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georgipopovich-voiceblog · 3 years

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The First One Home: Part VII- Dinner?

“Take it easy, Georgi! Yakov calls from his spot on the sideline, watching his student gliding across the ice for the first time in the past month and a half. He’s not going to be able to do jumps as fast as he learns to walk, obviously, so he is quite nervous for it. It shows on his face. “Bah….” The coach huffs, “He’s nervous. He’s no good on the ice when he’s nervous. It shows…. we should pull him back to let him stretch further.”

Hearing him over his shoulder was discouraging, though he didn’t want to argue it, especially knowing his coach probably thinks best for him. With a sigh, he tries to press down on the leg.

“He’s ready. He’s so done with stretching at home.” Yuri mentions, “You should hear him bitching day in and day out. I get texts from him all the day to bring him takeout.”

“Great. he’s gotta work off that…. I told you guys, carry out is the hardest food to quit.” Grumbling, he looks up to Georgi, who is leaning on the side again, he looks frustrated. “Georgi! Why don’t you come back this way? We can do some leg stretches to strengthen that femur… you can go back to the ice when you’re ready.”

Georgi looks disappointed at the order from his coach, but he nods, starting to glide back towards the exit of the ice… when a leg stops him. The familiar face of a hockey player with a smile on his face, the stupid smile. Yet the Russian greets him with his own smirk. “Gosha….” He pouts, “You giving up already?”

What a relief, he never thought it would be a relief in the past month where he’s been spending nearly every day with him. Oskar. That stubborn asshole who never left him alone, and he was very grateful for it. “Coach called me in, says I’m not ready.”

“Nyet!” Looking over to Yakov, he sets his hands on his hips. “Coach Feltsman, do you mind me showing you how hard he’s been working these past few weeks?”

Yakov raises an eyebrow at the man, he really liked him well, as he reminded him of how many students of his were so surprising and intuitive. But he couldn’t let him know that. “Eh…. If you think you can do something, do it. But it better not waste his or my time.”

Snickering, Oskar sets his hands on Georgi’s shoulders, pushing him back as he steps onto the ice with his own skates. “Waste of time? Bah, these past six weeks have been a huge waste of time on your training.”

Georgi sets his hands on his shoulders as well, grunting as he’s pushed back on the ice, though his leg wasn’t sore anymore, he could still feel the lack of practice in it. Pushing back against the man he pushes him to glide backwards on the ice, he groans and looks up. “Come on, you’re pushing me like we pushed those tacos into our mouths last week, are you going to let those sit on your calves forever?”

Oh, now that was a challenge, he smiles and pushes back against him, managing now to be able to stop them in their tracks, which was a proud moment for Georgi to be able to put more weight on his leg without it being strained. “I can see by the way you eat churros you fancy yourself a suck every now and then, but I didn’t realize this was part of it.” Oskar continues, pushing at his buttons, his forehead now pressed to Georgi’s and pushing his pointed hair down. “Does this count as practice even?”

Yakov was impressed, watching how Georgi was using the strength in his leg, pushing back against Oskar, the pair that were once so riddled with insults and hatred, now they were snickering as Georgi pushed back against him. Now Oskar was the one sliding backwards.

Shoving the man down to the ice, Oskar lets out an ‘OOF’ and keeps laughing, enough so that he’s sliding on the surface with the pure motion of his own bouncing giggles. Georgi stands over him now as he feels the wind knocked out of him, “I worked harder the past two months than you have, Oskar, you’ve been at my house more than you’ve been at practice.”

Oskar sits up a little bit, rubbing his head and flipping him off, that stupid smile on his face. “Fuck you too!”

“You’ve been staying over because you want to get out of practice.”

“NOT SO LOUD, ASSHOLE.” Oskar reaches out and yanks at his pantleg, knocking Georgi onto his ass, making him laugh like a maniac on the ice. The pair of them laying there cackling, letting it resonate through the entire arena.

Yakov sighs, trying to refuse his own smile, “Fine. Fine. You had your fun. Get back up and I want to see some laps. But only two at a time. Oskar, your coach will want to see you at practice sometime this year.”

“Come on, Yakov, you wouldn’t deny me the company of all these fantastic Ice Skaters, would you?”

“Now, Oskar.”

Sitting up, he starts rising up and chuckling, holding his hand up to Georgi to help him up, he runs the other hand through that long blonde hair. “Come on, get up. Your coach says no fun allowed.”

Grabbing onto his hand, Georgi carefully stands up onto the ice and wipes his forehead, smiling so wide his face hurts. He’d spent so much time with him these past few weeks, every moment full of laughing this hard.

“Well… It’s no jump, but I’m going to have to work my way up to that. Think you can give me motivation when we come in for practice every day, Oskar?”

“Oof… every day? You sure that’s going to work out? I don’t know if I can take the effort of pissing someone off every day enough to get you back to kicking ass on the ice.”

Georgi smirks and wraps his arm around him to take off his blade guards. Letting go of him enough to give him room to be able to put his own on, “Well, seeing as though you’ve been stuck to my ass by the teeth, I’m willing to bet you’re not going to let me off easy.”

“Oooh, was that an ass joke from my favorite Gay Orgy Popovich?” Oskar smirks, gliding to the edge and putting his blade guards on. “I am so proud, give me another!”

“Nyet! Nyet!” Georgi smirks, “You get one out of me only once in a while! Like me, you have to savor~”

Oskar cackled at that, full on cackle, and he pats his shoulder. “Fine~ Fine. But we’re going to go for drinks tonight to commemorate your first night back. Or dinner. Or something. We’re celebrating.”

Georgi raises an eyebrow, looking over his shoulder to see Yakov, Victor, and Yuri in a huddle, Mila was possibly behind them… Nope. There she is, her little red head is trying to peek over them. Seems like they’re quite interested in what’s going on here. “Fine, but I’m paying. You got pizza for us last time. Are we going to get carry out?”

“No, we’re going out out. Like to a restaurant or a bar. Which one do you prefer?”

The dark haired Russian feels a little surprised….. Did he mean…. going out as in on a date? Would he be alright with that? Wait, was he considering this? The man who’s been bickering with him for this long?

No. He couldn’t.

….. But those dreams……

He had those dreams of them having sex weeks ago…. but just recently, he’s been in them for different reasons. There was shopping, there was cooking, there was silly things, going to each other’s competitions.

Dinner. Drinks.

Did he mean out? Or did he mean… ‘out’…..?

