(no subject)
It's still Friday somewhere in the world.
Title: Come Around
Author: maryling
Fandom: NFL
Pairing: Chad Pennington/Vinny Testaverde
Rating: PG for very minor language
DISCLAIMER: Fiction. No harm intended toward the subjects. I know nothing about them beyond what's publically available.
Notes: In my defense, I didn't get lyrics till Wednesday. As in two days ago. Be grateful that there's over 1k here. Since then, I've been up and down the bipolar scale, and I've been sick. So my narrative voice is all over the place. Beware of excessive football metaphors. And just like some other people said, this may suck. I need to look at it with a much clearer head before I decide.
Thanks: to Alex for the lyrics, which were really easy to work with once I started ignoring the first and last stanza. Cuz as much as I love my V-C, I can't see either of them in a dress :-p Thanks also to Sweet Pea, who sat on my notebook last night while I was trying to write. Little dork. Dedicated to Jeffrey, who's been pining for more VC.
Notes2: The outcome of the Jets-Chargers game is deliberately omitted.
Come Around -- Rhett Miller
I'm dressed all in blue
And I'm remembering you
And the dress you wore
When you broke my heart
I'm depressed upstairs
And I'm remembering where
And when, and how, and why
You have to go so far
Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
I'm gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Unless you come around
So come around
I'm dressed all in white
And I remember the night
You came on to me
And opened up my heart
I was hollow then
'Til you filled me in
Now I'm empty again
I should have never let it start
Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
I'm gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Unless you come around
So come around
No one else can fix me
Although sometimes my heart tricks me
Into thinking someone else will do
But you're the only one
You are the only one
Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
I'm gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Unless you come around
So come around
So come around
So come around
I'm dressed all in blue
And I'm remembering you
And the dress you wore
When you broke my heart
"Come Around"
"Why you have to go so far?" Chad's accent, so carefully controlled in front of the media now coats his words, and all he can think about is that Dallas is not New York, or even in the same time zone as New York. He can't quite recall his geography right now, but he figures it's at least got to be a thousand miles away, which might as well be a million miles away because it's just too damned far.
"Because it's the only place that actually wants a washed-up grizzled old veteran." Vinny's voice is full of self-pity, and Chad thinks that if Vinny is so old, he should just retire already and stay in New York. And so Chad is sullen, and Vinny is stubborn, and both are silent, and before they even realize it, Vinny has moved down to Texas and Chad doesn't even have the new phone number.
Vinny knows it's all for the best. Chad will find someone better -- he's young, and the young heal quickly. Or so he seems to recall from his own youth. But Vinny will remain old and bitter, for there is no one better for him than his Chadwick.
Time passes, as it has a tendency to do. Both are lonely, aching physically and emotionally. Seventeen weeks, not including the preseason, is an eternity. The young star ends his season at 10-6, a spot waiting for him in the playoffs. The old man ends up 6-10, and at loose ends as of locker clean-out day, January 3rd. Out of habit, he ends up on Long Island, in front of the house he used to inhabit.
There is still a key hidden behind the loose brick and he enters, fully expecting to find traces of his replacement. The place is as much of a mess as ever -- obviously the new one isn't much for cleanliness. Nor fashion, judging by the bland suit jacket tossed over the back of the couch, too large to be Chad's.
Vinny is tired and doesn't really want to leave -- it's comfortable here, a place where he belongs. Or used to. He's not sure anymore. The room that was his (is it still mine? he wonders briefly) is virtually unchanged, except the sheets are cleaner than they had been. Chad is a continent away -- even further than Dallas, Vinny thinks sourly. The bed in here is empty, so he might as well fill it, he reasons.
He is still in the house two days later, watching Chad face Drew Brees, and Vinny is certain he can pick out Flutie on the sidelines -- another old soldier, past his prime, hoping for one more shot, wanting to be needed once more. Vinny remembers how he felt when Parcells decided Henson wasn't really ready for the pros just yet, and knows that Flutie prays for the same situation.
Between the vague depression he's in and the couple beers he's had, Vinny doesn't make it through the game. He wakes up about 2am to find his neck gone stiff and his shoulder cramped, so he drags himself to bed, figuring he'll sleep better there. He didn't figure on still being asleep when Chad arrives home at noon.
Chad doesn't actually find out about his visitor till he opens his fridge to make himself lunch. Once he takes stock of what is missing and what isn't -- soda and his Xbox, respectively -- he knows not to worry. He walks to the door of what he's taken care to call 'the spare room,' and pushing the door open, he nods at the figure slumped against the pillows. "I didn't expect you to come around," he says carefully.
Vinny's eyes snap open. He hadn't planned on seeing Chad and talking to him. He hadn't planned much of anything, actually. "I wasn't sure where to go," he admitted. "I shouldn't have -- I'm sorry, I'll leave."
