(no subject)
Recipient:
hiro_chan
Title: Reality Escapes
Pairing: Ole Gunnar Solskjaer/Paul Scholes
Rating: PG
Authors note: It's still the same lovely, wonderful, perfect pairing I helped you dream up forever ago (it seems like forever ago!). And I still love writing them for you. I hope you love it, even though it doesn't have the plotty substance I think you were looking for. ;p
Paul often tries to remember how he and Ole “happened”. They aren’t meant to be like Gary and Ryan, with their long history of shared, hidden, and careful love. They aren’t even as perfectly NOT perfect for each other like Ruud and Cris had been in their short time together, all awkward and obsessive and painful in their passion. Paul and Ole were none of those things. Their similarities matched their differences point for point. They shared very few interests. Paul was good at chess and Ole rather enjoyed playing, though the Norwegian was awful. Ole had a huge collection of mystery novels, which Paul occasionally dipped into, but Paul had never considered himself a great reader by any stretch of the imagination.
This is why that first kiss was so unexpected. Paul had never dreamt of Ole before that kiss. Paul didn’t have so much experience in love. His one reference was Claire and he had dreamt of her every night before their first kiss. Ole was more of a familiar presence turned quiet desire and that is what distressed Paul the most.
Paul was a very cut and dry sort of person. He didn’t like gray. He didn’t like ‘maybe’. He didn’t like it when questions had no right answer. He’d been very good at maths in school, but when asked to analyze a poem, he would freeze up and write about football instead. Claire was maths. Or at least, she attempted to be maths for his sake. Ole was proud of being a poem. This both frustrated Paul and made him want it more.
What he wanted -- that was another question.
What he wanted to was kiss Ole, though kissing men had never really been all that high on his “When I Grow Up, I Want To” list. What he wanted was to make love to Ole, which didn’t sound right, even in his head. He should be wanting to fuck Ole, but that sounded even worse. Making love, Paul thought, made the entire situation sound a little more legitimate. And that’s almost what he wanted. He wanted to feel like this was going to be okay.
He knew this sort of thing happened all the time. Gary and Ryan and Ruud and Cris and Rio and Nemanja and he could go through the team through the years and the list would just keep growing. Maybe it didn’t mean anything at all and he was wasting his time on this curb, thinking about something that just HAPPENED when men got too close, spent too much time being that close, started enjoying being that close. Maybe it had always happened in football, from the very beginning. Maybe it had always happened in sport. Paul didn’t like to think like this. Those were the sort of questions that gave him a headache.
Claire, he thought, what he wanted more than anything was to tell Claire about this. Claire understood better than he understood himself sometimes. When they’d first started going out, he’d had a sneaking suspicion that she was a psychic, escaped from a nearby carnival. He knew better, of course, but it damn well had seemed like it. Claire, he thought again, if only Claire could tell him what to do. She would know. She always knew. She would be able to make this go away… but maybe he didn’t want it to go away.
“Paul? Scholesy?”
Paul glanced up, “Ole?”
“Are you going to get in the car or not? We need to be quick. Rio’ll cut us in half if we’re late to his party.”
Paul nodded, standing up and dusting off his jeans, “Yeah. I --”
“It’s fine,” Ole laughed, “I figured you needed an extra minute. You had your thinking face on.”
Paul blinked. Maybe Ole was a wizard, escaped from a nearby carnival.
hiro_chan
Title: Reality Escapes
Pairing: Ole Gunnar Solskjaer/Paul Scholes
Rating: PG
Authors note: It's still the same lovely, wonderful, perfect pairing I helped you dream up forever ago (it seems like forever ago!). And I still love writing them for you. I hope you love it, even though it doesn't have the plotty substance I think you were looking for. ;p
Paul often tries to remember how he and Ole “happened”. They aren’t meant to be like Gary and Ryan, with their long history of shared, hidden, and careful love. They aren’t even as perfectly NOT perfect for each other like Ruud and Cris had been in their short time together, all awkward and obsessive and painful in their passion. Paul and Ole were none of those things. Their similarities matched their differences point for point. They shared very few interests. Paul was good at chess and Ole rather enjoyed playing, though the Norwegian was awful. Ole had a huge collection of mystery novels, which Paul occasionally dipped into, but Paul had never considered himself a great reader by any stretch of the imagination.
This is why that first kiss was so unexpected. Paul had never dreamt of Ole before that kiss. Paul didn’t have so much experience in love. His one reference was Claire and he had dreamt of her every night before their first kiss. Ole was more of a familiar presence turned quiet desire and that is what distressed Paul the most.
Paul was a very cut and dry sort of person. He didn’t like gray. He didn’t like ‘maybe’. He didn’t like it when questions had no right answer. He’d been very good at maths in school, but when asked to analyze a poem, he would freeze up and write about football instead. Claire was maths. Or at least, she attempted to be maths for his sake. Ole was proud of being a poem. This both frustrated Paul and made him want it more.
What he wanted -- that was another question.
What he wanted to was kiss Ole, though kissing men had never really been all that high on his “When I Grow Up, I Want To” list. What he wanted was to make love to Ole, which didn’t sound right, even in his head. He should be wanting to fuck Ole, but that sounded even worse. Making love, Paul thought, made the entire situation sound a little more legitimate. And that’s almost what he wanted. He wanted to feel like this was going to be okay.
He knew this sort of thing happened all the time. Gary and Ryan and Ruud and Cris and Rio and Nemanja and he could go through the team through the years and the list would just keep growing. Maybe it didn’t mean anything at all and he was wasting his time on this curb, thinking about something that just HAPPENED when men got too close, spent too much time being that close, started enjoying being that close. Maybe it had always happened in football, from the very beginning. Maybe it had always happened in sport. Paul didn’t like to think like this. Those were the sort of questions that gave him a headache.
Claire, he thought, what he wanted more than anything was to tell Claire about this. Claire understood better than he understood himself sometimes. When they’d first started going out, he’d had a sneaking suspicion that she was a psychic, escaped from a nearby carnival. He knew better, of course, but it damn well had seemed like it. Claire, he thought again, if only Claire could tell him what to do. She would know. She always knew. She would be able to make this go away… but maybe he didn’t want it to go away.
“Paul? Scholesy?”
Paul glanced up, “Ole?”
“Are you going to get in the car or not? We need to be quick. Rio’ll cut us in half if we’re late to his party.”
Paul nodded, standing up and dusting off his jeans, “Yeah. I --”
“It’s fine,” Ole laughed, “I figured you needed an extra minute. You had your thinking face on.”
Paul blinked. Maybe Ole was a wizard, escaped from a nearby carnival.