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REVEREND COCKTAIL
Add to Friends
Hoes
I can keep you lookin' young and
preserved forever,
with a fountain to
spray on your youth whenever
’Cause I really always knew that my
little crime
would be cold that's why I
got a heater for your thighs....
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| STORY! |
[01 Jan 2008|08:40pm] |
HOLY SHIT A STORY.
uploaded soley for Cassy.
The darkness settled around Gillette stadium hours ago, many hours ago. Lights from the stadium shined through he darkness and into the gigantic parking lot that was emptied out except for a couple of cars and a few buses. Lights from the parking lot lit up a perfect robbery setting for the man that had been stuffing his football gear into the trunk of his car. It all seemed so routine to him though. Now, it was just cold, and he managed to keep concentration on the slushy snow to not slip in it. He was constantly looking around to make sure if he did fall, no one was there to see it happen. Paparazzi lurked behind every thing. Another factor to the coldness biting his face and hands was his anger, not only did he not win his football game, but he was made to look like a mindless idiot in front of everyone on his team. He was the best, the best quarterback in the world… it was the damn morons who couldn’t catch a fucking ball. He was just so aggravated and barely paying attention to the world around him, and cursed out the entire month of December along with the holiday season coming. He didn’t have a reason to be merry and cheerful. He didn’t even have time to notice the center of his hatred walking through the empty parking lot, and didn’t even notice it when the other man choked on the air upon catching eye of him, but he heard him mutter his name.
“Brady?”
His head snapped up, hate and adrenaline swept through his veins, “What do you want, Manning?!” he snapped viciously. Brady slammed the trunk of his car shut, wanting the guy to just drop dead there. “Have you come to just ruin my life further? Get the hell away from me.”
To be honest, Peyton Manning had no clue that he was going to see Brady there, but he felt it was an okay chance to try and make his sworn enemy into a good sportsman about loosing to him, then again, he wasn’t the one with it going on his record.. Then again he didn‘t even want to bring that up with out security there to pry them off each other when they decided to start throwing punches. “I didn’t even know ya’ll were there.”
“Yeah, of course you didn’t,” he scoffed, jamming his car keys into the keyhole of his door, and missing it entirely, not even wanting to look at the scratch he had just made, “I’m sick of seeing you, get the fuck away from my stadium and away from me.”
“Ya’ll don’t own the place, Tom.”
Tom rolled his eyes, giving him this look like somewhere on it his name was once written as it was his own, but after tonight, even he wasn’t so sure of that anymore. “I said get out of here, damn it! Shouldn‘t you be off making some shitty commercial you jackass?”
“Shouldn’t ya’ll be off modeling ya’ll’s pretty boy face off on some product?”
“Just get the hell out of here, Peyton!”
Tom growled as he went back to jamming his car keys into the drivers side door of his car, hissing furiously as he completely missed it, and scratched a long line down the black paint, looking back up at Peyton as he heard him mutter something about being very glad to leave his presence. “Where the hell are you going anyways?!” Tom growled, “You should be glad to be in my presence!”
“Don’t know,” Peyton replied simply, turning his head slightly to smirk at Tom’s furiousness.
“What do you mean, you “don’t know”?… You know what, I don’t even care, walk off, in fact, I…I… I hope it rains! …Don’t walk away from me!” Tom threw his keys on the ground, not even sure what he was doing anymore, but expecting a girl suddenly to go run up and grab his keys as he went back to go grab them.
“I’m pretty sure ya’ll don’t know what ya’ll are doin’ either.”
“Just.. Just shut up!”
Peyton just chuckled. It was pretty funny to see Tom so pissed off that he didn’t even know what he was doing. “Come on,” now he wasn’t sure what he was doing himself, “I’ll make it up to ya’. Lets go get some dinner, a’ight? ..If ya’ll plan on getting that key into that door any time soon.”
“It is in the door!” he growled, thrusting the door open and muttering tons of cusses under his breath, “Get in the car. If I have to be seen with you, your at least going to pay for dinner. Throw your bag in the trunk…”
“…What is all of this?”
“What’s all of what?” Tom groaned, getting into the car and gripping onto the steering wheel and smashing his forehead into it a few times until Peyton’s laughter rang in his ears, “What?!” he barked.
