#parseswoops

[bittysvalentines]

Life

A gift for @writingdragon by @TheTimetravellerCat for the Bitty’s Valentines! 2018 edition.

Summary: The Las Vegas aces are on a roadie, and the team goes to celebrate after a win, but Kent stays back after a quarrel with a teammate. Jeff is concerned and goes after Kent to find him distraught. They progress together and find new facets to their relationship.

Notes: Be aware that this fic deals with internalised homophobia and self-depreciation. Kent is the one having issues with his self-esteem, but Jeff helps him to see that what he thinks isn’t the truth and that he is worthy of many things. No character bashing, just quite a lot of personal growth. His issues are mostly triggered by the toxic homophobic environment he is in. There is a good deal of angst as well, but also a fair part of fluff, I promise. Happy open ending (I’m planning to write a sequel to this). And for the sake of clarity, this is an established-relationship.

The title of this has been inspired by the song Life by Ludovico Einaudi. (https://youtu.be/fy2ZF2ks-9E) [Also, this is my first fic ever, obviously it had to be a Check, please! fic lol, so I hope you enjoy it! :) ] PS: A lot of love to my amazing and patient beta, Ricekrispyjoints! (<3 <3)

______________________

The Las Vegas Aces are coming back to the rustic resort they’re staying at after a winning game. Press went well, the usual after-game questions, the team is joyous and they are making plans to celebrate their victory. Nothing too extravagant, as they have an 11:30 pm curfew and have to hit the road again a little before eleven the next day. The guys are loud, nonetheless, and they jostle each other. Carl bumps into Kent, but he isn’t in the mood.

“Fuck off, Carly.”

“Chill dude. You got a stick up your ass, or what?”

“Fuck you! I’m not that desperate, not like you.” He winks and grimaces, showing his disgust at the thought.

“You know what? You’re just a piece of shit, have fun all alone. I’m out!“

And on that, Carl leaves, clearly pissed. Kent barely notices, words are ringing in his ears. You’re just a piece of shit. He feels his heart sinking in his chest. What if… no. Carl couldn’t be. He is by far the most homophobic dude on the team. He hadn’t been affected by Kent’s comment, not in that way at least. It’s just his basic ‘I don’t want to have anything to do with those fags’ reaction. Kent knows it, but he can’t help wondering because he also knows he would have taken it personally. By now, he is used to the rampant homophobia, and – he isn’t proud of it, he realises – but he is used to say things like this as well, as a way to insult people. All of a sudden, he feels sick. Without looking back, he runs to his room, the one he shares with Troy.

He reaches the doorway and fumbles with his key. Once he manages to open it, he enters and immediately closes the door behind him. He feels like he is about to puke. He believes it. He fucking believes it. When did it happen? He doesn’t know. He didn’t notice. It was so subtle he didn’t even become aware of it. Until now. He knows this is all messed up. He knows this isn’t the truth. He knows bigots are jerks and even more than that. He knows he isn’t one of them. Or maybe he is. You’re just a piece of shit. He is shaking. He needs to calm down, but it’s too late. He can feel his shell breaking apart. He takes a few trembling steps and grips the desk until his knuckles are white with the effort. He needs to ground himself. You’re just a piece of shit. Carl’s words keep coming at him, hitting him hard. His nails dig into the hard surface underneath them. He barely hears the sound of someone unlocking the door and coming in. A few seconds later, there is a click and two turns of the key, shutting the outside world off. Kent still can’t breathe properly, Carl’s voice haunting him, Carl’s words insidiously creeping under his skin.

“Kent…” Troy pleads.

For a brief instant, everything freezes around them and then, Kent explodes.

“I’m SHIT! I’m just shit and I know it!!! And YOU know it!”

Jeff is quiet, no words escape his mouth. He is just here, looking at Kent with patient eyes. Parse wants him to scream back at him, to agree with him. But nothing comes. Jeff stays silent. Parse tries to read him, tries to see disgust on his face but he can’t because there is none. He almost gets angry again, he wants to snap at his teammate again.

