(no subject)
Recipient:
shandoras
Title: Dreaming With Eyes Open
Pairing: Ole Gunnar Solskjaer/Paul Scholes
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: None of this is real.
Authors note: Happy Christmas,
shandoras! I am properly ashamed for the lateness of this fic. It’s a pairing I’ve never written before and I hope I did it justice for you. Hope you enjoy it!
He was the last one on the pitch, left lingering after the final whistle blew, after all the handshakes and the pats on the back, the long hugs with those he knew best, a couple of laps around the pitch to thank all the fans that showed up, all 76,000 of them for a simple testimonial game. He bows to the crowd once more, hearing his name shouted all over the stadium, the Theatre of Dreams, and what a dream life he’s been living. As the crowd breaks into “You are my Solskjaer” for what must have been the 10th time that night, he takes one last look at the pitch, and with a final round of applause to the terraces, he heads towards the tunnel, the sound fading as he makes his way to the locker room.
He sees Sir Alex approaching him and smiles as the man opens the door for him, regretting it when he’s hit by a stream of champagne, then another, and more as he sputters and fights his way out of the crowd and against the wall, holding his hands up in defeat. He blinks champagne out of his eyes and sees Rio and Wayne laughing and holding now empty bottles of champagne, Cris giggling against Gary, Ryan and Paul looking all too innocent over by the far wall (he’s seen those looks and knows they are anything but innocent and more likely probably instigated the whole thing, coming up with the idea and letting the younger lads carry it out.) He sees Albert coming over to him with a new shirt, getting the hint and shrugging out of it as Albert hands it to Gary with a marker, him and Cris laughing at whatever he’s writing as Ole shakes his head and heads to grab some food in the center of the room. He’s met by the food table by Paul and Ryan, Gary joining them with a smile, teammates and friends for many years, Ole smiling to himself remembering the laughs and the tears and the experiences they shared over the past 11 years.
***
“I’m never going to get old. I’ll be young and gorgeous and Gaz will be after my arse until he’s too old to get it up,” David slurred and let out a loud “OW” as Gary’s hand connected to the back of his head. Gary ignored David’s theatrical flailing and accepted another drink from Paul, clinking the glasses together and nodding in appreciation before swallowing the contents whole.
Ryan laughed as he poured them another round, laughing again at the look on Roy’s face as David’s head connected with the man’s shoulder, not succeeding in shrugging him off and rolling his eyes as David whined and snuggled in closer.
“Lush,” Roy proclaimed, holding his drink out of David’s reach. “Never could hold your alcohol, could you?” and eyeing David as he pouted and reached for his drink again, Roy sighing and giving in like he always did when David was involved and letting him have a sip.
Ole smiled as Paul’s head settled on his shoulder, soft breaths in and out as he sipped his whiskey, body warm against Ole’s as their free hands twined under the table. He listened to the man’s quiet laughter as the group watched Gary and David fighting, Gary threatening to kick him out of his house and David nuzzling in close and whispering something none of them ever wanted to hear, yet always seemed to when David and Gary were around.
Ole squeezed Paul’s hand as he finished his drink, Paul looking up at him with a frown and then nodding at the unspoken question as Ole cleared his throat “Gaz, we’re crashing here tonight,” untangling his fingers from Paul’s and following the man up the stairs, down various hallways in Gary’s house and finding a spare room open for them.
They stumbled into bed, giggling and yelping as various clothing items are tugged against sensitive body parts, Paul’s weight against his side a comfort as they are wrapped up in each other’s arms when they fall asleep, sweaty and sated and exhausted.
***
Ole feels that same weight against him now, both of them have aged and their bodies have changed, but they’ve been together through it all and have learned and studied those changes in great detail, even though Paul cheekily tells Ole that he still looks like he’s 16 years old and then runs away laughing before Ole can catch him, the bastard. They’ve been together through victories and defeats (shared their first kiss in a drunken stupor in Barcelona that magical night) beside each other through triumphs and injuries (shared quite a bit more in the gym and the physio room when they were both injured in 2005) and through it all they have been friends, lovers, godfathers for each other’s children; in other words inseparable.
Ole leans against the table as a hand rubs the small of his back, and hears the whispered “Come on, old man. We’re both in need of a shower.” He’s dragged in the direction of the showers, and when they are alone in the last stall and Paul’s pressed up against him, he doesn’t feel old and decrepit, his joints and muscles don’t ache, and he remembers just how lucky he is to have lived this life with this man beside him all the way.
shandoras
Title: Dreaming With Eyes Open
Pairing: Ole Gunnar Solskjaer/Paul Scholes
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: None of this is real.