Georgi felt his heart skip a beat as he tried to figure out an answer. He was asked a question, wasn’t he? He should say something, he should choose an option. NO. He should say no

He should say no. NO. No. “Dinner…..” God dammit brain. “You choose the place.”

It was as though it poured out of him, without thought.

“Awesome. Shower up a bit before you go home, I got a place in mind.

#Oskar Part 7

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chromecutie · 5 years

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Not A Ghost - part 12

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Taglist: @emma-frxst @ra-ra-rasputiin @holamor @empressme-bitch @marvel-is-perfection @hazilyimagine @marvel-forever-17 @rovvboat (also @angstybadboytrash @whitewitchdown and @master-sass-blast @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen ). Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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The man was a damn motor mouth. He wore a red and black suit and mask, with katanas crossed over his back, guns holstered at his hips, and blue Crocs. He babbled loudly at Piotr, “Negasonic Resting Bitchface said you were hanging out with your wife, but when the fuck did you marry Michelle? And you didn’t even make me your best man! I--oh,” he finally stopped when he saw Rhonda.

Piotr set down the cooler on the breakfast table and took his paint kit from Rhonda’s hands before introducing her. “Rhonda has been my wife since before I knew Michelle.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “She had been missing for so long, that we believed the worst, but she had been in the Icebox.”

“No shit?” the red masked man pulled the velcro loose on the back of his mask and pulled it off.

When she saw him, Rhonda froze - not just because he had a face that caught people off guard, but also because she recognized him. A heavy silence fell over the kitchen. Rhonda bunched up her cardigan in her hands, keeping her best poker face.

Piotr took a big breath, and tried not to let it show in his shoulders. “Did you two...meet?”

Rhonda fixed Wade with a hard stare. “We met,” she said simply. “Briefly.”

Wade absently twirled his mask and snapped the fingers of his freehand, “Yeah, you’re, uh--uh--oh! Gue-”

“Not here!” Rhonda said too quickly. Gaze still fixed on Wade, she said to Piotr, “I overheard him talking about you once, and I introduced myself as your wife. He didn’t believe me. Guess he had no reason to.”

Piotr shifted uncomfortably, and nudged a crooked kitchen chair with his foot. He’d met Wade after Rhonda had gone missing, and he’d always avoided talking about her.

The three of them held the tense silence in a standoff, when they were interrupted by a man walking in from the foyer who looked like special forces with his tactical gear, sharp haircut, and scars. “What’s taking so long?” the grey-haired man demanded in a gruff voice, edging on bored. “You bringing the Russian or not?”

Raising his eyebrows and letting his eyes narrow, Piotr crossed his arms. “Wade, what is it now?”

He shrugged and started to pull his mask back on, “Oh, just the Italian mob having a pizza party, and I want a few slices of dickeronni supreme.”

Piotr’s face shifted through a whole conversation’s worth of expressions in the span of three seconds, before he pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, and said with stern immovability, “Nyet. Not today.”

Rhonda released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She took the empty food containers from her husband and went to the kitchen sink to rinse them and put them in the dishwasher. She moved a little too quickly, like she couldn’t get done with this conversation fast enough.

The grey-haired soldier rolled his eyes, but Wade gasped. “Did you just say no? You just told me - NO?” No one was used to Colossus telling Deadpool no when he came asking for backup, least of all Colossus himself.

“I don't stutter,” Piotr said curtly. “I have…” he softened and gave his head the slightest jerk toward his wife, “family business to take care of today.” He crossed the kitchen to put the cooler away in the pantry.

Wade scoffed, “I mean, I’m trying to take care of ‘family business’ too.” He exaggerated a fake Italian accent on family business and gestured with all his fingers pinched together. When Piotr shook his head again, Wade groaned like a teenager being told he had to take his younger sibling with him to a date. “Fiiiine.” He gave the older man a light smack to the chest with the back of his hand. “Ease up, Cable, guess we’re settling in here for the day.”

Rhonda’s eyes went wide and she said sharply with a near-perfect Russian accent, “Piotr Nikolaevich.” The towering steel man snapped to attention like a drill sergeant had barked at him and followed Rhonda’s curling finger. Trying not to be obvious about her glance at Wade and Cable, she told her husband in Russian, “[That older man. He’s the one who broke into the box-of-ice and made the big hole with his gun.]” Her accent and pronunciation had always been stellar, even if her vocabulary was sometimes limited.

Piotr nodded and set his hands around her shoulders. “[I know... He won’t hurt you, if you’re worried about that. I promise. They’re, uh, they’re good people, even if they can be complicated. If you don’t want to meet new people today, I’ll tell them we would rather have the day to ourselves.]”

Rhonda paused and eyed him sternly. “[Are sure they’re good?]” Her expression was hard with apprehension.

Piotr smiled encouragingly, “[They wouldn’t be allowed to come and go in this house if they weren’t.]”

After another moment, Rhonda nodded, and Piotr turned to Wade and Cable. “Okay,” he said to them, “If the Italians are not so urgent, you can stay here today, but not all over the house. Just the lounge.”

Wade tore his mask off again with feigned glee, “The whole lounge? Yippee!” He all but skipped to the kitchen sink and reached in the cabinet under it to grab a bottle of Drano. Twisting the cap off and tossing it behind him to clatter in the sink, he brought the bottle to his lips and started chugging.

Rhonda gasped and cried out in alarm. Piotr yelled, “Wade!”

Cable groaned and turned to walk away. “I’ll be in the lounge,” he called behind him.

“Ooh!” Wade squeezed his eyes shut and gave his head a shake when he brought the bottle down. “Smooth!” He started laughing at Rhonda’s shock and Piotr’s annoyance. “Relax, I emptied the Drano and replaced it with vodka. The only way I can get some fucking booze in this house.” He crossed to Rhonda and booped her nose. “Wait ‘til I tell you where I hid the Percocet.”

“No!” Piotr started to reach for him, but Wade took off for the stairs heading for the lounge.

The Rasputins followed, both shaking their heads as Wade teased over his shoulder, “What kind of games do lawful good candyasses play in their off time? Russian roulette?”

#colossus #longfic #xmen #deadpool #cable #colossus x oc #piotr rasputin x oc #piotr rasputin #angst

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thegreatnyehehe · 6 years

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Unhappy Children’s Week, mortals!!: Day 2

Bah. Here The Great Nyehehe is, being dragged by a dratted draenei all around this wiley world!! Plus that outlandish Outland!! He’s all the way out here in this tortuous Tanaris with this blasted brat, sweltered in this half-witted heat!!

