Chapter Twelve - Roger I'm Not Your Bitch

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"Hey." I smiled.

"My child, my protogy, my dear." Roger dropped his million bags and wrapped his arms around me. "So glad to be home." I looked up at him in confusion.

"You were born and raised in Cali." He had pale green eyes, and a huge ginger beard. He was in his late twenties, and fairly fit, but only slightly above average. He had the thickest German accent, and spoke five different languages fluently.

"Home is wherever you are. Shall we?" He picked up all his bags again and handed them to me. "Strength training. Go." I sighed and took all three of his back packs, and his suitcase. It felt like he had jut packed weights for the sake of me carrying his bags.

"Why the fuck is in this shit?" I laughed slightly as we walked through the crowded Texas airport. Light poured through every window, making the entire place too bright for my liking.

"Ah! Language."

"Cunt." I said flatly as I smirked up at him.

"I brought so much stuff because you need it. It's routines it's schedules it's clothes for training it's scripts. Everything. I have your next three weeks planned out to your potty breaks." I sighed.

"Can we just get home before you start throwing all this shit at me?" On the ride home I took the time to explain about Denis and Eric and Cameron.

"So I was right? You two are dating?"

"Yes." I said as we pulled into my driveway. We'd taken a cab, because I was too lazy to drive in the first place. I paid the driver and we got out of the van in my driveway before going inside. "Kyle!" I called. "Roger is here!"

"I am here." Roger declared.

"Denis?" I called again. He came down and kissed me quickly. He had his phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder. He said some things in Ukrainian before handing up. "That was my sister, sorry. Here let me take these."

"No." Roger stepped between us when Denis went to take the bags from me. "She has to do it herself."

"I was just gonna-"

"No."

"Roger fuck off. Denis this is Roger, my momager. Roger, this is Denis." I introduced before carrying all of Roger's stuff into the guest room he always used. When I came back down Denis, Kyle, and Roger, were all sitting in the formal living room. I sat down beside Denis and he put his arm around me.

"So, as I was saying. We do interviews with TV stations, and what not, and we got to California on the fifteen. Train like a bitch, and come back on the third."

"Fuck," I muttered. "three days before you fly out." I looked up at Denis.

"We'll figure it out." He smiled and kissed my cheek.

"No visits. No distractions." Roger said pointedly. "Train in Texas when you come back, until August. Then we fly out to Rio. Opening ceremony is on the fifth, qualifiers are on the seventh, and finals are on the sixteenth."

"Wow, Rio?" Denis looked between Roger and I.

"Yeah, the Olympics are in Brazil this year."

"I'm gonna be in Rio. We're in south American from July twentieth to the eighth."

"Does that mean you can come to the qualifiers?"

"Maybe. Depends on shows. I hope so." Rogers phone began to ring and he answered promptly.

"It's T.J." Roger walked off.. T.J was my trainer/choreographer/stylist. He and Roger were tighter than a fat guy in leggings. They were a team, and we were a trio.

"This is gonna be crazy. Why can't the Olympics be next year?" I whined.

"You say that every year." Kyle laughed.

"You wanna fight?"

"Let's do this." Kyle and I both stood.

"Do a back tuck, right now. Do it. I fucking dare you."

"Pose. Name a fucking clothing label. I dare you." I did some stupid pose I remembered seeing Kyle do in a magazine and said 'channel'. Denis burst out laughing and I smiled.

"I win. Do a back tuck. Do a bow and arrow. Do the splits for god's sake."

"Fuck you." Kyle said like a whiny little kid, and sat back down. I stuck my tongue out at him and sat back down. Denis just looked at us like we were insane.

"What the fuck was that?"

"For a model you're pretty ugly." I muttered.

"For an athlete you're pretty fat."

"Hey!"

"Right, you're not a real athlete." Roger bolted back into the the room and Kyle's eyes went wide.

"No! Do forty push ups." He commanded.

"Roge I'm not your bit-"

"Do it." Kyle rolled his eyes and got on the floor. I took the opportunity to pull Denis up to my room.

"What just happened?" He leaned on the side of my bed and I sat down beside him.

"I don't know. Things get a little crazy with us. Especially when Roger is involved. Fair warning, you're probably gonna hate me until September."

"I get it. And I could never hate you." Denis smiled and kissed me softly. When neither of us pulled away, he slid off my bed and stood in front of me. He held my waist tightly and deepened the kiss. I put my hands on the back of his neck and traced small circles on his soft, warm skin. He leaned forward and climbed on top of me, kissing down my neck. I let out a soft moan as he moved his hand from my waist to the the hem of my shirt. Denis slid his hand up my shirt to my rigs, to my chest, and grasped my breast softly, massaging it slowly.

"No kissing." Roger burst in and Denis froze. "Just training." I rolled my eyes.

"Doesn't sex count as exercise?"



A/N: YES! Another chapter tonight! You love me, I know. *kissy face* Tiny little reminder that I have an Oliver Sykes fic up right now called Crooked Hearts Club, and I really want everyone to read it. It's finished, but not all uploaded it, and I should be posting more of it super soon. Please check it out! <3 <3 <3




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