Instead, his legs fail him and he drops on the floor, his knees making a loud bang against the hardwood. A single tear rolls on his cheek, a second one follows and then it’s flooding all over his face. He can’t even think about how much of a fool of himself he must be making. He tries to voice a snarky comment about how weak he is and about how this is just more proof of his obsolescence but he can only manage to let out a sob. Something has broken in him and he can’t back-pedal. Jeff lets him cry his eyes out. He has to clench his fists tight – it hurts him seeing his loved-one like this – but he doesn’t want to scare him away. He knows if he invades his space right now, he will shut down again and he won’t let Jeff help him, even though they are both aware that he has reached his breaking point.

Eventually, the tears cease. He is sitting on his heels, his arms lose at his sides and he can’t bring himself to get back on his feet and to walk away pretending that nothing ever happened. Abruptly, before he can regret it, he asks:

“Why are you not telling me I’m crap?”

He almost adds ‘Why are you not laughing at me for being such a sissy?’ But he thinks better of it because even though it’s something the guys would say, it’s not something Jeff would say, he realises. However, it seems like Jeff still heard him in his silence.

“Should I? And maybe I should call you a sissy while we’re at it?”

“Yes. Yes…” But his voice is dying.

He doesn’t believe it. It sounds… wrong and it’s a new feeling to him. Jeff kneels in front of him and gently picks Kent’s hands in his own. They stay like this for a moment. Silent sobs spill out from time to time.

After a while, Jeff let go one of his hands and reaches to remove Kent’s cap and slowly leans in to press a soft kiss on his forehead. Kent stares down at his laps. He can’t look at Troy in the eyes. He can’t face the truth. He can’t face the fact that someone genuinely, wholeheartedly cares about him. So he ducks his head but this doesn’t stop Jeff who presses another gentle kiss, on his temple this time. Finally, Kent gives in and buries his head in the other man’s neck, breathing deeply, soothing himself with his scent, allowing himself to be taken care of. Jeff holds him tightly. ‘I am not going to reject you’ his body says. When he feels his boyfriend relaxing, he helps him to the bed but Kent doesn’t want to let him go. He starts to panic and feels shameful about it but he hears himself beg anyway.

“Don’t-don’t leave me!”

“I am not. I wasn’t intending to.”

“I know I don’t deserve it-”

Jeff cuts him off. “You do.”

“But you don’t understand… I’ve treated him so badly… I’ve said so many messed up things… I’ve-I’ve nearly, maybe even really, believed those things… I can’t expect people to treat me well after that…”

‘Him’. He knows who he is talking about, and where he is concerned, he is pretty sure it went both ways, but he doesn’t press.

“Kenny, listen, it’s not because you were a bad person once or that you fell into this whole homophobic mess that you can’t progress and be good again. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to love yourself.”

“So what? I should see a shrink?” He snorts.

“Maybe.”

Kent stares. Jeff’s tone is serious. There is no underlying teasing. It sounds right in his mouth. It doesn’t sound like something he should be ashamed of. He considers it. Then, carefully choosing his words, he says:

“If-if I start to see a sh-therapist… Would you still stay with me? I-I…”

He is afraid he will be alone again. He is afraid Jeff is only sending him to a therapist so he can get rid of him, the useless asshole. He…

“I didn’t suggest it so I could abandon you. You’re not doing this alone, I’ll be with you.”

He knows he should trust him, he knows he shouldn’t question it, but he needs to hear it. He needs to be sure.

“Promise?” he asks, shyly.

“Promise.”

There is a silence. Jeff is still sitting on the edge of the mattress. He seems to hesitate.

“Now, would you rather have me sleeping in the other bed or…”

He doesn’t end his sentence, unsure of what to say. Kent shakes his head.

“No. I mean, only if you want to…”

“Yes, I want to.”

He turns the lights off and slides under the quilt. Kent is facing him. He wants to get closer, he wants to be held but he doesn’t know if he should. He looks at Jeff whose eyes are gleaming in the dimness. The man places an arm over him, his hand resting on his back. Kent takes the invitation and snuggles against him like a cat. It feels safe. He feels welcomed. He feels loved, and it might be the best thing he ever felt, but he is not quite ready to admit it. So, he just stays silent and enjoys it as much as he can. He is still scared it might get taken away from him, but it is there right now, and god knows he will fight to keep this, although it might make him lose other things.