“Oh, c’’moooon! I’ve never been outside of the orphanage before! If I have to teach you something about goodness or whatever, I might as well see a few places important to... my Draenic culture on the way!”

And The Great Nyehehe supposes that Azeroth’s world’s largest ball of twine was so critically crucial of your cosmological culture?

“...”

“Yes!”

Bah!! We could have at least skipped out on some of those stupid spots, then!!

Seeing that stupid rock in that audacious Auchindouin...

Visiting your blasted brother, the one working with those ethereal eggheads...

And viewing that dank, dated, Dark Portal were all totally unnecessary!! Bah!!

“They were on the way here, more or less. Just two more spots to go! Please, mister Nai-hee-hee?”

It’s The Great Nyehehe to you!! Bah!! Whatever, let’s just get this wibbly-wobbly, timey wimey, clock-based cluelessness in these accursed Caverns of Time over with then!!

“Yay!”

“Oooh, look! She’s selling plushes! Can you please buy me one, mister Nai-hee-hee?”

Nyehehe. The Great Nyehehe. Anywho, The Great Nyehehe wouldn’t buy you one in a nyehehillion years, mortal.

“Please?”

Oh, bah. Fine. But he shan’t buy it, also not in nyehehillion years!! Nyet, he shall steal it!!

*Yoink!!* Nyehehe!!

“Oh, woopsie! Silly me, forgot to put out my sign”.

There you are, mortal.

“Thank you!”

Forget about it, mortal.

“No, really! I appreciate this, even if you acquired it through illegal means, I-”

Nyet, really. Forget about it immediately, mortal. The Great Nyehehe’s reputation of ruthlessness would be ruined if he ever was seen giving a mortal infant some doltish doll!! How could he call himself a true ne’er-do-well when he’s doing well!?! Bah!!

“But you’re supposed to be turning your life arou... Oh, nevermind.

“Woah, look at that dragon! He’s huge! I never saw one up close befo-:”

“Raaaawr! Get her!”

“Eek!”

“No, Wait! This girl has done nothing, and will not be held accountable for what she might do, or fail to do, in the future. Go in peace, chi-”

“Wait a second... Is that...?”

“It’s that meddling madman, The Great Nyehehe!! Get him, boys! Destroy him!”

Dratted dragons!! Oh, you clock-loving clods!! The Great Nyehehe loathes Children’s Week so much!! Bah!!

#holiday #children's week #day 2 of 3

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annoyed-tampon-blog · 7 years

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Sniper Goes Camping- 2

Sniper was going to drive this van off a cliff. He swore it. He was going to tie up Scout with the spare rope he had in the back and ditch the van and let it drive full speed off and over a cliff. Then he’d be in peace and quiet after his car blew up in an (EPIC!) explosion. But then he’d be minus Scout AND his van. So he decided, multiple times, to not do it. Losing the camper wasn’t worth it if he had no way back home. That and killing a team member outside of base wasn’t worth the loss of his hard earned job. And it’s barely even been an hour since they left Teufort.

“C'mon, man! This sucks! This ain’t even music!” Scout complained about everything, from the lack of air conditioning, the bad taste in Sniper’s music (which, the Sniper had, a limit to a few genres) and anything Scout’s big mouth can pick up and push out words.

Sniper just growled as he continued to look straight at the road, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. They were heading out of a town for a quick pit stop, anything to get Scout to shut up. After a greasy pretzel and two hot dogs, things were quiet for about, oh… ten minutes?

“My car, my radio,” Sniper replied through gritted teeth. To pass his anger out to something else, he “headshot” his bobble head on the dash. The more Scout whined and bitched, the faster and sharper Sniper flicked the bobble head.

Shortly after, Scout finally managed to keep his mouth shut once he started looking around the van. An apricot air freshener that had long since expired was hanging on the rear-view mirror, an empty ashtray on the mantle (who knew Sniper smoked?) and the bobble head that Sniper was flicking, which Sniper started to give a break from since Scout started to shut up.

“So…” Scout started, thinking about what to say. He actually didn’t really know a lot of his teammates, but they know plenty about Scout, since he was always boasting about himself. “What made ya become an assassin?”

“Well, that’s uh… a good question,” Sniper said, a little bit surprised that somebody such as Scout asked. “Well, it’s challenging work. It’s out of doors. I guarantee you’ll not go hungry. High pay, too. I’d say my job is worth it. ‘Cause at the end of the day, long as there’s two people left on the planet, someone is gonna want someone dead. But why did I want to become one? I guess because I have the balls to do the dirty work for somebody else that’s too scared to do it. Of course my parents don’t approve of it. Dad sayin’ I’m a crazed gunman. I’m an assassin, there’s a difference. One’s a mental job and the other’s sickness.”

“So, some rich asshats that wanted somebody dead calls ya up all because ya throw piss?” Scout said as he raised a brow.

Sniper growled a little bit. “No. It’s because it’s better than workin’ on the farm gettin’ my family nowhere in life. At least with Mann Co. I don’t have to worry about other blokes gettin’ my head as revenge all because I killed a few bigwigs back in the day.”

“Wait, you have other guys after ya?” Scout asked, his interest piped up.

“Who knows, mate.” Sniper shrugged as he turned the van onto a highway ramp. “Might still be lookin’ for me after all these years or, to them, I’m off the face of the earth.”

._._._.

Back at the base, Soldier was bellowing and barking orders at his teammates. Today was a “Surprise Drill” as he screamed out earlier, but training was anything but “surprising” as a few teammates snuck out from the “drill”. Spy cloaked and went on his way to see a particular lover in Boston; Medic went back into his lab to tend to his doves (and maybe some experimentations of some sorts); and Demoman passed out and took a snooze on the training grounds. The only ones that had any interest in this “Surprise Drill” were the Engineer, Pyro and Heavy. Heavy only agreed to participate, to make “Soldier shut big mouth worse than Scout’s” while Pyro chased butterflies around the field and Engineer took out a remote that brought forth robotic dummies he made.

“Solly, I thought we’d have some fun and try out my new test dummies. The one’s made of straw that you made is nice and all, but they don’t last long against Pyro’s flare guns or Sasha. That and it’s a pain to sew patches into them once their "guts” spill out. We can dress them up and use them to scare away the crows in the gardens,“ Engineer said as the robots stood in a line, ready for their command.

