(fic) Twelve Down
Title: Twelve Down
Pairing: Ray Emery / Jason Spezza Brian McGrattan, Antoine Vermette
Rating: R
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, which means it's made up.
Every time they were all together in the same room things would often get slightly fuzzy.
Time would skip ahead or slow down. Nothing was ever more boring or more tedious or took longer than a Roughriders / Argos game when it seemed like no one would score, and the beer was too fucking warm. Ray would sink down into the couch until only his eyes showed over his sweater and his knees. And even Jason would slink into a silent stupor and instead of cheering he’d sneer when someone finally scored.
Brian would slide off the couch and lie on the floor bitching out loud about the hardwood until Jason called him 'princess' and offered to get him a mattress.
Brian took him up on his offer. And proceeded to choke Jason on the couch, sitting on his chest and leaning his arm onto Jason's neck as Ray and Antoine drank all the good beer and took bets about what colour Jason’s face would go next. Finally Jason - with bad grace and coughing in a pathetic manner - dragged the mattress off the box springs in the spare room into the lounge for him.
It was way too short for Brian of course, and his feet hung over the end, but he lounged with all the aplomb of a king on a litter as Jason seethed. Finally Ray took pity on Jason and ordered pizza.
While he was up helping Ray, getting paper towels, Brian stole the cushion off the couch where he'd been sitting for a pillow. Jason pretended not to notice.
But then nothing went faster than a night where they were walking out, letting Ray mock their clothes, and stumbling back in felt like ten minutes later with their arms over each others shoulders. Laughing in the kitchen stinking of beer and trying to work out where they had been from credit card receipts.
Ray and Brian both drinking gatorade and comparing phone numbers, discarding the girls who they both had written on coasters and the inside of ripped off drink labels.
They drove from Ottawa to Belleville the night after Antoine broke up with his girlfriend 'cause there was a place that he wanted to visit for the pancakes. Jason even ate the pancakes and Ray took the corners at the correct speed. When they walked out Brian folded his arms around Antoine’s head and pressed a rough kiss on the top of his hair and told him it would all be ok.
Antoine is pretty sure he knows every sound that Ray and Jason can make. From yelling to cursing, to crying when they got bounced from the play-offs, to singing gansta rap at the top of their lungs. His lungs. That was Jason, and Ray had laughed so hard that he started hiccupping. And then insisted he never did as Brian giggled.
And things had always been a bit blurred around the edges with them. They knew each other too well, so around each other too much to have anything in the way of real secrets. Jason would stalk to the phone in boxers he’d pulled over his body wet from the shower that left nothing to the imagination, but then Brian would wander around the dressing room with his dick practically hanging out.
When he got bored Ray would casually talk about the women he’d fucked. Not like drunk bragging, Antoine would be working his way through some half n half instant oatmeal and count chocula and Brian would be working his way through a hangover and Ray'd start talking about the nipples on this West Indian girl he’d known when he was sixteen.
All his stories ended with a twist ‘and then she went home to her sisters. In the convent.’ And Antoine would sit assuming that at least part of the story was true while Jason and Brian would roll their eyes and scoff and play ever more ridiculous games of ‘I spy’ to work out who had to get up and make the coffee.
They would still be fighting over whether it counted to say ‘ketchup’ when it had been in the fridge, but the door had been open when Brian had said ‘I spy’, Jason arguing that it was ‘in the fucking door! Fucking door! Facing away from us!’ Until Ray would get pissed off enough to make them all the perfect coffee they'd wanted in the first place.
Antoine was fucking bored so he skulked over one afternoon looking for someone to have lunch with. And was disappointed to find that no one was home and there wasn’t any decent food. Just some fruit and some disgusting protein powder that seemed to be seaweed and vomit based judging from the picture on the can and the smell inside it.
He bored himself asleep on the couch watching some cooking show that he reminded himself to deny should anyone walk in in the next few minutes.
He wakes up with a sound playing at the edge of his consciousness.
It’s giggling, Jason that much is fucking obvious, a giggle like he’s about to be talked into something, and Ray talking all low and rumbly like when he’s flirting his way out of a parking ticket or into a club. And it’s so wrong to hear them sound like that on a Thursday at -he peeks at his watch - three fifteen in the afternoon that Antoine wakes up properly.
