#i guess i should come up with a tag for my art | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vibratingskull · 14 hours

Note

Well if we are doing Thrass...I humbly request: First date with Thrass! Any way you want to do it.

Thrass is on the dating market guys! Come try your chance with the sweetest chiss in the Chaos!

beautiful art by the amazing @thrawns-backrest

Thrass xF!reader

Tag: first date, Thrawn being casually aroace (in my fic? who knew?), Thrass is kind of a goofball, fluff

You breathe through your nose, reassuring your grip on your purse straps in your hands. You raise your head lightly to observe passersby.

Chiss...

Haughty and regal.

Barely giving a glance to little you, all alone lying against the street light. You fidget your thumbs, suddenly second-guessing your dress with colorful flowers... Is too much or too little? Are your heels too high? Is your stocking elegant or scandalous? Does your perfume smell good or just reek? Does your coiffure enhance your features as you hoped or does it make you look goofy?

It’s your first date with him, and you want to appear at your best to impress him!

You bite the nail of your thumb, looking around for him.

He is late.

What if he never comes?

What if he forgot about you?

What if he sets you up?

What if-

“(Y/n)’(F/n)! There you are!”

You spin in surprise to discover Mitth’ras’safis approaching with a tranquil pace, raising his hand to you in a greeting. He wears the traditional tunic of his rank, long, elegant, and distinguished. His long hair is impeccably braided.

“Mister Mitth’ras’safis!” You slightly bow to him in your excitation and confusion.

You are so relieved he is here! You press your lips in a thin line as he winces.

“It’s Mitth’ras’safis.” He corrects, “But please, call me Thrass, it will be easier for your vocal cords.”

“Alright, mister... Thrass.” You nod hurriedly.

“Just Thrass please.”

“But you’re a Syndic of the Mitth!”

“Today I did not come to you as a Syndic but as a simple man.” He retorts, “I am merely an ordinary Chiss.”

You nod again, slower, feeling your cheek heating up dangerously and it worsens when you remember the Chiss can see warmth on your skin.

“Then please, call me (Y/n).” You propose back.

“(Y/n)...” He tries your name, his chin in his fingers, testing how your name rolls on his tongue, “It has an exotic sound to it.”

He seems to like it.

He tilts his head with a gentle smile.

“Should we go?” He invites.

You walk alongside one another in silence. You hold on desperately to your purse, trying to calm down your beating heart. You feel yourself sweating with too much tension. You give a side glance to Mitth’ra...

Thrass.

He seems relaxed and calm, a little smile floating on his lips as he looks straight ahead of you both. You’re clearly on two different planets! You gently press a hand against your heart.

You never thought he would accept such rendezvous with you! You are only human after all...

You remember your meeting with him, and how dismissive and distrusting he was. You had the misfortune to mispronounce his full name and he took it very personally! Commander Thrawn tried to mediate the situation but you kept fumbling your poor Cheuhn and Thrass finally left with a terrible first impression of you and you were utterly terrified you might have doomed any future relationships between humans and Chiss!

When you’ve been judged civilized enough to be released in Chiss society, the Mitth family received the responsibility of “taking care” of you, because the Chiss who found and rescued you was Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo. You have been brought to the Mitth homestead and once again you crossed paths with Mitth’ras’safis and with Thrawn’s support you took the time to apologize for any wrongdoing you might have done towards him in proper Cheuhn this time.

He kept his expression closed and neutral, politely listening to you trying hard to not mangle any words and don’t inadvertently insult anyone’s mother in this difficult language. He stopped you by raising his hand and sighed. He apologized for his harsh demeanor and bad attitude and extended his hand to you. Your gaze traveled back and forth between his hand and face, unsure before tentatively taking it and shaking it with relief.

The Mitth’s Patriarch, Thooraki, chose a job for you, appointing you as aid to syndics of the family.

All of them.

So whenever a syndic needed a file, a datacylinder, or just a cup of caccoleaf it was your job to run everywhere in the building to find it. Mitth’ras’safis didn’t deprive himself of your services and frequently asked for your help.

He just was... nicer to you than the rest of the Syndics.

As much because it was his personality than because you were friends with his brother, or rather you held on to Thrawn as a buoy in the open sea and he, strangely, let it happen. Commander Thrawn was the one who saved your life from the neverending dark and cold of the Universe and was, by far, the most welcoming and open-minded of all the Chiss you encountered until now.

