A/N: Even though I did not use the Queertet Inspiration Generator (found at www.queertet.net), I decided that this would go into the "Inspirations" universe (which has "Tricking and Treating" and "Giving" in it) because I was indeed inspired, by three things.
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Inspirations: Carla's defense of Goldberg, seen in her "On Being..." fanfics / 'Goldberg's' request that he be written as more than comic relief or as a fat kid / a certain dark-haired girl in a blue coat who can be seen during the final game of D2 on the left side of the screen, right up near the glass behind the USA goal.
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"Of Love"
"Don't take those pads off!" Coach Bombay said sharply. "Everyone stay in your gear. We have practice."
"Tonight?" Greg Goldberg demanded. Coach barely spared him a withering glance, but even though Bombay didn't say it, Goldberg knew he was wondering 'What /else/ do /you/ have to do?'
Greg knew, because he'd seen it in people's eyes before, in their disbelieving expressions. They never thought that Greg had anything else to do, never entertained the idea that he might possibly have a social life. Just because of the way he looked.
Well, as it turned out, Greg /did/ have something else to do. He had someone else to be with tonight, before Coach Bombay was replaced by an evil pod-person, and now he'd have to cancel. He'd have to call her and say, "We've got practice tonight, I'm sorry," but not even that very sincere, very apologetic call could make up for the fact that he was standing her up.
****
It all started after the shutout of Italy. Greg had been coming out of the locker room and had run into two girls who were trying to sneak in. One of them, a green-eyed blonde, went pink in the face and stammered out an apology, looking extremely guilty as she did so. The other girl merely grinned at Goldberg and asked,
"So, is this the Team USA locker room?"
He stared at her for a moment, feeling a smile form on his own face. "Sure is, but I wouldn't suggest going in there right now. Sweaty half-naked guys everywhere--oh, wait, you'd probably like that."
The blonde girl blushed even deeper, but her brunette friend laughed appreciatively at the quip and replied, "Nah, sweaty half-naked guys are overrated. Me and 'Gelina here wanted to say hi to Connie Moreau--she's good." Dark eyes swept him up and down, and the girl asked, "You're Goldberg, right? The goalie? You're damn good yourself."
"Thanks," Greg said sincerely. "You wanna wait down the hall? I'll go back in and tell Connie that her fanclub is here."
He did so, and Connie was truly touched by the fact that a couple of fans wanted to meet her, showing up with Guy, Jesse, Fulton, and Portman in tow. Valentine and her easily flustered friend Angelina were excited to meet so many players on Team USA. After handshakes and a short conversation, they went their seperate ways, Greg escorting the fans out so that they wouldn't get in trouble with security.
"You wanna go see a movie sometime?" Valentine inquired suddenly, once they were outside. Greg stumbled over his own feet, surprised at the out-of-the-blue request, but he managed to catch himself and say,
"That'd be great! When?"
****
Of course, Greg and Valentine scheduled their date--he was allowed to think of it as a date, because she hadn't said anything about bringing friends along!--for the same day as the US-Iceland game, which turned into a massacre, pointwise. And the post-game practice couldn't be called a practice. Coach's punishment of the team lasted until ten-thirty that night--definitely past curfew.
He called Valentine the next day, and, after identifying himself, was treated to a muttered, "You were doing your best, and that Julie girl had to go get kicked outta the game when she should have played. God, Greg, that really burns me!"
"So you're not mad about me missing our movie...date...thing?"
"No way! That's not your fault, Greg. So what'd the coach do, give you guys an 'I'm very disappointed in you' speech?"
Greg scowled at the memory of what had happened last night. "No," he told her bitterly, "It was more along the lines of a 'You're pathetic losers, and we're gonna drill 'til you drop!' speech."
"That's not fair!" Valentine exclaimed.
"You're telling me..." Goldberg sighed. "So, maybe we can reschedule?"
"Sure. Let me ask my sister Carol when she gets the car next."