He is starting to get that his happiness is worth it, but even knowing this, he can’t help but wonder if the other things might be more important. He briefly thinks about losing Jeff and his heart aches more than he can stand it. He makes a distressed noise, and the other man holds him even closer and kisses him through his hair. No. This is the right thing, he thinks. With him, he can do it. Together. Not alone.

Sleep takes him and for once, he doesn’t fight.

_______________________________________________

Dawn finds them still tangled together. They look sleepily at each other without a word. Everything is quiet, not even a bird is chirruping. They’re both exhausted, drained from the game the previous day, the episodes of last night… They both remember last night’s events. But there is no embarrassment, no second-thoughts, only acceptance. Kent speaks first.

“I’m scared, Jeff.” He admits, sheepishly. “I don’t feel or think that there is any going back. I don’t think I can just pretend that I hate gays and find them gross… I am gay. And… I… I’m… I am not disgusting!” He explodes.

Jeff soothingly brushes Kent’s hair, leans in and kisses the tip of his nose with the tip of his lips.

“No, you’re not. You’re beautiful.”

Kent can’t help the flush on his face, but he finds himself not minding it at all. He feels warm. He grasps Swoops’ hand and boldly kisses it. They are both fiercely pink now which makes Parse smirk, proud of himself. They goof around some more, enjoying this harmless, easy interaction, glad to forget about the ugliness waiting for them outside of their room.

At one point, Jeff takes Kent’s shirt off.

“I want to try something, okay? Tell me if you’re not comfortable with it.” He explains.

“Okay.” He tenses inadvertently.

“Hey, just try to relax. You can tell me to stop at any time. No pressure.”

Kent nods and shifts, trying to loosen up. Jeff barely strokes his shoulders and Kent shivers under the touch. The other man goes down to his chest, then to his ribs which makes him jolt – he is ticklish – but he finds it nice. It’s so gentle and genuine.

Swoops’ hands rest on his hips as he slowly bends down and presses a very soft kiss right below his belly button. Kent takes a big breath and forces himself to let it out. Relax. It’s okay. He trusts him.

Another kiss finds its place on the left, and again another one on the right, then he leaves a line of kisses all the way up to his jaw.

There is no rush and everything is soft. Jeff makes sure to be as diligent with each new kiss as he was with the previous one.

A beauty spot on his collarbone is gifted a kiss as well, and soon enough every single beauty spot on his torso gets the same delicate attention.

Parse groans when he realises it’s the last one. He doesn’t want it to stop just yet.

Jeff rests on Kent’s belly, looking at him, his hands folded under his chin.

“How do you feel?” He asks.

“Good. A bit sad you stopped.” He answers, the pad of one of his finger lingering along the scar on Swoops’ face.

Jeff chuckles which makes Kenny pout.

“Hey! Don’t make your pouting kitten face, it’s not fair!” He exclaims, while poking lightly at his boyfriend’s ribs. “Maybe if you ask me politely, I’ll start again,” he adds, merrily.

A new light sparkles in Kenny’s eyes. He grins.

“Kiss me some more… please?” And Jeff obliges, too happy to show his love, too happy that Kenny wants him to be affectionate in soft and leading ways, too happy that he actually seems to enjoy it and to allow himself to enjoy it.

This time, he ends it with a kiss on the lips and then rolls into Kent’s left side, his head resting on top of his shoulder. Kenny is absently brushing his left arm.

“So, how was it?” Swoops inquires.

“Unusual.”

“Bad?”

“No. More like I’m not… used to it.” He sighs, less sure of himself. “Maybe I should let you… do this more often.”

He almost said let you love me, but he didn’t. It feels too overwhelming, and his heart is beating fast in his chest. He keeps it for another time. He still has work to do to get there, but he is confident it will happen.

They remain still, touching one another, for a little while after that, in thoughtful silence, knowing that they’ll have to move soon enough. They have to work out, get breakfast, then pack and finally hit the road. But for now, they’re still in this intermediary state, caught in between peace and chaos, in the nothingness, determined to make the most out of the calm before the storm. They breathe in unison.

In.

And out.

In.

And out.

An alarm clock makes itself known, and everything returns to motion. They sit up straight, force themselves out of bed and change into work-out clothes.

“What about a run? I’m not really looking forward to getting stuck into a gym with the others.”