Thrawn was curious about you. You were the only representative of a new species, the only intel he had about this entirely new part of the Chaos and he strategically kept his relationship with you nice and polite. Desperate, you imprinted on him, asking him advice and opinions on everything and he let it happen, patiently, courteously.

And Thrass heard about it.

Thrawn must have come to him at the end of their respective day, telling how the weird alien human came back to him crying once again because she switched another file again today.

Which surprised Thrass because he never saw you cry during the day. He only saw you trying your best all day long, but apparently you took the habit of calling Thrawn each evening to vent.

Which also means somehow Thrawn gave you his personal code to call him, and that point was terribly interesting to Thrass...

Thrawn doesn’t trust easily.

So if he gave you a direct channel to him, he must have studied you thoroughly and judged you trustworthy enough. And whomever Thrawn trusts, Thrass is inclined to trust in return.

It’s the point when Thrass started to look at you more and pick up your little quirks and habits, the way you click your pen when you're nervous, the way you push a strand of hair behind your ear when you’re intently listening to someone, the little “oh!” you let escape when you understand something new...

And slowly, oh so slowly, Thrass started to relax with you. Being more patient, taking time to explain to you why he needed this file or this one when he asked you to retrieve it, while the other syndics just barked at you to find them chop chop! He saluted you when you crossed paths in the corridor and you bowed to him respectfully and, in all honestly, a little afraid. He chatted with you during caccoleaf breaks, helping you around when he found you overwhelmed while trying to sort data.

You always apologized profusely, feeling like a dead weight as he helped you carry data-cylinders into the storage room. He politely said it was nothing and got on his way, letting you finish your tasks.

And today, here you are!

On your first date! Together!

Thrass’ glance slides towards you and he gently smiles at you, making your heart race even quicker.

“Here we are!” He finally announces.

You stop and observe the imposing building in front of you. For the date he proposed you both come up with an activity, and you choose a play.

He is so refined and distinguished it was the only activity worthy of him you could come up with. He let you choose the play and the theater and had the role of guiding you across Csaplar.

The building is tall and large, with glass walls and geometrical oddities as angles. You open your purse to take out the ticket you printed, give his one to Thrass, and enter.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“(Y/n)’(F/n) speaks highly of you” Thrawn once said to him during one of their Tactica games, during one of his too rare days back at Csilla.

The two brothers where sitting at their favorite bistro, a nice glass of alcohol each and a platter full of different canapes next to the board.

“Does she now?” Thrass responded, taking a sip of alcohol, letting it burn his throat and tongue so deliciously.

“Yes. I hear a lot about you through her.”

“Are you telling me I do not catch up enough with you, my brother?” Thrass teased Thrawn.

“Sometimes she cries when she speaks to me at night, but she always says you magically appear out of nowhere to help her on her feet and move on with her day.”

“I just want the work to get down, simple as that.” He chuckled, trying to understand where Thrawn was getting at.

Thrass took his stingfly and made it cross the board to place it next to his groundlion as Thrawn gaze was lost in the game, thinking 5 steps ahead in his strategy, making his drink twirl in his glass. Thrass contemplated his move one last time, tapped his clock to validate, and threw a tomato canape in his mouth, satisfied with his new Tactica level.

“I suspect... She thinks about you quite a lot.” Thrawn announced with his legendary tact, attacking his flank with his lion.

Thrass swallowed his canape the wrong way.

“Come again?” He coughed.

Thrawn raised his head, looking straight into his red eyes, serious like he had never before.

“You never noticed?”

“How would I have? My head is buried in my files and the only times I go out is for political meetings... Or to meet you.”

“How curious.” Thrawn tilted his head, not understanding, “You are usually better than me for understanding those things.”

“Exactly. It most probably means you misunderstood her.” Thrass patted his lips with a handkerchief in a soothing manner.

“She expressed herself in quite explicit terms.” Thrawn insisted, peacefully sipping his drink as Thrass got more and more distraught, “She left little to interpretation.”

“How explicit?” Thrass asked a little afraid.

Thrawn shakes his head, sorry.

“It is not in my rights to report her words. She should speak her truth herself.”

Thrass sniffed, putting his handkerchief in the pocket of his tunic.

“So what? The human as a little fling, what is it to me?”

