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Last Swim	By : jai Category: Individual Celebrities > Athlete/Sports Misc Views: 8134 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the people written about in this fanfiction. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Tidal Pool

August 29 2004 Athens
Ian’s hotel room 11:07 am

The phone by Ian’s bed rang and out of reflex, both he and Michael reached over to grab it.

Michael found it first right as he woke up and realized that he wasn’t in his own room, he wasn’t alone in the bed and it wasn’t his phone.

In a mini-panic, he tossed the phone at Ian, flew out of the bed and dashed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Rather bemused Ian checked the time, sat up in bed and picked up the phone.

“Hello, Grant.”

“Morning, Ian.”

“How are you this morning?”

“I’m peachy. You?”

“I’m rather peachy myself.”

“So, mate. Does that rather interesting pause when the phone was engaged mean what I think it means?”

“Why, Mr. Hackett, I’m not quite sure what you’re implying there!”

They shared a laugh as the shower in the next room came on.

“How badly is he freaking out?”

“Well, he broke the world sprint record for quickest exit into a bathroom but I’m not really sure.”

“Ah. Guess he wouldn’t know Thorpian Rule #1.”

“That you’re the only person who’d call me before noon? No, I’d say he’s probably not aware of that one.”

“Now I’m really regretting not coming through the intersuite door. Think he noticed that we share a bathroom?”

“No, I don’t think so. He wasn’t really paying much attention last night.”

“Thorpsie, you stud!”

“It wasn’t like that. Nothing actually happened.”

“Ian, you say that about everyone. You said that after I walked in on you and three girls with the –“

“Stop right there. No need to go over that old tale again.”

“What? You don’t want to talk about the feather boa and that rather interesting latex-“

“Whoa there pony!” Ian could hear Grant’s laughter over the phone and through the rather thin walls.

“Oops, I just heard the shower turn off. I’ll let you go now, Ian. See you in ten.”

Before Ian could answer, Grant had hung up and Michael was warily sticking his head out of the bathroom.

“Um, hi. Hope I didn’t mess anything up there by answering the phone.”

“No. It was Hackett.”

Michael stepped out of the bathroom, unfortunately (in Ian’s eyes) fully dressed.

Ian quirked an eyebrow at him. “Are you in a hurry?”

“Well, I have an interview at 12:30 and I really really really need to eat.” Michael’s stomach chimed in on that statement with a very loud growl.

“Oh, okay. Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll walk you down.”

“Um, do you think that’s wise?”

“It wouldn’t be if Grant wasn’t also going to be going down with us. Here,” Ian had gotten out of bed and strolled naked over to the desk. He grabbed a pen and pad of paper and thrust them at Michael. “Write down your numbers and addresses while I’m in the bath.”

Michael took the implements and mumbled under his breath, “Bossy!”

“I heard that.” Ian sang from the other room.

“That’s because I wanted you to!” Michael sang back.

A surprisingly short time later, Michael was going down the stairs in between Ian and Grant, listening while the two verbally bashed each other as only good friends could.

Michael was half listening, half lost in his own thoughts. A freshly showered Ian had whipped a business card and jotted down his own phone numbers and email addresses and even Ian’s parents phone number (just in case) on the back before giving him a quick peck on the lips and opening the door.

Grant and Ian got him swiftly (even for Athens) into a cab and Michael was heading back to the Village before he realized it. He didn’t really even get a chance to wonder at the bum’s rush when his management team caught up with them and the swirl of publicity started again.

Ian had been right. Neither one of them looked very good that night but it didn’t matter. The closing ceremony wasn’t supposed to be a fashion show after all although the yellow shirts that Ian and the rest of his team were forced to wear were truly hideous.

The event really didn’t hold a candle to Sydney in Ian’s opinion but those had been different days and in his own country. Despite his best efforts to learn a little Greek on this visit, the songs were just jumbled words.

He purposefully didn’t seek out Michael to say good bye although they’d caught glimpses of each other through the crowds. He wasn’t sure he could hide his emotions well enough from the cameras filming from every direction. And wasn’t that a surprise?

He hadn’t meant to have anything with Michael beyond a physical moment. When did it turned into something else entirely? The previous night had been like a boomerang. Thrown out and turned back on him when he’d least expected it.

He didn’t know if Michael had been just as broadsided, after all they hadn’t really talked about it. ‘Good grief, Ian. You’re starting to sound like a girl,’ he mentally chastised himself.