Jeff is ruffling the other bed, to make it look like they didn’t sleep in the same one, just in case.

“Yeah. Not ready to make small talk with them, uh?” He chirps.

“No. Indeed.” Kent answers, seriously.

“Kenny, it’s gonna be okay. I promise you only have to be your sassy self and they won’t even notice.”

“And how do I avoid getting angry? I’m not the calmest person on Earth, you know that.”

“I’ll help you with that. And therapists can give you useful tips.”

“Still not ready for this today.”

“Okay. Then, let’s go for a run!”

He claps Kent’s shoulder on his way to the door, but gets stop by Kent who steals a kiss from him in the process.

“Good luck charm,” he explains with a wink.

Jeff shakes his head in an amused disbelief. They head out and run in a comfortable mix of silence, chirps and Kent’s well known entertaining way to converse. It’s easy, it’s nice. They have been running buddies for a while now and it’s, at least, one of the only things they can do in public without anyone batting an eye.

They head back to the rustic resort. Kent wins at rock, paper, scissors and gets to shower first. He leaves the room shortly after that to get breakfast. They rarely eat breakfast together on roadies, unwilling to take risks. This resulted in Parson being grumpy pretty much every morning, which built him a solid to-do-not-disturb reputation. That is, he won’t have to speak to anyone, which buys him some time to reflect on what happened and how it’ll affect his future. For sure, things will change, he just doesn’t know exactly what yet; besides that he is actually going to listen to Jeff and work with a therapist. He will at least give it a shot. He could use a hand to help him sort out his feelings and help him with this mess, he thinks. Jeff made it sound like something good – and he doesn’t lie to Kent – so maybe it will be, indeed. He will see.

Time passes by quickly. The guys are excited to go home and pack their stuff at full speed. As such, everyone is exceptionally ready in advance, and they can leave early.

The ride back home is quiet on their part. They are way too tired to bother to stay awake. And when they’re sleeping, it’s easier to forget that they’re not allowed to hold hands. So, instead, they share a pair of earphones and nap. It’s Jeff’s turn to pick the music, and he thankfully chooses something they can sleep to. And that is how they let Life by Ludovico Einaudi clear their mind and escort them to whatever is next in their own lives. 

End notes: I hope you enjoyed your gift :D I had a great time writing it! And I know i totally lied (unintentionally) in my asks (but your answers were very useful, thank you, it was appreciated) and wrote about the pairing i thought i wouldn’t pick. I have very strong feelings for ParseSwoops and as a consequence, I thought I would write too many things xD (god, I had cold sweats near the end, when i was approaching the 3k limit dangerously) but it worked out just right! Anyway, happy valentine’s day! Have a nice day :D

[checkpleaselibrary]

you're a god & i'm not by staunchly_anonymous

mature

no archive warnings apply

34535 words

wip (last updated jan. 22)

kent parson/jeff troy, eric bittle/kent parson

Everything is complicated.

Scenes from the life of Jeff "Swoops" Troy.

[parrishsrubberplant]

At this point in the season, they are tie-dyed with bruises.

Kent strips quickly, looking up to make sure the locker room door is closed while Moose and Philly do the post-game interview. Nobody needs to see Swoops’s dick gif-ed, making its way from Twitter to the entire Internet.

He hisses between his teeth as he pulls off his pads. There’s a new red patch at the bottom of his ribs that will be blue-purple in a few days, a yellowing stripe across his thigh. He flexes his knee, standing on one leg like a flamingo. His knee creaks.

How long, he thinks. How long? He wants it to be forever. He knows it can’t be.

He towels off his hair and dresses.

Swoops is already wearing boxers--they’re black, with red lip-prints all over them--and doing something serious with a tub of hair gel that has him biting his lip in concentration.

Kent reaches up to mess Swoops’s hair, like the asshole he is. Swoops knocks his hand away. “Naw, baby,” he says, and smirks at Kent with one side of his mouth. His hair gel smells like flowers.

Moose and Philly come back in. Uncaring of the door, Moose is already stripping. He’s the kind of guy who looks fat, but it’s just how he carries his muscle. Philly is leaner--he’ll be down to skin and bone by the end of the season.

Swoops finishes fixing his hair and nods to Kent.

