Title: Chicken Little
Pairing: Peter Forsburgh / Joe Sackic, Tommy Salo/
Jean Michale Lilles, Rob Blake / Adam Foote, Peter Worrell / David Asb..cher
(not all are slashy, in fact, only the first two).
Rating R M/M slash, mentions of drug use.
March 07/2004 (or, the day before the sky fell down)
* ** *** * ** ***
Every 'oh god' means something different. There is the
'oh yes' oh god. And the 'oh more', oh god, and, even the 'oh I can't talk' oh
god. They all rapidly become 'oh oh oh' as Joe finds he really can't talk and
Peter finds he enjoys creating this reaction.
He re-discovers this every time. Losing control,
letting go, being free. Joe's mouth is open in a wordless prayer, his eyes
closed.
The sweet smoke trickles from under the door. It's not
the same if you don't at last pretend to hide the weed. Tommy leans back
against the cool tiles and grins at the young defenseman.
"What was I talking about?" he asks lazily.
"Shit." Jean-Michael shoots back and
snickers.
"Ahh, but vitally, important, shit." Tommy
gets out after carefully planning his sentence and making sure he could say all
the words.
"You were telling me that it should always be
called brunch not breakfast."
"Yes." Tommy settle back into his topic and
smirks as the kid leans his head back against the cool tiles, it's is easier
that neither is actually playing attention to his words, just using them as
soothing background noise to drift off to places unknown.
"For god's sake, the woman can not read palms.
Look, babyÉ" Rob's voice drop down as his roommate makes no effort to hide
his laughter. Rob tries to glare but is grinning at Adam, and with careful use
of the mute button manages to share with Foote his wife's latest new age
fancies. All is going well until Brandi hears Adam's hysterics over the proper
placement of furniture.
There is un-ladylike shouting that Adam hears clearly
when Rob takes the phone away from his ear. The sound of her slamming down the
phone can be clearly heard.
"I wonder how she did that? Rob muses aloud.
"She was on a cordless."
"I wonder what is the proper place to leave the
couch when you are sleeping on it?" Adam asks and they both collapse in
laughter.
"I need a drink." Peter stares at the hand
that Abei has just produced.
"Two pair." The goalie smirks. "You
thinking of the country song?"
"Huh?"
Abei hums softly utterly out of tune "you go to
know when to fold them, know when to hold themÉ"
"Go to sleep."
"Come here you." Joe grins. "Don't tell
me to sleep, I have other things on my mind." And he leans down to lick at
Peter's lips, asking, as he always does for permission to enter.
"Toooo briiight." Tommy covers his eyes and
sighs happily as the lights go out. Jean Michael stumbles over to him and lies
against him in the dark.
"You're right, I'm not nervous about playing the
Canucks tomorrow any more."
"I think it is today now." Tommy says back
stoking his hair. "Glad to help." He goes on pressing a kiss to the
crown of the rookie's head.
"Nothing like fighting with the wife to make you
want toÉ
"É Go pick up girls?" Adam grins and jumping
off his bed grabs his leather jacket off the chair. "Why did you think I
never got changed? Come on. The night is young."
"Here's hoping the girls are." Rob laughs.
"Ok, legal but young."
"Highway robbery." Peter complains
good-naturedly. "What's on?"
"Hey winner gets the remote as well." Abei
tells him snatching the clicker out of his hand.
"Big game."
"Huge."
"Two important points."
"Give one hundred percent effort atÉ Damit!"
"You lose the clichŽ guessing competition."
Still sitting on the bed, but now under the sheets Joe waves his hands over his
head briefly in a victory dance. "Come on Naslund is a Swede, he had to
say 'for sure' eventually."
"You are such a dork." Peter grins and
kisses Joes shoulder. "Shut the fuck up May you cunt." He growls
against his captain's skin, directing his comments to the person on the TV
screen.
"It's just gamesmanship." Joe grins turning
off the sport news and runs his hand through Peter's hair. "Sleep."
"Yeah." Peter shrugs and rolls on his side
waiting for Joe to settle down and throw an arm over his waist. "But
Vancouver are still pricks."
Joe grins and kisses the back of Joe's neck goodnight.
"They think the same about us."
End.