Thrawn tilted his head again, squinting his bright red eyes at his older brother.

“I thought you appreciated her in return?” He let Thrass know.

Thrass remained silent, eyes round with surprise and mouth agape.

“What in tarnation... Where did that idea come from?” Thrass finally asked.

“It is a general sentiment you give off. The more times pass, the more her name leaves your mouth, you also hold yourself differently when you speak about her, you appear more... relaxed.”

By reflex Thrass corrected his position, straightening his back and raising his head high like the Syndicure theatrics teached him.

“I do not speak of her that much.” He counters.

“Maybe not so much, but more than before. And your tone is considerably softer, and your eyes...”

“What about my eyes?” Thrass asked with a warning in his voice.

“I just noticed they glow brighter when we speak about her.” Thrawn explains patiently.

Thrass gulped, his throat was going dry.

Thrawn is a master at reading body language. He undercovers entire secrets with a single glance, stripping souls naked before him.

What exactly did he think he saw in Thrass? Because there is no way he was smitten with the alien! Alright she was very hard-working, diligent, and pleasant to be around, her enthusiasm was enjoyable in the tight offices of the Syndicure. Thrass was even ready to admit her little panicked gasps when she realized she lost something on her way was endearing.

Daresay cute.

But to go such length as to say he was into her? Utterly ridiculous!

Thrass opened his mouth to shut down Thrawn definitively but his throat tightened around his rebuttal, stifling any words in his vocal cords, leaving his mouth simply open and completely mute.

He cannot explicitly deny his brother’s claims! Something was preventing him from speaking the truth!

The undeniable truth that he was, in fact, not enamored by the human woman.

Because that is the only truth.

Obviously...

“Like you said, I am not good with those matters.” Thrawn continued, swallowing a cheese canape, “But I know you, my brother. I know how you act towards things you love, and how your voice fluctuates when speaking of people close to your heart. And I simply thought I saw it on you with her.”

Thrawn was obviously trying to smooth the angles with Thrass to not offend him, but Thrass was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even notice how his brother was contorting his words to preserve his honor.

Thrass pressed his hand against his mouth, taking support on his elbow on the table, his mind spinning at 100 miles per hour.

Why can’t he just say the simple words ‘I am not in love with her’?

Coud he be...?

No.

Ridiculous.

Thrawn looked at his brother, febrile on his seat.

“Why not go on a date with her?” He finally asked.

Thrass raised his head to look at Thrawn, is attention piqued.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you obviously have a soft spot for her. Why not give it a try?”

“She is an alien.”

“And you are an alien to her, it did not stop her from falling for you.”

Thrass raised his hand to stop him.

“I am flattered she thinks so highly of me. But she is an alien, and I am a Chiss! Those things do not happen.”

Thrawn appeared more and more confused.

“I do not remember any laws forbidding it?”

“It is not about laws, Thrawn. It is about morality.”

Thrawn looked at me the weirdest he ever did.

“How living your love being against moral laws?”

For a fleeting second Thrass forgot he was talking to Thrawn. Any other Chiss would agree with Thrass at that moment.

But not Thrawn.

Thrawn would never understand...

“You speak of love but you know nothing about it.” As those words left Thrass's mouth he regretted them immediately.

Thrawn seemed to close back over himself, a single line of discontentment crossing his forehead.

“Thrawn, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Thrass immediately presented his excuses.

Thrawn took another canape to eat, his throat’s mucles contracting under his frustration.

“No, you are right.” He said, “This is a sentiment foreign to me. But I know when I witness it, and I witness it in you, my brother. And I would be mournful if you missed a chance to find your other half in life.”

“You are quite a romantic I realize.” Thrass couldn’t help but grin lightly at Thrawn’s choice of words.

“What I am trying to say is: give her a chance Thrass. You might come one day to regret not trying. You have nothing to lose in the end.”

Thrass slowly relaxed, pondering his options. It’s true, in the end, he had nothing to lose. He will not die to spend an afternoon with (Y/n)’(F/n)...

He could even know where he stands with her, why he couldn’t word the simple truth.

“You seem supportive of her.” Thrass investigated.

Thrawn shrugged.

“I got to know her during her stay on my ship on the UAG. She is honest and with a good nature. Like you.”

“You trust her.”

“Indeed I do. She is not a threat to the Ascendancy and I never felt an ounce of violence or darkness emmanating from her.”