Within a few hours, Ian was in the airport and waiting to board their charter. He reached down and pulled out his Palm Pilot. Before he could stop himself, he’d found Michael’s email address and tapped out a quick message.

::::Do you even eat wheaties? And don’t forget to buy me something in Florida :P ::::

Three days later, Ian arrived home and found an express package from Walt Disney World in his large pile of mail. Waiting until he was alone, he gingerly opened the box to find a Donald Duck t-shirt, a set of personalized Mickey Mouse ears and an unstamped postal card featuring a very lovely and empty beach.

The message on the back read, “Wish we were here.”

Drowning

October 22, 2004 Rodger’s Forge, MD

Over the years, he’d noticed things about Ian that weren’t strictly related to the Australian’s talents in the pool. The grin, the hands, those thighs, the back of his knees.

Michael wrote off it off to teenage hormones and intense training, he even managed to push the interlude with Aaron out of his mind. He started dating one of the girls who hung around him at school and when he couldn’t quite imagine having sex with her, he gently moved on to the next girl.

The seventh girl he dated seemed more his type. She was taller and not quite as dainty. Her parents traveled, she had no siblings and she wasn’t a virgin.

After the third week of dating her, neither was Michael. But she’d become clingy and demanding and all those things his mother and coach had warned him about. He didn’t feel very guilty over the breakup and decided give up on dating for a while.

Then Tom came along. A swimmer from a small town in California with dreams of making the US team. Tom was three years older and almost as fast. Their physical relationship had bene one of convenience and neither had considered going beyond oral sex and hand jobs. It was just a way to relieve some pressure without any of the trappings. That all ended when Tom failed to make the team.

When his part in the competition was over, Michael fully planned on hooking up with some willing female competitor and taking care of the urges he’d put on hold. He’d certainly had more offers than he could handle.

But he found himself walking into parties just after Ian arrived or right before Ian left. People asked him about Ian, he heard Ian being asked about him. After a few days, he began to wonder who was stalking whom.

By Saturday, he’d been fully prepared to find the nearest horizontal surface, throw himself down on it and beg Ian to fuck him if only to get it over with and get on with his life.

Instead they’d talked and laughed and kissed and come all over each other in the shower before cuddling up and falling asleep.

They’d spent the next two months phoning, emailing and text messaging. Ian was busy in Australia with his business endeavors, Michael in the States with the tour and Worlds but somehow one of them always managed to make contact.

Their interactions were, due to the circumstances, strictly platonic although they were getting to know each other better. The only sign of anything deeper between them was the running debate over beach resorts.

He’d been home for a week and had been on the verge of sleep before it dawn on him that he might be dating Ian Thorpe. After several hours of tossing and turning, he finally checked the time, picked up the phone and dialed Ian’s home number.

“Thorpe.” Michael found usually found Ian’s dry no-nonsense way of answering the phone kind of funny but he wasn’t in the mood.

“Hi, Ian.”

Instantly the voice warmed, “Hello, Michael. How are you?”

“I’m okay, how are you? Are you busy? I can call back toow.”ow.”

“I’m fine. I was just getting ready to pick up Pieter at the airport but I have some time. What’s on your mind? You sound a little down.”

‘Well, if I wasn’t down before, I am now,’ Michael thought as a sudden bolt of jealously shot through him.

“Oh, no well, it’s kind of late here but I couldn’t sleep. Just thought I’d see what you were up to but you sound kind of busy so –.”

“No, I’ve got time, what’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know.”

Ian laughed. “You just wanted to hear my voice?”

“No, no. I don’t know what’s on my mind. I mean, what are we doing?” Michael winced. “I don’t know what we’re doing. I’m not sure if-. I’m kind of-”

“Michael, take a deep breath and calm down.”

Michael took Ian’s advice and the weird tension in his stomach dissipated. “All right. Okay.”

“Better now?”

“Yeah. Um, sorry. I’m a little freaked out.”

“So I gathered. What brought this on?”

“Um. I was thinking and it sort of got out of hand.”

A long pause from the other end of the phone made Michael realize what he’d said.

“No, not that kind of ‘thinking’ and there were no actual hands involved.”

“Well, I’m not sure if I’m relieved or not.”

“Ha. Ha. No I was just kind of wondering if-we-were-dating or something.” The words came out such a rush that it took Ian a moment to figure it out.

“Michael, I think we’d actually have to be in the same hemisphere to be dating but I do hope the twe’rwe’re spending getting to know each other will lead somewhere.”

“Oh.”

“You sound a little disappointed.”

