(no subject)
Dichotomia part two
Elise
Miller/Fleischmann
sabres/Caps
2. A picture
Rolling his eyes, Ryan leaned back on the bed, grinning. "Come on, that's like... embarrassing stuff."
George laughed, pulling out a birthday card. "Embarrassing? I'm trying to get to know you, Mr. ice Queen."
"You're going to regret that..." Ryan said laughing, and leaping to his feet, chasing the tanned, nude man.
George giggled, running to the front of the bed, clutching the box to his chest. Circling his arms around George, Ryan said, "I'm not an ice queen."
"You're hard to get to know."
"I got to know you last night." Ryan said, "And this morning."
George leaned over, kissing Ryan's cheek. "Yeah, and I'm not complaining. Just curious."
Ryan sighed, "I'm not so good at the relationship stuff."
"Hey..." George said, setting the box down, "I'm not pressuring you. I don't want a boyfriend. I mean, one day, but its not necessary right now. I just want to get to know the man behind the incredible, incredible flexibility."
Blushing, Ryan sat down and looked into the box. It was like a treasure box full of things he could never let go, couldn't let go. "It's junk." Ryan said, "nothing but junk."
George picked up a ticket. "Junk?"
"Ok, that was my first shut out." Ryan grinned, pulling George closer to his side, his fingers trailing up and down Georges' bare leg.
"Not so difficult, is it?" George said, leaning down to kiss Ryan.
Ryan kissed back, happy for the distraction. George separated, in Ryan's opinion, too soon. "We'll never make it to breakfast, dear," George whispered.
Laughing at Ryan's pout, George reached into the box again, pulling out a picture. It was of a man, curly red hair, caught mid sentence. He was dressed warmly in a wood cabin. George turned to ask Ryan about it, but the goalie's eyes caught him off guard. Ryan seemed trapped in a memory, painful, but longing. Ryan lusted for this man. George sat down, crossing his legs. He raised the picture. "Who is this?"
Ryan paused then reached forward, to grab it, saying, "Nobody, don't worry about it, Georgey."
George's face fell and he said, "This man, this is why you'll never date?"
Ryan turned away, "George, come on. Its an old picture."
George waited a few moments, then handed the photograph over. "Tell me about him."
Ryan looked at the picture of Tomas. The subject of the photo was completely unaware, wrapped up in his debate, friendly but determined. "We were on vacation." Ryan said softly, "I was meeting the other team mates. A bonding experience... trying to get to know them better."
"He's a hockey guy?"
"Yeah. You're like my first non-hockey..." Ryan trailed off, unsure of the words to describe who or what George was to him.
George waved for him to continue, still standing by that labels were unimportant. Ryan took a deep breath. "We made hot cocoa, after a hike in the snow. It was perfect. Brooksie and him got into it about the Olympics, and I just watched, loving... it. I had to take a picture. Capture the moment. It was..."
"The last time you were happy." George said, whose legs were now tucked to his chest, eyes averted.
Ryan didn't respond, didn't move, didn't deny. It was all the response that George needed. He sighed and stood up, shakily saying, "I've got work..."
"George..." Ryan started.
"Hey," George said, "it's OK. I have to go."
"I'll call you." Ryan said, lamely.
George smiled sadly and left, without kissing him goodbye.
http://i911.photobucket.com/albums/ac313/Eliseredding/tomas.jpg
Elise
Miller/Fleischmann
sabres/Caps
2. A picture
Rolling his eyes, Ryan leaned back on the bed, grinning. "Come on, that's like... embarrassing stuff."
George laughed, pulling out a birthday card. "Embarrassing? I'm trying to get to know you, Mr. ice Queen."
"You're going to regret that..." Ryan said laughing, and leaping to his feet, chasing the tanned, nude man.
George giggled, running to the front of the bed, clutching the box to his chest. Circling his arms around George, Ryan said, "I'm not an ice queen."
"You're hard to get to know."
"I got to know you last night." Ryan said, "And this morning."
George leaned over, kissing Ryan's cheek. "Yeah, and I'm not complaining. Just curious."
Ryan sighed, "I'm not so good at the relationship stuff."
"Hey..." George said, setting the box down, "I'm not pressuring you. I don't want a boyfriend. I mean, one day, but its not necessary right now. I just want to get to know the man behind the incredible, incredible flexibility."
Blushing, Ryan sat down and looked into the box. It was like a treasure box full of things he could never let go, couldn't let go. "It's junk." Ryan said, "nothing but junk."
George picked up a ticket. "Junk?"
"Ok, that was my first shut out." Ryan grinned, pulling George closer to his side, his fingers trailing up and down Georges' bare leg.
"Not so difficult, is it?" George said, leaning down to kiss Ryan.
Ryan kissed back, happy for the distraction. George separated, in Ryan's opinion, too soon. "We'll never make it to breakfast, dear," George whispered.
Laughing at Ryan's pout, George reached into the box again, pulling out a picture. It was of a man, curly red hair, caught mid sentence. He was dressed warmly in a wood cabin. George turned to ask Ryan about it, but the goalie's eyes caught him off guard. Ryan seemed trapped in a memory, painful, but longing. Ryan lusted for this man. George sat down, crossing his legs. He raised the picture. "Who is this?"
Ryan paused then reached forward, to grab it, saying, "Nobody, don't worry about it, Georgey."
George's face fell and he said, "This man, this is why you'll never date?"
Ryan turned away, "George, come on. Its an old picture."
George waited a few moments, then handed the photograph over. "Tell me about him."
Ryan looked at the picture of Tomas. The subject of the photo was completely unaware, wrapped up in his debate, friendly but determined. "We were on vacation." Ryan said softly, "I was meeting the other team mates. A bonding experience... trying to get to know them better."
"He's a hockey guy?"
"Yeah. You're like my first non-hockey..." Ryan trailed off, unsure of the words to describe who or what George was to him.
George waved for him to continue, still standing by that labels were unimportant. Ryan took a deep breath. "We made hot cocoa, after a hike in the snow. It was perfect. Brooksie and him got into it about the Olympics, and I just watched, loving... it. I had to take a picture. Capture the moment. It was..."
"The last time you were happy." George said, whose legs were now tucked to his chest, eyes averted.
Ryan didn't respond, didn't move, didn't deny. It was all the response that George needed. He sighed and stood up, shakily saying, "I've got work..."
"George..." Ryan started.
"Hey," George said, "it's OK. I have to go."
"I'll call you." Ryan said, lamely.
George smiled sadly and left, without kissing him goodbye.
http://i911.photobucket.com/albums/ac313/Eliseredding/tomas.jpg
