The Swan -- Frank Lampard, England NT
Jun. 9th, 2009 06:33 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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tr_ficTitle: The Swan
Characters: Frank Lampard, OFC; Members of the England NT
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Yet another Lampard fic. This time I know why I’m writing this one. It’s because of my niece and her ballet recital last night. So…there ya are. It makes sense in my mind. =-D
They had their own box. The entire team and their significant others were there. It made for good appearances that the team competing against Russia attend the performance. The auditorium was lavishly decorated and everyone was dressed up to the nines. The ballet was the national ballet and the performance, Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake.
If you were single as he was, or perhaps even if you weren’t, then you noticed each of the performers in turn. But none were as captivating, at least to him, as the lead ballerina. She was the most graceful, the one with the most elaborate costume.
Frank leaned on the railing and watched as she danced. His eyes hardly left her delicate form the entire performance.
When the final curtain dropped and the audience applauded like crazy, he was on his feet giving a standing ovation. He did not care that John and Ashley and Steven were all looking at him oddly. He didn’t care that several of the wives were smiling knowingly at him. All he cared was that he meet that creature that moved like a swan and looked like an angel.
As people began to exit the auditorium and conversation rose, Frank silently begged with his eyes at John. John just waved a hand in the air as he smiled down at Toni. Frank was out of the box before another second passed. He made his way down the carpeted stairs and headed for the stage.
He didn’t know what he was going to say or what he would do—he hadn’t thought that far ahead. All he knew was that he had to meet her. Her, he didn’t even know her name. He didn’t even know if she spoke anything but Russian. Frank cursed himself for not thinking it through.
He had to wade through a sea of people. It was taking him forever to get near the stage at all, let alone to see anyone.
Frank was about to loose his nerve and forget the whole thing when he saw a few women walking out from beside the stage. They were wearing too-casual clothing to have just been there for the performance.
Then he saw her. Her raven hair was pulled back, still fashioned in the style of the last dance. She still had her make up on. Instead of the costume, though, she now wore black track pants and a jacket.
“Can ve help you?” One of the blonde dancers asked upon seeing him in accented English.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, but I would just like…to ask for your autograph.” Frank mumbled like a wanker. He was sure that his face was red.
“Vich vone?” The same dancer asked, a polite and knowing smile on her face.
The raven-haired beauty watched with amused eyes as Frank’s stare never left her. The blonde grinned at him and said something in Russian to make the others laugh, including Frank’s mystery girl.
The dark haired ballerina moved forward and smiled at him. “You vant an autograph?”
Frank just bumbled through a ‘yes’ before realizing he had no paper let alone a pen. The blonde said something else that made the raven-haired woman blush as the others giggled. Then they started to walk out.
“Come vis vay. Ve vind some paper.” She waved a hand and expected him to follow. Frank trotted after her like a puppy would follow his master.
She led him around backstage where a lot of other people were talking and moving sets around. She led him to a small room that held a few costumes and a make-up table. There was a small couch and an end table next to it with a lamp.
“Vis is my dressing room.” She explained as she moved over to where a drawing tablet lay on the couch.
“Vat is your name?” She asked taking a pencil to the tablet.
“Frank.” He absently wondered if he would have a permanent blush.
The woman wrote out his name and a few other things before ripping the piece of paper off the tablet.
“Vere.” She held out the piece of paper to him and he took it.
“Anya…” he whispered her name almost reverently before looking back up at her, at Anya. “Thank you.”
“Your most velcome. Did you like ve performance?”
“Very much so.” He said enthusiastically. “You were wonderful.”
She ducked her head and smiled. “Vank you.”
“You’re welcome, and thank you again.”
Her only answer was a smile. Frank thanked her once again before walking out. He cursed himself for acting like a total buffoon the entire way back to the entrance hall. His face was red and he felt like the biggest git on the planet as he saw that the team had waited for him.
“How’d it go Lampsy?” John asked with a knowing grin.
“Wonderfully.” Frank said sarcastically.
“Um, Frank?” Steven motioned with his head to look behind him.
Frank turned and saw Anya approaching him.
“You forgot someving.” She said.
“I did?” Frank asked wondering what he could have possibly forgotten.
“Da. Vis.” Then she leaned up to kiss him directly on the lips.
Frank blushed embarrassed but pleased at the same time. He had a dorky grin on his face when she sank back down to her heels. Several of his teammates were wolf whistling and the girls were just smiling.
“Oh how clumsy of me to have forgotten that.” Frank muttered and Anya looked at him cheekily.
“Don’t forget again, I don’t vant to have to vind you again.” She winked at him before walking past the team and out into the cool Russian night.
“Nice job Lampsy!” John slapped his shoulder but Frank was too numb to really care.
