[FIC] Tender Little Blade (WNBA RPS)
Title: Tender Little Blade
Rating: G. PG if you're really picky about one mild cuss word and some incidental contact.
Disclaimer: People real, slash fake. Tournament real, story fake. Dash quotage and name-change notes cribbed from Rebecca Lobo's journal. No babies or former basketball players were consulted in the making of this fic.
A/N: 43 minutes. This takes place on the second day of the Big East Tournament.
Summary: It's a short, sharp cut to the quick.
Most of the team had gone back to the hotel after we beat the shorts off St. John's, but I had other plans. They were using the third halftime to honor the '94-'95 Huskies, Becca's team. If anyone thought I wasn't going to go to that, they had another thought coming. For a chance to see her again, I'd walk through fire. Things had been so hectic, so busy, so chaotic and crazy, that all I had time for was poring over tape and giving sound advice to young players. I couldn't even coach them, because the NCAA would come down on us like a ton of bricks. I didn't even know what Becca had been up to- okay, what she did for Christmas was kind of obvious- because I hadn't had time to make a call. Looking back, that was kind of stupid, but come on, I have to have blonde moments every so often, otherwise people start accusing me of using dye.
They saved her for last, of course, because the star always comes at the end- wouldn't want their applause acidentally leaking over to some poor shlub who hasn't done much of anything with her life. I knew they were going to do that. So I waited through all the years of bad hair and all the modern outfits that really needed help, although I couldn't laugh at the hair- my pictures at the RAC are of '80s hair, enough said, let's move on. I looked at her picture on the big screen, at her nervous smile and long hair, and then heard her announced as Lobo-Rushin, and I think my world fell apart at that point.
A hyphen's a short little piece of punctuation. It is to grammar what Debbie Black is to basketball- short, sharp, abrupt, and kind of annoying. It shouldn't have had such power to hurt me, but it did. It cut me like a knife. She'd taken his name after all, after she promised me she wouldn't. It was a fine line to walk, because she'd always said that after she retired she would take his name, but she would keep her maiden name for professional purposes. And no, Taj McWilliams-Franklin getting the only dash allocated to the Sun was not the real reason for that. If the teams only got one dash each, Charlotte would have been in a lot of trouble. But I digress. Hello, avoidance, my old friend. Anyway, my girl, my beautiful morena, was still working in the game, so as far as I knew she was still using her maiden name; at least that was how I had last heard her announced on ESPN. Of course, it had been a while since I heard her do a game, so maybe she'd decided to cave and change her name. I didn't know what happened, but I needed to find out.
I cornered her after UConn's perfunctory thumping of Syracuse. She had Siobhan in her arms, and the sight melted me. I knew I was going to love that girl before I ever laid eyes on her. How could I not? She was my lover's daughter, a little carbon copy of all I ever needed in this life. They don't come much cuter than Becca, except when they come in miniature like Siobhan did. I thought the blue blankets were a nice touch, too- keep her in touch with her Connecticut roots, and make sure that she doesn't get all gender-specific. Nice.
But both she and her mother were looking at me with serious dark eyes, and I realized that I had to look pretty intimidating. I still had my hair in its bun from the game, and I was wearing one of my sharper suits. Add in the whole 'uh, why is she using HIS name?' thing, and I must have been a mess. "It wasn't my idea," she said quietly so that no one else could hear. "I almost went through the roof when they did that. Rizzo was furious too, because she hasn't hyphenated either but they did that to her, and I think she would have hauled off and slugged someone if she weren't eight months along. I knew you'd think I broke my promise to you, but I didn't! I wouldn't! You know that!"
Well, that was reassuring. "Well, that's reassuring. I should have known you wouldn't lie to me."
"I'm not stupid enough to mess with you. You're wearing flats."
"But I always wear flats."
"That's why I never mess with you, rubita."
Siobhan made some sort of strange noise that I think only someone under a year old can make, drawing our attention. She really was a pretty little girl, and I wished with all my heart that she was somehow my little girl, my daughter with the woman I love more than I have ever loved anyone in my life. I know biology. I know that it's impossible for two females to produce offspring together unless they're mice and there's a petri dish involved. But that doesn't stop me from wishing and dreaming.
The problem with Siobhan was, and always will be, her parentage on the other side of the family. Whether any of us wants to admit it, she's a link between Steve and Becca. She ties them together, gives them something more in common. I can't do that. And it scares me that if someday, for whatever reason, Becca has to choose me or him, she's going to choose him because of Siobhan. It's a new dynamic, something else to worry about, as if revealing my relationship with one of the most famous and "wholesome"- whatever the hell that means- women in basketball wasn't enough of a threat. I don't need any more complications in my life, damn it!
"...key?"
While I was musing on the kid, I had missed Becca saying something. "Wha? Sorry. I got distracted by the other cute girl in the room."
"I *said*, do you have a spare key? I can get Rizzo to take care of Siobhan for one night- she's been dying to. I haven't seen you in so long..."
"Mmm... I like the sound of that. Come up around midnight. You can revive me after I watch yet one more round of Villanova tape. I swear, someday they're going to win a game 4-2, and only THEN will the NCAA institute a ten-second rule."
She dusted off my shoulder in a gesture we'd practiced often enough on the road; it looked like she was just getting some dust off my jacket, but her fingers brushed the sensitive skin at the back of my neck and just above my collarbone. "I'll see you then," she whispered before looking around and suddenly departing..
Well, it was nice to know that some things weren't going to change with the new addition to our extended and extremely strange family. Or at least, some things weren't planning on being changed. But there were still unresolved issues lurking about. I was just too grateful to finally have her back to go into them.