“..Dear Tom, I - -” Peyton was cut off as he began reading through one out of thousands of cards, letters and just random things that had been piled in the car.
“Put those down! I know for a fact there are millions more waiting on my doorstep.”
Tom had decided the very second he pulled out of the stadium that he was going to go straight home, and Peyton would have to find his own way to where ever it was that he was going, but he certainly wasn’t going to be coming in his house. The drive was silent and awkward, occasionally they would glance at one another, and look away when their eyes met. The weather gave them some small talk to make use of as the rain began, and when the basics of that was over, everything else died. Including the radio.
Peyton’s hazel eyes watched Tom when he wasn’t looking. He examined him well over, and was probably prepared for him to let the wheel, that his fingers had tensely dug into so tightly that it looked like his nails would pop off and his knuckles burst up from beneath his skin, go. He shuddered from the morbid thoughts that had been uncharacteristically crossing his mind. He didn’t even think that way on the field, and then again, all of his own thoughts about what ever it was he was doing with Tom Brady had been thrown out on the highway behind him; only to be ran over when he tried to pick them back up again. Maybe he was waiting just on that idea of the wheel being let go, and having Brady’s hands deathly locked around his throat. Somehow, such a crime didn’t even seem to be blamable on such a sex symbol.
======
The silence wasn’t cut off enough by the sound of the rain smashing into the car, slightly soothing but still nerve wrecking. Peyton leaned on his arm against the window, looking out for a while until he couldn’t see anything else. His day had gone wonderfully, and he wasn’t about to deny that. He just defeated Tom, and couldn’t wait to read the morning headlines. Morning? He didn’t even know how he was going to get home, but he knew he could always call his coach and tell him he was side tracked, it was true after all. He took his cell phone out from his pocket, glancing over at Tom for a few moments and wondering if he should set a speed dial for 911. Instead, he just sent a few text messages off to his team mates congratulating them on their game tonight and shut his phone off.
Tom had thought up several different scenarios in his mind. He could always drive off into a corn field and dump Peyton there so he never had to deal with him again. Or he could strangle the life out of him. Being arrested wasn’t too appealing however, and he had to admit, he was pretty hungry. Not getting vengeance seemed now like they had been getting along, to say the least. He jammed occasionally at the radio, hoping it would just turn back on, or would have at least broken another day when he didn’t have to suffer a ride with Manning sitting beside him. He tried to keep his eyes on the road, and when he didn’t necessarily have to, he watched Peyton and saw him shudder. He pried his own numb hand off the steering wheel, turning the heat up. At least that was making some kind of noise. He hadn’t noticed how hard his grip was, but he could feel the strain tighten as the nights loss reran through his mind and everything that had went wrong and every fault in the game he had made. Everything would be analyzed in the morning paper, and was probably already on the latest website updates. At least not a single girl would blame the loss on him. He could always go get a photo shoot done to win their hearts back anyways. It was almost like a relief. Almost. He closed his eyes for a second, turning slightly and opening them back up at Peyton, his eyebrow slightly raised, “What are you staring at?”
The darkness had engulfed the car until they could barely see one another, but on the drivers side the lights from the street lamps that flew by would perfectly light Tom’s face in the dark with its dim orange color.
His short light brown hair had been falling into his face instead of being gently pushed up as it usually was. He probably didn’t feel like bothering with his appearance after his shower in the locker room. No one could blame him for that at least. Still; he was as gorgeous as a man could be. His face perfectly sculpted and with the scruffy start of a beard that he’d never let grow. His chin even had that perfect dimple. His lips perfectly shaped and nose perfectly straight. Even his broad shoulders were lit perfectly under the flashes of light. His being screamed perfection.
“Peyton!”
-------------
The Colts quarterback shook his head as he brought himself back down to reality, “Uh.. ..um.. What?”
“What are you staring at?”
“…Nothing. Uh, where are we going for dinner?”
“Some place.”
Peyton rolled his eyes, going back to staring out the window and watching other cars passing by. Just what the fuck was he staring at Tom for anyways? And more importantly, where did all those admiring point outs come from? …Maybe he was reading the comments from his fan girls too much. Now he did have something to do… forget he was looking at Tom in a form of an affectionate manner.
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[18 Nov 2007|03:51pm] |
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