-AN: This is a one-shot about Sheamus leading the Fighting Irish, (Notre Dame) into their game.
The OC here is Nicky Baratti, number 29, from Tomball, TX. He and Sheamus seem to have somewhat similar career paths in some ways. They both burst onto the scene of the sport of their choice suddenly, and with a lot of potential, both had sidelining shoulder injuries, and both returned to find that the landscape of their sport had changed significantly while they were gone.
I should clarify that this is a work of fiction. This in no way means that I have any rights over anything from the NFL or WWE. I know nothing of Mr. Baratti's orientations or availability. This is all pretend, etc. (Insert all the other disclaimers and stuff here)
I wasn't going to write any more Sheamus stories, but then I was working part time at the library shelving books and the spirit moved me. I think you know the one.
Let the Slash commence!
Sheamus walked down the hallway to the locker rooms with a smile on his face. He was meeting the team for the first time. After obsessing about his wardrobe for the last few hours, he pushed all doubtful thoughts out of his head as he knocked on the door to Brian Kelley's office. After introducing himself, he followed him to the team locker room. Sheamus was a bundle of nerves on the inside. Now was the moment of truth. Would they think he looked stupid like so many other people did? Sheamus never had the best history with the jocks in school, so this was a nervous point for him.
"You ready?"
The question jarred Sheamus from his internal conflict. Realizing that he must have looked very unprofessional. Blushing slightly, he followed Brian Kelley into the locker room.
The team had been chattering among themselves, some watching some of Sheamus's matches or reading his stats, because they knew he was on the way. Quietly listening to the din of the chatter was Nicky Baratti, a freshman safety from Tomball, TX. Tossing a small stress ball between his hands as he saw the door start to open. The Team murmured a bit as Brian Kelley introduced Sheamus to everyone, excluding Nicky, who was just observing Sheamus as he moved around the room, for some reason starting at the quarterback and moving through the team. Nicky was never one to judge entirely from the visual, Nicky watched as Sheamus met Matthias Farley.
"Oh, Farrelley. Any relation?"
"No, sorry. It's the Anglo-Saxon spelling."
"Ah. Nice ta meet ya anyway, man. Fair play to ya."
As Sheamus moved from Matthias, Nicky suddenly realized that he was next. Time slowed as Nicky looked up slightly, startled at Sheamus's striking green eyes. He vaguely registered that Sheamus was saying something to him, and he stammered to agree and say something competent.
Clearly whatever agreements he stumbled to say didn't fit with what Sheamus was trying to say to him, because he responded with a slightly confused expression and said,
"Spaced out, yeh? Oi can understandt. Moind in the game."
Just then, a tech came out and pulled Sheamus away for preparation for leading the team on to the field. They had chosen to have Sheamus lead the team out on to the field shirtless, so even in the evening they still had to almost drown him in sunscreen. Nicky watched from the sidelines, trying to avoid staring openly.
Sheamus had the feeling that he was being watched, but he shook it off, figuring that of course they were watching to make sure that he ran across the field correctly once the game began. That was a perfectly valid reason. As he ran the field again, he thought about the M&M Ice cream sandwich he had two weeks ago. Maybe he shouldn't have eaten that. Maybe he shouldn't have done this without a shirt. Maybe he was starting to get a bit pudgy again. A whistle vaguely registered in his conscious mind, and he found himself at the top of the stadium with the flag still over his shoulder. Brian Kelley was waving his arms over his head in a "No" sort of motion, and the team watched him with mostly confused faces as a few guys laughed.
After looking around for a megaphone, the coach called out,
"Where are you going?"
Scrambling to find a reason for being this high up, he shouldered the flag again, and ran down with a ferocious expression. The team members who had gathered on the field moved out of his way, and he jogged up to Coach Kelley, and asked,
"What's more terrifying, an Irishman coming out from backstage, or running down from the stands when you never knew he was there?"
His wording was putting some ideas into Nicky's head. Coach Kelley chuckled and informed Sheamus they would be sticking with the old way for safety's sake, even thought that would be scarier. Sheamus ran the field one more time, and Coach Kelley sent him to the showers.
Nicky was sure that Sheamus was at least bi. And if he wasn't, of he approached him nicely, maybe…
Nicky didn't get a chance to finish that thought, because his feet had already led him to the locker room in hopes of catching Sheamus as he left the shower. Although it was tempting to look into the showers to see what he was working with, Nicky managed to content himself with looking around the locker room to organize his things. He left the locker room as he heard the water cut off, giving Sheamus time to dry off, but not so much that he was already dressed.
Nicky made sure to knock first before opening the door. Sheamus had wrapped a towel around his waist, hanging so low on his hips that it made Nicky's heart race. Okay. It was now or never.
"Uh, hey." Nicky was kicking himself at that moment. Hey? He just saw the guy.
"Howya?" the question made the towel drop more. Oh. That's why he said hey. If he stood there any longer, there would be no way to do this nicely.
"I-wanted to ask you something?"
"Yeh?" he grabbed the towel, and Nicky sucked in a breath as the blood in his brain flew south for the winter.
"What- uh, what did you think of the equality laws Ireland passed awhile ago?" a nice safe way to feel out the room. As a free safety, he always had a knack for feeling out the room.
Sheamus furrowed his brow, wondering why he would ask that. After a second, he figured that might be the only piece of Irish current events that Nicky might have heard about, and since he had come in to grab his bag and Sheamus was there, he wanted to seem cordial. After thinking about his answer, Sheamus responded,
"Ah thought it was as good a descision there as it was here. It was inevitable. Can't fight change." There. Right on the border. The answer was pleasing to the blowhard conservatives and to Titus O'Neil, so Sheamus figured he was safe.
"Yeah, but what did you think?" Nicky pressed, "Was it good, or bad?"
"As a public figure, I thought it was great" Sheamus congratulated himself. He was dodging questions like a bloody bullfighter. He should get a medal for this. Nicky shook his head.
"I'm sorry, I- what I'm trying to ask, is, as a private figure, … God dammit!" Nicky walked away, angey that he couldn't keep his eyes away from Sheamus's hip dents or beautiful green eyes long enough to ask the question.
"As a private figure, if I said you looked really hot, what would you say?" Nicky asked from farther than arm's length away.
"I'd say tanks." Sheamus answered, blushing slightly. Maybe there was a gym question in his future, and the guy was trying to be culturally sensitive in a weird way or something. Nicky walked up a few steps, whispering, "And what If I said it standing right here? What would you say then?" he leaned even closer. "As a private figure."
Oh. Jesus. He knew that look. And it was never aimed at him before.
"I would say ya have gorgeous features as well," Sheamus said, wrapping an arm around Nicky's waist to pull him closer.
"And perfect timing."
AN: A recent discovery on Tumblr led me to discover that all the stories that Idabrat had posted were plagiarisms. I want to encourage anyone reading this to tell encourage this author to write their own work, if you decide to call them out on the plaigarism. They have already been talked to about this, so to keep this short and sweet, let me just add this to the end of my updates:
I had a lot to say, but here is the short version. You really inspired me a lot, Idabrat. Your plagiarism was a disappointment, but that doesn't mean I hate you. My final call to Idabrat: Come join us. Write. For real this time. We'll forgive you. You're a human being just like the rest of us. You deserve a chance. You deserve for people to praise work that is truly yours. Give yourself that chance. You have value. You have worth. Show it.