"Don't." It's barely a whisper. "I -- it's been hell since you left. Just, don't go." His face is carefully composed, but Vinny can read the slight slump in Chad's shoulders. Some aloof part of him scoffs, saying that Chad's got a bum shoulder, and it's sore, and that's the only reason for the change in body language.
Stay. It's such a tempting option. "I'd have thought you'd have moved on by now," he says, avoiding Chad's eyes. He braces himself for what he knows must be coming, for the knife to slice through.
Hurt flashes across Chad's face. "What, you thought I'd found someone else? You are the only one. I thought you knew that." He backs out of the doorway, retreating to his own bedroom, his refuge, the place he's spent the majority of the past five months. He stands at his window, watching a bird sit in a tree, the little creature happy to be resting instead of flitting around all day.
Vinny isn't sure of what just happened. He thinks that he might have just had a chance to reconcile with Chad, but in typical Testaverde fashion, fumbled under pressure. No wonder there weren't many teams trying to sign him, if he can't even complete a basic play straight from page one of the playbook.
Damn it all, Vinny realizes. Time to call an audible. He's in Chad's room with barely a thought and wraps his arms around Chad. His muscles are tense in Vinny's grasp at first, until he realizes what is meant, that Vinny will stay, that the nights won't be cold and dark anymore, that the off season will include something other than Madden 2005. "Why?"
"Because I can't live without you," Vinny whispers. He can't help but wonder if that's reason enough after everything he's done and said.
"No, why did you think I could be with someone who's not you?" The possibility never even occurred to Chad. Perhaps if he'd been alone for longer, during a time when he wasn't occupied with the game, perhaps he may have tried to find an outlet for his loneliness. But perhaps isn't certain.
Vinny clears his throat. "There was...I saw a jacket in the living room that looked too big." Admit it, he was nervous, read too much into the defense's movement, thought he saw blitz, and he panicked. Rookie mistake, the kind he would gently correct if it had come from Chad, unforgivable in someone who's been playing as long as he has.
"It's from my shoulder injury," Chad explains softly. "I needed something bigger to fit over the wraps." Vinny isn't sure if he's ever felt stupider in his life. He can't think of any such time right now, but there's likely to be one or two instances. He runs his hand along Chad's shoulder, long fingers trying to ease the sore muscles that will need surgery someday soon.
Chad looks back at the tree, where the bird had been sitting, a now-empty branch. Movement in another tree draws his eyes, and he watches as the bird flies and perches on the fence for a second, before taking off and disappearing into the sky.
Title: Come Around
Author: maryling
Fandom: NFL
Pairing: Chad Pennington/Vinny Testaverde
Rating: PG for very minor language
DISCLAIMER: Fiction. No harm intended toward the subjects. I know nothing about them beyond what's publically available.
Notes: In my defense, I didn't get lyrics till Wednesday. As in two days ago. Be grateful that there's over 1k here. Since then, I've been up and down the bipolar scale, and I've been sick. So my narrative voice is all over the place. Beware of excessive football metaphors. And just like some other people said, this may suck. I need to look at it with a much clearer head before I decide.
Thanks: to Alex for the lyrics, which were really easy to work with once I started ignoring the first and last stanza. Cuz as much as I love my V-C, I can't see either of them in a dress :-p Thanks also to Sweet Pea, who sat on my notebook last night while I was trying to write. Little dork. Dedicated to Jeffrey, who's been pining for more VC.
Notes2: The outcome of the Jets-Chargers game is deliberately omitted.
Come Around -- Rhett Miller
I'm dressed all in blue
And I'm remembering you
And the dress you wore
When you broke my heart
I'm depressed upstairs
And I'm remembering where
And when, and how, and why
You have to go so far
Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
I'm gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Unless you come around
So come around
I'm dressed all in white
And I remember the night
You came on to me
And opened up my heart
I was hollow then
'Til you filled me in
Now I'm empty again
I should have never let it start
Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
I'm gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Unless you come around
So come around
No one else can fix me
Although sometimes my heart tricks me
Into thinking someone else will do
But you're the only one
You are the only one
Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
I'm gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Unless you come around
So come around
So come around
So come around
I'm dressed all in blue
And I'm remembering you
And the dress you wore
When you broke my heart
"Come Around"
"Why you have to go so far?" Chad's accent, so carefully controlled in front of the media now coats his words, and all he can think about is that Dallas is not New York, or even in the same time zone as New York. He can't quite recall his geography right now, but he figures it's at least got to be a thousand miles away, which might as well be a million miles away because it's just too damned far.
"Because it's the only place that actually wants a washed-up grizzled old veteran." Vinny's voice is full of self-pity, and Chad thinks that if Vinny is so old, he should just retire already and stay in New York. And so Chad is sullen, and Vinny is stubborn, and both are silent, and before they even realize it, Vinny has moved down to Texas and Chad doesn't even have the new phone number.