All he knew was that he had her autograph and as he looked down at it, he noticed something else. He also had her phone number.
Characters: Frank Lampard, OFC; Members of the England NT
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Yet another Lampard fic. This time I know why I’m writing this one. It’s because of my niece and her ballet recital last night. So…there ya are. It makes sense in my mind. =-D
They had their own box. The entire team and their significant others were there. It made for good appearances that the team competing against Russia attend the performance. The auditorium was lavishly decorated and everyone was dressed up to the nines. The ballet was the national ballet and the performance, Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake.
If you were single as he was, or perhaps even if you weren’t, then you noticed each of the performers in turn. But none were as captivating, at least to him, as the lead ballerina. She was the most graceful, the one with the most elaborate costume.
Frank leaned on the railing and watched as she danced. His eyes hardly left her delicate form the entire performance.
When the final curtain dropped and the audience applauded like crazy, he was on his feet giving a standing ovation. He did not care that John and Ashley and Steven were all looking at him oddly. He didn’t care that several of the wives were smiling knowingly at him. All he cared was that he meet that creature that moved like a swan and looked like an angel.
As people began to exit the auditorium and conversation rose, Frank silently begged with his eyes at John. John just waved a hand in the air as he smiled down at Toni. Frank was out of the box before another second passed. He made his way down the carpeted stairs and headed for the stage.
He didn’t know what he was going to say or what he would do—he hadn’t thought that far ahead. All he knew was that he had to meet her. Her, he didn’t even know her name. He didn’t even know if she spoke anything but Russian. Frank cursed himself for not thinking it through.
He had to wade through a sea of people. It was taking him forever to get near the stage at all, let alone to see anyone.
Frank was about to loose his nerve and forget the whole thing when he saw a few women walking out from beside the stage. They were wearing too-casual clothing to have just been there for the performance.
Then he saw her. Her raven hair was pulled back, still fashioned in the style of the last dance. She still had her make up on. Instead of the costume, though, she now wore black track pants and a jacket.
“Can ve help you?” One of the blonde dancers asked upon seeing him in accented English.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, but I would just like…to ask for your autograph.” Frank mumbled like a wanker. He was sure that his face was red.
“Vich vone?” The same dancer asked, a polite and knowing smile on her face.
The raven-haired beauty watched with amused eyes as Frank’s stare never left her. The blonde grinned at him and said something in Russian to make the others laugh, including Frank’s mystery girl.
The dark haired ballerina moved forward and smiled at him. “You vant an autograph?”
Frank just bumbled through a ‘yes’ before realizing he had no paper let alone a pen. The blonde said something else that made the raven-haired woman blush as the others giggled. Then they started to walk out.
“Come vis vay. Ve vind some paper.” She waved a hand and expected him to follow. Frank trotted after her like a puppy would follow his master.
She led him around backstage where a lot of other people were talking and moving sets around. She led him to a small room that held a few costumes and a make-up table. There was a small couch and an end table next to it with a lamp.
“Vis is my dressing room.” She explained as she moved over to where a drawing tablet lay on the couch.
“Vat is your name?” She asked taking a pencil to the tablet.
“Frank.” He absently wondered if he would have a permanent blush.
The woman wrote out his name and a few other things before ripping the piece of paper off the tablet.
“Vere.” She held out the piece of paper to him and he took it.
“Anya…” he whispered her name almost reverently before looking back up at her, at Anya. “Thank you.”
“Your most velcome. Did you like ve performance?”
“Very much so.” He said enthusiastically. “You were wonderful.”
She ducked her head and smiled. “Vank you.”
“You’re welcome, and thank you again.”
Her only answer was a smile. Frank thanked her once again before walking out. He cursed himself for acting like a total buffoon the entire way back to the entrance hall. His face was red and he felt like the biggest git on the planet as he saw that the team had waited for him.
“How’d it go Lampsy?” John asked with a knowing grin.
“Wonderfully.” Frank said sarcastically.
“Um, Frank?” Steven motioned with his head to look behind him.
Frank turned and saw Anya approaching him.
“You forgot someving.” She said.
“I did?” Frank asked wondering what he could have possibly forgotten.
“Da. Vis.” Then she leaned up to kiss him directly on the lips.
Frank blushed embarrassed but pleased at the same time. He had a dorky grin on his face when she sank back down to her heels. Several of his teammates were wolf whistling and the girls were just smiling.
“Oh how clumsy of me to have forgotten that.” Frank muttered and Anya looked at him cheekily.
“Don’t forget again, I don’t vant to have to vind you again.” She winked at him before walking past the team and out into the cool Russian night.
“Nice job Lampsy!” John slapped his shoulder but Frank was too numb to really care.
All he knew was that he had her autograph and as he looked down at it, he noticed something else. He also had her phone number.
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