He peers over the edge of the couch and Ray’s holding Jason’s face in both his hands and Jason’s hands are twisted in Ray’s shirt at the waist. Antoine freezes then unfreezes long enough to draw his feet back from the edge of the couch and sinks down so he can’t be seen even if they look in his direction.
He sneaks out when he hears a bedroom door slam shut, and almost makes a clean get away but he walks into Brian on the porch.
Antoine mumbles something steps left, then right, then finally looks up when it becomes obvious that Brian is deliberately stopping him from getting away.
Antoine blushes like he does when Ray gives too much detail and Brian swears and drags Antoine down the steps all but throwing him in the car and reverses back out onto the street with exaggerated care and quiet.
And Antoine thinks that, yeah Brian lives there so there are certain things that he would be privy to that Antoine had no fucking clue about.
Brian drives around not saying anything for twenty minutes before he gets them both Tim Hortons.
‘Thanks’, Antoine says.
And Brian replies, ‘it’s not a big deal.’
Antoine worries his bottom lip with his teeth and says, “I know man, but they could have told me.’
Brian shrugs and says ‘there’s nothing to tell.’ He takes the long way home stopping to buy Antoine poutine and beer to make up for not telling him and by the time they get back to Jason’s Antoine’s buzzed and talking about his favourite sticks to a degree excessive even for a professional hockey player.
Ray’s standing in the kitchen stirring something that smells spicier than all of Ottawa combined when they get back, Jason’s sitting at the table pretending to do the crossword puzzle. Antoine collapses on the chair next to Jason and starts peeling the first of three oranges he won’t eat, but Ray will. Brian stands in the doorway for a few seconds more twirling his car keys on the key ring until he walks over to the window where Ray is watching his dinner cook and leafing through King magazine. On the way past he ruffles up Jason’s hair and is rewarded with a giggle as Antoine goes on and on about this lucky stick he had in junior and Jason gets twelve down, a six letter word for ‘smart’: wisdom.
Pairing: Ray Emery / Jason Spezza Brian McGrattan, Antoine Vermette
Rating: R
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, which means it's made up.
Every time they were all together in the same room things would often get slightly fuzzy.
Time would skip ahead or slow down. Nothing was ever more boring or more tedious or took longer than a Roughriders / Argos game when it seemed like no one would score, and the beer was too fucking warm. Ray would sink down into the couch until only his eyes showed over his sweater and his knees. And even Jason would slink into a silent stupor and instead of cheering he’d sneer when someone finally scored.
Brian would slide off the couch and lie on the floor bitching out loud about the hardwood until Jason called him 'princess' and offered to get him a mattress.
Brian took him up on his offer. And proceeded to choke Jason on the couch, sitting on his chest and leaning his arm onto Jason's neck as Ray and Antoine drank all the good beer and took bets about what colour Jason’s face would go next. Finally Jason - with bad grace and coughing in a pathetic manner - dragged the mattress off the box springs in the spare room into the lounge for him.
It was way too short for Brian of course, and his feet hung over the end, but he lounged with all the aplomb of a king on a litter as Jason seethed. Finally Ray took pity on Jason and ordered pizza.
While he was up helping Ray, getting paper towels, Brian stole the cushion off the couch where he'd been sitting for a pillow. Jason pretended not to notice.
But then nothing went faster than a night where they were walking out, letting Ray mock their clothes, and stumbling back in felt like ten minutes later with their arms over each others shoulders. Laughing in the kitchen stinking of beer and trying to work out where they had been from credit card receipts.
Ray and Brian both drinking gatorade and comparing phone numbers, discarding the girls who they both had written on coasters and the inside of ripped off drink labels.
They drove from Ottawa to Belleville the night after Antoine broke up with his girlfriend 'cause there was a place that he wanted to visit for the pancakes. Jason even ate the pancakes and Ray took the corners at the correct speed. When they walked out Brian folded his arms around Antoine’s head and pressed a rough kiss on the top of his hair and told him it would all be ok.
