A/N: I don't watch Tom Green...that I used questions featured on the show is just an odd coincidence.
Please, people! Reading much farther without reading "Unforgiven" (the prequel) will only confuse you. So don't start whining because you can't listen. Also, this damn story took on a life of its own (meaning more darkness to balance the fluffy gook)...I have no idea how many chapters it will end up being. I'm sort of sorry, but also not, because I love everything about this fanfic. ^_^ I'm so egotistical...
****
"Might as Well, Part Ten"
["You're beggin' me to go, you're makin' me stay/ Why do you hurt me so bad/ It would help me to know/ Do I stand in your way, or am I the best thing you've had/ Believe me, believe me, I can't tell you why/ But I'm trapped by your love and I'm chained to your side/
We are young/ Heartache to heartache we stand/ No promises, no demands/ Love is a battlefield/
We are strong, no once can tell us we're wrong/ Searchin' our hearts for so long/ Both of us knowing/ Love is a battlefiled/
We're losing control/ Will you turn me away or touch me deep inside/ And before this gets old, will it still feel the same/ There's no way this will die/ But if we get much closer, I could lose control/ And if your heart surrenders, you'll need me to hold"
--from "Love is a Battlefield" by Pat Benatar]
"Hey, Dean?" A soft whisper, followed by a few pokes to the ribs.
Dean groaned and opened his eyes. The digital face of his alarm clock informed him that it was five thirty in the morning, a full fifteen minutes before he was supposed to get up. He turned his head and came face to face with Fulton. The dark-haired teen was sitting on top of Dean's legs, leaning down so that their faces nearly touched.
"Mornin'." Fulton said, beaming with pleasure to see Dean awake. Dean had to smile back, as his irritation at being woken up early evaporated at the sight of Fulton's sunny smile.
"To what do I owe this...wonderful awakening?" Dean asked, pausing to yawn. Fulton looked slightly abashed when he realized what time it was. Dean felt his eyes flutter shut, but he was too tired to do anything about it. Warm fingers gently stroked his face, sliding down to trace where his pulse beat strongly at his neck. A soft sound of pleasure passed his lips as Dean whispered, "Have I told you recently that I love you?"
Fulton lightly pressed his lips to Dean's and murmured, "You just did."
"Guess I did," Dean chuckled, and kissed him back. "Seriously, why the dawn wake-up call?"
"It's kinda dumb," Fulton began apologetically, coloring slightly. "And I guess I shouldn't've woken you up; it could've waited..."
"Fulton." Dean interrupted. "Spit it out, honey."
"I've got this friend...in Stillwater...that I promised to visit. You wanna come with, this weekend?"
"Sure."
****
Dean glared at the science teacher beneath lowered eyelids, hating the man for being so damned /boring/. He was going to fall into a coma if he had to listen to this much longer...
A paper football landed on his hand. Curiousity revived Dean enough for him to pick it up and read 'Open and Read' printed on one side in a familiar hand. He glanced at Fulton, seated on his left, and raised an eyebrow. Fulton gestured with his pencil to the paper in Dean's hand, then looked back down at his own paper with an expression of extreme concentration.
Before opening the note, Dean leaned over caught a glimpse of Fulton's paper, only because he was worried that his boyfriend was actually doing the classwork, which would have been a sign of mental illness in Fulton Reed. Instead, he observed an intricate pattern of flame-like spires blending into faceted icicles. [1] Relieved, Dean quickly unfolded the paper football.
'Been thinking. Should we say anything about us to the team?'
Dean thought for a moment. The original Ducks would probably be cool with it, seeing as they'd known and been friends with Fulton for a long time. Mostly, he was more worried about the reactions of Luis, Dwayne, Julie, Ken, and Russ; along with himself, they were recent additions to the team and hadn't been friends very long. He'd heard Luis commenting negatively about homosexuals, and Dwayne was...well, Dwayne was Dwayne. It wasn't likely that the cowboy had met many open gays; he'd believe the stereotypes of the limp-wristed, feminine, promiscuous gay man. Kenny and Russ, though, were from California...they might be used to homosexual couples, at least tolerant. Julie was a wild card. He wasn't really good friends with her.
He scribbled quickly, 'Do you want to?' and folded the paper back up, flicking it back onto Fulton's desk.
The reply was long. 'Connie & Guy should be okay w/ it. Adam & Les too. Charlie, Goldberg, Luis, Dwayne...maybe, maybe not. Don't know about Russ, Julie & Ken.'
'Let's do it. If they hate us, we can always work to get transferred to Varsity.'
