(no subject)
Title: Dress-up
Pairing: Dion Phaneuf/Ryan Getzlaf
Rating: PG, language.
Summary: Look out, 007. Dion Phaneuf's in town. Well, Ryan Getzlaf is, actually.
A/N: For bcs_hms ... 'cause before us, it was just "Oh, those two pricks."
Dion swerved his dark hoodie around his shoulders, quickly getting his arms in. Quickly, but quietly. That might as well be his motto for the night.
It was time for action.
The stakes were high, and the streets unsafe. Sure, it was only Calgary, and by now, he knew practically every alley, every corner and every shortcut in the city by heart. It was a quarter past eleven though, and the night challenged his certainty.
Slipping out from behind the door, he turned back and stole a longing glance at the locked up garage. He knew he could easily get back inside, grab the car keys and be out of there in a flash but-
He shook his head, and hurried away. It would be too much of a risk. They have seen his car; he’s pretty sure they know of his licence plate; if anyone caught him, his night would be done. Besides, it’s only a few blocks. And he’s got long legs.
Getting to the building proved to be easier than Dion planned. With his hoodie over his head, there was enough of a shadow casted across nearly half his face. No one even stopped to look at him, let alone ask any questions.
Good, he thought. Now that I’ve got that part down, it’s getting to the actual room that’s going to be the struggle now.
As if on cue, a bellboy passed by, tugging along with him a luggarge cart, nearly stacked to the top. Dion wasted no time in moving to the side of the moving transporter, keeping his head ducked, but his eyes alert, until he found the perfect moment to slip inside the open elevator doors.
Finally, a grin spread across his lips. Feeling triumphant and relieved in the same breath, he pushed the button to the according floor.
His luck changed though, when the doors rumbled open on his floor, and he looked up to find an all-too-familiar face staring back at him.
“Dion Phaneuf?”
Quickly, he could do. But quietly?
“Hey, Pronger. What’re you doing here?”
“This is where we’re st--”
“Really? Great, see you next time, hey?”
Dion would have been a fool to hang around for the response, even if it was the Chris Pronger. God, he sounded like a jerk to Chris Pronger. He is so suspicious. Don’t turn around, keep walking, just keep walking, he doesn’t even want to know…
What seemed like miles and miles of walking down a short hallway came to an end when he got to room 307.
With a light tapping of the door, he heard footsteps from behind it, and muffled mumbles, before the door swung open.
And there stood Ryan, and it was so like Ryan to answer the door -without even seeing who it is- in nothing but his pajama bottoms.
“Ryan!”
Dion got a lopsided grin in response.
“You didn’t ask for the password.”
Ryan scrunched up his face, eyebrows twisted and nose wrinkled, he glared at Dion in confusion, then relaxed again, half rolling his eyes.
“Oh. I forgot.”
“Again.”
“Dee. No one cares that you’re sneaking in the hotel of the visiting team.”
“I know.” Dion sighed, and let himself in the room, carelessly slipping past Ryan, cursing at him under his breath for being a party pooper.
It was all just dumb games for Ryan, it always was. He just wanted the fucking and nothing else. It was like that the last time, and the time before that, probably and-
“Hey,”
Dion looked up. Ryan had a black suede cowboy hat perched upon his head. The pajama pants were out of sight.
“Hey yourself, prick.”
Ryan scoffed at that, and pushed Dion backwards onto his bed.
“Your costume fucking sucks.”
Pairing: Dion Phaneuf/Ryan Getzlaf
Rating: PG, language.
Summary: Look out, 007. Dion Phaneuf's in town. Well, Ryan Getzlaf is, actually.
A/N: For bcs_hms ... 'cause before us, it was just "Oh, those two pricks."
Dion swerved his dark hoodie around his shoulders, quickly getting his arms in. Quickly, but quietly. That might as well be his motto for the night.
It was time for action.
The stakes were high, and the streets unsafe. Sure, it was only Calgary, and by now, he knew practically every alley, every corner and every shortcut in the city by heart. It was a quarter past eleven though, and the night challenged his certainty.
Slipping out from behind the door, he turned back and stole a longing glance at the locked up garage. He knew he could easily get back inside, grab the car keys and be out of there in a flash but-
He shook his head, and hurried away. It would be too much of a risk. They have seen his car; he’s pretty sure they know of his licence plate; if anyone caught him, his night would be done. Besides, it’s only a few blocks. And he’s got long legs.
Getting to the building proved to be easier than Dion planned. With his hoodie over his head, there was enough of a shadow casted across nearly half his face. No one even stopped to look at him, let alone ask any questions.
Good, he thought. Now that I’ve got that part down, it’s getting to the actual room that’s going to be the struggle now.
As if on cue, a bellboy passed by, tugging along with him a luggarge cart, nearly stacked to the top. Dion wasted no time in moving to the side of the moving transporter, keeping his head ducked, but his eyes alert, until he found the perfect moment to slip inside the open elevator doors.
Finally, a grin spread across his lips. Feeling triumphant and relieved in the same breath, he pushed the button to the according floor.
His luck changed though, when the doors rumbled open on his floor, and he looked up to find an all-too-familiar face staring back at him.
“Dion Phaneuf?”
Quickly, he could do. But quietly?
“Hey, Pronger. What’re you doing here?”
“This is where we’re st--”
“Really? Great, see you next time, hey?”
Dion would have been a fool to hang around for the response, even if it was the Chris Pronger. God, he sounded like a jerk to Chris Pronger. He is so suspicious. Don’t turn around, keep walking, just keep walking, he doesn’t even want to know…
What seemed like miles and miles of walking down a short hallway came to an end when he got to room 307.
With a light tapping of the door, he heard footsteps from behind it, and muffled mumbles, before the door swung open.
And there stood Ryan, and it was so like Ryan to answer the door -without even seeing who it is- in nothing but his pajama bottoms.
“Ryan!”
Dion got a lopsided grin in response.
“You didn’t ask for the password.”
Ryan scrunched up his face, eyebrows twisted and nose wrinkled, he glared at Dion in confusion, then relaxed again, half rolling his eyes.
“Oh. I forgot.”
“Again.”
“Dee. No one cares that you’re sneaking in the hotel of the visiting team.”
“I know.” Dion sighed, and let himself in the room, carelessly slipping past Ryan, cursing at him under his breath for being a party pooper.
It was all just dumb games for Ryan, it always was. He just wanted the fucking and nothing else. It was like that the last time, and the time before that, probably and-
“Hey,”
Dion looked up. Ryan had a black suede cowboy hat perched upon his head. The pajama pants were out of sight.
“Hey yourself, prick.”
Ryan scoffed at that, and pushed Dion backwards onto his bed.
“Your costume fucking sucks.”