It was a dark and starry night..."Yasashii me wo shita dare ka ni, aitai."
title: "Ulysses"
involves: Tom Barrasso/Ron Francis
rating: Um. ...reader's choice?
time: 2008
disclaimer: Yes, the Carolina Hurricanes have a ludicrously sexy talented and humble hockey god posing as their assistant general manager, and yes, they hired some guy who has never in his life not taken anything seriously who's starting his first full season as the goaltending coach. But I have no idea what either of them do in their free time. All rights reserved to edit later, per usual.
A beach, a blanket, a fire, and a star-filled, moonless sky. The beam of a flashlight that I knew was Ronnie, venturing outside to find me. It's a place he found, of course; I don't think it was much more than seven years ago, when he was trying to convince me to join him in Raleigh - for the first time.
Hard persuasion.
"There's no moon tonight, so I guess you aren't going crazy out here. But I think there are too many stars if you're trying to listen for messages, or wish. Not going swimming?"
"It's incredibly late and dark and dangerous to do that."
"Which is why I was half-expecting to find you in the water."
"Well, if I drowned, you'd certainly have one hell of an peculiar time explaining my disappearance, wouldn't you? 'Now why were you and Mr. Barrasso at the coast this weekend, again, Mr. Francis?'"
"'Maybe because he was living up on the Cape in New England for four years and never invited me to Provincetown, Your Honor, not even in the winter. Is that grounds for murder?'"
"Very funny."
"Seriously, you gonna sleep out here tonight, Tommy?" It was only then I noticed he...had a sleeping bag in tow with him, in hand.
"Were you planning on that?"
"I just figured we may as well both be as comfy as possible, until whenever it is that you actually decide to return to the great indoors."
So he sat on the sleeping bag on top of the blanket, and I lay down again and returned to hoping I would either stop thinking at all, or that answers to any of my questions would eventually stumble through my head.
Ronnie clicked the flashlight off and the inky star-pierced darkness around us and the wine-dark sea in front of us were alone surrounding us, again, with the fire hiding in the lee of the dunes.
Finally I stood up, stretched, and walked a few feet. Stared out at the ocean wishing I had stones to cast. Spoke to Ronnie behind me.
"We have to make the playoffs this year."
"That would be high on the priorities list, I agree. But it's September; about a million unexpected things, or expected injuries, are going to hit us between now and April, and they can't all be foreseen or perfectly-planned for in advance. They're just going to have to be dealt with as they come. And I'm telling you right now..."
And I guess he'd gotten to his feet as well, because he was standing next to me and letting his arms encircle my waist. "Tommy...we're all alone out here. Worry about work at a less opportune time than this..." and kept his argument by shifting his mouth to the side of my neck. He still kisses like twenty-one. Maybe because he's done it so often since.
"I want you in my bed tonight," he informed me in his quiet, understated Ronnie Francis-kind of way with the cosmos happening to shine in his eyes, "and I don't care if that's indoors or here."
"I would take you down in the sand right now. How's that?"
"More like it." And he coaxed me down to that sleeping bag and continued to kiss me in that slow, proficient Ronnie Francis-kind of way, while the earth and all the lights overhead in the sky moved just for him.
I'll choose the dark far more often than he ever will - but when he joins me in it...let the sun explode. He can continue to blind me.
I will stay so. Happily.
involves: Tom Barrasso/Ron Francis
rating: Um. ...reader's choice?
time: 2008
disclaimer: Yes, the Carolina Hurricanes have a ludicrously sexy talented and humble hockey god posing as their assistant general manager, and yes, they hired some guy who has never in his life not taken anything seriously who's starting his first full season as the goaltending coach. But I have no idea what either of them do in their free time. All rights reserved to edit later, per usual.
A beach, a blanket, a fire, and a star-filled, moonless sky. The beam of a flashlight that I knew was Ronnie, venturing outside to find me. It's a place he found, of course; I don't think it was much more than seven years ago, when he was trying to convince me to join him in Raleigh - for the first time.
Hard persuasion.
"There's no moon tonight, so I guess you aren't going crazy out here. But I think there are too many stars if you're trying to listen for messages, or wish. Not going swimming?"
"It's incredibly late and dark and dangerous to do that."
"Which is why I was half-expecting to find you in the water."
"Well, if I drowned, you'd certainly have one hell of an peculiar time explaining my disappearance, wouldn't you? 'Now why were you and Mr. Barrasso at the coast this weekend, again, Mr. Francis?'"
"'Maybe because he was living up on the Cape in New England for four years and never invited me to Provincetown, Your Honor, not even in the winter. Is that grounds for murder?'"
"Very funny."
"Seriously, you gonna sleep out here tonight, Tommy?" It was only then I noticed he...had a sleeping bag in tow with him, in hand.
"Were you planning on that?"
"I just figured we may as well both be as comfy as possible, until whenever it is that you actually decide to return to the great indoors."
So he sat on the sleeping bag on top of the blanket, and I lay down again and returned to hoping I would either stop thinking at all, or that answers to any of my questions would eventually stumble through my head.
Ronnie clicked the flashlight off and the inky star-pierced darkness around us and the wine-dark sea in front of us were alone surrounding us, again, with the fire hiding in the lee of the dunes.
Finally I stood up, stretched, and walked a few feet. Stared out at the ocean wishing I had stones to cast. Spoke to Ronnie behind me.
"We have to make the playoffs this year."
"That would be high on the priorities list, I agree. But it's September; about a million unexpected things, or expected injuries, are going to hit us between now and April, and they can't all be foreseen or perfectly-planned for in advance. They're just going to have to be dealt with as they come. And I'm telling you right now..."
And I guess he'd gotten to his feet as well, because he was standing next to me and letting his arms encircle my waist. "Tommy...we're all alone out here. Worry about work at a less opportune time than this..." and kept his argument by shifting his mouth to the side of my neck. He still kisses like twenty-one. Maybe because he's done it so often since.
"I want you in my bed tonight," he informed me in his quiet, understated Ronnie Francis-kind of way with the cosmos happening to shine in his eyes, "and I don't care if that's indoors or here."
"I would take you down in the sand right now. How's that?"
"More like it." And he coaxed me down to that sleeping bag and continued to kiss me in that slow, proficient Ronnie Francis-kind of way, while the earth and all the lights overhead in the sky moved just for him.
I'll choose the dark far more often than he ever will - but when he joins me in it...let the sun explode. He can continue to blind me.
I will stay so. Happily.