"Those blasted crows, always eating our crops. Alright, ladies! After training we’ll get the crows crapping their pants once we get these maggots fit and ready for battle! Never again will they think to eat our corn!” Soldier turned his fist to the sky and shook it. “DO YOU HEAR ME?! YOU BASTARDS WILL LEAVE OUR AMERICAN RAISED CORN ALONE!”

Pyro showed their excitement with rapid hand clapping and making a noise that sounded like giggling and even bounced up and down in place. Engineer got Soldier and the bots, a few other Soldier robots, ready for training. Engie pressed a button and the Soldier bots roared to life. Soldier smirked and cracked his knuckles, drew his shovel and screamed, racing toward the bots, a mighty shovel over his head.

TWACK! Went the shovel against a metal head. The impact left a dent in the bot, but it didn’t stop. The bot also took a turn to attack, punching Soldier straight in the gut, causing Soldier to double over, curling into a ball whilst standing. But he didn’t back down; Soldier straightened up, grabbed the bot by the head and screamed:

“HUTTUH!” NECK SNAP! went the robot’s head, sparks flickering from where the wires were ripped off. Soldier drop kicked the robot’s head in victory, accidently hitting Demoman, who started to wake up from his drunken slumber, causing him to pass out from the impact a moment after. Pyro took Demo to see Medic as Engineer regretted letting Soldier train with the bots. Neck snapping and bolts flying everywhere. Oh, well. At least Engie can test out that new magnet to find those stray screws and bolts later.

“Heavy is next, da?” Heavy asked as he looked to Engineer.

“Yeah, you’re up, Heavy. Lemme just shut down the rest of the bots and you’ll be next,” Engineer replied. He shut down the remaining robots, while Soldier was chomping on one of their arms like a mad dog, and let Heavy choose which bot to train against.

Heavy chose to deal with agility, as his size made him a tad slow in that department, so he let Engineer send out a Scout bot. Heavy wanted to get better at dealing with the faster foes, especially because of his size and stature, and to get “revenge” on Scout for being such a nuisance. Heavy cracked his neck and knuckles, loosening his body and getting ready to attack. Engineer pressed a button and the Scout bot beeped to life. Immediately the Scout bot dodged Heavy’s punch, which landed close to the ground, and smacked Heavy upside the head, like how a typical Scout would.

“MISSED ME!” cried the bot, who ran circles around Heavy.

Heavy rubbed his head a little and growled. He cried out and continued to punch, but all he got was air as his foe. The Scout bot was quick and agile, barely skipping a beat. But a misstep caused the bot to stumble, letting Heavy get a punch in the chest for the bot, who was sent flying into a wall nearby. The robot flinched a little, tried to get up, but found himself stuck in the wall. Heavy walked over and smirked as he crossed his arms, looking down at his opponent in victory.

“Nice one, Heavy. Wanna go another round?” Engineer asked, getting ready to call out another able bot.

“Nyet. Heavy will go tend to Sasha,” Heavy replied as he headed back to base. He waved to Engineer as he walked back, a look of pride on his face.

Engineer shrugged a little and cleaned up the mess (and tried to get Soldier to stop chomping on a dislodged arm before he ruined his teeth further) from the training. Carefully, he got the bots he was able to salvage into a trolley and rolled it back to his lab. A few pieces were still good, so they could be recycled to make a toaster or a microwave while those that were too damaged were melted into Scrap. The rest were left alone or replaced, as to save the bots and Engineer’s time to not make more than need be.

“Mighty fine work,” Engineer nodded to himself. “Might wanna adjust the fluctuator on them real quick, since some of 'em might have gotten dislodged.” Engineer continued to muse to himself on the bot’s conditions, whistle a tune here and there as he set to work.

After a few hours of work, Engineer removed his goggles and helmet and wiped his face with a clean rag. “I wonder how Sniper is holdin’ up with Scout?” Just after he asked that, the phone rang. Engineer went to the phone and picked it up, wiping his hands with the rag. “Yello’?”

“Hey, mate.”

“Hey, Sniper! Ya’ll make it to the camp yet?” Engineer smiled when he realized who the voice was.

“Er… not quite. Y'see, the van’s engine blew…”

“Really? How?” Engineer asked, curious as he helped Sniper put in a new engine right before they left.

“Let’s just say… a few "old friends” came to visit.“ Sniper replied unsurely. "We took care of 'em, but we’re kinda stuck in B.F.E. Luckily we made it to a town with a garage before the engine totally gave out, so Scout and I are gunna stay here for a few hours and head back on the road once she’s all fixed up. Shouldn’t take too long, maybe two hours or so.”

Sniper leaned against the wall, phone in hand, as he looked behind him. He and Scout went to a diner that was close by, so they would wait and have a bite to eat. Scout was at their booth, stuffing his face with fresh coconut cream pie, as he flirted with their waitress, who looked around thirty or so, and didn’t look too amused by Scout’s advances. Sniper ignored Scout as the Waitress splashed Scout with a glass of water over a sexual remark and went back to the conversation with Engie.

“How’s the rest of the guys there since we’ve been gone? Who won the bet so far?”

“Nobody yet. Well, Demo lost his bet of Scrumpy, so now he’s sayin’ Scout’ll be back within a day. Medic says Scout’ll come back with rabies he can treat with a new injection he’s been makin’ and Pyro says he’d have a lot of fun on the trip. At this point it’s anyone’s guess. Is Scout behavin’?”

“Scout? Behaves? 'Course not. He just got splashed by the waitress over his "moves”. Now I gotta leave an extra nice tip for the inconvenience.“ Sniper sighed. "The sooner we get the camp the sooner I can relax.”

“What about them "friends”?“ Engineer asked. "They still around ya think?”

“Who knows, mate. Probably. And I wouldn’t be surprised if there’d be more. But.” Sniper straightened up as he crossed his free arm over his chest. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Got some MedKits and whatnot so we should be alroight. Anyways, I better go before Scout gets into more trouble.”

“Alrighty then. See ya in a few days, Sniper.”

“Cheers, mate. See ya later.”

Sniper hung up the phone and went back to Scout, who was now dabbing his soaked shirt with some napkins from the dispenser at their table. Sniper sat down across from Scout and looked over the menu. He ignored Scout as best as he could while he looked over the lunch specials. He might just settle for a cup of coffee or three and have a bit of toast, to be honest.

“Sheesh, I tell her she’s got a nice bod for a single mom and she splayshes me!” Scout grumbled as he continued to dab at his shirt and wipe his face.

“Maybe she’s already got a husband.” Sniper replied with s shrug.

