Johnny Depp Wishes He Could Rock the Playoff Beard [Boyle/Prust, PG-13]
Title: Johnny Depp Wishes He Could Rock the Playoff Beard
Author: bluelinespecial
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Brian Boyle/Brandon Prust
Word Count: 1500
Notes: Thanks for the warm welcome into the fandom on my last fic! Here, have some silliness, on a prompt from pruster: "How would you feel about Brian or Brandon reflecting on the playoff beard of the other?"
"Dude, if I could tweet right now there would be such a debate about what that thing makes you look like." Brandon pointed into the mirror, indicating Brian's face, specifically the recent growth of hair that Brian was sporting.
"You mean there would be an option other than 'bad ass'?" Brian asked, ducking his head down to splash water over his soaped-up skin.
"Definitely. In fact, 'bad ass' wouldn't even be on the list, because this-" he pointed to his own scruffy chin and cheeks "-is what 'bad ass' looks like. You look like a, a gay pirate."
At that, Brian stood up to his full height, glaring down at Brandon. Did he think that was intimidating? Brandon stared right back, smiling brightly.
"First off? Fuck you, not gay. Second!" he added quickly, putting his hand over Brandon's mouth as Brandon attempted to argue the point, "I do not look like a pirate. Pirates are done and over." He looked back at himself in the mirror and smirked. "Musketeers, that's where it's at."
Brandon smacked Brian's hand away. "A musketeer? Shouldn't you have some round ears on your head for that?"
"No, you tool. Musketeer, not Mouseketeer." He rubbed at the bit on the bottom, screwing up his face a bit. "Could be worse. Could be poor Hags."
"Aw, but his smooth, baby face is so sweeeeet," Brandon said. "It's not his fault he's not a good, beardy Swede like Henke." He leaned forward towards the mirror, pulling at his own overgrown facial hair. "Arr, yes, this is a fine, Canadian beard."
"You look like a fucking lumberjack who's too scared to use his axe to shave." Brian turned slightly. "And did you just say arr? Like a pirate?"
"More like a Viking," Brandon muttered. "It is getting to unexpected bush levels, though," he admitted, tugging more at some more errant tufts.
Brian snorted, reaching for his deodorant and rolling it on. "You think when you shave your head'll look bigger?"
Brandon pushed back off the counter, stepping towards the door and delivering a smack to Brian's still-naked ass as he passed. "I suppose you never had to try that, Mr. Proportionally Giant Boyler?"
"Sometimes I wondered if I should, so my girlfriends knew what they were getting into." Brian tilted his head up and to the side slightly-he called it "The Dorian"-and muttered. "Or getting onto?" Another slight head turn, probably trying to catch Brandon's reaction, but Brandon was prepared with an unimpressed look upon his bush-bearded face.
"You still look like a gay pirate." He grinned again as Brian rolled his eyes, pleased as always when he could get under Brian's skin. Hurrying to avoid a smack to the back of his head, he headed for the small wardrobe to find his shirt and pants. "Actually, no. You know, you do remind me of someone. Fuck." Who was it? He had the face in mind, but couldn't put a name to it.
He'd belted his pants and was adjusting his shirt collar when Brian finally lumbered out of the bathroom. "If you say I look like Johnny Depp, I'm gonna hurt you."
Brandon stared at Brian for a moment, just staring at his best friend, teammate, on-again-off-again linemate, and somewhat nebulously-labeled sharer of sexual delights (and increasing Feelings, which Brandon was trying to ignore while he still had the playoff beard in full bloom). And then, not sudden and sharp, but with the slow crescendo of a symphony orchestra, Brandon began to laugh.
"Hey!" Brian said, an ineffectual protest at best, as Brandon actually grabbed his stomach and doubled over, glad he already took a piss this morning. Brian seemed to take more offense. "Hey, fuck off, what the fuck is so funny?"
Brandon looked up, legitimate tears pooling in his blue eyes. "Johnny. Depp. You think I was thinking you look like Johnny fucking Depp?!" Another wave of hilarity rolled through him.