Fulton marked out the sentance about Varsity and wrote, pressing hard, 'NO WAY IN HELL' and underlined that three times, finishing with a frowning face. Under this, he scrawled, 'After school, then?'
Reading the last message, Dean caught Fulton's eye and nodded in agreement. He crumpled up the paper and stuffed it in his pocket.
****
Dean was studying Fulton's piece of artwork and nearly walked into a tree. Fulton managed to stop him in time and asked, eyes sparkling mischieviously, "What's the matter with you?"
"Bro, that's one trippy-ass picture. S'makin' me dizzy." Blinking to orient himself, Dean asked, "How'd you come up with that shit?"
"Dude..." Fulton shrugged, "Been dropping acid since I was ten. It's kind of a given."
"/Seriously/?" Dean demanded, "And you never /shared/?"
"You never asked," Fulton reminded him cheerfully. Dean smacked him on the head.
"Fuck you, man. Who was smoking pot with you at the Goodwill Games, Kenny?"
Fulton looked thoughtful. "Actually...no, I never asked him to. But that doesn't mean you'd want to do acid."
"Hey, guys!" Guy called behind them. The Bash Brothers stopped walking, and Dean turned around, watching apathetically as the blond struggled with a huge bookbag and caught up to them.
Fulton commented, "You're gonna destroy your back, walking around with all that shit in your bag."
"Oh, yes," Guy said in a mock-serious voice, "I should adhere to the Bash Brothers' School of Thought and get all my sleep in class, so I can stay up until two in the morning blasting AC-DC through the paper wall of the dorm."
"You should." Dean replied. Fulton winked at Guy and explained,
"Sarcasm usually goes over Dean's head."
Guy smiled. "He and Connie have /that/ in common. Anyway, what's this important thing you two've gotta tell us Ducks?"
"No weaseling it out of us early," Dean scolded. Guy looked mildly offended.
"I do /not/ weasel! /Do/ I weasel, Fulton?"
Fulton shrugged. "Dunno. Does looking like a weasel count?"
"Oh, very funny. You're just like my older brother."
"No, I'm not. He's blond, a drama nut, and he probably kicks your ass on a regular basis." With a grin, Fulton finished, "Whereas I, your friendly neighborhood enforcer, am dark-haired, play hockey, and protect you on the ice, where you seem to be a magnet for pain."
"The man has a point." Dean said helpfully.
****
The team had assembled, in accordance with Fulton's passed-on instructions, in the JV locker room. Charlie was leaning next to the team bulletin board, arms crossed, looking agitated. When Dean, Fulton, and Guy walked in, he burst out with, "What's the big deal you guys, is someone dying?"
A faintly troubled, distant look flickered over Fulton's face. Dean replied dryly, "Not today, Captain Duck."
"So what's the matter?" Connie asked a little louder than necessary, worry apparent in her tone. Guy drifted over to her and sat down, taking one of her hands in both of his own. Dean looked around and saw that Connie's worry was reflected, in varying degrees, on the faces of everyone there. He sighed and glanced at Fulton, who took his hand.
"Well...everyone..." Dean drew a deep, steadying breath, "Fulton and I are...together."
"Together how?" Julie demanded.
"Um...like, Connie and Guy together. That kind of together." Fulton replied softly. The resultant silence following this admission was deafening.
It was Averman who spoke up first, breaking the tension. He smiled supportively at the couple and cracked, "Guess it's a good thing I never dropped the soap in the showers."
Fulton looked at him with feigned disbelief. He joked back, "Like I'd want you!" Holding out both hands palm-up, he lifted one, saying, "David Lester Averman: skinny little pale dude in glasses, tells really bad jokes." Raising the other, he continued, "On the other hand, Dean Aaron Portman: very attractive, strong, and /actually funny/. It's no contest, man."
Averman walked up to Dean and patted his shoulder. "Sorry, Portman. You heard the man."
Dean shot Averman his best withering glare. "Get away from me."
"Yes, sir!" Averman chirped, unfazed. [2] The others began to voice their reactions.
Luis shrugged. "Whatever. Just don't...don't start acting different...from usual." Guy and Adam congratulated them. Kenny said nothing, looking neither particularly happy or particularly angry.
Connie also shrugged, but said "If it makes you happy...go with it, eh?"
Russ said, "Hey, it don't matter to me."
Dwayne retreated to the other side of the locker room, pretending that nothing was happening. He looked a bit shell-shocked, so everyone else left him alone. Goldberg was shaking his head, muttering to himself, "It's never who you expect, is it?"