“Yeah, I didn’t see no ring on her finger.” Scout sighed heavily and looked over the menu. “So, what we gunna do if those guys come back? Who were they anyways?”

“They’re probably some bigwig’s henchmen or somethin’ to get revenge. Who knows. But what we’ll do is we’ll get 'em if they mess with us again. I guarantee that.”

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master-sass-blast · 6 years

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I’m Not as Think as You Drunk I Am.

OH, WHAT’S THIS, ANOTHER FIC?

YES. YES IT IS.

And, like the title suggests, it involves drinking; this is your obligatory PSA to drink responsibly and legally. It may seem like fun, but you can actually kill yourself if you drink too much. Stay safe, kids.

Summary: Wade gets the Reader DRUNK during a New Year’s celebration at the X-Mansion. Piotr finds out and gets pissed, then helps the Reader recover from their hangover the next morning.

Rating: T for strong language and alcohol consumption.

Warnings: Vomiting, legal alcohol consumption, hangovers, etc.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

(Title from “Don’t Threaten Me with a Good Time” lyric by Panic! At The Disco.)

You’re minding your own business, just hanging out in the library while you innocently sketch in your drawing pad.

But, then, that’s usually how these things happen.

Wade bounds into the library, skips towards you, and hops over the couch before crouching behind you and putting his hand over your mouth. “Don’t scream. It’s just me.”

“I literally just saw you come in,” You mumble against his palm before pushing his hand away. “What’s up?”

Wade yanks on your arm until you climb over the back of the couch and crouch next to him. “Okay, so this is for your ears only, okay? Wolvie and I managed to hide some booze in the mansion for the New Year’s party tomorrow. There’s going to be a party in the basement after the fireworks go off. Anyone under twenty-one, Mr. Pole Up the Ass, and Colossus are absolutely not invited, capiche?”

You frown. “And you’re telling me this because...”

“Uh, because drinking alcohol is a great rite of passage in America. I’m Canadian, and I know that. You’re legal, right?”’

“Yeah.”

“Then you’re invited. Look, it’s better to drink with friends for the first time. We’ve all drank alcohol before --I can’t drunk anyway, so I’ll be able to keep an eye on you--and you’ll be at a safe place with literal doctors on staff if you get sick. It’s perfect!”

Hindsight will tell you that this is a bad idea. Horrible. Utterly stupid.

But, right now, you don’t have hindsight. All you have is foresight, and you’re foreseeing a lot of fun and new experiences in the future.

You grin. “Awesome.”

“And just what are you two doing?”

You and Wade both jump and stare guiltily up at your boyfriend.

He’s in his metal form right now, thick arms crossed over his burly chest. “Why are you hiding behind couch and whispering?”

“Hi, Pete!” You chirp with a sunny grin. “We’re booby-trapping Scott’s underwear drawer for New Year’s!”

“Don’t tell him!” Wade hisses, playing along with your deception.

Piotr simply shakes his head --but you can seem him repressing a smile. “Play nice, you two. No pranks tomorrow.”

“Aw, babe--”

“Nyet, myshka. Not tomorrow. Tomorrow is celebration, not time for pranks.”

You pout, slump your shoulders, and hang your head. “Okay.”

“Hey! I didn’t agree to this!”

“Fine! Do it without me!”

Piotr chuckles and turns to leave. “Behave, you two.”

“I make no promises!”

You opt to blow a kiss at your boyfriend --and he blows one back, which makes your cheeks flush--then grin at Wade when he’s gone and hold up your fist. “How awesome was that?”

Wade returns your fist bump with an equally devious grin. “So awesome.”

“Five... four... three... two... one!”

People cheer, fireworks go off, and camera lights flash as the world officially rolls over into a New Year.

Piotr grins down at you, holding you to him with one hand and using the other to caress your face. “S noyvm godom, myshka.”

You grin back. “Kiss me, darling.”

He does. Passionately, and longer than he would normally dare in other public displays of affection. When he pulls back, his cheeks are flushed and he looks immensely pleased. “A New Year.”

“A New Year,” you repeat. You grin, then lean up on your toes. “To all it may bring.”

“Da.” He kisses you again, then breaks it with a sigh. “I am on teenager duty tonight, unfortunately.”

“I know.” You feign a yawn and give him a sheepish look. “I’m actually kind of tired...”

He pats your shoulder and kisses the top of your head. “Go rest, myshka. One of us should.”

You press a kiss against his cheek, then head upstairs. Phase One: Complete.

You and Wade had constructed a damn near fool proof plan to sneak you downstairs without your mother hen boyfriend noticing. Wade had paid Russell fifty dollars to light something outside on fire to create a diversion, and he’d text you once it was safe for you to come down.

Within two minutes of skulking around the hall, you hear the loud ‘fwoom’ of one of Russell’s fireballs; mere seconds later, your phone chirps with a text from Wade.

Bro: Silver ballz is outsies. Bring on da booze!!! Get ur ass down here. XD XP

You: Don’t ever call him ‘silver ballz’ again. That’s just gross. And I’m on my way.

You creep back down the hall, listening for any signs of approaching residents.

Fortunately, almost everyone’s outside, distracted by Russell’s explosion.

You hop over the railing by the staircase and make an air current to float down to the floor. The backdoor’s open, and you can actually see Piotr outside in defense mode, trying to put out a burning rose bush.

“Psst! Come on! Stop ogling and get down here!” Wade hisses through the barely ajar basement door.

You dart over and slip down the stairs, an excited grin on your face.

Logan and Nathan are already down there, drinks in hand. Neena’s with them as well, along with Peter, Kurt, and Bobby.

“Rogue and Gambit should be joining us later,” Wade says as he joins you at the bottom of the stairs. “In the meantime, let’s get this party started!”

“For once, Wilson, you’ve had a good idea,” Logan growls as he takes a swig from his red solo cup. “Colossus’s kept us from having adult New Years for a while now.”

“Yeah, well, the world’s largest Silver Bullet ain’t got nothin’ on me!” Wade pulls out a bottle of vodka and a shot glass. “First shot of the night goes to Princess here, since it’s her first time.”

“Oh, everyone, you know what that means,” Neena says with a grin.

You frown as the others refill their cups. “What does it mean?”

“Everyone downs a drink once you take your first shot,” Bobby says as he blows on his cup to cool it down.

You blink, then eye your shot glass suspiciously. “That sounds... dubious.”

