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Aug. 23rd, 2013 08:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
opusculasedferaThere's a hockey prompt fest going on over here. If you want to leave me/someone else something, it's still going pretty strong.
My thread is here, but I'm reposting my ficlets below because I can.
So far I've written 3 things, all short and fluffy.
say it like you mean it (Sidney Crosby/Matt Duchene)
Matt beams sunnily at Sid from his sprawl on the couch. Sid glares. "You wanted to come hang out while I'm prepping for this thing."
"What?" Matt says, laughing with his head tipped back over the arm of the couch. His smile looks weird upside-down. "I'm helping."
Sid ignores him, turns back to his single page of text. He clears his throat. "I’d like to thank you all for inviting me to–" he says for maybe the forty-fifth time.
"No, no, say it like you mean it!" Matt interjects, his fist held to the sky. "Emotion! Passion! I'm not feeling you here!"
"It's the children's hospital thing," Sid says. "I don’t have to be a fucking actor."
Matt clucks his tongue at him, scolding. "You telling me you don't care about the kids?" He sighs. "The scales are falling from my eyes, man. I don't know if I can trust you anymore."
Sid balls up his speech in one swift move and chucks it at Matt. It bounces off him and falls on the floor. Matt stretches for it, can't reach, gives up. He shakes a finger at Sid instead. "You're never going to make it in this town."
Sid snorts. "We're in Santa Monica, not Hollywood."
"LA, same diff." Matt snags Sid's wrist as he passes, and tugs him away from the crumpled page on the floor, fisting his hands in Sid's shirt to pull him in for a kiss, his tongue filthy in Sid's mouth. He looks smug as fuck afterward, his hair fanned out against the cushions.
Sid tries to straighten up, but Matt’s hands are tight on his wrists. The muscles in his arms work when Sid shifts. Sid feels unaccountably fond.
"C'mon," Matt says. "You've run it a million times. You could have a break…" He trails off like he thinks he's being subtle, his eyes crinkled in amusement.
Sid presses his lips together and Matt's teeth show, like he knows he's won.
"The children's hospital is going to be disappointed," Sid says as Matt pulls him down onto the couch.
Matt’s hand is warm sliding down Sid's back; his fingers slip proprietarily into Sid's back pocket. Sid curves closer against him, pressing kisses to Matt’s jaw. Matt pats his shoulder with his free hand. "You'll be fine," he says. "There'll babies there. You always look less like you hate the media when there are babies."
Sid only bites him a little.
between the lines (Matt Duchene/Gabe Landeskog)
Matt doesn't mean it when he sometimes wishes Gabe's English was less good, but he does wish it all the same. It would be nice to have something external to blame for how little of this conversation he really understands.
Not that it's hard to listen to Gabe talk. Matt feels ridiculously squishy inside at the way Gabe's smiling at him, sunny and perfect. He's pretty much a model, which Matt would probably chirp him more for if he wasn't hitting it. But as for actually understanding what happened when Gabe and Beatrice went shopping this summer, Matt's at sea. He doesn't know if it's cultural differences, or the fact that Jess never tells him anything about women's clothes or what, but he's lost.
"You should tell this to Jess, not me," he says ruefully as one particularly bizarre string of names goes by. "She'd actually know what the hell that meant."
Gabe hooks his ankle around Matt's calf, and tangles their legs together. "You should bring her out to Sweden next summer then," he says, looking excited. "Bea'd love to take someone shopping who's really into this stuff."
Matt makes a face. "God, if this is what you consider not being into it..."
Gabe pulls him close and laughs into his hair. "You know what I mean."
Matt doesn't, not really, though he hums agreement as he settles into Gabe's embrace. His boyfriend wants to take both their sisters shopping, and, well, he doesn't have to decode that.
Paul Martin/James Neal not!fic
Post these wings are nothing like a gift, James would definitely troll Paul with a bird. He comes home one day with a giant parcel under one arm, and a smile that Paul doesn't trust even a little bit.
"It's a present?" he says, barely concealing his laughter.
Paul opens the weirdly rustly box, and there's a cage with a reddish bird in it that eyeing the both of them with barely disguised dislike. It's a bit like a parakeet? Paul knows jack shit about birds.
"Happy anniversary?" James says, super proud. Pauly stares at him and James more or less dies of laughter at his own cleverness ("and the bird's called Pauly! Like Polly! Getitgetitgetit? :DDD") He tries to pet the bird as well. It bites him, which endears it somewhat to Paul.
Not enough that he wants to keep it though, which James says is fair, it was a joke, and he'll pass it on to his sister or one of his cousins' kids or something. But he doesn't really get around to it because he's lazy and his sister is unsurprisingly resistant to driving down to Pittsburgh to rescue him from having to deal with his poorly thought out pranks.
It is a pretty good bird though. It cheeps happily at Paul, and chews on James hair, which is usually entertaining, especially because it's his own damn fault. Paul appreciates that kind of karma. He won't call it Pauly because that sounds way too fucking egotistical, so they end up referring to it as Problem (short for James' Problem, which is how Paul explained it to people for weeks), and after a while that's funny too.
Paul complains a lot that he's a dog person, not a bird person, until James does some research (or, so he says, Paul's fairly sure he just asked Geno) and says that dogs and birds can totally co-exist. (For future reference, and when they stop talking around the idea of getting a dog, which they both want, except they can't agree on breeds.) Paul keeps complaining, but it loses some of its sincerity.
Actually all the complaints keep losing their sincerity and eventually Paul finds himself trying to work out if he can fly Problem to Canada so they can take him up to James' cottage with them in the summer, at which point he realises that the bird is never, ever going away, and is huffy about it, at least until James distracts him with blowjobs.