"You keep calling me a fucking gay pirate, you little shit! Where else should I go with that?"
"Boyler!" His laughing was starting to calm slightly, but the giggles still made talking difficult. "A, a gay pirate is one thing, but. But. Jack fucking Sparrow is a whooooole other thing."
Brian stepped closer now, his eyes narrowing and making Brandon's eyes widen. "Not gay," he growled lowly, pulling Brandon into his arms and kissing him firmly, a tactic for shutting him up that Brandon really should've seen coming by now. Ah, who was he kidding? Of course he saw it coming, half the time that's why he pushed so hard, to make it happen.
It worked well, stilling the laughter that caught in Brandon's chest as his breath changed to kiss back. Brian's arms were tight around his shoulders, pulling him close against Brian's still-naked body, and Brandon lifted his arms to curl up around Brian's neck, rising on his toes to press himself closer still.
Brian pulled back after a few moments. "Okay, I think I felt something moving in that fucking beard of yours," he muttered. Brandon growled, biting at Brian's lips in retaliation. "Ow, careful, you idiot. No biting before the game."
"You and your rules." Brandon returned to stand firmly on the ground, dropping his arms and stepping around Brian. He sat on the edge of the bed closer to the door, running a hand through his hair. Where was his cap? It might be May, but he felt naked without it.
Brian stepped into a pair of boxers at last. "Yeah, my rules."
Brandon sighed. "Didn't think pirates really had rules."
"Gay ones do," Brian said, his voice tinted with annoyance, and Brandon immediately felt bad about pushing on that button in particular.
"Bisexual pirates can, too," he said, acknowledging the fact that the season was almost over, for better or for worse, and that meant Brian would be tying his pirate ship up for the summer and returning to land to enjoy the gentler sex for a few months. That wasn't one of the official rules, but it was the hardest unspoken rule to accept, Brandon was finding.
There was quiet as Brian rooted around for a tie, found it, tied it on. Brandon watched Brian's reflection in the mirror, looking away when their eyes caught for a moment. Brian sighed and turned around.
"Why can't I just be a pirate?" he asked, grabbing his jacket and shrugging into it. "Why does it need a qualifier?"
Brandon didn't have an answer for that, at least not one that he could manage to articulate hours before an early game, minutes before they had to meet their teammates downstairs. There was never time for the kind of answer he wanted to give.
He looked down at his hands, picking at some dry skin by his thumbnail, and he didn't realize Brian was leaning over until he felt the kiss in his hair, and before he could look up his knit cap was tugged down over his ears. Brandon smiled, glad for now that an answer wasn't really needed.
Standing up, Brandon picked up his own suit jacket and pulled it on. "Thought you were a Musketeer, anyway."
Brian chuckled softly, reaching over to straighten Brandon's tie. "Pirates are okay, I guess. As long as I can swordfight," he added, winking at Brandon, who laughed, and then suddenly it came to him.
"You killed my father!" he said, eyes lighting up with the rest of his face. "What's his fucking name-from that movie!"
Brian stared at him. "What?"
"With baby Fred Savage and, um, that other guy! And the giant guy, you probably're best buds with him?" Brandon punched Brian's arm lightly. "Inconceivable!"
Brian just shook his head. "Come on, idiot. If we're late again Torts will have our necks and DZ's gonna start flirting with the ladies at the desk to get a key to our room to try and catch us."
Still unable to pull the character's name from the depths of his mind, Brandon sighed and started to head for the door, picking up his bag on the way. Brian killed the lights as they left, and they made their way to the elevator in comfortable silence. They stood next to each other, arms just barely touching, waiting for the car to arrive on their floor. When the doors slid open smoothly to reveal an empty car, Brian gestured with his hand.
"After you," he murmured, then added, "Buttercup."
"Asshole!" Brandon said, shoving Brian into the elevator, and then, at last, the name came to him. He smirked triumphantly. "For that I'm telling everyone to call you Brinigo Montoyle the rest of the season!"
"As you wish," Brian replied softly, and Brandon had no chance of stopping the bright grin that took over his face.