Rating: G. PG if you're really picky about one mild cuss word and some incidental contact.
Disclaimer: People real, slash fake. Tournament real, story fake. Dash quotage and name-change notes cribbed from Rebecca Lobo's journal. No babies or former basketball players were consulted in the making of this fic.
A/N: 43 minutes. This takes place on the second day of the Big East Tournament.
Summary: It's a short, sharp cut to the quick.
Most of the team had gone back to the hotel after we beat the shorts off St. John's, but I had other plans. They were using the third halftime to honor the '94-'95 Huskies, Becca's team. If anyone thought I wasn't going to go to that, they had another thought coming. For a chance to see her again, I'd walk through fire. Things had been so hectic, so busy, so chaotic and crazy, that all I had time for was poring over tape and giving sound advice to young players. I couldn't even coach them, because the NCAA would come down on us like a ton of bricks. I didn't even know what Becca had been up to- okay, what she did for Christmas was kind of obvious- because I hadn't had time to make a call. Looking back, that was kind of stupid, but come on, I have to have blonde moments every so often, otherwise people start accusing me of using dye.
They saved her for last, of course, because the star always comes at the end- wouldn't want their applause acidentally leaking over to some poor shlub who hasn't done much of anything with her life. I knew they were going to do that. So I waited through all the years of bad hair and all the modern outfits that really needed help, although I couldn't laugh at the hair- my pictures at the RAC are of '80s hair, enough said, let's move on. I looked at her picture on the big screen, at her nervous smile and long hair, and then heard her announced as Lobo-Rushin, and I think my world fell apart at that point.
A hyphen's a short little piece of punctuation. It is to grammar what Debbie Black is to basketball- short, sharp, abrupt, and kind of annoying. It shouldn't have had such power to hurt me, but it did. It cut me like a knife. She'd taken his name after all, after she promised me she wouldn't. It was a fine line to walk, because she'd always said that after she retired she would take his name, but she would keep her maiden name for professional purposes. And no, Taj McWilliams-Franklin getting the only dash allocated to the Sun was not the real reason for that. If the teams only got one dash each, Charlotte would have been in a lot of trouble. But I digress. Hello, avoidance, my old friend. Anyway, my girl, my beautiful morena, was still working in the game, so as far as I knew she was still using her maiden name; at least that was how I had last heard her announced on ESPN. Of course, it had been a while since I heard her do a game, so maybe she'd decided to cave and change her name. I didn't know what happened, but I needed to find out.
I cornered her after UConn's perfunctory thumping of Syracuse. She had Siobhan in her arms, and the sight melted me. I knew I was going to love that girl before I ever laid eyes on her. How could I not? She was my lover's daughter, a little carbon copy of all I ever needed in this life. They don't come much cuter than Becca, except when they come in miniature like Siobhan did. I thought the blue blankets were a nice touch, too- keep her in touch with her Connecticut roots, and make sure that she doesn't get all gender-specific. Nice.
But both she and her mother were looking at me with serious dark eyes, and I realized that I had to look pretty intimidating. I still had my hair in its bun from the game, and I was wearing one of my sharper suits. Add in the whole 'uh, why is she using HIS name?' thing, and I must have been a mess. "It wasn't my idea," she said quietly so that no one else could hear. "I almost went through the roof when they did that. Rizzo was furious too, because she hasn't hyphenated either but they did that to her, and I think she would have hauled off and slugged someone if she weren't eight months along. I knew you'd think I broke my promise to you, but I didn't! I wouldn't! You know that!"
Well, that was reassuring. "Well, that's reassuring. I should have known you wouldn't lie to me."
"I'm not stupid enough to mess with you. You're wearing flats."
"But I always wear flats."
"That's why I never mess with you, rubita."
Siobhan made some sort of strange noise that I think only someone under a year old can make, drawing our attention. She really was a pretty little girl, and I wished with all my heart that she was somehow my little girl, my daughter with the woman I love more than I have ever loved anyone in my life. I know biology. I know that it's impossible for two females to produce offspring together unless they're mice and there's a petri dish involved. But that doesn't stop me from wishing and dreaming.
The problem with Siobhan was, and always will be, her parentage on the other side of the family. Whether any of us wants to admit it, she's a link between Steve and Becca. She ties them together, gives them something more in common. I can't do that. And it scares me that if someday, for whatever reason, Becca has to choose me or him, she's going to choose him because of Siobhan. It's a new dynamic, something else to worry about, as if revealing my relationship with one of the most famous and "wholesome"- whatever the hell that means- women in basketball wasn't enough of a threat. I don't need any more complications in my life, damn it!
"...key?"
While I was musing on the kid, I had missed Becca saying something. "Wha? Sorry. I got distracted by the other cute girl in the room."
"I *said*, do you have a spare key? I can get Rizzo to take care of Siobhan for one night- she's been dying to. I haven't seen you in so long..."
"Mmm... I like the sound of that. Come up around midnight. You can revive me after I watch yet one more round of Villanova tape. I swear, someday they're going to win a game 4-2, and only THEN will the NCAA institute a ten-second rule."
She dusted off my shoulder in a gesture we'd practiced often enough on the road; it looked like she was just getting some dust off my jacket, but her fingers brushed the sensitive skin at the back of my neck and just above my collarbone. "I'll see you then," she whispered before looking around and suddenly departing..
Well, it was nice to know that some things weren't going to change with the new addition to our extended and extremely strange family. Or at least, some things weren't planning on being changed. But there were still unresolved issues lurking about. I was just too grateful to finally have her back to go into them.