FIC: Breakfast - 1/1, NFL RPS, PG, TB TB/MC/ML)
Title: Breakfast
Author: Jo (jo@fadedink.com)
Fandom: NFL RPS
Character: Tom Brady (implied Tom Brady/Matt Cassel/Matt Leinart)
Rating: PG
Word count: 358
Summary: It's what's for breakfast.
Disclaimer: Fiction, folks. But if you believe this really happened, I've got some prime real estate I wanna sell you…
Author's Notes: Lazy Hazy Summer Daze #14 for zortified who encourages this. ;)
Tom opens the freezer, stops. Stares. Blinks and looks again. Then he slowly smiles.
There are twelve pints of Ben & Jerry's Mint Chocolate Cookie ice cream staring back at him. Pints that he knows were not there last night. Closing the freezer, he casts a speculative look towards the kitchen door. Matt and Matty are still asleep, sprawled in a tangled heap that takes up most of the bed, and Tom doesn't remember either of them leaving the house last night.
But then, there had been distractions involving Cole. And diapers. And whose turn it was to do the changing of said diapers. And Cole loudly proclaiming it wasn't his job while making gagging noises.
So it was possible.
Tom opens the freezer again and looks at the blatant temptation lying in wait.
It just wasn't right, he tells himself as he snags a pint and a spoon, opting to forgo his early morning run. It just wasn't right for all that ice cream to just be sitting in there, one day closer to its expiration date, possibly getting freezer burnt.
Really, he's just doing the right thing.
He kicks off his shoes on the way out the back door, tilting his face up to the rising sun as he drops into a chaise by the pool. The first bite is heaven, mint and chocolate exploding across his tongue. It's almost as good as sex, and Tom makes a small, appreciative noise.
He eats slowly, savoring each mouthful.
And he's not at all surprised when, sometime later, Matt drops into the chaise beside him, still sleep-tousled and bleary eyed. Matt raises an eyebrow at the almost empty ice cream carton in his hand, but he doesn't say a word.
Tom wants to tell him to shut up anyway. Matt knows Tom is incapable of resisting the lure of mint chocolate ice cream. It's like waving a red flag at a bull. Or handing Matt a large bottle of bubble bath.
Then Matt says something that sounds suspiciously like for breakfast, Tom, really, and Tom just gives him a flat look. And takes another bite of ice cream.
Author: Jo (jo@fadedink.com)
Fandom: NFL RPS
Character: Tom Brady (implied Tom Brady/Matt Cassel/Matt Leinart)
Rating: PG
Word count: 358
Summary: It's what's for breakfast.
Disclaimer: Fiction, folks. But if you believe this really happened, I've got some prime real estate I wanna sell you…
Author's Notes: Lazy Hazy Summer Daze #14 for zortified who encourages this. ;)
Tom opens the freezer, stops. Stares. Blinks and looks again. Then he slowly smiles.
There are twelve pints of Ben & Jerry's Mint Chocolate Cookie ice cream staring back at him. Pints that he knows were not there last night. Closing the freezer, he casts a speculative look towards the kitchen door. Matt and Matty are still asleep, sprawled in a tangled heap that takes up most of the bed, and Tom doesn't remember either of them leaving the house last night.
But then, there had been distractions involving Cole. And diapers. And whose turn it was to do the changing of said diapers. And Cole loudly proclaiming it wasn't his job while making gagging noises.
So it was possible.
Tom opens the freezer again and looks at the blatant temptation lying in wait.
It just wasn't right, he tells himself as he snags a pint and a spoon, opting to forgo his early morning run. It just wasn't right for all that ice cream to just be sitting in there, one day closer to its expiration date, possibly getting freezer burnt.
Really, he's just doing the right thing.
He kicks off his shoes on the way out the back door, tilting his face up to the rising sun as he drops into a chaise by the pool. The first bite is heaven, mint and chocolate exploding across his tongue. It's almost as good as sex, and Tom makes a small, appreciative noise.
He eats slowly, savoring each mouthful.
And he's not at all surprised when, sometime later, Matt drops into the chaise beside him, still sleep-tousled and bleary eyed. Matt raises an eyebrow at the almost empty ice cream carton in his hand, but he doesn't say a word.
Tom wants to tell him to shut up anyway. Matt knows Tom is incapable of resisting the lure of mint chocolate ice cream. It's like waving a red flag at a bull. Or handing Matt a large bottle of bubble bath.
Then Matt says something that sounds suspiciously like for breakfast, Tom, really, and Tom just gives him a flat look. And takes another bite of ice cream.