•••••••••••••••••••••••Requests Open!••••••••••••••••••••••••
Will update upon receiving requests. Check chapter cleverly titled "⭐️Requests Open!⭐️" for more details (it's the 10th chapter!)
You can never have too many classic rock one shots, can y...
Muse: American Figure Skater Dorothy Hamill Musician: English Singer/ Songwriter, Activist and member of the Beatles, John Lennon Time: Late Sixties to Early Seventies
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"God my fucking feet are killing me!" The brunette cried, taking penguin steps on the ice as she held onto the barrier. It was 1:00am and she and her boyfriend John were wide awake and shivering cold.
"Well my fucking fingers are killing me! I'm gonna get frostbite helping you!" John retorted through his megaphone, leaning out of the open window of the private booth. He'd been kind enough to buy Florence, or Flo as he called her, her own personal rink to practice in, as she'd be competing in the Winter Olympics the following year. And not only did he get her a rink, but he'd come down and play piano for her whenever he could — even if it meant losing sleep.
As sweet as that was, bickering was a normal part of these late night practices. John loses his temper easily and snaps at her when he has to restart the number because she made a mistake. Despite this, he still insists on attending her practices and helping her when she practices alone. He tells her that it's because he loves her and just wants to help her succeed, but she has a sneaking suspicion that he really just wants to keep an eye on her. There have been problems with jealousy (on John's part) since the start of their relationship in '65. In all honesty, there have been a lot of problems since the start of their relationship.
He'd get jealous of strangers, her coach, her manager, her fans, and worst of all, her friends. If she ever wanted to see her close male friends, she'd have to lie to John about who she was meeting. As much as she hated lying, she wasn't willing to abandon her friends for a relationship.
"At least you can wear leather gloves and a fur coat! I have to wear this tiny little costume!" Flo resisted the urge to mention that not only did he have on a fur coat, but also a leather one underneath. She couldn't see him well so far from the booth, but she imagined that he was rolling his brown eyes behind the lenses of his circular glasses. Truthfully, Flo didn't have to wear her skating costume to practice — she chose to to help her harness the feeling of skating for a crowd.
He pushed his torso off of the railing and trekked back through the open floor length window of the medium-sized VIP box. It was made up of around five plexiglass panels, each being able to open independently of the others, and a steel railing just ahead of it to keep wealthy fans from falling into the standard seating. The walls were plain and off-white, the carpet beige, and it featured two corduroy loveseats and a small television set meant to broadcast the happenings on the ice.
Of course these things would never be used as intended, they'd only be collecting dust while Flo practiced — alone or with John. The furniture that once livened up the VIP box was now shoved against the wall to make room for the piano.
Flo looked out of the open window behind a row of perpetually empty seats at the pitch black night sky, liberally sprinkled with glimmering stars. All of the windows were open, as it happened to be colder outside than the humming AC could ever manage make it indoors.