That’s the advantage of having an A who can read the room; Kent doesn’t need to time his captain-ly speeches anymore. He thinks Swoops probably has a schedule.

“All right,” Kent says, and the room begins to quiet.

Moose waits, towel held loosely at his waist. Make this quick, his eyes say. I want to shower.

“We did well,” Kent says. There are a few cat-calls, and Philly whistles. “I’m not going to say we’ve got this in the bag,” Kent says. “That’s bad luck.”

“We don’t need luck!” one of the rookies calls. Swoops puts him in a headlock and noogies him.

“We had Snowy’s fucking heroism between the pipes,” Kent says, and pauses for the room to howl its acknowledgement of their goalie. “Swoops’s boss goal--” pause for another howl “--and the most slippery fucking rookies since we covered you all in Astroglide and pushed you down the slide.” Pause for almost a full minute of laughter.

“And you too!” Moose calls.

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Kent says. “De-stink yourselves and let’s go eat. Good job.”

As captain-ly speeches go, it isn’t the best he’s ever done. But he’s learning to accept ‘good enough.’ Shout out the people who deserve it, get everyone laughing, keep them together. Keep moving on.

Swoops comes up behind him and hooks his chin over Kent’s shoulder. “You’ve been standing there staring off into space for like a minute,” he says.

Kent tips his head so the corner of his face presses against Swoops. “I love this team,” he says.

Swoops hugs him, tight and sudden. “We know,” he says. “I know.” He lets Kent go.

He sleeps on the bus to the airport. When he wakes up, someone (he suspects Moose) has covered him with a fuzzy blanket, and a soft ace of spades-shaped Aces plushie is between his cheek and the hard cold glass of the window. Kent looks around but no one on his team will own up to it.

Fuckers, Kent thinks, feeling warm and happy.

[zimmboniandbitty]

WIP Lines

I was tagged by @zombizombi to post the first and last lines of a WIP. So, here you go! They’re not from the same WIP. I had the hardest time choosing, so, thanks, zombi. :p

First line: Even as Bitty waited outside of the theater, he could not believe that he was going on a date with Kent Parson.

Last line: Jeff unconsciously reached up and touched the hickey on his neck; the hickey that he was sure the number one draft pick and newest rookie of the Las Vegas Aces had given him.

I’m tagging:

@bardofspades , @softkent , @rushingsnowy , @exbex , @lardoshittyjackbitty , @icosahedonist , and anyone else who wants to participate!

[checkpleaselibrary]

how we learn to live again by questionableatbest

teen and up audiences

no archive warnings apply

3 608 words

wip

kent parson/jeff troy

As far as roommates went, Swoops was pretty great.

They were only actually roommates on the road, but he was quiet and he clean and he didn’t complain about how often Kent went out and got wasted after games, so yeah.

He was great.

OR kent learns how great swoops is, and he also learns a few things about moving on

[checkpleaselibrary]

home is wherever i’m with you by leetlebird

teen and up audiences

no archive warnings apply

23 425 words

completed

kent parson/jeff troy

Jeff's good at hockey. He's good at hiding his feelings for Parse. Most days, he's pretty good at doing both at the same time.

Then Jack Zimmermann gets traded to the Aces, and it's not like Jeff's jealous of the way Parse gravitates toward Zimmermann like he can't get enough -- really, Jeff's not jealous -- but this is probably a sign that he needs to get a little worse at hiding his feelings and a little better at confessing them.

(Well, you know what they say about old dogs and new tricks.)

[checkpleaselibrary]

IDFC by ronanlynchisneversleepingagain

teen and up audiences

no archive warnings apply

4 795 words

completed

kent parson/jeff troy

Kent Parson's romantic gestures need a lot of work, but are still pretty effective after all.

[checkpleaselibrary]

Are You Flipping My Pancakes, Parson? by editingatwork

general audiences

no archive warnings apply

1 436 words

completed

kent parson/jeff troy

Kent keeps a running joke running way past expiration. Swoops alternately cringes and learns to go with it.

[checkpleaselibrary]

every grieving lover by bazanite

mature

no archive warnings apply

15 576 words

completed

part 2 of a city for kings

kent parson/jeff troy

Kent's mom dies in June, or, a derailment in three parts.

