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the kids are alright
Baseball's back! Well, kind of, spring training and such. After the white water rapids of hockey, baseball feels like slipping into a warm bath. I had the baseball game on the other day as I twiddled on the computer and it felt like having a screensaver on the TV. ALL MY FAVORITE BASEBALL BABIES WERE ON BASE WHEN PEDEY BROUGHT THEM HOME WITH A GRAND SLAM, so that's nice. Less nice: Bruins in a shootout.
"Jesus, look at you, you got big." "Yeah? You got small, bro." And there's this smile on Xander's face that he can't wipe off no matter, not that he's trying. He rubs the top of Christian's head, and Christian laughs and tells him to fuck off. His hair is thinning at the crown of his head and he's become charmingly sensitive about it. They continue exchanging toothless barbs as Christian gets his gear on; Xander watches him and idly swings a bat. Christian's hands flit over his pads in quick, deliberate movements. The guy's built like a tank, but he holds a nimble and thorough command over everything he touches.
"We're gonna have to deal with media after the game," Xander says. "You ready?"
"No, man, no, I'm never ready for the media." Christian smiles wryly, shakes his head. He adjusts his helmet and switches to English-speaking mode: "Yeah, you know, our team, we work hard. Play hard. Uh, play the game the right way, we want to do a good job."
Xander gives him the thumbs-up sign.
Christian continues speaking into an invisible microphone. "And yeah, Xander Bogaerts, he's good, yeah, of course, he's good, but he smells bad." He pantomimes waving off a stink in front of his face, cringing.
Xander laughs pokes him with the bat. "I take it back, your English is getting worse."
"Not all of us can speak four languages, bro."
"Do you remember the Papiamento I taught you?"
There's no one else in the clubhouse, everyone already out in the field and hungry for summer, but Christian glances over his shoulder, double-checks just in case. Then he leans in closer to Xander, and Xander stands his ground, savoring the proximity and trying not to stare at Christian's mouth. Xander bends his head, Christian's lips at his ear, and he whispers softly nothing polite, all the filth Xander taught him between the sheets, in the dark. It's a promise as much as it is a recitation, and Xander closes his eyes and leans his head against Christian's.
"I think my Papiamento's fine," Christian smirks, switching back to Spanish. He quickly kisses Xander's cheek and is about to step away, and Xander can't resist. He leans in kisses Christian's mouth.
"Hey, hey hey hey," Christian says warningly, but he kisses Xander again anyway, so Xander figures he wins this one.
"Okay," Xander says, grinning. "Okay, let's go."
"Play ball," Christian announces in English, and Xander laughs.
+
So anyway. Man, I thought I loved the Krejci line, and I do, but the Spooner line is EXCITING and FUN, and admittedly a lot of that is David Pastrnak backchecking from his knees or dancing his way through a 1-on-3 for a shot on goal, BUT also seeing Ryan Spooner flourish and Looch basically adopting them as his tiny sons. They are always talking to each other on the bench, and Spooner may be the center, but the Looch is the one mentoring it out of him and Pastrnak is the one being his knight. SPOONER, LITTLE KING. Ryan Spooner with the Allen Webster face because he always looks kinda anxious all the time, like, it's his resting face or something.
BECAUSE I AM TERRIBLE, I'd write the fic where Spooner is like, just a little jealous of David. The game just seems to come so easily to him, and Bruins nation is already anointing him, like this golden fucking road from the Czech Republic to Sweden to the NHL and only a handful of months in Providence before they call him up and now he's on the top fucking line on the wing of the player he idolized growing up. What the fuck. I mean, okay, it hasn't been all roses for Pastrnak... David has seriously suffered tragedy, the loss of his dad. Spooner recognizes that this jealousy is petty and selfish; he tries to shake it off. They're all just here to play some fucking hockey.
I kinda want to write out how they individually function in casual bar/club situations, see if that lubricates anything. Spooner as more loose, Pasta as a little more hesitant because of the language barrier but charming in his own way. And Dougie is there to help them both along. (Dougie/either of them is a whole other story.) And now for the fic trope of SHARED LIVING SPACE. Spooner moves in with Pasta, 'cos I mean Arizona has kidnapped Craig Cunningham and Pasta needs a new roommate. Originally I was Doug/Pasta-ing the feels where Pasta moves in with Dougie, but Spooner's right there and newly excellent and looking tremulously happy every time Lucic tells him good job. The next time Pasta's mom is over, she's gonna adopt Spooner, I am pretty sure.
"You worry so much," David says.
Spooner replies, "Doesn't everyone? Look at the standings."
