FIC: Beer (1/1)
Fandom: NFL RPS
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Pierre Garcon/Peyton Manning
They were at the Super Bowl Loss Numbing Party. Pierre shifted his fingers, wrapped around his beer. He was looking for Peyton; he wanted to talk. It wasn’t a sure thing that Peyton would show up - he notoriously preferred to numb alone - but Pierre was willing to sit through this on the off chance that it would happen.
Pierre was sitting on the couch closest to the door, taking a sip occasionally but keeping an eye on it. He kept pulling his phone out of his pocket, meaning to text Peyton, but after a moment of staring deciding against it, only to repeat the process after a few minutes.
Finally, the door opened, and Peyton walked through. Pierre smiled for a moment, but then remembering what he had to do, gulped. He got up and approached the quarterback.
“Hey, Peyton,”
Peyton turned, and upon seeing his face Pierre knew he was drunk.
“What do you want?” Peyton asked with a slight slur and a less than slight tone of annoyance.
“I was just wondering, uh…”
“Look,” Peyton said, sliding his right foot further away from his body, “I never cared and I never will.” With that, he staggered away.
Pierre didn’t move, glancing down. He’d do it all again; guess he’d have to wait until never.
-----
It was after they’d won the AFC championship. They were drinking in the locker room, Pierre among them. Peyton was already drunk, stumbling around, happily congratulating all his teammates, administering pats on the back. Pierre smiled slightly at the display. He wasn’t really much for drinking, but he liked to celebrate with his team.
Pierre was watching ESPN on the TV in the locker room, trying to hear the commentators gushing about their game.
He felt someone sit next to him; it was Peyton.
“Hi,” Pierre said, kind of quietly.
“Hey,” Peyton drawled, a loose, drunken smile plastered on his face, leaning into Pierre, “What’re ya doin’ all the way over here?”
“Oh, just trying to listen to what they’re saying about the game.”
Peyton nodded, without losing the smile or the closeness, keeping his eyes on Pierre. Pierre smiled uncomfortably, not really sure what this was about.
After a few more minutes of this awkwardness, Peyton grabbed his hand and pulled him off the bench, and Pierre didn’t fight it. Peyton dragged him through the locker room, around the rest of the celebrating team. Pierre glanced about, hoping someone would notice and ask where they were going, because he’d sure like to know, too.
They reached the empty hallway leading from the field to the locker room, footsteps echoing. When they’d achieved a fair distance away, Peyton twirled Pierre to in front of him, closed their bodies together and kissed Pierre against the wall. The minute Pierre opened his mouth slightly, Peyton took the opportunity to push his tongue in, exploring Pierre’s mouth with absolutely no grace at all.
Pierre wasn’t really sure what was going on, but he didn’t ask. Not the least because this was pretty fun.
It kept being fun when Peyton’s hand travelled to Pierre’s cock and squeezed gently, causing Pierre to moan, breaking the kiss.
“I’ve wanted this for a while.” Peyton stated huskily, beginning to fumble with Pierre’s button.
“Oh…okay.” Pierre replied, not stopping him. He was pretty excited about all this, and only a little awkward.
Peyton finally managed to unbutton Pierre’s pants, and pulled them off. He began removing his own, first plucking a condom from the pocket. Pierre gulped; this was going kind of fast but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna stop it. Peyton wasn’t really the guy you say no to, ever, and Pierre didn’t mind having sex.
“Turn around,” Peyton growled, and Pierre obliged. Peyton shoved his fingers in, easing Pierre open, though he didn’t put all that much effort into it before getting impatient and just thrusted in his cock. Pierre tried to keep his hiss of pain quiet; it had been a while since he’d had sex.
They went at it, in and out, in and out, and it was good. Pierre liked it. Peyton, however, seemed to be very happy, whispering in Pierre’s ear about how tight he was and such. Pierre never really knew how to respond to these things, so he’d nod or moan or something.
Finally, Peyton came, before Pierre, but that was fine. Pierre took care of it himself, and thankfully Peyton didn’t notice. They reestablished clothes and returned to the party, Peyton staying at Pierre’s side the whole time. Every time Pierre’s eyes wandered over, Peyton would smile; a genuine one, only kind of affected by the alcohol. He’d sneak Pierre behind the lockers and kiss him. He asked over and over if Pierre was happy, or if he could get him anything.
By the end of the night, Pierre was in love. Fuck.
-----
After that party, Pierre called. Over and over. Peyton never answered. At practice, Peyton avoided him like the plague. Pierre didn’t understand, and, admittedly, it affected his performance.
Then the Super Bowl happened. Pierre was angry; really, really angry. He knew this Peyton nonsense had messed with his game, and he knew his nonsense had messed up Peyton’s game. When it was over, Pierre saw Peyton’s face; which was why he didn’t follow him into the locker room immediately.
-----
Pierre should have known it wouldn’t be alright. Watching Peyton get drunk caused Pierre to get drunk, and he grew very sad and melodramatic as a result.
I can’t live without him, so I won’t even try. was one of the thoughts that danced through his mind. Pierre knew in a very distant, logical way that this was totally ridiculous. However, he really didn’t care about much at this moment except for getting to more beer. If he had just one more beer, Peyton couldn’t bother him anymore. Pierre knew that if he got drunk, he’d pass out on the floor.
And he was right.
Pierre was staring at the ceiling, though his team’s concerned faces blocked most of it. Peyton was among them.
“Pierre, are you okay, man?”
Pierre took a deep breath.