“Don’t worry, that’s just your inner Piotr talking.” Wade holds out the shot glass to you. “He’ll shut up after the second or third shot.” When you hesitate, his face softens. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You eye the glass in his hand, then shrug. “Hashtag YOLO.” You pick up the glass, lift it to your lips, then tilt your head back and down the shot in a few swallows, just like you’ve seen in the movies.

Well, almost like you’ve seen in the movies. It takes a couple tries for you to swallow it all down, and you cough once the glass is empty. “Oh my gosh. That burns.”

Wade cheers and claps his hands. “Well done! Considerably less flailing than I was expecting. All right, everyone else, she’s done it; bottoms up!”

You watch, stunned as the other adults drain their cups --cups, not shot glasses--in long, easy swallows. Your mind already feels a little hazy, but you still can’t fathom drinking this stuff that easily.

Nathan finishes first with a growl. “Keep it coming, Wade. It’s been a hell of a year.”

A couple hours in and you’re feeling great. The shots just get easier and easier to take the more you drink, and each shot you take has you feeling more and more relaxed.

Beer, however, tastes like piss; you have no idea how Nate and Logan stomach the stuff.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Nathan says with a crooked grin after he lets you trip a sip of his drink; his cheeks are flushed --apparently, he can drunk, just not as fast as you.

“An’ you keep callin’ Wade the s-su-stupid one.” You giggle and rock back in your chair, almost knocking it over. “You’re the one wi’ the stupid hair, ‘fter all.”

“My hair... is not stupid,” Nathan grumbles, pointing a finger at you.

“Maybe not, but Wade doesn’ have any, which jus’ leave you.”

“She’s got a point,” Logan says with a chuckle as he watches Domino destroy Bobby, Kurt, and Peter at beer pong. “The default answer is you.”

Nathan flips him off.

You laugh again, flopping around in your seat. You feel amazing. Normally, there’s always an underlying current of stress and worry, but right now it’s gone. You feel completely relaxed, without a care in your mind.

Your ‘Piotr’ voice --it’s not gone, just really hard to hear right now--is saying something about it being fake and one of the addictive side effects of alcohol, but you’re too busy taking another shot to focus on the actual words.

“Okay, pumpkin!” Wade lifts the shot glass out of your hand. “That’s the cut off point for you. You’ve had seven, and I’m not trying to give you alcohol poisoning.”

You pout at him. “I was havin’ fun! The fuck?”

“You can have it back in a couple hours, once you’ve guzzled some water, peed, and eaten something. The bathroom’s right behind you. I suggest you go there, because pissing your pants isn’t as fun as it sounds. Believe me, I would know.”

You blink owlishly at him. “Huh?”

“Maybe you should cut her off for the night,” Logan suggests. “She’s clearly a lightweight.”

You can’t really process what they’re saying. You’re too busy rubbing your hands all over your face. “I can’t feel my face,” You sing. “She tol’ me... don’ worry... ‘bout it!” You slap yourself across the face --it takes a couple tries, but you manage--and gasp when no sting of pain follows. “Holy shit! I don’ feel pain anymore!”

Wade laughs hysterically as he holds your hands away from your face. “I wish I had a camera! This is fucking priceless! Y/N, you’re completely toasted!”

You open your mouth to say something, but there’s a loud banging noise that distracts you. You loll your head back and try to see what’s going on.

Piotr tromps down the stairs in his human mode, fists clenched at his side. His blue eyes are wide with fury, and his mouth his clenched shut. He stops at the bottom of the stairs and glares down the room. “What is going on?”

“Shit,” Wade mutters under his breath. He forces a grin and stands, partially hiding you from view. “Colossus! Buddy! Welcome to the party!”

“Enough. Where is Y/N?”

You gasp once your brain catches up with your eyes. “Oh! Piotr’s here!” You smile --because you’re genuinely happy to see him, even though you’re too drunk to think right now--when his gaze snaps to you. “Hi, baby! How’s it goin’?”

He relaxes, just a little. “You’re going to bed. Now.”

You nod, happy to along with whatever he says. “Okay.” You manage to get out of your chair, but start falling over as soon as you try to walk.

Piotr darts forward and catches you, clutching you against his chest to keep you from toppling over.

You nuzzle your face against his chest, marveling at how soft his shirt is. You can’t really hear what he’s saying to the others, but you can feel the resonance of his voice in his chest. It tickles your face, and you let out a soft giggle as you wrap your arms around his waist. “You’re all buzzy.”

Piotr sighs and pats your back. “Come on, lyublyu. To bed with you.” He places his hands under your shoulders and tenses. “I’m going to carry you, okay?”

“Right.” You gasp when he lifts you --then groan when the room spins. “Oh shit. Everything’s sideways.”

Piotr tucks you against his chest and walks towards the stairs. “Close your eyes. Just let me take care of you.”

The trek to his room is mercifully short --though that might have to do with your passing out halfway through. Your eyes pop open when he sets you on his bed. “Huh? Where am I?”

“In bed.” He kisses your forehead. “Stay here. I’ll get you one of my shirts.”

You whine as he walks away. “No! Don’ leave me!”

“I’m just right here, at the closet. You can still see me.”

“But you’re so far ‘way!” You sob into the bed. “‘m all alone.”

“No, you’re not,” he says as he kneels in front of you. “I’m right here.”

You gasp. “You’re back! You were gone f’rever!”

He kisses your temple and wipes the tears off your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’ll be faster next time.” He sits you up and starts peeling you out of your clothes.

“Bow chika wow wow,” You mumble as he strips you out of your jeans. You start singing the intro to ‘Careless Whisper,’ but give up about halfway through. “Pete?”

“Da, dorogaya moya?”

“I think ‘m drunk.”

Last night, you felt great.

This morning, you abso-fucking-lutely do not.

Your head feels like someone’s driving an ice pick into it. Your body aches, and your stomach feels like it’s about to commit mutiny.

And you’re tired. You feel like you got hit by an insomnia train.

Piotr’s hand rubs up and down your back in soothing circles. “How are you feeling, myshka?”

You bury your face into your pillow to try and block out the light streaming through the windows. “Oh God. I think I’m gonna die!”

His lips press against your shoulder. “You’re hungover. Wade said you had seven vodka shots last night.”

“I didn’t mean to! Holy shit, this sucks! Why didn’t Wade tell me about this? I’m gonna murder him!”

“Later, dorogoy. Try to focus on getting rest for now.”

You would, but at that moment your stomach decides to launch its mutiny into motion. You lurch out of bed and bolt for the bathroom, diving for the toilet as the first round of stomach contractions start.