Vinny knows it's all for the best. Chad will find someone better -- he's young, and the young heal quickly. Or so he seems to recall from his own youth. But Vinny will remain old and bitter, for there is no one better for him than his Chadwick.
Time passes, as it has a tendency to do. Both are lonely, aching physically and emotionally. Seventeen weeks, not including the preseason, is an eternity. The young star ends his season at 10-6, a spot waiting for him in the playoffs. The old man ends up 6-10, and at loose ends as of locker clean-out day, January 3rd. Out of habit, he ends up on Long Island, in front of the house he used to inhabit.
There is still a key hidden behind the loose brick and he enters, fully expecting to find traces of his replacement. The place is as much of a mess as ever -- obviously the new one isn't much for cleanliness. Nor fashion, judging by the bland suit jacket tossed over the back of the couch, too large to be Chad's.
Vinny is tired and doesn't really want to leave -- it's comfortable here, a place where he belongs. Or used to. He's not sure anymore. The room that was his (is it still mine? he wonders briefly) is virtually unchanged, except the sheets are cleaner than they had been. Chad is a continent away -- even further than Dallas, Vinny thinks sourly. The bed in here is empty, so he might as well fill it, he reasons.
He is still in the house two days later, watching Chad face Drew Brees, and Vinny is certain he can pick out Flutie on the sidelines -- another old soldier, past his prime, hoping for one more shot, wanting to be needed once more. Vinny remembers how he felt when Parcells decided Henson wasn't really ready for the pros just yet, and knows that Flutie prays for the same situation.
Between the vague depression he's in and the couple beers he's had, Vinny doesn't make it through the game. He wakes up about 2am to find his neck gone stiff and his shoulder cramped, so he drags himself to bed, figuring he'll sleep better there. He didn't figure on still being asleep when Chad arrives home at noon.
Chad doesn't actually find out about his visitor till he opens his fridge to make himself lunch. Once he takes stock of what is missing and what isn't -- soda and his Xbox, respectively -- he knows not to worry. He walks to the door of what he's taken care to call 'the spare room,' and pushing the door open, he nods at the figure slumped against the pillows. "I didn't expect you to come around," he says carefully.
Vinny's eyes snap open. He hadn't planned on seeing Chad and talking to him. He hadn't planned much of anything, actually. "I wasn't sure where to go," he admitted. "I shouldn't have -- I'm sorry, I'll leave."
"Don't." It's barely a whisper. "I -- it's been hell since you left. Just, don't go." His face is carefully composed, but Vinny can read the slight slump in Chad's shoulders. Some aloof part of him scoffs, saying that Chad's got a bum shoulder, and it's sore, and that's the only reason for the change in body language.
Stay. It's such a tempting option. "I'd have thought you'd have moved on by now," he says, avoiding Chad's eyes. He braces himself for what he knows must be coming, for the knife to slice through.
Hurt flashes across Chad's face. "What, you thought I'd found someone else? You are the only one. I thought you knew that." He backs out of the doorway, retreating to his own bedroom, his refuge, the place he's spent the majority of the past five months. He stands at his window, watching a bird sit in a tree, the little creature happy to be resting instead of flitting around all day.
Vinny isn't sure of what just happened. He thinks that he might have just had a chance to reconcile with Chad, but in typical Testaverde fashion, fumbled under pressure. No wonder there weren't many teams trying to sign him, if he can't even complete a basic play straight from page one of the playbook.
Damn it all, Vinny realizes. Time to call an audible. He's in Chad's room with barely a thought and wraps his arms around Chad. His muscles are tense in Vinny's grasp at first, until he realizes what is meant, that Vinny will stay, that the nights won't be cold and dark anymore, that the off season will include something other than Madden 2005. "Why?"
"Because I can't live without you," Vinny whispers. He can't help but wonder if that's reason enough after everything he's done and said.
"No, why did you think I could be with someone who's not you?" The possibility never even occurred to Chad. Perhaps if he'd been alone for longer, during a time when he wasn't occupied with the game, perhaps he may have tried to find an outlet for his loneliness. But perhaps isn't certain.
Vinny clears his throat. "There was...I saw a jacket in the living room that looked too big." Admit it, he was nervous, read too much into the defense's movement, thought he saw blitz, and he panicked. Rookie mistake, the kind he would gently correct if it had come from Chad, unforgivable in someone who's been playing as long as he has.
"It's from my shoulder injury," Chad explains softly. "I needed something bigger to fit over the wraps." Vinny isn't sure if he's ever felt stupider in his life. He can't think of any such time right now, but there's likely to be one or two instances. He runs his hand along Chad's shoulder, long fingers trying to ease the sore muscles that will need surgery someday soon.
Chad looks back at the tree, where the bird had been sitting, a now-empty branch. Movement in another tree draws his eyes, and he watches as the bird flies and perches on the fence for a second, before taking off and disappearing into the sky.