“You know what? You are right.” Thrass let out, like transfigured.

Thrawn stopped mid-movement of drinking, not expecting such a drastic change of attitude in such a short time. Thrass didn’t lose a second and took out his comm, typing rapidly.

“Sent! ”

And Thrass seized his Nightbringer on the board and took Thrawn’s lion. Thrawn remained silent, fixated on his brother, completely lost.

“Like you I hate uncertainty.” Thrass explained, “The sooner I meet her, the sooner I will be in the picture. Are you happy?”

Thrawn contemplated his older brother, trying to make sense of that last minute.

“I simply thought you could be a good match.”

“We will learn it soon enough!”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You exit the theater absolutely exhausted, your brain scrambled. It was a classical play, as you hoped, but consequently with classical Cheuhn.

And you didn’t understand a single line!

You learned the entire Wikipedia pages about it as about the theater you came in to info dump Thrass and impress him but you didn’t understood a single word. You spent the whole play typing feverishly on your questis to translate the lines in common Cheuhn while Thrass tried really, really hard not to explode laughing. But he mastered the neutral face of the politician man long ago, he simply didn’t control the trembling of the rest of his body.

Thrass sighs, satisfied under the artificial sun of Csaplar.

“It was a really good play”

You sniff, sad to not have enjoyed the play as you hoped you would.

“I am really glad you liked it.” You respond.

“A bit too didactic to my liking, but nice nonetheless.”

You turn your head to him, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

“We studied this play at school, I already knew it.”

You open your mouth in shock and suddenly your body slumps, completely demoralized.

“I am sorry Thrass... I just thought-”

You cannot finish your sentence that Thrass explodes laughing in the middle of the street, hands on his knees. You look at him absolutely dumbfounded by his reaction.

“What?”

He tries to stop laughing, to no avail.

“I am sorry! You appeared so distraught back inside, you were trying so hard to follow the play!” He manages to say between two fits of laugh. He coughs to force it to stop, “Hum! I am sorry (Y/n), but it was really endearing seeing you try so hard.”

You purse your lips, embarrassed. You saw him casually cover his mouth, hiding behind a relaxed position, his legs crossed and his elbow on the armchair, trying to not look in your direction to not explode in the middle of the play.

He straightnens his back, raising back up with one hand on his stomach and a big smile on his face.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah... It’s been a while since I laughed like that! Thank you (Y/n), it was very much needed.”

You readjust your purse straps on your shoulder, trying to put up a front.

“You’re welcome.” You mumble, cursing the heat spreading to your cheeks.

He wipes the tears off his cheeks.

“Come on! We need to take a tube car for my activity.”

He starts to walk away from the theater in the Tube car station’s direction and you begrudgingly follow, ashamed and disgraced by his reaction, measuring how much of a fool you must be in his eyes now...

Thrass instantly notices you’re not walking next to him and turns to you, a simple smile on his face, detailing your expression.

“I am sorry (Y/n), I shouldn’t have laughed at your efforts.” He says softly, “I am glad you took an interest in our culture to try to take on such a classical piece. If you wish I could break it down with you later and explain its cultural significance to you.”

You raise your head to meet his gaze.

“You would?’

“Of course. Come with me now...” And he gently takes your hand to guide you to the station.

-------------------------------------------------------------

You squirm, uncomfortable but trying your very hard to not show it. Next to you Thrass takes another sip of his tea, appearing fully at ease.

He brought you to an entirely new neighborhood. You walked in cobbled streets for an hour after the tube car, he generously asked if he could take your high heels to make it easier for you and you daringly said no.

You lasted 15 minutes before your heels started to poor blood and you had to stop at a pharmacy to dress you.

“Again, I am sorry.” You said pitifully.

Again he tried very hard not to laugh.

“It’s all right (Y/n).” He responded with a smile threatening to stretch his lips.

You finished the route with your shoes in hand, band-aids covering your heels. The cobblestone was warm to your skin and smooth, without asperities that could slash your feet. Thrass walked next to you, hands clasped behind his back, explaining to you the intricacies of the architectural style of that neighborhood.

It is apparently a perfect reproduction of the “old city” of Csaplar underground full of wooden structures and buildings.

You entered a small building to change into a kimono and enter a salon opening on an inner courtyard garden with a pound and large trees. Two rooms away you could hear traditional Chiss music, giving the place an elegant and serene atmosphere.

