moved his head ever so slightly in the negative, entranced by the rare, sultry tone of her voice. She shifted again, loosening her grip around his neck so that she could slide her hands towards his shoulders and trail kisses from his cheek, down the column of his neck towards his breastbone.
"You'll be the death of me, iubita," he accused affectionately, regaining some of his senses now that she wasn't pressed quite so firmly against him. She shrugged indifferently, sending him an innocent looking smile. He turned his head, pressing a kiss to the back of the hand on his shoulder. "Te iubesc atât de mult," he told her lowly. "Prea mult," he added thoughtfully, more to himself than to her.
Payson smiled back at him, lifting her head to press a chaste kiss to his lips. "I love you."
She kissed him once again, internally working up the confidence to broach a subject that had been on her mind for a while now. "I'm ready," she said as she pulled away, her gaze locked with his in a way that she hoped conveyed the sincerity of those two words.
His expression flittered from confusion to shock then back to confusion before finally settling on worry and concern. "Payson, I . . . you don't . . . ," he swallowed once more. "You don't have to just because I said . . ."
Payson cut him off with an annoyed huff and the rolling of her eyes. Sasha could be such a boy sometimes. And a bit of a jerk quite frankly – at least when it came to this particular subject. When it came to sex, he made her all too conscious of the nine-year age gap between them and treated her like some delicate little flower that he needed to protect.
Only she thought that they were past that. Hadn't they already had that conversation? Hadn't he promised not to treat her like a child? To accept that she was capable of making her own decisions?
She pushed him away, the mood effectively killed by his rather patronizing assumption. Not that her being ready meant she wanted to have sex then and there, although perhaps she could have done with making that a bit clearer and maybe have avoided his current reaction. Despite her attempts to avoid getting up, she knew they only had an hour tops before she had to get back to her room, but they were looking a very promising something before he went and ruined it by being stupid.
She sat up beside him, her eyes narrowed and her arms crossed. He knew he was about to be chewed out.
"Is that what you really think, Sasha?" she asked pointedly. "That I suddenly feel obliged to have sex with you just because you told me that you love me.
"In English," she added, reminding him that she'd known exactly what he was saying pretty much the whole time. It turned out that she was quite the romantic when she wanted to be, because one of the first things she did once she was sure in her feelings was to look up how to say 'I love you' in Romanian.
He looked guilty, and rightly so. "I didn't think that," he protested. "I just . . . I don't know what I was thinking," he said. "I'm sorry, dragă. I was being an idiot."
"Yes you were," Payson agreed. "I thought you knew better than that," she added sadly.
"I do," Sasha said confidently, propping himself up on his side and reaching up to cup his hand against her cheek. "I know you've probably been thinking about it for awhile now." She smiled when he guessed correctly, redeeming himself for his earlier stupidity. She let him guide her forward, his lips conveying his apology and hers accepting it in return.
"What I meant to say," he said, looking sheepish and contrite. "Are you sure, Pay?" he asked her seriously.
She nodded. "I love you and I want to be with you, Sasha," she told him surely. "You know I wouldn't make a decision like this lightly and that I wouldn't do something unless it was what I wanted.
"I'm ready," she told him again, her voice filled with greater confidence. "So whenever you . . ." she trailed off, letting Sasha decided how that sentence was supposed to end.
"Whenever?" he asked her, lifting an eyebrow and sending her a suggestive smirk.
She rolled her eyes and hit him again on his shoulder, ignoring his feigned cry of pain. "Not right now," she said in an even, no-nonsense tone. "I have to get back to my room before Marty gets up and finds out you're here doing depraved things to one of his gymnasts," she said in an ominous, sarcastic tone.
She threw back the covers and began sliding out of the bed, only have Sasha catch her around the waist and drag her back beside him. "You've got half an hour before you have to leave," he told her in a low tone, the wicked smile on his lips almost predatory. "I can think of some pretty depraved things we could do in half an hour."
"Oh really?" she challenged.
"Really," he assured.
Marque Café – Chase Park Plaza
"So?" Lauren demanded, watching Payson intently from across the table.
"So what?" Payson replied, genuinely unaware of what Lauren was referring to. Lauren, being Lauren, assumed she was just playing dumb.
"You know what, Payson Keeler," Lauren replied sharply, throwing back her hair. "Don't think I don't know for a second what you got up to last night," she said with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows.
"And I totally covered for you with Summer." The addendum was, of course, that because she had covered for her with Summer (who was way too trusting to be charged with the post of chaperone), Payson was now obliged to reveal all the intimate details of her relationship with Sasha.
"Nothing happened last night," Payson replied honestly.
Her night with Sasha had been incredibly innocent. They'd had a late supper together from room service and begun watching a psychological thriller (she'd taken pity on him in her movie choice). But she'd been so exhausted that she'd fallen asleep on him part way through what had actually been a really interesting movie, and Sasha had gently coaxed her to bed after that despite her protests. She'd spent the night perfectly content, falling asleep in Sasha's arms after one last kiss goodnight.
