Title: Someday: Chapter Two: Why Can't I
Author: Foxy Finn ([email protected])
Rating: Edging on NC-17.
Archive: @ my site http://www.geocities.com/foxy_finn44/ email me if you want it anywhere else....
Category: Sports, RPS, NHL, Comire/York, Comrie/Guerin
Feedback: If you want to see my happy dance, you'll do it.
Summary:Suppose Bill Guerin hadn't been traded for Anson Carter...
Author's Note: Not true, not mine. I changed the title. Ha! And you thought you were reading something new! Nope, just this. Whatever it may be...

Bill helped me move into his house this weekend. I should be happy; we both should be happy. But the only thing that�s floating around the back of my mind right now is Mike.

Michael York. It�s a bad thing that I know his name. It�s even worse that he plays hockey. I keep kicking myself that I didn�t recognize him and Bill did. Then again, Bill has been around for a lot longer than I have, but Mike and I went to college in the same state. Our teams played one another numerous times. I should�ve known him. Did he know me?

If I called him, I would be able to find out.

When Bill and I first started this little �dating for dummies� farce this past November, I was pretty sure my world revolved around him. Then again, I was just a rookie who was suddenly sleeping with one of my idol�s best friends. Was I just with Bill to get closer to Doug? I guess I wasn�t, because Doug is gone and I�m still with Bill. Now I�m even living with him.

It�s been like I was living with him for a long time. I already had most of my stuff here; it was just my stereo, some kitchen junk, and my bed that remained at my place. I just put my bed and the rest of my things at my dad�s house and brought my stereo over, that was the big move. But it should be symbolic; it should mean something. Bill shouldn�t be sitting in his garage, working on a motorcycle engine and swearing to himself while he listens to some trashy c.d.

But that�s Bill. He does what he wants, when he wants.

So I�m left sitting here staring at the phone. The number on the napkin is burning a hole in my pocket. I�d neatly folded it up, and stuck it in my wallet yesterday. Today, I�ve brought it out again to study it. I stared at it compulsively. I studied every curve of his writing. The letters were slanted slightly, and the ink had creased the flimsy material. Two important details were causing me little pangs of anxiety: his phone number and his name at the bottom. He wrote Michael. I never write Michael.

It�s charming and romantic.

It�s stupid to be thinking this way. I just took a serious step in my relationship with Bill, and now I�m contemplating breaking it?

He�s broken it before, many times. And I just feel guilty just thinking about it. I know that he and Doug were always at it. I�d be sitting on the couch, playing Playstation or something dumb like that, and I�d hear them upstairs. Then, they�d come down, each give me a small kiss on the cheek, and sit on either side of me while we watched a movie. That happened four times I can remember. Four times! Was that how life was supposed to be like?

He and Ryan have something going now. Ryan likes me, but not the way Doug did. To Doug, I was his little prot�g� and a pretty face. To Ryan, I�m just the rich little brat who gets everything the easy way. That�s how I am to everyone on the team. Except for Bill. He may not notice I exist in very many places outside the bedroom, but at least he doesn�t make me feel guilty for just being me.

When Mike looked at me, though, he wasn�t looking at my dad�s money. I could tell he wasn�t. He was sincere when he spoke, and didn�t even mention my father. He wasn�t looking at me like Bill did either. He was just completely�different.

He was a good sort of different that came across in those few minutes and few words we shared. He was honest with me when few people are.

The phone seemed to glow brighter with every thought. Should I call him? Would he even be in? He has to help out at his friend�s wedding, and he looks like the type that would take on a lot of responsibilities just to make some one else�s day easier. It�s after ten now, would he be in? Or would he be asleep?

What if he�s with some one?

I reached out and put my hand on the phone. My heart was pounding. What am I, fourteen and afraid to make a phone call?

I pulled my hand away like the phone had caught fire when I heard the garage door slam open, followed by a long string of swears, then by the slamming shut of the door.

Stomp-stomp-stomp and there was Bill. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and his hair was slicked back with grease. He seemed to glare at me when I stifled a laugh.

"I don�t see you doing anything creative." He commented, strolling off to the kitchen sink to wipe his hands off.

I followed him, brimming with a grin. "You look like you murdered a grease monkey with your bare hands."

He had those hands in a sink full of water when he shot me a look over his shoulder. "And what if I did?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He moved quickly, spinning to grab me with his wet hands. He quickly overpower me, and I felt the water soak through me shirt. I tired to get out of his grip, but all we ended up doing was getting dirt and grime all over our clothes and the kitchen. I forget how strong he is, sometimes. I had my chances to get him as bad as he got me, but he still got me very dirty.

Now it was his turn to laugh at the disgusted look on my face. "Now who�s a grease monkey?"

Watery sludge was down the front of my shirt and I had a number of handprints plastered all over my body. I turned around to try to get a look at all of them, and Bill burst out laughing.

I stopped moving, flushing. "I�m guessing there�s a huge, greasy, handprint on my ass."

His answer was laughter. In our tussle, I do remember him grabbing my ass.

I shook my head, glaring at him. "I liked these pants."

"I like those pants too,� He trailed off, lowering his lashes. �Now get the fuck out of them." He grabbed me by the hips and gently shoved me back against the cupboards. Normally, him commanding me like that wouldn�t have ended happily for either of us. But the tone of his voice, and his hands firmly on my body, bypassed the thinking portion of my brain. I�d been thinking too much all day, I just needed this.

He brushed our noses together, leaving a ghost of a kiss on my lips. He stared at me, like he was daring me to move.

"Make me take them off." I replied, fiercely meeting his eyes.

He lifted me onto the counter, forcing our lips together into a bruising kiss. My arms were already around him, pulling him closer to wrap my legs around his waist. Fuck, I needed him. I forget how good this feels when I�m lost in symbolics and other ridiculous things. There are other things to love than that, I think. I know that I loved the way he fucked me.

His kisses got hungrier and hotter. Strangled moans were trying to force themselves out of my mouth. His strength can be put to very good uses, as he lifted me off the counter. My legs let go of his waist, falling to the floor.

He bit on my lower lip, sucking on it. He was pulling at my clothes, or maybe he was trying to clean off his hands. His hands still felt good. So firm and quick, he was guiding me towards the stairs and I was still lost in his touches.

We�re up the stairs before my mind catches up with me. We�re out of our clothes and in the shower, his mouth exploring my body, before the fog clears.

When it did, the water was streaming down my face. Our bodies were tangled together under the stream, Bill�s hand pumping my cock. The warm water left droplets on my eyelashes as they fluttered to the motions of Bill�s hand. So quick, so good. He likes to watch me when I'm completly under his power. I can feel his eyes watching me.

The air smelt like soap and our skin. That smell intoxicates me. I needed to taste his mouth. I opened my eyes to find his lips, but I froze.

I was in the shower with York. He smiled when our eyes locked, and kissed me. I'd never needed a kiss more.

Suddenly, a hand shakes me awake.

Bill is standing in front of me. I�m still on the couch. I�d fallen asleep.

He�s looking at me with narrowed eyes. �What the fuck were you dreaming about?�

I blushed when I followed the line of his eyes to the bulge in my pants.

He just laughed at me. He patted my pants, then winked. �I�m going upstairs to take a shower. Join me when you can get up.�

I didn�t say anything. I just watched him walk out of the room.

What the hell did that mean?

~End Champter Two