Charlie looked a little weirded out himself, until Adam said quietly to him, "It's not gonna change their hockey-playing ability, Spazway." Then the captain sighed and mumbled something to the effect that he just needed to get used to the idea.
This seemed to set Julie off. She had merely been sitting there, face blank and unreadable, until Charlie spoke. She jumped to her feet and said loudly, "I can't believe that you're all just going to /accept/ this!"
Ken narrowed his eyes. "Elaborate on that, Julie." He had been silent so far, trying to gauge everyone else's reactions before speaking for himself. Julie crossed her arms defensively.
"This is sick. Just /sick./ It's plain unnatural. I don't know about you people, but I'm not going to play with a couple of /faggots,/" she spat the word out like poison, her face twisting into a very ugly look, "on my team. I'm out of here." She grabbed her jacket and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Dwayne, sensing an ally, scurried after her.
Fulton deadpanned, "Looks like you're the goalie again, Goldy."
"Aw, man," Goldberg whined, "couldn't you've stayed in the closet 'til the end of the season?"
****
After coming out to the team, Dean and Fulton had to inform Coach Orion as well, to beat Julie--who was probably off ranting to Dwayne, her only real audience of her hate-speech--to the punch. The man stared at them for a minute or so, finally saying calmly, "I hope that both of you understand the ramifications of this."
"Yeah, we lost you your goalie." Fulton replied with the same level of calm.
Dean broke in angrily, "She didn't want to play with us 'faggots,' Coach. I swear, if she wasn't a fucking girl--"
"Language, Portman." Orion reminded. He sighed heavily and stared down at the papers on his desk, rubbing at his temples. "I won't lie to you and say that losing Gaffney isn't a blow to the team, because it is. Goldberg just doesn't have her level of performance." Redirecting his gaze to the teens across his desk, Ted Orion said quietly, "But team unity is more important than an amazing goalie. Greg can be improved upon, but I doubt that we can un-teach homophobia by ourselves. Eden Hall isn't the most...diverse of campuses, so Julie's reaction may be the indicator of what you'll find here."
"Good thing we can stand up for ourselves," Dean grumbled.
The coach looked truly sincere as he apologized. "I'm sorry. I really am."
Fulton smiled bravely. "Don't worry, Coach. We don't blame you for the ignorance of others."
~~Para ser continuado...~~
[1] This is actually a description of a piece of my own artwork, except mine is in blue ink, not pencil.
[2] Sound familiar?
Please, people! Reading much farther without reading "Unforgiven" (the prequel) will only confuse you. So don't start whining because you can't listen. Also, this damn story took on a life of its own (meaning more darkness to balance the fluffy gook)...I have no idea how many chapters it will end up being. I'm sort of sorry, but also not, because I love everything about this fanfic. ^_^ I'm so egotistical...
****
"Might as Well, Part Ten"
["You're beggin' me to go, you're makin' me stay/ Why do you hurt me so bad/ It would help me to know/ Do I stand in your way, or am I the best thing you've had/ Believe me, believe me, I can't tell you why/ But I'm trapped by your love and I'm chained to your side/
We are young/ Heartache to heartache we stand/ No promises, no demands/ Love is a battlefield/
We are strong, no once can tell us we're wrong/ Searchin' our hearts for so long/ Both of us knowing/ Love is a battlefiled/
We're losing control/ Will you turn me away or touch me deep inside/ And before this gets old, will it still feel the same/ There's no way this will die/ But if we get much closer, I could lose control/ And if your heart surrenders, you'll need me to hold"
--from "Love is a Battlefield" by Pat Benatar]
"Hey, Dean?" A soft whisper, followed by a few pokes to the ribs.
Dean groaned and opened his eyes. The digital face of his alarm clock informed him that it was five thirty in the morning, a full fifteen minutes before he was supposed to get up. He turned his head and came face to face with Fulton. The dark-haired teen was sitting on top of Dean's legs, leaning down so that their faces nearly touched.
"Mornin'." Fulton said, beaming with pleasure to see Dean awake. Dean had to smile back, as his irritation at being woken up early evaporated at the sight of Fulton's sunny smile.
"To what do I owe this...wonderful awakening?" Dean asked, pausing to yawn. Fulton looked slightly abashed when he realized what time it was. Dean felt his eyes flutter shut, but he was too tired to do anything about it. Warm fingers gently stroked his face, sliding down to trace where his pulse beat strongly at his neck. A soft sound of pleasure passed his lips as Dean whispered, "Have I told you recently that I love you?"
Fulton lightly pressed his lips to Dean's and murmured, "You just did."
"Guess I did," Dean chuckled, and kissed him back. "Seriously, why the dawn wake-up call?"