“No, no. I’m not. Yeah, I get that.” Despite his words, Michael still sounded a bit off to Ian.

Ian checked his watch and did a quick mental calculation. It was 2:30 am on Michael’s end and he knew the younger man rarely stayed up past 11. He didn’t know if Michael’s mood was due to the hour or had some other origin but clearly he was troubled. The only question was if it was worth getting into and just making things worse but Ian wasn’t one to let things fester.

“Michael, we haven’t really be able to talk about this situation but I want you to know that I like you. I’d like to eventually spend some time with you when neither one of us has got a hundred other things snapping at our heels. I’m obviously not looking for a casual fuck or we would have already done that. There’s no master plan here and neither one of us is in a position to make any promises.”

There was dead silence from 9,785 miles away for such an extended period that Ian started to wonder if Michael had fallen asleep.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“I think that pretty much sums it up.”

“And you're okay with that?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“Ian, you sound a little miffed.”

“No. Not miffed. You’re g veg very calm all the sudden.”

“I may be a teenager and I think I might be gay but don’t sign me up for the drama queen pageant just yet, Ian.”

Now the silence echoed from the other end of line.

“What? I can’t be mature and rational?”

Before Ian could answer his other line beeped. He considered ignoring it until he remembered Pieter.

“Hang on a minute, Michael, I’ve got another call.”

Michael idly reached down to play with the phone cord. Out of the corner of his eye, he sensed movement and looked ove the the bedroom door to see his mother standing there with one of those looks on her face. ‘Oh. Shit. Oh. Shit.’

Ian beeped back in as Michael was considering hanging up.

“Michael, I need to go. Pieter’s plane has landed. Can I call you back tomorrow afternoon, your time?”

“Uh, yeah sure.” If Michael was still alive, he’d be happy to take that call. The tension in his voice sang over the wire.

“Michael? What’s wrong?”

“I gotta go now. I think my mom wants to talk to me.” Michael carefully hung up the phone.

Adrift

Ian somehow made it to the airport without causing a major accident although he spent much of the drive staring at his mobile. He started making little deals with himself.

If I make it through this intersection, I will pull over and call him. If the next light is red, I’ll call him. If I get good parking, I’ll call him. If Pieter isn’t waiting at baggage claim, I’ll call him.

Only he wasn’t sure if calling Michael was really appropriate. Or welcome. By the time he spotted the tall Dutchman, he’d talked himself out of calling and was anxiously waiting for Michael to call him.

He’d met Michael’s mother in the past but he didn’t know the woman well enough to be able to predict her reactions. He doubted that there were any parent who’d be ecstatic to overhear their son saying he might be gay.

Ian’s parents hadn’t exactly thrown a party when he’d finally sat them down and explained that he probably wouldn’t be bringing a ‘nice young woman’ anytime soon. Not that Ian totally ruled out that possibility, because he liked women too but he’d always been more attracted to his own sex.

“And now that I’ve decided to have that sex change operation, I’m sure that the IOC will approve my swimming in the women’s events.”

The words slowly intruded on Ian’s thoughts. He turned disbelievingly to the man sitting beside him in the car.

“What?”

“Oh finally! You showed up, grabbed my bags, turned around and walked back to the car. You didn’t even say hello. It was just wham, bam, steal my luggage.”

“Pieter, I’m really sorry!” Ian couldn’t believe he’d been so out of it. Hi, how are you? Welcome to Australia!”

Pieter crinkled his nose and sniffed. “That’s too little too late, I’m afraid.”

Ian couldn’t help but laugh. Pieter, for many reasons, was the big brother he’d always wanted and Ian was suddenly very glad to see him.

“I said I was sorry. I’ve just got a lot on my mind. However can I make this up to you?”

“To start with, you should get us out of this parking lot. We’ve been sitting here long enough to give people the idea you’re saying hello in the best way possible.” Pieter wiggled an evil eyebrow at him.

“Right. And we wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression at this point, not so close to your surgery.”

The slap upside the head Pieter bestowed on Ian was a given.

Ian pushed his worry out of his mind and set about making up for his rudeness. They had a leisurely early dinner before repairing back to Chez Thorpe, chatting all the while. After getting Pieter’s things settled in the guest room and having a brief wash up, they both drifted into the den to lounge about in front of the television.

Neither one was much interested in the program and finally Pieter couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s gone wrong?”

“I was getting around to it. Just trying to figure out how to start.”

“Does it have anything to do with the way you frantically checked your voice mail once we got back here?”