You imitated Thrass, sitting on his heels in front of a woman in the same position. The tea ceremony lasted more than two hours, in the exact same position, unmoving.

It was difficult for you, but you held on, you embarassed yourself enough before Thrass for today.

Once the woman finished preparing tea she rose on her knee to pour it in your cups. You both bowed down deeply to her, thanking her. She disapeared, leaving you two alone to savor your hot tea.

You sigh deeply, trying to keep the numbing sensation of your legs in check as you sip your tea. You desperately want to unfold your legs but greet your teeth.

“It is delicious, isn’t it?” Thrass finally asks, visibly satisfied by his tea.

“Yes!” You nod eagerly, “It has a lot of flavor!” You try your best to not let your pain reach your tone. That’s not really a success.

“I always loved tea ceremonies... They are peaceful and meditative.”

“Thrawn told me that.” You smile, laying down your hands with your cup on your legs, “He told me you introduced him to proper tea art for his 29th Starday!” You reveal, too happy to find common ground with Thrass thanks to his brother.

“Ah, he remembers this day then.” He notes with a little grin, “I never saw someone hold this position as well as him. I always left with terrible pain in my legs.” He winks at you.

You flush and let your gaze fall on your cup to not meet his inquisitive red eyes.

“I always thought that tea ceremonies are telltales of characters.” He tells you pensively, his eyes detailing the scenery of the garden.

“Really?”

“Indeed. They put your patience to the test, and require good etiquette and politeness, good taste and culture. I can tell a lot of things about someone by how they sit on their heels and wait for their tea.”

You gulp, suddenly apprehensive. Is your attitude correct, is your demeanor polite and dignified enough for such a place?

“You did good, do not worry.” He reassures without even looking at you. He just knew the questions gnawing at your reason.

“Phew... I am relieved.” You sigh, letting your shoulders fall.

“Careful, the ceremony isn’t finished yet.” He lets you know.

You immediately straighten your back and stiffen your shoulders, on edge once again. Thrass cannot help but chuckle once again.

“I appreciate you, (Y/n). You make me laugh, I like that.”

You turn to him, in surprise but full of hope.

“Really?” You cannot contain your enthusiasm.

He nods peacefully, taking another sip, slowly savoring his drink.

“Yes. You work hard and are mindful of people around you, you're driven by your will to learn... Those are really important qualities, and I appreciate them in my entourage.”

You purse your lips for a split second.

“Would you not like me if I failed at the ceremony?”

“I never dated someone who failed at the ceremony.” He reveals, “I discovered that I am incompatible with such characters.”

You nod slowly, feeling like you almost fucked up!

“And your brother likes me!” You add, trying to smooth your portrait even more.

Thrass puts his cup down, laying his hands on his legs.

“Yes. That is another good point in your favor.” He concedes, “Thrawn is another excellent judge of persona, and he deemed you trustworthy wich is why I accepted the idea of this date with you.”

Thrawn played matchmaker?

Did he...

You flush terribly, wich doesn’t escape Thrass.

“Is something wrong?” He worries.

“Did he... Did he reveal to you what I told him about you?” You ask, barely able to look in his direction.

“No, he did not.” He reassures you, “He told me it wasn’t in his right to do so and that he should let you express yourself.”

You sigh, relieved.

“Do you wish to speak to me about it?”

You start but calm down.

“No... I am not yet ready to reveal it.” You admit.

It is too soon for your heart to admit your love to Thrass, you would go into cardiac arrest!

“It is quite all right. We will have plenty of other times together for you to tell me...” He smiled softly.

Full of promises.

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay @obbicrystaleo @germie2037

#thrass x reader #thrass x f!reader #thrass x you #thrass #mitth'ras'safis #thrawn #thrawn ascendancy #fanfic #vibratingskull

16 notes · View notes

moregraceful · 1 year

Note

Sebastian Aho/Teuvo Teravainen: dance 💃

anon i cannot express enough how sorry i am that i took your sweet prompt and gave it a brent burns pov and a closeted gay jesse puljujärvi subtext. in my defense i don't know anything about the canes but that's never stopped me before and yet. oh jeeze. anon i am so sorry you are worth so much more than what happened here

;;

Brent was not, like, known for being quiet or subtle but he knew when it mattered to shut the fuck up. So when he caught Sebastian and Teuvo having a calm, private moment in the corner of PNC, he kept it to himself.