Maybe he'd keep "Brinigo" to himself, at least for today.
Author: bluelinespecial
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Brian Boyle/Brandon Prust
Word Count: 1500
Notes: Thanks for the warm welcome into the fandom on my last fic! Here, have some silliness, on a prompt from pruster: "How would you feel about Brian or Brandon reflecting on the playoff beard of the other?"
"Dude, if I could tweet right now there would be such a debate about what that thing makes you look like." Brandon pointed into the mirror, indicating Brian's face, specifically the recent growth of hair that Brian was sporting.
"You mean there would be an option other than 'bad ass'?" Brian asked, ducking his head down to splash water over his soaped-up skin.
"Definitely. In fact, 'bad ass' wouldn't even be on the list, because this-" he pointed to his own scruffy chin and cheeks "-is what 'bad ass' looks like. You look like a, a gay pirate."
At that, Brian stood up to his full height, glaring down at Brandon. Did he think that was intimidating? Brandon stared right back, smiling brightly.
"First off? Fuck you, not gay. Second!" he added quickly, putting his hand over Brandon's mouth as Brandon attempted to argue the point, "I do not look like a pirate. Pirates are done and over." He looked back at himself in the mirror and smirked. "Musketeers, that's where it's at."
Brandon smacked Brian's hand away. "A musketeer? Shouldn't you have some round ears on your head for that?"
"No, you tool. Musketeer, not Mouseketeer." He rubbed at the bit on the bottom, screwing up his face a bit. "Could be worse. Could be poor Hags."
"Aw, but his smooth, baby face is so sweeeeet," Brandon said. "It's not his fault he's not a good, beardy Swede like Henke." He leaned forward towards the mirror, pulling at his own overgrown facial hair. "Arr, yes, this is a fine, Canadian beard."
"You look like a fucking lumberjack who's too scared to use his axe to shave." Brian turned slightly. "And did you just say arr? Like a pirate?"
"More like a Viking," Brandon muttered. "It is getting to unexpected bush levels, though," he admitted, tugging more at some more errant tufts.
Brian snorted, reaching for his deodorant and rolling it on. "You think when you shave your head'll look bigger?"
Brandon pushed back off the counter, stepping towards the door and delivering a smack to Brian's still-naked ass as he passed. "I suppose you never had to try that, Mr. Proportionally Giant Boyler?"
"Sometimes I wondered if I should, so my girlfriends knew what they were getting into." Brian tilted his head up and to the side slightly-he called it "The Dorian"-and muttered. "Or getting onto?" Another slight head turn, probably trying to catch Brandon's reaction, but Brandon was prepared with an unimpressed look upon his bush-bearded face.
"You still look like a gay pirate." He grinned again as Brian rolled his eyes, pleased as always when he could get under Brian's skin. Hurrying to avoid a smack to the back of his head, he headed for the small wardrobe to find his shirt and pants. "Actually, no. You know, you do remind me of someone. Fuck." Who was it? He had the face in mind, but couldn't put a name to it.
He'd belted his pants and was adjusting his shirt collar when Brian finally lumbered out of the bathroom. "If you say I look like Johnny Depp, I'm gonna hurt you."
Brandon stared at Brian for a moment, just staring at his best friend, teammate, on-again-off-again linemate, and somewhat nebulously-labeled sharer of sexual delights (and increasing Feelings, which Brandon was trying to ignore while he still had the playoff beard in full bloom). And then, not sudden and sharp, but with the slow crescendo of a symphony orchestra, Brandon began to laugh.
"Hey!" Brian said, an ineffectual protest at best, as Brandon actually grabbed his stomach and doubled over, glad he already took a piss this morning. Brian seemed to take more offense. "Hey, fuck off, what the fuck is so funny?"
Brandon looked up, legitimate tears pooling in his blue eyes. "Johnny. Depp. You think I was thinking you look like Johnny fucking Depp?!" Another wave of hilarity rolled through him.
"You keep calling me a fucking gay pirate, you little shit! Where else should I go with that?"