“I…think I’ll have myself a beer.” He finally slurred, and grabbed Peyton’s out of his hand.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Pierre Garcon/Peyton Manning
They were at the Super Bowl Loss Numbing Party. Pierre shifted his fingers, wrapped around his beer. He was looking for Peyton; he wanted to talk. It wasn’t a sure thing that Peyton would show up - he notoriously preferred to numb alone - but Pierre was willing to sit through this on the off chance that it would happen.
Pierre was sitting on the couch closest to the door, taking a sip occasionally but keeping an eye on it. He kept pulling his phone out of his pocket, meaning to text Peyton, but after a moment of staring deciding against it, only to repeat the process after a few minutes.
Finally, the door opened, and Peyton walked through. Pierre smiled for a moment, but then remembering what he had to do, gulped. He got up and approached the quarterback.
“Hey, Peyton,”
Peyton turned, and upon seeing his face Pierre knew he was drunk.
“What do you want?” Peyton asked with a slight slur and a less than slight tone of annoyance.
“I was just wondering, uh…”
“Look,” Peyton said, sliding his right foot further away from his body, “I never cared and I never will.” With that, he staggered away.
Pierre didn’t move, glancing down. He’d do it all again; guess he’d have to wait until never.
-----
It was after they’d won the AFC championship. They were drinking in the locker room, Pierre among them. Peyton was already drunk, stumbling around, happily congratulating all his teammates, administering pats on the back. Pierre smiled slightly at the display. He wasn’t really much for drinking, but he liked to celebrate with his team.
Pierre was watching ESPN on the TV in the locker room, trying to hear the commentators gushing about their game.
He felt someone sit next to him; it was Peyton.
“Hi,” Pierre said, kind of quietly.
“Hey,” Peyton drawled, a loose, drunken smile plastered on his face, leaning into Pierre, “What’re ya doin’ all the way over here?”
“Oh, just trying to listen to what they’re saying about the game.”
Peyton nodded, without losing the smile or the closeness, keeping his eyes on Pierre. Pierre smiled uncomfortably, not really sure what this was about.
After a few more minutes of this awkwardness, Peyton grabbed his hand and pulled him off the bench, and Pierre didn’t fight it. Peyton dragged him through the locker room, around the rest of the celebrating team. Pierre glanced about, hoping someone would notice and ask where they were going, because he’d sure like to know, too.
They reached the empty hallway leading from the field to the locker room, footsteps echoing. When they’d achieved a fair distance away, Peyton twirled Pierre to in front of him, closed their bodies together and kissed Pierre against the wall. The minute Pierre opened his mouth slightly, Peyton took the opportunity to push his tongue in, exploring Pierre’s mouth with absolutely no grace at all.
Pierre wasn’t really sure what was going on, but he didn’t ask. Not the least because this was pretty fun.
It kept being fun when Peyton’s hand travelled to Pierre’s cock and squeezed gently, causing Pierre to moan, breaking the kiss.
“I’ve wanted this for a while.” Peyton stated huskily, beginning to fumble with Pierre’s button.
“Oh…okay.” Pierre replied, not stopping him. He was pretty excited about all this, and only a little awkward.
Peyton finally managed to unbutton Pierre’s pants, and pulled them off. He began removing his own, first plucking a condom from the pocket. Pierre gulped; this was going kind of fast but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna stop it. Peyton wasn’t really the guy you say no to, ever, and Pierre didn’t mind having sex.
“Turn around,” Peyton growled, and Pierre obliged. Peyton shoved his fingers in, easing Pierre open, though he didn’t put all that much effort into it before getting impatient and just thrusted in his cock. Pierre tried to keep his hiss of pain quiet; it had been a while since he’d had sex.
They went at it, in and out, in and out, and it was good. Pierre liked it. Peyton, however, seemed to be very happy, whispering in Pierre’s ear about how tight he was and such. Pierre never really knew how to respond to these things, so he’d nod or moan or something.
Finally, Peyton came, before Pierre, but that was fine. Pierre took care of it himself, and thankfully Peyton didn’t notice. They reestablished clothes and returned to the party, Peyton staying at Pierre’s side the whole time. Every time Pierre’s eyes wandered over, Peyton would smile; a genuine one, only kind of affected by the alcohol. He’d sneak Pierre behind the lockers and kiss him. He asked over and over if Pierre was happy, or if he could get him anything.
By the end of the night, Pierre was in love. Fuck.
-----
After that party, Pierre called. Over and over. Peyton never answered. At practice, Peyton avoided him like the plague. Pierre didn’t understand, and, admittedly, it affected his performance.
Then the Super Bowl happened. Pierre was angry; really, really angry. He knew this Peyton nonsense had messed with his game, and he knew his nonsense had messed up Peyton’s game. When it was over, Pierre saw Peyton’s face; which was why he didn’t follow him into the locker room immediately.
-----
Pierre should have known it wouldn’t be alright. Watching Peyton get drunk caused Pierre to get drunk, and he grew very sad and melodramatic as a result.
I can’t live without him, so I won’t even try. was one of the thoughts that danced through his mind. Pierre knew in a very distant, logical way that this was totally ridiculous. However, he really didn’t care about much at this moment except for getting to more beer. If he had just one more beer, Peyton couldn’t bother him anymore. Pierre knew that if he got drunk, he’d pass out on the floor.
And he was right.
Pierre was staring at the ceiling, though his team’s concerned faces blocked most of it. Peyton was among them.
“Pierre, are you okay, man?”
Pierre took a deep breath.
“I…think I’ll have myself a beer.” He finally slurred, and grabbed Peyton’s out of his hand.