[parrishsrubberplant]

“How does it feel that your ex is such a goddamn nerd?” Jeff asks.

“Huh?” Kent looks up from his Kindle.

“Your ex said his favorite book was Year Zero,” Jeff says. He’s reading Jack Zimmermann’s interview for Outsports.

“Sounds like a zombie novel,” Kent says absently.

“It’s a history of the year 1945. World War 2 shit.” Jeff bumps Kent’s shoulder with his own. “Nerd, right?”

“Buddy, are you done?” Kent asks. “I was kind of trying to read here.”

Philly leans over the back of the seat. “I was kind of trying to read here,” he mocks. “Seems like Zimms wasn’t the only poindexter in that relationship. What are you reading?”

Kent looks up and glares. His blue eyes have gone flat grey. “One: it wasn’t a relationship, two: fuck you all, and three: a gay romance novel, fuck off.”

Philly shrugs. “Is it good?”

“The tiny stunt guy is lecturing the huge logger dude about masculinity,” Kent says, going back to his Kindle. “I’m hoping they’re gonna bang soon.” He pointedly does not look up.

“Sorry,” Jeff mutters, when Philly has turned back around and moved on to someone else.

Kent doesn’t look up from his book, but he bumps his shoulder against Jeff’s.

He asks, later, as they’re getting off the bus. “It wasn’t a relationship?”

“No,” Kent says. “You know that thing people do, where you hook up and don’t talk about it after?”

“Kind of.”

“It was that,” Kent says. “We were both so fucking closeted, and Jack had his mental heath shit going down on top of that, and--” he shrugs. “It felt like a really big deal.”

Typical Parson understatement. If it felt like a big deal to Kent, that’s because it was. Everyone talks about Jack Zimmermann giving 110%, but Kent Parson is cut from the same cloth. Striving ever upward, and all that.

“Well, you deserve better,” Jeff says.

Kent laughs. “Thanks.”

“I mean it,” Jeff says, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

“That was a decade ago.” Kent picks up his own bag. “I’m over it.”

Jeff knows that the only people who say that kind of thing are people who aren’t remotely ‘over it.’ He wants to keep pressing, but they have a game to go win.

He picks up the thread after, at the bar. 

Kent has his phone angled away, but Jeff caught the article title: he’s reading Jack’s interview.

“Had you not read it, before?”

Kent looks up. “Some warning, please? I could have been reading porn.”

“Not in public,” Jeff retorts.

Kent gives him a dead-eyed stare, then grins cheekily. 

“So?”

“It’s a good interview,” Kent says. “Would have--would have made a lot of difference to me, reading that a thirteen or fifteen or seventeen.” He sighs and rubs his right thumb across the scar on the back of his left wrist.

“Yes,” Jeff says. “I had--I have had--too many friends who quit. Because you just get tired of all the jokes, you know?”

Kent looks at him sharply. His eyes are gray-green. Jeff looks back.

“Five years,” Kent says. “Why didn’t you--”

“Why didn’t you?” Jeff counters.

Kent looks away and shrugs. He looks back. “Do you maybe want to--” and Philly cuts them off, flinging arms around both their shoulders.

“Bros,” Philly says, drunk and expansive with happiness. “Moose found a karaoke bar!”

[parrishsrubberplant]

“YES I BOOBY TRAPPED THE PRESENTS BECAUSE YOU DO THIS EVERY FUCKING YEAR” yay parseswoops? or general aces xmas party?

So, this took me down the rabbit hole of insufferable preteen boys on YouTube and also various helpful articles (kids, here’s how to try this at home!). Happy holidays and hope you enjoy!

The Aces are, if not drunk, then…elevated by the time the gift exchange begins. 

The day after Thanksgiving, Kent had kneeled up in his seat and turned around. “Attention, please.” Morky put down his Kindle. Swoops pushed his sleep mask up. Snowy yawned pointedly.

“Make it fast, Parser,” Snowy grumbled.

“I’m not getting all you fuckers Hanukkah presents,” Kent said. Morky made a noise of protest. “Christmas presents, Yule gifts, whatever.” 

Aces leaned forward to listen. A rookie in the back of the plane stood up so he could see better.

“Secret Santa!” Swoops chanted.

