Turkey Day
Title: Turkey Day
Pairing: MPhelps/RLochte;
Fandom: RPF ;
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Real person fiction; Real person slash;
Summary: Michael Phelps talks to his cousins about his love life. Basically fluff.
Notes: 1321 words! I wrote this back on Thanksgiving day. Trying to get back in the swing of things!
After the food has been cleared away and the mothers are in the house talking about Thanksgivings-past, Michael Phelps and his cousins sneak down to the edge of the lake to smoke a blunt.
"Hold it down," Jack says, lighting it down near his hip, "Whatever you do, don't let Aunt Abby see it."
The main subject of the conversation is women, and as the blunt circles around so do their stories. Jack has just finished describing some Italian broad back home in New Mexico. She has massive tits, and he even goes so far as to whip his Galaxy out and show them all pictures. The other guys crowd around and make appreciative comments.
Michael hangs back and smokes, until finally the questions come his way.
"Who you seein' now, man?" Jack asks him, "Know you gotta be seein' somebody. Where's she from?"
"Florida," Michael replies, and the comment is met with nods of approval. Florida inhabitants, much like California, are mostly considered to be tan and fit as a general rule. He holds his hands out in front of him, cupped like he's holding someone's hips, and lets the blunt hang out his lip, "GREAT ass. I mean, first class booty."
More nods of approval.
"You hit it yet?" His other cousin, Marcus, chimes in.
"Oh yeah. I'm gettin' it pretty regular." Michael nods and the boys go up in a chorus of laughter, elbowing each other.
"Serious, huh? Mikey got hooked!" They laugh some more and jostle him around.
Michael grins a little shyly, always nervous as the center of attention, and scuffs his sneakers in the damp grass, "Hey, if I'd met somebody half this good before then it wouldn't have been a problem."
"Spill," Jack insists.
Michael grins to himself some more, but after all the dirty shit the others have dished out, he's not really feeling too embarrassed, "First time I seen her was just like, a glance, I wasn't really trippin' about it, ya know? So there I am, I'm changing out after warm down, and boom. Swimsuit."
The guys all grin.
"I mean, damn," Michael continues, "The ass really got me fucked up right from the start, I should've seen it coming. But I thought I had this shit in the bag, so I tried to play it casual at first. Thought I could just hit it a few times and get it out my system, ya know?" He shakes his head, and one of the guys makes a sound like a scoreboard at the end of a basketball game, and everyone laughs.
"Now I'm stuck, man. All the signs are there, even Ma noticed 'em. I just dropped about seven grand on a pair of shoes, then had to lie like that shit was for me when she saw the receipt."
Everyone laughs again, and Marcus says, "How'd that even work? You been wearing holes in your shit since you were five."
"I know, I know!" Michael passes the blunt, "I was wasted first time we kissed."
"That ain't right, man," Jack snorts.
"Naw, it was cuz my ass didn't have the fucking BALLS, dude!" Michael laughs, "Way too hot for me, get what I'm sayin? I roped this one, I know my ass is lucky."
"Fuck that," His second cousin Dave grunts, "Fuck buying a seven thousand dollar pair of shoes."
Michael shrugs, "Hey, that's my number one fan. If the check won't bounce, I'll sign it. Get this though," Michael laughs, "The other day we're sitting around the apartment playing Call of Duty-"
"Your bitch plays Call of Duty?" Jack snaps, "Dammit man! Some guys get all the luck!" The others break into a small discussion of who's girlfriend will or won't play what game.
Michael just smiles, cutting in after a moment, "Anyway, so we're playing on the couch, we ain't even dressed, I'm talking butt naked. And a text comes through and she pauses the game cuz she's on these Gucci alert emails and they're having a fucking sale. Well the place is right down the fucking road, so I tried to be like, go there and come back. Cuz she said she just needed a belt."
All the guys exchange knowing looks.
"Four hours later," Michael starts, and they all bust out laughing, "Four hours later, I'm still sitting on the fucking couch with my thumb up my ass and she shows up with one bag and it's just the belt and she's all pissy, saying nothing looked good." He shakes his head, grinning, "So I was like, well dude, you're ass has been looking bigger lately. And she gets pissed and goes 'No it ain't, I get it from my mom!' "
Everyone laughs again and Jack shakes his head, tossing the roach out into the lake, "Typical chick for ya, man." No one notices Michael's sly grin, though.
They all start back up the hill again, and Dave hangs towards the back with Michael long enough to say, "Call of Duty, though? Sounds like you got a keeper."
Michael smiles, "Yeah, I know." At that exact moment, his phone chimes and Dave smiles knowingly as Michael drops back to answer it.
"Red alert! Crisis!" Ryan Lochte screams into the phone, "Are you there? Hello?!"