"It's kinda dumb," Fulton began apologetically, coloring slightly. "And I guess I shouldn't've woken you up; it could've waited..."
"Fulton." Dean interrupted. "Spit it out, honey."
"I've got this friend...in Stillwater...that I promised to visit. You wanna come with, this weekend?"
"Sure."
****
Dean glared at the science teacher beneath lowered eyelids, hating the man for being so damned /boring/. He was going to fall into a coma if he had to listen to this much longer...
A paper football landed on his hand. Curiousity revived Dean enough for him to pick it up and read 'Open and Read' printed on one side in a familiar hand. He glanced at Fulton, seated on his left, and raised an eyebrow. Fulton gestured with his pencil to the paper in Dean's hand, then looked back down at his own paper with an expression of extreme concentration.
Before opening the note, Dean leaned over caught a glimpse of Fulton's paper, only because he was worried that his boyfriend was actually doing the classwork, which would have been a sign of mental illness in Fulton Reed. Instead, he observed an intricate pattern of flame-like spires blending into faceted icicles. [1] Relieved, Dean quickly unfolded the paper football.
'Been thinking. Should we say anything about us to the team?'
Dean thought for a moment. The original Ducks would probably be cool with it, seeing as they'd known and been friends with Fulton for a long time. Mostly, he was more worried about the reactions of Luis, Dwayne, Julie, Ken, and Russ; along with himself, they were recent additions to the team and hadn't been friends very long. He'd heard Luis commenting negatively about homosexuals, and Dwayne was...well, Dwayne was Dwayne. It wasn't likely that the cowboy had met many open gays; he'd believe the stereotypes of the limp-wristed, feminine, promiscuous gay man. Kenny and Russ, though, were from California...they might be used to homosexual couples, at least tolerant. Julie was a wild card. He wasn't really good friends with her.
He scribbled quickly, 'Do you want to?' and folded the paper back up, flicking it back onto Fulton's desk.
The reply was long. 'Connie & Guy should be okay w/ it. Adam & Les too. Charlie, Goldberg, Luis, Dwayne...maybe, maybe not. Don't know about Russ, Julie & Ken.'
'Let's do it. If they hate us, we can always work to get transferred to Varsity.'
Fulton marked out the sentance about Varsity and wrote, pressing hard, 'NO WAY IN HELL' and underlined that three times, finishing with a frowning face. Under this, he scrawled, 'After school, then?'
Reading the last message, Dean caught Fulton's eye and nodded in agreement. He crumpled up the paper and stuffed it in his pocket.
****
Dean was studying Fulton's piece of artwork and nearly walked into a tree. Fulton managed to stop him in time and asked, eyes sparkling mischieviously, "What's the matter with you?"
"Bro, that's one trippy-ass picture. S'makin' me dizzy." Blinking to orient himself, Dean asked, "How'd you come up with that shit?"
"Dude..." Fulton shrugged, "Been dropping acid since I was ten. It's kind of a given."
"/Seriously/?" Dean demanded, "And you never /shared/?"
"You never asked," Fulton reminded him cheerfully. Dean smacked him on the head.
"Fuck you, man. Who was smoking pot with you at the Goodwill Games, Kenny?"
Fulton looked thoughtful. "Actually...no, I never asked him to. But that doesn't mean you'd want to do acid."
"Hey, guys!" Guy called behind them. The Bash Brothers stopped walking, and Dean turned around, watching apathetically as the blond struggled with a huge bookbag and caught up to them.
Fulton commented, "You're gonna destroy your back, walking around with all that shit in your bag."
"Oh, yes," Guy said in a mock-serious voice, "I should adhere to the Bash Brothers' School of Thought and get all my sleep in class, so I can stay up until two in the morning blasting AC-DC through the paper wall of the dorm."
"You should." Dean replied. Fulton winked at Guy and explained,
"Sarcasm usually goes over Dean's head."
Guy smiled. "He and Connie have /that/ in common. Anyway, what's this important thing you two've gotta tell us Ducks?"
"No weaseling it out of us early," Dean scolded. Guy looked mildly offended.
"I do /not/ weasel! /Do/ I weasel, Fulton?"
Fulton shrugged. "Dunno. Does looking like a weasel count?"
"Oh, very funny. You're just like my older brother."
"No, I'm not. He's blond, a drama nut, and he probably kicks your ass on a regular basis." With a grin, Fulton finished, "Whereas I, your friendly neighborhood enforcer, am dark-haired, play hockey, and protect you on the ice, where you seem to be a magnet for pain."
"The man has a point." Dean said helpfully.