"You more than them."
And Lucic, when not hockey-mentoring them, observes them during practices and games and is like "hmmm..." It's nothing like the way Seggy and Marchy crashed into each other, but Looch recognizes the signs.
"Jesus, look at you, you got big." "Yeah? You got small, bro." And there's this smile on Xander's face that he can't wipe off no matter, not that he's trying. He rubs the top of Christian's head, and Christian laughs and tells him to fuck off. His hair is thinning at the crown of his head and he's become charmingly sensitive about it. They continue exchanging toothless barbs as Christian gets his gear on; Xander watches him and idly swings a bat. Christian's hands flit over his pads in quick, deliberate movements. The guy's built like a tank, but he holds a nimble and thorough command over everything he touches.
"We're gonna have to deal with media after the game," Xander says. "You ready?"
"No, man, no, I'm never ready for the media." Christian smiles wryly, shakes his head. He adjusts his helmet and switches to English-speaking mode: "Yeah, you know, our team, we work hard. Play hard. Uh, play the game the right way, we want to do a good job."
Xander gives him the thumbs-up sign.
Christian continues speaking into an invisible microphone. "And yeah, Xander Bogaerts, he's good, yeah, of course, he's good, but he smells bad." He pantomimes waving off a stink in front of his face, cringing.
Xander laughs pokes him with the bat. "I take it back, your English is getting worse."
"Not all of us can speak four languages, bro."
"Do you remember the Papiamento I taught you?"
There's no one else in the clubhouse, everyone already out in the field and hungry for summer, but Christian glances over his shoulder, double-checks just in case. Then he leans in closer to Xander, and Xander stands his ground, savoring the proximity and trying not to stare at Christian's mouth. Xander bends his head, Christian's lips at his ear, and he whispers softly nothing polite, all the filth Xander taught him between the sheets, in the dark. It's a promise as much as it is a recitation, and Xander closes his eyes and leans his head against Christian's.
"I think my Papiamento's fine," Christian smirks, switching back to Spanish. He quickly kisses Xander's cheek and is about to step away, and Xander can't resist. He leans in kisses Christian's mouth.
"Hey, hey hey hey," Christian says warningly, but he kisses Xander again anyway, so Xander figures he wins this one.
"Okay," Xander says, grinning. "Okay, let's go."
"Play ball," Christian announces in English, and Xander laughs.
+
So anyway. Man, I thought I loved the Krejci line, and I do, but the Spooner line is EXCITING and FUN, and admittedly a lot of that is David Pastrnak backchecking from his knees or dancing his way through a 1-on-3 for a shot on goal, BUT also seeing Ryan Spooner flourish and Looch basically adopting them as his tiny sons. They are always talking to each other on the bench, and Spooner may be the center, but the Looch is the one mentoring it out of him and Pastrnak is the one being his knight. SPOONER, LITTLE KING. Ryan Spooner with the Allen Webster face because he always looks kinda anxious all the time, like, it's his resting face or something.
BECAUSE I AM TERRIBLE, I'd write the fic where Spooner is like, just a little jealous of David. The game just seems to come so easily to him, and Bruins nation is already anointing him, like this golden fucking road from the Czech Republic to Sweden to the NHL and only a handful of months in Providence before they call him up and now he's on the top fucking line on the wing of the player he idolized growing up. What the fuck. I mean, okay, it hasn't been all roses for Pastrnak... David has seriously suffered tragedy, the loss of his dad. Spooner recognizes that this jealousy is petty and selfish; he tries to shake it off. They're all just here to play some fucking hockey.
I kinda want to write out how they individually function in casual bar/club situations, see if that lubricates anything. Spooner as more loose, Pasta as a little more hesitant because of the language barrier but charming in his own way. And Dougie is there to help them both along. (Dougie/either of them is a whole other story.) And now for the fic trope of SHARED LIVING SPACE. Spooner moves in with Pasta, 'cos I mean Arizona has kidnapped Craig Cunningham and Pasta needs a new roommate. Originally I was Doug/Pasta-ing the feels where Pasta moves in with Dougie, but Spooner's right there and newly excellent and looking tremulously happy every time Lucic tells him good job. The next time Pasta's mom is over, she's gonna adopt Spooner, I am pretty sure.
"You worry so much," David says.
Spooner replies, "Doesn't everyone? Look at the standings."
"You more than them."
And Lucic, when not hockey-mentoring them, observes them during practices and games and is like "hmmm..." It's nothing like the way Seggy and Marchy crashed into each other, but Looch recognizes the signs.