**to be continued**
A/N: First, I figure that you guys deserve a new fic from me. Second, I was impatient to get this one up. And third, this was the best place to stop the chapter, I think. Review now, or forever hold your peace.
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Inspirations: Carla's defense of Goldberg, seen in her "On Being..." fanfics / 'Goldberg's' request that he be written as more than comic relief or as a fat kid / a certain dark-haired girl in a blue coat who can be seen during the final game of D2 on the left side of the screen, right up near the glass behind the USA goal.
****
"Of Love"
"Don't take those pads off!" Coach Bombay said sharply. "Everyone stay in your gear. We have practice."
"Tonight?" Greg Goldberg demanded. Coach barely spared him a withering glance, but even though Bombay didn't say it, Goldberg knew he was wondering 'What /else/ do /you/ have to do?'
Greg knew, because he'd seen it in people's eyes before, in their disbelieving expressions. They never thought that Greg had anything else to do, never entertained the idea that he might possibly have a social life. Just because of the way he looked.
Well, as it turned out, Greg /did/ have something else to do. He had someone else to be with tonight, before Coach Bombay was replaced by an evil pod-person, and now he'd have to cancel. He'd have to call her and say, "We've got practice tonight, I'm sorry," but not even that very sincere, very apologetic call could make up for the fact that he was standing her up.
****
It all started after the shutout of Italy. Greg had been coming out of the locker room and had run into two girls who were trying to sneak in. One of them, a green-eyed blonde, went pink in the face and stammered out an apology, looking extremely guilty as she did so. The other girl merely grinned at Goldberg and asked,
"So, is this the Team USA locker room?"
He stared at her for a moment, feeling a smile form on his own face. "Sure is, but I wouldn't suggest going in there right now. Sweaty half-naked guys everywhere--oh, wait, you'd probably like that."
The blonde girl blushed even deeper, but her brunette friend laughed appreciatively at the quip and replied, "Nah, sweaty half-naked guys are overrated. Me and 'Gelina here wanted to say hi to Connie Moreau--she's good." Dark eyes swept him up and down, and the girl asked, "You're Goldberg, right? The goalie? You're damn good yourself."
"Thanks," Greg said sincerely. "You wanna wait down the hall? I'll go back in and tell Connie that her fanclub is here."
He did so, and Connie was truly touched by the fact that a couple of fans wanted to meet her, showing up with Guy, Jesse, Fulton, and Portman in tow. Valentine and her easily flustered friend Angelina were excited to meet so many players on Team USA. After handshakes and a short conversation, they went their seperate ways, Greg escorting the fans out so that they wouldn't get in trouble with security.
"You wanna go see a movie sometime?" Valentine inquired suddenly, once they were outside. Greg stumbled over his own feet, surprised at the out-of-the-blue request, but he managed to catch himself and say,
"That'd be great! When?"
****
Of course, Greg and Valentine scheduled their date--he was allowed to think of it as a date, because she hadn't said anything about bringing friends along!--for the same day as the US-Iceland game, which turned into a massacre, pointwise. And the post-game practice couldn't be called a practice. Coach's punishment of the team lasted until ten-thirty that night--definitely past curfew.
He called Valentine the next day, and, after identifying himself, was treated to a muttered, "You were doing your best, and that Julie girl had to go get kicked outta the game when she should have played. God, Greg, that really burns me!"
"So you're not mad about me missing our movie...date...thing?"
"No way! That's not your fault, Greg. So what'd the coach do, give you guys an 'I'm very disappointed in you' speech?"
Greg scowled at the memory of what had happened last night. "No," he told her bitterly, "It was more along the lines of a 'You're pathetic losers, and we're gonna drill 'til you drop!' speech."
"That's not fair!" Valentine exclaimed.
"You're telling me..." Goldberg sighed. "So, maybe we can reschedule?"
"Sure. Let me ask my sister Carol when she gets the car next."
**to be continued**
A/N: First, I figure that you guys deserve a new fic from me. Second, I was impatient to get this one up. And third, this was the best place to stop the chapter, I think. Review now, or forever hold your peace.