"I'm here, what the fuck is the crisis?" Michael asks, trying not to laugh.
"I thought I packed my red shirt in the louis bag and my red shoes in the duffel and now I have a fucking purple polo in my hand and red fucking clown shoes on my feet and nothing but a duffle. I need you to open your trunk and tell me if the louis is still sitting in there or if I'm fucking losing it!"
"It was still there. I overnight shipped it night before last, it should get there today."
"You're fucking flawless sometimes, you know that?" There's a lot of rustling and shuffling in the background as Ryan digs through the duffle, "Thank fucking God because all my underwear is in there and my nuts have fucking rugburn from these jeans, I swear." Things start to dawn on him, "Wait, were you just waiting on me to freak out and call?"
"Maybe. And you're lucky it even came through. I know you stole my charger, Hamburgler."
"I needed it! Devon was snapchatting me pictures of him with a duck bill, it was great."
"Thief." Michael says fondly.
Ryan lets it slide, "Well, when the fuck are you coming this way? Mom is super fucking excited about you being here, she's cooking chicken for you so you don't have to eat turkey twice in one week."
"I'm almost done here, we're just fucking off waiting for Grandma Lucy to leave and then I'm going to the airport. Should land early tomorrow morning. You owe me big time for flying twice, by the way."
"Whatever, you're the one who owes me."
"How come?"
"I dunno, but I'll think of something before you get here." More rustling in the background, "Fuck, I forgot I packed the green shoes too, now I don't know what to wear."
"Wear the red ones." He's near the house now, and everyone is gathering around his oldest grandmother's car to say goodbye, "Lemme let you go, I have to be polite and stuff. I'll call you as soon as I get to airport and again when I land, okay?"
"You better not forget," Ryan scolds.
"I won't! Love you."
"Love you too. Bye."
They hang up and Michael says goodbye to his grandmother and then everyone waves as the aunt that drove her backs the car out and turns off down the road.
After, Michael gives out his final excuses and kisses his mother and makes his way out to his own car. Marcus is parked nearby, and when he sees Michael, he rolls his window down for one last question.
"How'd you do it, man? How'd someone like you manage to settle down?"
Michael thinks about that, but not for long, and then he smiles, "I really can't say. I got lucky I guess. None of those girls can touch him, not even close."
Marcus doesn't notice the slip, or if he does, Michael is already gone by then.
Pairing: MPhelps/RLochte;
Fandom: RPF ;
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Real person fiction; Real person slash;
Summary: Michael Phelps talks to his cousins about his love life. Basically fluff.
Notes: 1321 words! I wrote this back on Thanksgiving day. Trying to get back in the swing of things!
After the food has been cleared away and the mothers are in the house talking about Thanksgivings-past, Michael Phelps and his cousins sneak down to the edge of the lake to smoke a blunt.
"Hold it down," Jack says, lighting it down near his hip, "Whatever you do, don't let Aunt Abby see it."
The main subject of the conversation is women, and as the blunt circles around so do their stories. Jack has just finished describing some Italian broad back home in New Mexico. She has massive tits, and he even goes so far as to whip his Galaxy out and show them all pictures. The other guys crowd around and make appreciative comments.
Michael hangs back and smokes, until finally the questions come his way.
"Who you seein' now, man?" Jack asks him, "Know you gotta be seein' somebody. Where's she from?"
"Florida," Michael replies, and the comment is met with nods of approval. Florida inhabitants, much like California, are mostly considered to be tan and fit as a general rule. He holds his hands out in front of him, cupped like he's holding someone's hips, and lets the blunt hang out his lip, "GREAT ass. I mean, first class booty."
More nods of approval.
"You hit it yet?" His other cousin, Marcus, chimes in.
"Oh yeah. I'm gettin' it pretty regular." Michael nods and the boys go up in a chorus of laughter, elbowing each other.
"Serious, huh? Mikey got hooked!" They laugh some more and jostle him around.
Michael grins a little shyly, always nervous as the center of attention, and scuffs his sneakers in the damp grass, "Hey, if I'd met somebody half this good before then it wouldn't have been a problem."
"Spill," Jack insists.
Michael grins to himself some more, but after all the dirty shit the others have dished out, he's not really feeling too embarrassed, "First time I seen her was just like, a glance, I wasn't really trippin' about it, ya know? So there I am, I'm changing out after warm down, and boom. Swimsuit."
The guys all grin.
"I mean, damn," Michael continues, "The ass really got me fucked up right from the start, I should've seen it coming. But I thought I had this shit in the bag, so I tried to play it casual at first. Thought I could just hit it a few times and get it out my system, ya know?" He shakes his head, and one of the guys makes a sound like a scoreboard at the end of a basketball game, and everyone laughs.