You’re not sure how long you spend vomiting into the porcelain bowl, but when you finally get a reprieve you realize Piotr’s sitting next to you, holding your hair back. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s natural reaction for hangover.”

“No --well, yeah, but not what I was talking about. I’m sorry that I went to the party behind your back, and I’m sorry I drank alcohol when I wasn’t supposed to. I’m sorry I broke the rules.”

He rubs your back with his free hand. “We’ll talk about it when you’re better --but you are very much forgiven.”

Once your body settles, he leaves your side to turn the shower on.

You grimace at the sound of the water pelting the shower floor. “That’s so loud! Turn it off!”

“Sorry, dorogoy, but you’ll feel better after shower.” He helps you out of your pajamas --then strips down and joins you.

Normally, you’d be delighted by that, but right now you’re entirely consumed by how shitty you’re feeling. All you can really do is stand under the spray of the water and squeeze your eyes shut to try and block out the pain.

Fortunately, you don’t have to do more than that. Piotr’s in full ‘mother hen boyfriend’ mode right now, determined to help you survive your first ever hangover. He gently washes --and conditions--your hair and lathers your body in soap with such nurturing tenderness that you don’t even get turned on from having your boyfriend literally rub you from head to toe.

That, and you feel like shit. Actually, it might be more of the latter than the former.

Once you’re all rinsed, Piotr turns the water off and dries both of you off before helping you into a fresh set of pajamas. Then, in a gesture of ultimate chivalry, he carries you the ten foot distance back to the bed and tucks you in. “I’m going to make you some breakfast. Rest in meantime.”

You groan. “No. No food.”

“Your body needs food to help process alcohol out of system. Trust me, da? I have been hungover before. I know what helps.”

You snort, which makes your headache worse, but you can’t help it. “You? Hungover? Likely story.”

“I had rebellious phase!” He sounds indignant. “I was not always like I am now.”

“Sure, babe.” You manage to find his hand and pat it. “What, did you jaywalk instead of using the crosswalks like a law-abiding citizen?”

He huffs and kisses your temple. “Very funny, myshka. Get some rest while I make food.”

You’re out before he closes the door.

Nearly an hour later and he’s back, gently rousing you from sleep and helping you sit up.

“Breakfast in bed? What sort of alternate universe is this?” You grumble, feeling somewhat better after a nap.

“Special circumstance.” He sets up a tray table next to his bed, then sets a bottle of water and a couple ibuprofen pills on the table. “Take these and drink some water. I’ll be back in few minutes.”

Now that he’s mentioned it, you realize your mouth is bone dry. You take the pain pills and guzzle half the bottle, but your mouth wicks all the water away like one of those miracle drying rags Wade keeps buying off the infomercial channels.

Speaking of Wade, he’s walking into the room. “You okay?”

You glare at him as you gulp from the water bottle. “I’m gonna fucking murder you.”

“Figured. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about the hangover. I don’t get hungover anymore; I didn’t even think about it.” He sets an orange prescription bottle on the tray table. “But I brought a peace offering. Prescription painkillers. Best shit you can get.”

“Absolutely not.” Piotr storms into the room, sets the plate he’d been carrying for you on his desk, and yanks Wade away from you. “You’ve done enough damage already.”

“Piotr, calm down!” You exclaim, wincing at how loud your voice is. Quieter, you add, “He’s just trying to be nice.”

“By offering you stolen prescription. After getting you overly intoxicated.”

“They’re mine!” Wade insists as he flails in Piotr’s grip. “Legal and all that shit! I still have cancer, asshole. They prescribe painkillers to help with that.”

Piotr picks up the bottle, then sets Wade down after reading the label. “I am sorry. I should not have assumed. But you still got Y/N drunk --after you were told to not bring alcohol in for New Year’s. And you bribed Russell.”

“Look, babe, he wanted to introduce me to alcohol safely.”

“By breaking rules, causing damage, and lying.”

“By doing it in a safe place, with people who know me and know how alcohol effects the body, and where we had access to a doctor if things went super sideways. He didn’t take me to a bar, he didn’t force me to drink anything, and he cut me off before I got too out of control. I think he deserves some credit for that.”

Piotr mulls it over, then sighs. “Your intentions were... good, Wade. Even if your techniques were... misguided.”

“Thank you.”

“You still have to answer for your actions. You broke many rules last night, and bribing Russell to cause damage to property is unacceptable. He or any number of others could have been seriously hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Wade waves his hand dismissively before plucking his bottle of painkillers out of your boyfriend’s hand. “I’m going now. Before you get too far into lecture mode.”

Piotr glares after him, then shakes his head and retrieves the plate from his desk. “Sorry about that, moya lyubov’.”

“It’s okay.” You gratefully accept the plate --you’re hungry now, ravenous beyond belief.

The plate is loaded with all your favorites --including a small stack of golden, perfectly fluffy chocolate chip pancakes.

Piotr kisses the top of your head as you dig in. “I will be right back. Do you want more water?”

“Yes, please.”

He returns a few minutes later, water bottle tucked under his arm and two glasses in hand. One is filled with an orange liquid and almost looks appetizing; the other...

“Is that... pickle juice?” You grimace when you give the contents of the glass a precursory sniff. “Why? Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“Salt will help your body. Take sips. Don’t try to drink it all at once.”

You take a sip --and it’s a disgustingly salty and sour--and eye the other glass with suspicion. “Do I even want to know what that is?”

Piotr holds it out to you. “It is Russian hangover cure. I think you will like this better.”

You sniff the contents --it smells decidedly better, just barely not like orange juice--and take a sip. “Oh! I like that!” You down the glass easily and set it on the table as you smack your lips. “Can I have more of that?”

“Maybe later, if you still need it. Try to keep eating.”

You manage, growing more subdued and sleepier as you fill your belly. Eventually, Piotr says you’ve eaten enough --and drank enough of the pickle juice, which is still gross--and lets you flop back down on the bed.

He pulls the blankets up around your shoulders and smooths your hair away from your face as you settle back in. “I will check on you later. Rest well, myshka.”

You wake up several hours later, feeling considerably less fucked over. Your head no longer feels like it’s being scooped out by a melon baller, and your stomach is considerably less grumpy. You manage to get yourself upright and pad out of Piotr’s room on shaky legs.

The mansion is practically silent as you wander through the large halls. Most of the mutants visit their families during Christmas and New Year’s, meaning that there’s no one to run into while you search for your boyfriend.

Which is probably for the best. You can walk, but you definitely don’t feel human enough for conversation.