“Secret Santa! Secret Santa! Secret Santa!” The rookies–Fletch and Burkie–were way too excited about this. Then again, you could get rookies to chant anything if you said it in the right tone of voice.

“You do this every year,” Snowy said. He raised his voice over the chanting. “Check your email, friends, there’s an invite to the DrawNames site. When everyone has signed up it’ll send you your person. There’s rules. Read them. I’m going to sleep now.”

“Yeah,” Kent said, “that.” He sank back down in his seat.

A few weeks and some wins and a loss later, and it’s time.

Kent drew Swoops’s name, which is such perfect divine justice that all he could do when he found out was look down at his phone, beaming.

Last year, Swoops gave Morky a booby-trapped gift card that drooled water all over Morky’s lap as he opened it. The year before that, he gave one of the trainers a box rigged with thumbtacks and a water balloon (his real present arrived at her house a day later: a huge cat tree for the trainer’s beloved Bengal cats).

Kent is counting the days. Payback time.

He got Swoops a gift card to his favorite Vegas restaurant. Then Kent bought a cheap plastic table cloth and went to town with his stapler. The resulting package may be more difficult to break into than Fort Knox.

When the gift-giving begins, Kent is proud to see that the rookies were taught about the holiday prank tradition.

Keeler, who is terminally shy and from Worcester (poor fucker) and often covered in acne (seriously, poor fucker) managed to get his hands on liquid nitrogen. Snowy’s gift actually explodes in a burst of shaving cream.

Girlfriends and wives are hanging out on the other side of the room. Kaitlyn, Snowy’s fiance, takes one look at her shaving-creamed covered partner and chugs her glass of wine. 

Snowy wipes foam from his eyes. “Nice job, Keels.” Kaitlyn brings him a towel from the bathroom but doesn’t bother to hide her laugher as she does so.

Some of the presents aren’t pranked, which adds a further layer of entertainment to the proceedings.

Kent’s isn’t. It’s a large gift card to his favorite bookstore, and a couple of cat toys. “Thanks, Fletch,” Kent says, and immediately puts the larger man in a headlock. “Thanks.”

Fletch worms his way free. “You’re welcome.”

And it’s time.

Swoops opens his box. He sees the bright green table cloth, and pulls on the end. It unrolls.

And unrolls.

And keeps unrolling, as the Aces fall over themselves with laughter.

“Yes,” Kent says over the din. “I booby-trapped your present because you do this every fucking year.”

Swoops finally reaches the bottom and the gift card. He looks at it, then back up at Kent. “Thank you,” he says.

“Welcome.”

It’s much later, when people are rounding up their kids and packing up leftovers, when Swoops grabs Kent by the elbow. “Parser.”

Kent turns. 

“Come with me,” Swoops says. “Have dinner with me.”

They look up and see the mistletoe at the same time. Swoops’s eyes flick down, and flick back up to Kent’s face. His palm is warm against Kent’s skin.

Kent has to clear his throat. “Yeah, sure,” he says.

[zimmboniandbitty]

Do you ever randomly go through someone’s twitter pictures just for funsies then you find a picture that you totally didn’t expect to find? So then you think of your headcanon of that person and you realize, “Oh no. Something new.” But instead of oh no, it’s a giant “Oh yes!” It’s something new.  And the person is a mess. But then you realize that the person is a different kind of disaster from the person you’re shipping him with. And you look a little deeper at the picture of said person and you notice things. Like, he has scars on his face. (WHAT?!) He’s on the D-line, obviously. Does he become someone specific’s protector? And you wonder where he’s from by the way he says the last statement. “IS CHICKENS FISH?!” Who talks like that?

But, most important is the shirt he’s wearing and you begin to think two things.

1) He has been in the league as long as the person you’re shipping him with.

OR

2) He hasn’t been in the league that long and he’s just wearing the other person’s shirt.

Either way, it works. 

And the more you think about it, the more you know that the two (idiots) are going to be so perfect for each other. The chirping/flirting will be endless. And they’re gonna take care of each other. And they’re going to fall in love. And it’s gonna be beautiful. 

Basically, what I’m trying to say that Kent Parson is gonna fall in love with this guy:

[X]

I’m completely okay with it.