The morning, on the other hand . . .
She wondered if Lauren realized that she was just playing on semantics, as she looked thoroughly unconvinced. Or maybe it was simply that obvious from the smile on her face and the slightly dreamy look when she thought about Sasha. "Don't play coy, Keeler," she said blithely. She pointed at her accusingly with her cutlery. "You had sex with Sasha and I – want – details."
"WHAT?"
Payson wished it had been her own outraged cry that suddenly brought the dining room to silence. Instead it was the yell of their coach looking pale and furious and like he was probably having a heart attack. The only way this could have been worse was if her father had chosen to walk by instead.
Lauren at least had the decency to look guilty as Payson slipped from her seat and silently led their coach somewhere private where they could talk without all the eavesdroppers. This was probably going to be the most painful conversation of her life.
"Marty, it's not what you think," she protested as soon as they were alone and away from prying eyes. "Lauren was just being Lauren. I'm not – "
"Did you spend last night with Sasha?" he questioned, his tone dangerously even. She bit her lip and nodded cautiously, which only seemed to enrage him. "Dammit, Payson!" he cried out, his voice rising momentarily. He took a breath to calm himself, deliberately lowering his voice and somehow seeming angrier in that act. "What if somebody else heard that?" he asked accusingly, practically hissing as he kept his voice to a low whisper. "What if instead of me it had been Marcus McGowan or some NGO stooge?"
Payson blinked in confusion, not understanding the content of his argument. He was mad – quite obviously – but not in the way that he thought he would be. This wasn't about her being with Sasha, so much as it was about letting Lauren loudly announce it to those around them.
"I can't believe you would be so careless, Payson," he said angrily. "That's a complete breach of the athletes code and you know it."
She did. She knew perfectly well that she shouldn't have been there, but at the time she couldn't bring herself to care. Even now she didn't regret the decision to stay the night with Sasha, and it would be impossible to promise Marty that it wouldn't happen again. She had too much respect for Marty to out and out lie to him like that.
Instead she deflected, perhaps hoping Marty might not notice her silence. "This isn't a National Team event," she said weakly in her defence. "The athletes code doesn't apply here."
"But it was in Saint Petersburg," Marty deadpanned in response.
She gaped. She didn't think that Marty knew about that.
"Payson, I get it," he said more gently. "I get that you're still just regular girls and that there will be boys and parties and all that other crap. But there are rules," he reminded her, "and I'm not always going to be able to protect you from their consequences."
"Marty, I'm sorry," she said with benediction, lowering her gaze.
"I know," Marty nodded, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Just promise me you'll be more careful," he asked her.
"I promise," she said in return, knowing that it was a promise that she could keep. Perhaps Marty knew better than most how hard it was to stay away from someone that you were attracted to, and that the more barriers and oaths you tried to put between, the more likely you were to yield.
"Good," Marty replied. "And you can tell Sasha if I see him at all this weekend I'm gonna kick ass, alright?"
She nodded, unable to help smiling.
"Go tell the rest of them to hurry up," he directed, sending her on her way now that matters had been settled. "The Men's competition starts in an hour and I want you girls looking your best to support your teammates."
Chaifetz Arena – St Louis University, MO
"And now presenting your United States Men's Artistic Gymnastics Champion. Austin Tucker!"
The girls all cheered loudly as their Rock teammates took the podium, Austin bowing his head to receive his medal and nearly killing a bouquet of yellow roses as he waved them around in the air.
"I'm so glad he won," Kaylie admitted and the other girls agreed once she had said it first. It was always good to see your teammates succeed, but it was even better to have things finally getting back to normal. With all the drama that had been happening lately, they'd almost forgotten what normal was like.
"Our turn tomorrow," Lauren noted, her voice becoming soft and sentimental.
"Our last ever," Emily added.
"I can't believe we're almost there," Payson awed, her mouth dropping slightly as the enormity of what was happening settled over her. It was the first concrete step towards the Olympics and that goal suddenly seemed more real than ever before. "Just tomorrow and then one more competition. Then the Olympics."
The noise level dropped around them, just a low buzz as everything seemed to slow and they let the realizations settle over them. Then Kaylie held out a hard towards the girls either side of her – to Payson and Lauren – fingers all curled into a fist but for the little finger. "To the great goddess of gymnastics," she said reverently, grinning brightly.
The other three all returned her smile, hooking their pinkies through one another's and repeating Kaylie's words in the same reverent tone.
"To the great goddess of gymnastics."
~ to be continued ~
Notes:
For those that haven't read it yet, the 'What's In Your Gym Bag' deleted scene is up on the LJ version.
Translations:
Iubita: my love
Te iubesc atât de mult. Prea mult: I love you so much. Too much