It takes a while, but you manage to track him down; he’s outside, in full on defense mode, watching Nathan, Neena, Logan, Kurt, Wade, Peter, and Bobby clean up the remains from Russell’s bush burning.

Scott’s also there, supervising, which briefly makes you hesitate; you ultimately decide that you want your boyfriend, so you jam your boots onto your feet and brave the cold and snow.

The sunlight hurts your head, and you tromp towards Piotr as quickly as you can.

He starts slightly when you wrap your arms around his waist --considerably harder than usual since he’s in defense mode--and turns around with a concerned frown on his face. “Y/N? You should be inside.”

“I wanted to come find you,” You mumble as you press your face into his coat to block out the piercing sunlight.

He makes sure Scott is good to go, then scoops you into his arms and carries you inside. Before you can think of anything to say, you’re back in his room and in bed again with the blankets tucked over your legs.

He hands you the water bottle as you prop yourself into a sitting position. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. My head still hurts, though.”

He kisses your forehead, almost like a parent kissing their child’s scraped knee. “Do you want some more painkillers?”

“Later. I saw that you had the guys and Neena doing due penance. Why didn’t you have me out there, too? I was part of last night.”

Piotr takes one of your hands in his and kisses your knuckles. “Scott and I talked it over with the Professor. We decided better ‘penance’ would be to have you take course on alcohol safety.”

You frown. “Scott agreed to that?”

“Eventually. Wade made very compelling case for you this morning. He said you had no experience with alcohol previously, and that you had no basis to know why New Year’s rule was in place to begin with.”

You make a mental note to thank Wade later.

“The Professor and I agreed --and Scott added the safety course, which is not that unreasonable, I think.”

“It’s not,” You admit. “But I might bitch about it anyway.”

“And I will be there to pat your hand and remind you that it is due consequence of your choices.”

“Like the wonderful boyfriend you are. Pampering me and keeping me grounded.” You smile softly. “I like to think you bring out the best in me, Pete.”

He smiles back and kisses you gently. “I like to think you bring out best in me, Y/N.”

Despite the pounding in your head and the knowledge that you’re going to have to take a pain the ass course eventually, you melt into the kiss.

There’s no place you’d rather be.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #piotr rasputin imagine #colossus imagine #tw: alcohol #tw: vomit #it's your first time drinking and wade starts you off with vodka shots #like any good friend would #note: the reader does soberly consent to drinking #wade doesn't force you because wade is ALL ABOUT CONSENT #mother hen piotr #the best kind of piotr #x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

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georgipopovich-voiceblog · 6 years

Text

The First One Home: Part VII

“Take it easy, Georgi! Yakov calls from his spot on the sideline, watching his student gliding across the ice for the first time in the past month and a half. He’s not going to be able to do jumps as fast as he learns to walk, obviously, so he is quite nervous for it. It shows on his face. “Bah....” The coach huffs, “He’s nervous. He’s no good on the ice when he’s nervous. It shows.... we should pull him back to let him stretch further.”

Hearing him over his shoulder was discouraging, though he didn’t want to argue it, especially knowing his coach probably thinks best for him. With a sigh, he tries to press down on the leg.

“He’s ready. He’s so done with stretching at home.” Yuri mentions, “You should hear him bitching day in and day out. I get texts from him all the day to bring him takeout.”

“Great. he’s gotta work off that.... I told you guys, carry out is the hardest food to quit.” Grumbling, he looks up to Georgi, who is leaning on the side again, he looks frustrated. “Georgi! Why don’t you come back this way? We can do some leg stretches to strengthen that femur... you can go back to the ice when you’re ready.”

Georgi looks disappointed at the order from his coach, but he nods, starting to glide back towards the exit of the ice... when a leg stops him. The familiar face of a hockey player with a smile on his face, the stupid smile. Yet the Russian greets him with his own smirk. “Gosha....” He pouts, “You giving up already?”

“Nyet!” Looking over to Yakov, he sets his hands on his hips. “Coach Feltsman, do you mind me showing you how hard he’s been working these past few weeks?”

Yakov raises an eyebrow at the man, he really liked him well, as he reminded him of how many students of his were so surprising and intuitive. But he couldn’t let him know that. “Eh.... If you think you can do something, do it. But it better not waste his or my time.”

Oskar sits up a little bit, rubbing his head and flipping him off, that stupid smile on his face. “Fuck you too!”

“You’ve been staying over because you want to get out of practice.”

“Come on, Yakov, you wouldn’t deny me the company of all these fantastic Ice Skaters, would you?”

“Now, Oskar.”

Sitting up, he starts rising up and chuckling, holding his hand up to Georgi to help him up, he runs the other hand through that whispy blonde hair. “Come on, get up. Your coach says no fun allowed.”

“Well... It’s no jump, but I’m going to have to work my way up to that. Think you can give me motivation when we come in for practice every day, Oskar?”

“Oof... every day? You sure that’s going to work out? I don’t know if I can take the effort of pissing someone off every day enough to get you back to kicking ass on the ice.”

“Oooh, was that an ass joke from my favorite Gay Orgy Popovich?” Oskar smirks, gliding to the edge and putting his blade guards on. “I am so proud, give me another!”

“Nyet! Nyet!” Georgi smirks, “You get one out of me only once in a while! Like me, you have to savor~”

Georgi raises an eyebrow, looking over his shoulder to see Yakov, Victor, and Yuri in a huddle, Mila was possibly behind them... Nope. There she is, her little red head is trying to peek over them. Seems like they’re quite interested in what’s going on here. “Fine, but I’m paying. You got pizza for us last time. Are we going to get carry out?”

“No, we’re going out out. Like to a restaurant or a bar. Which one do you prefer?”

The dark haired Russian feels a little surprised..... Did he mean.... going out as in on a date? Would he be alright with that? Wait, was he considering this? The man who’s been bickering with him for this long?

No. He couldn’t.

..... But those dreams......

He had those dreams of them having sex weeks ago.... but just recently, he’s been in them for different reasons. There was shopping, there was cooking, there was silly things, going to each other’s competitions.

Dinner. Drinks.

Did he mean out? Or did he mean... ‘out’.....?

Georgi felt his heart skip a beat as he tried to figure out an answer. He was asked a question, wasn’t he? He should say something, he should choose an option. NO. He should say no

He should say no. NO. No. “Dinner.....” God dammit brain. “You choose the place.”

It was as though it poured out of him, without thought.

"Awesome. Shower up a bit before you go home, I got a place in mind.

#oh shit OH SHIIIIIT

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