Antoine is pretty sure he knows every sound that Ray and Jason can make. From yelling to cursing, to crying when they got bounced from the play-offs, to singing gansta rap at the top of their lungs. His lungs. That was Jason, and Ray had laughed so hard that he started hiccupping. And then insisted he never did as Brian giggled.
And things had always been a bit blurred around the edges with them. They knew each other too well, so around each other too much to have anything in the way of real secrets. Jason would stalk to the phone in boxers he’d pulled over his body wet from the shower that left nothing to the imagination, but then Brian would wander around the dressing room with his dick practically hanging out.
When he got bored Ray would casually talk about the women he’d fucked. Not like drunk bragging, Antoine would be working his way through some half n half instant oatmeal and count chocula and Brian would be working his way through a hangover and Ray'd start talking about the nipples on this West Indian girl he’d known when he was sixteen.
All his stories ended with a twist ‘and then she went home to her sisters. In the convent.’ And Antoine would sit assuming that at least part of the story was true while Jason and Brian would roll their eyes and scoff and play ever more ridiculous games of ‘I spy’ to work out who had to get up and make the coffee.
They would still be fighting over whether it counted to say ‘ketchup’ when it had been in the fridge, but the door had been open when Brian had said ‘I spy’, Jason arguing that it was ‘in the fucking door! Fucking door! Facing away from us!’ Until Ray would get pissed off enough to make them all the perfect coffee they'd wanted in the first place.
Antoine was fucking bored so he skulked over one afternoon looking for someone to have lunch with. And was disappointed to find that no one was home and there wasn’t any decent food. Just some fruit and some disgusting protein powder that seemed to be seaweed and vomit based judging from the picture on the can and the smell inside it.
He bored himself asleep on the couch watching some cooking show that he reminded himself to deny should anyone walk in in the next few minutes.
He wakes up with a sound playing at the edge of his consciousness.
It’s giggling, Jason that much is fucking obvious, a giggle like he’s about to be talked into something, and Ray talking all low and rumbly like when he’s flirting his way out of a parking ticket or into a club. And it’s so wrong to hear them sound like that on a Thursday at -he peeks at his watch - three fifteen in the afternoon that Antoine wakes up properly.
He peers over the edge of the couch and Ray’s holding Jason’s face in both his hands and Jason’s hands are twisted in Ray’s shirt at the waist. Antoine freezes then unfreezes long enough to draw his feet back from the edge of the couch and sinks down so he can’t be seen even if they look in his direction.
He sneaks out when he hears a bedroom door slam shut, and almost makes a clean get away but he walks into Brian on the porch.
Antoine mumbles something steps left, then right, then finally looks up when it becomes obvious that Brian is deliberately stopping him from getting away.
Antoine blushes like he does when Ray gives too much detail and Brian swears and drags Antoine down the steps all but throwing him in the car and reverses back out onto the street with exaggerated care and quiet.
And Antoine thinks that, yeah Brian lives there so there are certain things that he would be privy to that Antoine had no fucking clue about.
Brian drives around not saying anything for twenty minutes before he gets them both Tim Hortons.
‘Thanks’, Antoine says.
And Brian replies, ‘it’s not a big deal.’
Antoine worries his bottom lip with his teeth and says, “I know man, but they could have told me.’
Brian shrugs and says ‘there’s nothing to tell.’ He takes the long way home stopping to buy Antoine poutine and beer to make up for not telling him and by the time they get back to Jason’s Antoine’s buzzed and talking about his favourite sticks to a degree excessive even for a professional hockey player.
Ray’s standing in the kitchen stirring something that smells spicier than all of Ottawa combined when they get back, Jason’s sitting at the table pretending to do the crossword puzzle. Antoine collapses on the chair next to Jason and starts peeling the first of three oranges he won’t eat, but Ray will. Brian stands in the doorway for a few seconds more twirling his car keys on the key ring until he walks over to the window where Ray is watching his dinner cook and leafing through King magazine. On the way past he ruffles up Jason’s hair and is rewarded with a giggle as Antoine goes on and on about this lucky stick he had in junior and Jason gets twelve down, a six letter word for ‘smart’: wisdom.