Authors note: Happy Christmas,
shandoras! I am properly ashamed for the lateness of this fic. It’s a pairing I’ve never written before and I hope I did it justice for you. Hope you enjoy it!
He was the last one on the pitch, left lingering after the final whistle blew, after all the handshakes and the pats on the back, the long hugs with those he knew best, a couple of laps around the pitch to thank all the fans that showed up, all 76,000 of them for a simple testimonial game. He bows to the crowd once more, hearing his name shouted all over the stadium, the Theatre of Dreams, and what a dream life he’s been living. As the crowd breaks into “You are my Solskjaer” for what must have been the 10th time that night, he takes one last look at the pitch, and with a final round of applause to the terraces, he heads towards the tunnel, the sound fading as he makes his way to the locker room.
He sees Sir Alex approaching him and smiles as the man opens the door for him, regretting it when he’s hit by a stream of champagne, then another, and more as he sputters and fights his way out of the crowd and against the wall, holding his hands up in defeat. He blinks champagne out of his eyes and sees Rio and Wayne laughing and holding now empty bottles of champagne, Cris giggling against Gary, Ryan and Paul looking all too innocent over by the far wall (he’s seen those looks and knows they are anything but innocent and more likely probably instigated the whole thing, coming up with the idea and letting the younger lads carry it out.) He sees Albert coming over to him with a new shirt, getting the hint and shrugging out of it as Albert hands it to Gary with a marker, him and Cris laughing at whatever he’s writing as Ole shakes his head and heads to grab some food in the center of the room. He’s met by the food table by Paul and Ryan, Gary joining them with a smile, teammates and friends for many years, Ole smiling to himself remembering the laughs and the tears and the experiences they shared over the past 11 years.
***
“I’m never going to get old. I’ll be young and gorgeous and Gaz will be after my arse until he’s too old to get it up,” David slurred and let out a loud “OW” as Gary’s hand connected to the back of his head. Gary ignored David’s theatrical flailing and accepted another drink from Paul, clinking the glasses together and nodding in appreciation before swallowing the contents whole.
Ryan laughed as he poured them another round, laughing again at the look on Roy’s face as David’s head connected with the man’s shoulder, not succeeding in shrugging him off and rolling his eyes as David whined and snuggled in closer.
“Lush,” Roy proclaimed, holding his drink out of David’s reach. “Never could hold your alcohol, could you?” and eyeing David as he pouted and reached for his drink again, Roy sighing and giving in like he always did when David was involved and letting him have a sip.
Ole smiled as Paul’s head settled on his shoulder, soft breaths in and out as he sipped his whiskey, body warm against Ole’s as their free hands twined under the table. He listened to the man’s quiet laughter as the group watched Gary and David fighting, Gary threatening to kick him out of his house and David nuzzling in close and whispering something none of them ever wanted to hear, yet always seemed to when David and Gary were around.
Ole squeezed Paul’s hand as he finished his drink, Paul looking up at him with a frown and then nodding at the unspoken question as Ole cleared his throat “Gaz, we’re crashing here tonight,” untangling his fingers from Paul’s and following the man up the stairs, down various hallways in Gary’s house and finding a spare room open for them.
They stumbled into bed, giggling and yelping as various clothing items are tugged against sensitive body parts, Paul’s weight against his side a comfort as they are wrapped up in each other’s arms when they fall asleep, sweaty and sated and exhausted.
***
Ole feels that same weight against him now, both of them have aged and their bodies have changed, but they’ve been together through it all and have learned and studied those changes in great detail, even though Paul cheekily tells Ole that he still looks like he’s 16 years old and then runs away laughing before Ole can catch him, the bastard. They’ve been together through victories and defeats (shared their first kiss in a drunken stupor in Barcelona that magical night) beside each other through triumphs and injuries (shared quite a bit more in the gym and the physio room when they were both injured in 2005) and through it all they have been friends, lovers, godfathers for each other’s children; in other words inseparable.
Ole leans against the table as a hand rubs the small of his back, and hears the whispered “Come on, old man. We’re both in need of a shower.” He’s dragged in the direction of the showers, and when they are alone in the last stall and Paul’s pressed up against him, he doesn’t feel old and decrepit, his joints and muscles don’t ache, and he remembers just how lucky he is to have lived this life with this man beside him all the way.