"Now I'm stuck, man. All the signs are there, even Ma noticed 'em. I just dropped about seven grand on a pair of shoes, then had to lie like that shit was for me when she saw the receipt."
Everyone laughs again, and Marcus says, "How'd that even work? You been wearing holes in your shit since you were five."
"I know, I know!" Michael passes the blunt, "I was wasted first time we kissed."
"That ain't right, man," Jack snorts.
"Naw, it was cuz my ass didn't have the fucking BALLS, dude!" Michael laughs, "Way too hot for me, get what I'm sayin? I roped this one, I know my ass is lucky."
"Fuck that," His second cousin Dave grunts, "Fuck buying a seven thousand dollar pair of shoes."
Michael shrugs, "Hey, that's my number one fan. If the check won't bounce, I'll sign it. Get this though," Michael laughs, "The other day we're sitting around the apartment playing Call of Duty-"
"Your bitch plays Call of Duty?" Jack snaps, "Dammit man! Some guys get all the luck!" The others break into a small discussion of who's girlfriend will or won't play what game.
Michael just smiles, cutting in after a moment, "Anyway, so we're playing on the couch, we ain't even dressed, I'm talking butt naked. And a text comes through and she pauses the game cuz she's on these Gucci alert emails and they're having a fucking sale. Well the place is right down the fucking road, so I tried to be like, go there and come back. Cuz she said she just needed a belt."
All the guys exchange knowing looks.
"Four hours later," Michael starts, and they all bust out laughing, "Four hours later, I'm still sitting on the fucking couch with my thumb up my ass and she shows up with one bag and it's just the belt and she's all pissy, saying nothing looked good." He shakes his head, grinning, "So I was like, well dude, you're ass has been looking bigger lately. And she gets pissed and goes 'No it ain't, I get it from my mom!' "
Everyone laughs again and Jack shakes his head, tossing the roach out into the lake, "Typical chick for ya, man." No one notices Michael's sly grin, though.
They all start back up the hill again, and Dave hangs towards the back with Michael long enough to say, "Call of Duty, though? Sounds like you got a keeper."
Michael smiles, "Yeah, I know." At that exact moment, his phone chimes and Dave smiles knowingly as Michael drops back to answer it.
"Red alert! Crisis!" Ryan Lochte screams into the phone, "Are you there? Hello?!"
"I'm here, what the fuck is the crisis?" Michael asks, trying not to laugh.
"I thought I packed my red shirt in the louis bag and my red shoes in the duffel and now I have a fucking purple polo in my hand and red fucking clown shoes on my feet and nothing but a duffle. I need you to open your trunk and tell me if the louis is still sitting in there or if I'm fucking losing it!"
"It was still there. I overnight shipped it night before last, it should get there today."
"You're fucking flawless sometimes, you know that?" There's a lot of rustling and shuffling in the background as Ryan digs through the duffle, "Thank fucking God because all my underwear is in there and my nuts have fucking rugburn from these jeans, I swear." Things start to dawn on him, "Wait, were you just waiting on me to freak out and call?"
"Maybe. And you're lucky it even came through. I know you stole my charger, Hamburgler."
"I needed it! Devon was snapchatting me pictures of him with a duck bill, it was great."
"Thief." Michael says fondly.
Ryan lets it slide, "Well, when the fuck are you coming this way? Mom is super fucking excited about you being here, she's cooking chicken for you so you don't have to eat turkey twice in one week."
"I'm almost done here, we're just fucking off waiting for Grandma Lucy to leave and then I'm going to the airport. Should land early tomorrow morning. You owe me big time for flying twice, by the way."
"Whatever, you're the one who owes me."
"How come?"
"I dunno, but I'll think of something before you get here." More rustling in the background, "Fuck, I forgot I packed the green shoes too, now I don't know what to wear."
"Wear the red ones." He's near the house now, and everyone is gathering around his oldest grandmother's car to say goodbye, "Lemme let you go, I have to be polite and stuff. I'll call you as soon as I get to airport and again when I land, okay?"
"You better not forget," Ryan scolds.
"I won't! Love you."
"Love you too. Bye."
They hang up and Michael says goodbye to his grandmother and then everyone waves as the aunt that drove her backs the car out and turns off down the road.
After, Michael gives out his final excuses and kisses his mother and makes his way out to his own car. Marcus is parked nearby, and when he sees Michael, he rolls his window down for one last question.
"How'd you do it, man? How'd someone like you manage to settle down?"
Michael thinks about that, but not for long, and then he smiles, "I really can't say. I got lucky I guess. None of those girls can touch him, not even close."
Marcus doesn't notice the slip, or if he does, Michael is already gone by then.