"Boyler!" His laughing was starting to calm slightly, but the giggles still made talking difficult. "A, a gay pirate is one thing, but. But. Jack fucking Sparrow is a whooooole other thing."
Brian stepped closer now, his eyes narrowing and making Brandon's eyes widen. "Not gay," he growled lowly, pulling Brandon into his arms and kissing him firmly, a tactic for shutting him up that Brandon really should've seen coming by now. Ah, who was he kidding? Of course he saw it coming, half the time that's why he pushed so hard, to make it happen.
It worked well, stilling the laughter that caught in Brandon's chest as his breath changed to kiss back. Brian's arms were tight around his shoulders, pulling him close against Brian's still-naked body, and Brandon lifted his arms to curl up around Brian's neck, rising on his toes to press himself closer still.
Brian pulled back after a few moments. "Okay, I think I felt something moving in that fucking beard of yours," he muttered. Brandon growled, biting at Brian's lips in retaliation. "Ow, careful, you idiot. No biting before the game."
"You and your rules." Brandon returned to stand firmly on the ground, dropping his arms and stepping around Brian. He sat on the edge of the bed closer to the door, running a hand through his hair. Where was his cap? It might be May, but he felt naked without it.
Brian stepped into a pair of boxers at last. "Yeah, my rules."
Brandon sighed. "Didn't think pirates really had rules."
"Gay ones do," Brian said, his voice tinted with annoyance, and Brandon immediately felt bad about pushing on that button in particular.
"Bisexual pirates can, too," he said, acknowledging the fact that the season was almost over, for better or for worse, and that meant Brian would be tying his pirate ship up for the summer and returning to land to enjoy the gentler sex for a few months. That wasn't one of the official rules, but it was the hardest unspoken rule to accept, Brandon was finding.
There was quiet as Brian rooted around for a tie, found it, tied it on. Brandon watched Brian's reflection in the mirror, looking away when their eyes caught for a moment. Brian sighed and turned around.
"Why can't I just be a pirate?" he asked, grabbing his jacket and shrugging into it. "Why does it need a qualifier?"
Brandon didn't have an answer for that, at least not one that he could manage to articulate hours before an early game, minutes before they had to meet their teammates downstairs. There was never time for the kind of answer he wanted to give.
He looked down at his hands, picking at some dry skin by his thumbnail, and he didn't realize Brian was leaning over until he felt the kiss in his hair, and before he could look up his knit cap was tugged down over his ears. Brandon smiled, glad for now that an answer wasn't really needed.
Standing up, Brandon picked up his own suit jacket and pulled it on. "Thought you were a Musketeer, anyway."
Brian chuckled softly, reaching over to straighten Brandon's tie. "Pirates are okay, I guess. As long as I can swordfight," he added, winking at Brandon, who laughed, and then suddenly it came to him.
"You killed my father!" he said, eyes lighting up with the rest of his face. "What's his fucking name-from that movie!"
Brian stared at him. "What?"
"With baby Fred Savage and, um, that other guy! And the giant guy, you probably're best buds with him?" Brandon punched Brian's arm lightly. "Inconceivable!"
Brian just shook his head. "Come on, idiot. If we're late again Torts will have our necks and DZ's gonna start flirting with the ladies at the desk to get a key to our room to try and catch us."
Still unable to pull the character's name from the depths of his mind, Brandon sighed and started to head for the door, picking up his bag on the way. Brian killed the lights as they left, and they made their way to the elevator in comfortable silence. They stood next to each other, arms just barely touching, waiting for the car to arrive on their floor. When the doors slid open smoothly to reveal an empty car, Brian gestured with his hand.
"After you," he murmured, then added, "Buttercup."
"Asshole!" Brandon said, shoving Brian into the elevator, and then, at last, the name came to him. He smirked triumphantly. "For that I'm telling everyone to call you Brinigo Montoyle the rest of the season!"
"As you wish," Brian replied softly, and Brandon had no chance of stopping the bright grin that took over his face.
Maybe he'd keep "Brinigo" to himself, at least for today.