[Footieslash] Loses
Read trishkiss_x Gaggsy fic earlier today, and pics of our boys after the defeat and somehow, somehow I managed to write this one in one go. Miracles do happen sometimes ;).
Another entry for footballslash11 challenge, and I sucks in making title, this.. this lame one ^^;.
Title : Losses
Author : hiro_chan
Pairing : Unspecified, though I think of Ole/Scholesy when writing it.
Rating : PG
Challenge : footballslash11 prompt challenge ( my table here :))
Prompt : 12. Loses
Disclaimer : All lies, for entertainment only :).
It’s quiet in your room in this big manor. The night has descended and you’ve left the dining room early, couldn’t bear to linger around and deal with all the gloom faces, the forced smile and the empty laughter.
You curl against him in the plush sofa in the room, your head tucked under his chin, your face buried in the slender curve of his neck. His hand rests gently on your nape, and yours around his slim waist, and it’s all quiet here, only the soft humming of the air conditioning and his gentle breath that fans across your ear.
And you like it this way. This silent, wordless moment where conversations are made in the form of subtle body language, like the brush of his hand against your hair, the gentle sighs, the way his head rests against yours, and the soft kisses.
There is no word necessary, because in moments like this, words are overrated anyway. A meaningless string of letters that makes as little sense as the defeat today.
His fingers massage your nape lightly, as if telling you that it is okay, that you shouldn’t take it too hard, but it’s not okay, not okay at all, and this defeat feels like ashes on your tongue and to see the other team celebrating is a fucking stab in the gut, and you press your face deeper against his neck.
He shifts on his seat, and you mistakenly think he’s going to go and you grip his shirt tighter. “A few more moments,” you plead against his skin.
He shifts a little again, and settles back into the sofa. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs gently. “You can take as long as you need.”
And you are definitely going to take long, because here is your safe haven, because he always, always smells nice and comforting, like something warm, like home. You like to stay here in his arm, breathing in his scent and drawing in his strength, because no matter what people say, you’re not as strong as they think you to be. You need something to lean on, especially in times like this, times when, despite anything, you question yourself and your worth.
And he readily provides that to you. He will know when you need him, and he’ll open his arms to you, as if saying, “lean on me, it’s alright.” And you will fall into them, into the bubble of warmth that he provides without fail, into his reassuring presence and his magnificent soul and such a big, deep love that makes you humbled.
“I’ll play better next season,” you murmurs and his hand stop momentarily at that before resuming brushing your hair.
“And I’ll play better than you," he says. "And you won’t have to carry me anymore, because we’ll achieve things together.”
Somehow, without looking, you just know that he’s smiling, and your own lips curves upwards against his neck.
His scent fills your nose and his hand keeps its rhythmic brushing of your hair, lulling you into sleep (and you just realize how tired you are), and you close your eyes and you go limp against his body as you feel your strength draining off of you.
He shifts slightly but doesn’t let go of you, making himself comfortable before resting his head on top of yours and he whispers.
“Sweet dream.”
And the lamp is turned off and the night wears on and the silence still reigns and the two runner up medals lay forgotten on the buffet.
~end~
So how was that? Mellow enouh for you ;)? Too short?
Another entry for footballslash11 challenge, and I sucks in making title, this.. this lame one ^^;.
Title : Losses
Author : hiro_chan
Pairing : Unspecified, though I think of Ole/Scholesy when writing it.
Rating : PG
Challenge : footballslash11 prompt challenge ( my table here :))
Prompt : 12. Loses
Disclaimer : All lies, for entertainment only :).
It’s quiet in your room in this big manor. The night has descended and you’ve left the dining room early, couldn’t bear to linger around and deal with all the gloom faces, the forced smile and the empty laughter.
You curl against him in the plush sofa in the room, your head tucked under his chin, your face buried in the slender curve of his neck. His hand rests gently on your nape, and yours around his slim waist, and it’s all quiet here, only the soft humming of the air conditioning and his gentle breath that fans across your ear.
And you like it this way. This silent, wordless moment where conversations are made in the form of subtle body language, like the brush of his hand against your hair, the gentle sighs, the way his head rests against yours, and the soft kisses.
There is no word necessary, because in moments like this, words are overrated anyway. A meaningless string of letters that makes as little sense as the defeat today.
His fingers massage your nape lightly, as if telling you that it is okay, that you shouldn’t take it too hard, but it’s not okay, not okay at all, and this defeat feels like ashes on your tongue and to see the other team celebrating is a fucking stab in the gut, and you press your face deeper against his neck.
He shifts on his seat, and you mistakenly think he’s going to go and you grip his shirt tighter. “A few more moments,” you plead against his skin.
He shifts a little again, and settles back into the sofa. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs gently. “You can take as long as you need.”
And you are definitely going to take long, because here is your safe haven, because he always, always smells nice and comforting, like something warm, like home. You like to stay here in his arm, breathing in his scent and drawing in his strength, because no matter what people say, you’re not as strong as they think you to be. You need something to lean on, especially in times like this, times when, despite anything, you question yourself and your worth.
And he readily provides that to you. He will know when you need him, and he’ll open his arms to you, as if saying, “lean on me, it’s alright.” And you will fall into them, into the bubble of warmth that he provides without fail, into his reassuring presence and his magnificent soul and such a big, deep love that makes you humbled.
“I’ll play better next season,” you murmurs and his hand stop momentarily at that before resuming brushing your hair.
“And I’ll play better than you," he says. "And you won’t have to carry me anymore, because we’ll achieve things together.”
Somehow, without looking, you just know that he’s smiling, and your own lips curves upwards against his neck.
His scent fills your nose and his hand keeps its rhythmic brushing of your hair, lulling you into sleep (and you just realize how tired you are), and you close your eyes and you go limp against his body as you feel your strength draining off of you.
He shifts slightly but doesn’t let go of you, making himself comfortable before resting his head on top of yours and he whispers.
“Sweet dream.”
And the lamp is turned off and the night wears on and the silence still reigns and the two runner up medals lay forgotten on the buffet.
~end~
So how was that? Mellow enouh for you ;)? Too short?