****
The team had assembled, in accordance with Fulton's passed-on instructions, in the JV locker room. Charlie was leaning next to the team bulletin board, arms crossed, looking agitated. When Dean, Fulton, and Guy walked in, he burst out with, "What's the big deal you guys, is someone dying?"
A faintly troubled, distant look flickered over Fulton's face. Dean replied dryly, "Not today, Captain Duck."
"So what's the matter?" Connie asked a little louder than necessary, worry apparent in her tone. Guy drifted over to her and sat down, taking one of her hands in both of his own. Dean looked around and saw that Connie's worry was reflected, in varying degrees, on the faces of everyone there. He sighed and glanced at Fulton, who took his hand.
"Well...everyone..." Dean drew a deep, steadying breath, "Fulton and I are...together."
"Together how?" Julie demanded.
"Um...like, Connie and Guy together. That kind of together." Fulton replied softly. The resultant silence following this admission was deafening.
It was Averman who spoke up first, breaking the tension. He smiled supportively at the couple and cracked, "Guess it's a good thing I never dropped the soap in the showers."
Fulton looked at him with feigned disbelief. He joked back, "Like I'd want you!" Holding out both hands palm-up, he lifted one, saying, "David Lester Averman: skinny little pale dude in glasses, tells really bad jokes." Raising the other, he continued, "On the other hand, Dean Aaron Portman: very attractive, strong, and /actually funny/. It's no contest, man."
Averman walked up to Dean and patted his shoulder. "Sorry, Portman. You heard the man."
Dean shot Averman his best withering glare. "Get away from me."
"Yes, sir!" Averman chirped, unfazed. [2] The others began to voice their reactions.
Luis shrugged. "Whatever. Just don't...don't start acting different...from usual." Guy and Adam congratulated them. Kenny said nothing, looking neither particularly happy or particularly angry.
Connie also shrugged, but said "If it makes you happy...go with it, eh?"
Russ said, "Hey, it don't matter to me."
Dwayne retreated to the other side of the locker room, pretending that nothing was happening. He looked a bit shell-shocked, so everyone else left him alone. Goldberg was shaking his head, muttering to himself, "It's never who you expect, is it?"
Charlie looked a little weirded out himself, until Adam said quietly to him, "It's not gonna change their hockey-playing ability, Spazway." Then the captain sighed and mumbled something to the effect that he just needed to get used to the idea.
This seemed to set Julie off. She had merely been sitting there, face blank and unreadable, until Charlie spoke. She jumped to her feet and said loudly, "I can't believe that you're all just going to /accept/ this!"
Ken narrowed his eyes. "Elaborate on that, Julie." He had been silent so far, trying to gauge everyone else's reactions before speaking for himself. Julie crossed her arms defensively.
"This is sick. Just /sick./ It's plain unnatural. I don't know about you people, but I'm not going to play with a couple of /faggots,/" she spat the word out like poison, her face twisting into a very ugly look, "on my team. I'm out of here." She grabbed her jacket and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Dwayne, sensing an ally, scurried after her.
Fulton deadpanned, "Looks like you're the goalie again, Goldy."
"Aw, man," Goldberg whined, "couldn't you've stayed in the closet 'til the end of the season?"
****
After coming out to the team, Dean and Fulton had to inform Coach Orion as well, to beat Julie--who was probably off ranting to Dwayne, her only real audience of her hate-speech--to the punch. The man stared at them for a minute or so, finally saying calmly, "I hope that both of you understand the ramifications of this."
"Yeah, we lost you your goalie." Fulton replied with the same level of calm.
Dean broke in angrily, "She didn't want to play with us 'faggots,' Coach. I swear, if she wasn't a fucking girl--"
"Language, Portman." Orion reminded. He sighed heavily and stared down at the papers on his desk, rubbing at his temples. "I won't lie to you and say that losing Gaffney isn't a blow to the team, because it is. Goldberg just doesn't have her level of performance." Redirecting his gaze to the teens across his desk, Ted Orion said quietly, "But team unity is more important than an amazing goalie. Greg can be improved upon, but I doubt that we can un-teach homophobia by ourselves. Eden Hall isn't the most...diverse of campuses, so Julie's reaction may be the indicator of what you'll find here."
"Good thing we can stand up for ourselves," Dean grumbled.
The coach looked truly sincere as he apologized. "I'm sorry. I really am."
Fulton smiled bravely. "Don't worry, Coach. We don't blame you for the ignorance of others."
~~Para ser continuado...~~
[1] This is actually a description of a piece of my own artwork, except mine is in blue ink, not pencil.
[2] Sound familiar?