And, whatever, it could have been anything. Teuvo leaning close to Sebastian’s ear and whispering something that made Sebastian laugh could have been anything. One of their stupid Finnish in-jokes that Jasperi was always complaining about, or whatever. If he thought saw Sebastian lean in for a kiss, well, he ducked away before they connected. Coulda been anything.

Hard to ignore it when it kept happening. Seemed like every time he turned a corner, Sebastian and Teuvo were laughing at some joke, leaning too close. But Brent was a born hunter; he knew when to keep still and let a harmless animal move along. Sebastian and Teuvo weren’t hurting anybody. Why try to kill whatever was between them just because it’d make a good joke. It would make a great joke, but the Canes locker room wasn’t San Jose. Things felt a little more precious here.

He mentioned it to Jordan once over beers in a bar, Jordan taking him out early in the season so they could both get on the same page after a bit of a rocky start. Brent wasn’t used to not being a leader, not having an A, and he’d been chafing, a little, against Jordan’s gentler touch in a locker room that often seemed chaotic.

The way Jordan explained it was simple: if you’re just here for a cup, you can leave. The rest of us are here for each other.

Brent understood that on an intimate level.

Air cleared, they talked more freely about the team. Where Brent could fit in, what the fuck was up with Martinook and Andrei, where the best camp sites were, what local craft breweries to invest in.

Two beers in and feeling absolutely nothing, Brent asked casually, “Sebastian and Teuvo, what’s their deal?”

Jordan looked at him flatly. “They’re Finnish.”

Brent wasn’t sure if that was a dismissal or just ignorance. He changed the subject.

Post-trade, when the Finns had grown by one more and Jesse Puljujärvi was inserting himself into the locker room seamlessly by translating everything Teuvo and Sebastian were arguing about with great comedic exaggeration, Brent took them all out to a bar in Montreal.

From the bottom of his Anglo-Canadian heart, fuck Montreal forever, but they had great bars. This one had two levels and a small dance floor and played music in Canadian music that wasn’t Arkells, so it was more or less the best he could offer his teammates for a night to unwind.

There would be no drinking to excess, Jordan told them all with the stern deliverance of an old school preacher, before laughing at himself while Dylan and Martin threw pieces of paper cups at him in the locker room where they were dressing. “Just, don’t fuck up,” he said. “We need the points and tomorrow will be easy if you’re not hungover like an asshole.”

At the bar, the group split, younger guys on the floor, most of the older guys on the balcony. This was an older team, which Brent was used to generally, but it was a tight one and to be fair, there was a lot of movement between the two groups. Marty kept dipping onto the dance floor to make a fool out of himself, pretty Montreal girls laughing along with him.

Jesse threw himself into a seat next to Brent an hour in. He was holding what looked like a cocktail, but, when Brent asked to try it, it turned out to be a mocktail. He laughed at the expression on Brent’s face when Brent realized he was tasting ginger beer and club soda. “It’s good, right,” he said. “I like it.” He shrugged one shoulder, half-casual. “I don’t like drinking during the season anymore.”

Anymore. Brent could roll with that. He’d switched to water a couple drinks in. No shame in knowing what’s best for you. He tapped his water class against Jesse’s mocktail. “Enjoying the bar?”

“Oh, yes,” said Jesse happily. “Pretty people and good vibes.” He pointed at the dance floor. “Good for Sepe and Teukka too.”

Sebastian and Teuvo were dancing together. It looked choreographed. It looked like a really fucked up kind of swing dancing. Brent and his wife had taken swing lessons one off-season, but for all his athleticism, he’d been laughably uncoordinated and they’d kept their dancing to the kitchen. It was a lot like what Sebastian and Teuvo were doing.

Brent hadn’t registered the music turning to French electro-swing and he quietly took the bar off his mental list of acceptable places to be in Montreal. At least Sebastian looked like he was having fun, laughing as Teuvo swung him around.

“Sebastian’s the woman,” he observed.

Jesse laughed. “Say that to his face and see how far you get.”

Brent valued his nuts too much for that. He laughed too.

