Title: Pants
Pairing: Christoffer Svae/Chris Plys
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not real, all fiction, some actual events used for inspiration. I know nothing about these athletes.
Notes: 150 words, response to a meme at my personal LJ.
Silver is the worst. It's almost gold, but it's not. You'll be happy tomorrow, maybe, but right now all you want to do is drink, which is why you're at the club. Alone, and maybe it's unhealthy, but whatever. You think no one's recognized you, but then you hear a voice over your shoulder.
"Where are the pants, man?"
You don't know the voice, but when you turn around, it's the American alternate, the one with the earrings and you think he's maybe not joking.
"Why, want a pair?"
"Yes," he says, and he's smiling, but he's not kidding.
"In my room, wanna come?" You're half-drunk and never gonna see him again, so why not?
"Yes." He's looking you right in the eyes and if you were bluffing, he's just called it.
You're going to miss those pants, you think when he's gone, but they'll look better on him anyway.