“You noticed that, did you?”

“Ian.”

“Oh, hell” Ian flung himself back into the leather chair and stuck his lip out.

Ah, thought Pieter, I’m going to have to wrench this out of him then.

“Ian, you know you can tell me.” Pieter curled in his chair and batted his eyelashes towards Ian. “Aren’t I your best-est most truest friend?”

Ian sighed and scrunched further down into his seat.

“Pieter, how long have we known each other?”

After thinking a minute, Pieter answered, “Almost seven years? Of course, we haven’t been friends all that time. That was only three or four years ago.”

“And you know I’m usually not one to panic without cause, right?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but on the whole you’re a pretty calm person.”

“Oh, you’re funny. Anyway, I’ve been kind of talking to someone the last couple of months.”

“Talking? To someone other than me, I gather.”

“Yes, talking. And stop it.”

“Okay, no more teasing. Go on.”

“So we’ve been talking and we were on the phone a few hours ago and something really bad happened and . .”

“What? Did he come too quickly?”

“No! Wait! What makes you think it was a man?”

Pieter rolled his eyes. “Ian, if it was a woman, you would have just come out and said so and how long have I know you again?”

“Well. Can’t argue with that, can I?”

“And who was the one who held your hand through that horrid whatever you had with that Frog?”

“All right. I said I wasn’t going to argue. And Rene may have been French but no need to get snotty about it. What is it with you and the French?”

“Donry try to sidetrack here. What was the bad thing?”

“Someone on his end overheard us.”

“How is that bad?”

“That someone was his mother.”

Pieter tried not to laugh, he really did. He struggled and clapped a hand over his mouth but it was no use. It burst out of him like a water out of a frozen pipe. Before he knew it, he was falling off the couch and trying to avoid the drink coasters Ian started flinging at him.

“Ouch. Stop. Ian! Those things hurt!”

“I’m glad you’re so comfortable laughing at my trauma here.”

“Your trauma? What about his?

“I’m trying not to think about it.”

“And I can’t blame you for that.” Pieter picked himself up and was just about to take his seat again when the penny dropped. He sprang up and pointed his finger.

“No!”

“What?” Ian looked around frantically, wondering what Pieter was pointing at.

“It’s Phelpsie! You’re talking about Phelpsie!”

“My god. How did you . . .”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. And his mother caught you having phone sex!” Pieter started laughing again, it was too much.

“We weren’t having phone sex! We were just talking and he had just said he might be gay.”

Pieter calmed instantly. “Oh. Okay, that’s bad.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.”

“Cause there’s no way of playing that one off, is there?” Ian and Pieter shared a commiserating look. “So, you haven’t heard from him since?”

“No.”

“So.”

“Yes.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t know before it happened. It’s not an easy situation after all. I wasn’t going to hold a press conference and declare my undying love for him but I did like him. I felt like he could understand me.” Ian looked close to tears.

“Oh, poor baby.” Pieter got up and wedged himself into the chair next to Ian. He slung an arm around his friend and petted his head. “Maybe things will work out.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You never know. You can’t give up until you talk to him.”

Ian wrangled his way out of the chair and started pacing. “The whole thing was crazy from the beginning. I’m here, he’s there. And what about our careers? We’d have to sneak around and hide how we feel.”

“But, Ian. If you love him . . .”

Ian slumped onto the floor. “I don’t know if I love him. And I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to find out but maybe that’s for the best.”

“Because you’re scared of the consequences?”

“I’m beyond scared. It could change everything.”

“Then you’ll just have to figure out if what you think you may lose is more important than what you could gain.”

Ian sat silently for a moment before sprawling full length across the carpet and burying his head in his arms.

“You’re being awfully supportive.”

“What? Were you expecting me to try and talk you out of it?”

“That would be the smart thing for you to do.”

“Ah, but I’m your friend and I don’t think it’s a matter of the smart thing. You have to do what feels right. There are always going to be regrets, you just have figure out what you will regret less.”

Ian flipped over and sprawled across the carpet. “Or he might decide it’s not worth it.”

Pieter stood up and extended his hand to Ian. “Yes, my little ray of eternal sunshine, that’s the way to look on the bright side. Come, let’s go swimming.”

Ian took the proffered appendage and hauled himself up. Pieter refused to let go of his hand and began dragging him out of the room.

“And Michael thinks I’m bossy!”

Pieter chuckled “Yes, but I’m much prettier than you so I can get away with it. Ouch! Ian! No pinching. No pinching, I’ll bruise!”
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