My thread is here, but I'm reposting my ficlets below because I can.
So far I've written 3 things, all short and fluffy.
say it like you mean it (Sidney Crosby/Matt Duchene)
Matt beams sunnily at Sid from his sprawl on the couch. Sid glares. "You wanted to come hang out while I'm prepping for this thing."
"What?" Matt says, laughing with his head tipped back over the arm of the couch. His smile looks weird upside-down. "I'm helping."
Sid ignores him, turns back to his single page of text. He clears his throat. "I’d like to thank you all for inviting me to–" he says for maybe the forty-fifth time.
"No, no, say it like you mean it!" Matt interjects, his fist held to the sky. "Emotion! Passion! I'm not feeling you here!"
"It's the children's hospital thing," Sid says. "I don’t have to be a fucking actor."
Matt clucks his tongue at him, scolding. "You telling me you don't care about the kids?" He sighs. "The scales are falling from my eyes, man. I don't know if I can trust you anymore."
Sid balls up his speech in one swift move and chucks it at Matt. It bounces off him and falls on the floor. Matt stretches for it, can't reach, gives up. He shakes a finger at Sid instead. "You're never going to make it in this town."
Sid snorts. "We're in Santa Monica, not Hollywood."
"LA, same diff." Matt snags Sid's wrist as he passes, and tugs him away from the crumpled page on the floor, fisting his hands in Sid's shirt to pull him in for a kiss, his tongue filthy in Sid's mouth. He looks smug as fuck afterward, his hair fanned out against the cushions.
Sid tries to straighten up, but Matt’s hands are tight on his wrists. The muscles in his arms work when Sid shifts. Sid feels unaccountably fond.
"C'mon," Matt says. "You've run it a million times. You could have a break…" He trails off like he thinks he's being subtle, his eyes crinkled in amusement.
Sid presses his lips together and Matt's teeth show, like he knows he's won.
"The children's hospital is going to be disappointed," Sid says as Matt pulls him down onto the couch.
Matt’s hand is warm sliding down Sid's back; his fingers slip proprietarily into Sid's back pocket. Sid curves closer against him, pressing kisses to Matt’s jaw. Matt pats his shoulder with his free hand. "You'll be fine," he says. "There'll babies there. You always look less like you hate the media when there are babies."
Sid only bites him a little.
between the lines (Matt Duchene/Gabe Landeskog)
Matt doesn't mean it when he sometimes wishes Gabe's English was less good, but he does wish it all the same. It would be nice to have something external to blame for how little of this conversation he really understands.
Not that it's hard to listen to Gabe talk. Matt feels ridiculously squishy inside at the way Gabe's smiling at him, sunny and perfect. He's pretty much a model, which Matt would probably chirp him more for if he wasn't hitting it. But as for actually understanding what happened when Gabe and Beatrice went shopping this summer, Matt's at sea. He doesn't know if it's cultural differences, or the fact that Jess never tells him anything about women's clothes or what, but he's lost.
"You should tell this to Jess, not me," he says ruefully as one particularly bizarre string of names goes by. "She'd actually know what the hell that meant."
Gabe hooks his ankle around Matt's calf, and tangles their legs together. "You should bring her out to Sweden next summer then," he says, looking excited. "Bea'd love to take someone shopping who's really into this stuff."
Matt makes a face. "God, if this is what you consider not being into it..."
Gabe pulls him close and laughs into his hair. "You know what I mean."
Matt doesn't, not really, though he hums agreement as he settles into Gabe's embrace. His boyfriend wants to take both their sisters shopping, and, well, he doesn't have to decode that.
Paul Martin/James Neal not!fic
Post these wings are nothing like a gift, James would definitely troll Paul with a bird. He comes home one day with a giant parcel under one arm, and a smile that Paul doesn't trust even a little bit.
"It's a present?" he says, barely concealing his laughter.
Paul opens the weirdly rustly box, and there's a cage with a reddish bird in it that eyeing the both of them with barely disguised dislike. It's a bit like a parakeet? Paul knows jack shit about birds.
"Happy anniversary?" James says, super proud. Pauly stares at him and James more or less dies of laughter at his own cleverness ("and the bird's called Pauly! Like Polly! Getitgetitgetit? :DDD") He tries to pet the bird as well. It bites him, which endears it somewhat to Paul.
Not enough that he wants to keep it though, which James says is fair, it was a joke, and he'll pass it on to his sister or one of his cousins' kids or something. But he doesn't really get around to it because he's lazy and his sister is unsurprisingly resistant to driving down to Pittsburgh to rescue him from having to deal with his poorly thought out pranks.
It is a pretty good bird though. It cheeps happily at Paul, and chews on James hair, which is usually entertaining, especially because it's his own damn fault. Paul appreciates that kind of karma. He won't call it Pauly because that sounds way too fucking egotistical, so they end up referring to it as Problem (short for James' Problem, which is how Paul explained it to people for weeks), and after a while that's funny too.
Paul complains a lot that he's a dog person, not a bird person, until James does some research (or, so he says, Paul's fairly sure he just asked Geno) and says that dogs and birds can totally co-exist. (For future reference, and when they stop talking around the idea of getting a dog, which they both want, except they can't agree on breeds.) Paul keeps complaining, but it loses some of its sincerity.
Actually all the complaints keep losing their sincerity and eventually Paul finds himself trying to work out if he can fly Problem to Canada so they can take him up to James' cottage with them in the summer, at which point he realises that the bird is never, ever going away, and is huffy about it, at least until James distracts him with blowjobs.