Teuvo and Sebastian kept moving, back and forth, never out of reach of each other. They were gathering quite a crowd for such bad dancing. The pretty Montreal girls Marty had been flirting with were cooing at them audibly. A couple gay guys tried to edge in, take Sebastian from Teuvo’s hands like any reasonable dancer might, but Teuvo kept his hands in Sebastian’s and Sebastian shook the guys off with a bright smile.

“Is this normal?” he asked Jesse. “Like, in your country, or whatever.”

Jesse looked blankly at him. “It’s Sepe and Teukka,” he said. “They do what they want.”

Teuvo pulled Sebastian close at the end of the song and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Sebastian burst into laughter.

Brent looked around for someone who was more in charge than him to do something but Jordan and Max were deep in discussion about some bullshit. Jaccob and Marty were down on the floor themselves. Paul just looked tired, half-asleep against Jordan’s shoulder.

Sadly that left Brent as the ranking old fuck on the team. He looked at Jesse. Jesse sipped his drink. “It’s all right for them,” he said contemplatively. “It’s all right for some guys, you know. Not everyone, but some.”

He shrugged again, but it looked more natural, if a little resigned. “Can you dance, Burnzie?”

Brent looked at the floor. Another atrocious French song was playing, and most of the dance floor had converted to some of the worst swing dancing he’d ever witnessed. Teuvo and Sebastian were a lot closer now, pressed close, but laughing at each other. Teuvo dipped Sebastian low and pulled him in again.

There was a group of new men on the edge of the dance floor watching with thoughtful, mean expressions. Brent felt the back of his head where good decisions never happened fire up.

He considered his options. “Want to find out?” he asked.

If he was too old to start a fight on a dance floor, he could at least give Montreal press something to talk about tomorrow after the Canes kicked the shit out of the Habs when pictures leaked of him dancing. Take a little pressure off Suzuki too when they lost, and Brent would always root for a kid in his first year as captain, even if he did want to crush the life out of his team. He was man enough to contain multitudes.

Jesse lit up, a smile breaking across his wide face. “You can dance like that?”

“Badly,” said Brent. “I look stupid as hell. Good way to cheer up my wife, though. A little dancing goes a long way.”

Jesse stood up. “Teach me,” he said. “I always wanted to cheer someone up.”

Teuvo spun Sebastian around the dance floor and one of the guys pulled out his phone. Brent picked up his beer and stood up. “Watch and learn, kid,” he said.

Jesse punched him but they went down to the dance floor together. Brent spilled his entire beer on the guy’s phone as he filmed and turned around. “Shit, sorry, guy,” he said. “Oh fuck, do you even speak English?” He opened his wallet and pulled out a hundred American dollars, shoved it in the guy’s hand while the guy yelled something in French. “Here.”

He elbowed him out of the way and pulled Jesse in. “Follow my lead,” he said.

Sebastian and Teuvo paused beside them, looking hesitant, but when Brent showed Jesse how to move his feet, they burst out laughing. Teuvo pulled Sebastian in again and then pushed him out, hands never leaving Sebastian’s. “You’re so bad,” said Sebastian. “Fuck, you are awful.”

“Better than you,” Brent shot back. Jesse laughed. “No, no, I think you’re worse.”

The pretty Montreal girls were watching with wide eyes and some of the gay boys were edging their way in. “Oh, let me,” said one of them, and pulled Jesse right out of Brent's hands.

Brent saluted Jesse and found someone else to dance with. Yeah, it was alright for some, he thought.

In the middle of it all, Sebastian and Teuvo kept dancing.

#i forget who had an iconic line abt jesse striking out in a bar in their rat fic and the subtext was jesse was gay #i think it was becs?? whoever it was it lodged in my head and wormed its way into my heart and now it lives in my blood #society if i knew any goddamn thing abt the canes besides that they're old and ferda-#like any good queer liberal arts student i took swing dance lessons in college with the swing dance club #i did not however retain any information about naming conventions or anything remotely useful for this fic #all i remember is the rare moments when i understood how my dance partner (my roommate) was moving and could respond fluidly #how that confidence when everything lined up perfectly (if briefly) felt SO good and SO sexy and it felt like anything was possible #that's kind of the vibe of Them i guess. sepe and teukka trying new things out and the confidence that comes from #the brief moments it goes completely right #[contemplatively] i could have written about that. i could have written a fic about any of those tags. and i wrote about brent burns #anon i am again so sorry. i should fined a least $100 for this #unfortunate birdcage fanfictions

4 notes · View notes