(no subject)

[icebear_cw]

Title: Package
Author: icebear_cw
Fandom: swimming
Pairing: Michael/Eminem
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: It's RPS. This is fiction: I don't know them, don't own them. It's not real.

Note: Okay, I wrote it for fly_bluebird, who wanted a drabble with this pairing, so that hers is not the only one.... :)
It was inspired by this: It has been three months since Michael Phelps slept in his own bed, three weeks since he last saw his Baltimore home.
A package arrived there from his favorite music artist, Eminem, about seven days ago, and Phelps swears that when he returns,
the first thing he will do is tear open the box.


cross-posted: swim_fiction, olympic_slash




"I tried.. I really tried..."
"Tried what?"
The slightly irritated undertone makes him smile. He is glad that this is a phone call and that they are not talking face to face.
"Tried to find something more.. decent?"
"And what made that impossible?"
He has to bite his lips, he wants to laugh out loud. But that would spoil all the fun.
Would spoil his plan, which is the main reason why this conversation is happening in the first place.
He coughs slightly, hears an irritated sigh again and is about to bust up.
"What it made impossible was my mind and my imagination."
"Uhuh, your imagination?"
"Yes. I just can see how you looked like when you reached the second layer.
How you quickly gathered everything up and ran into your room. Am I right?"
The slight gasp tells him that he is right, the snotty snort says he will be told otherwise.
"No, you aren’t."
"Okay, whatever you say."
"What the hell does that mean now?"
He knows his is close. The tone is a note more bitchy. And he likes it this way. Bitchy is good.
Bitchy means it’s more intensive later, with more feelings.
"Nothing."
"Nothing? You just said...You made it sound like...Like....you are not believing me or something. Oh fuck you, I don’t know.
Why did you do it anyway?"
He is close. Close to getting what he wants. And he almost always gets what he wants.
"Why did I do what? Why did I say something? Or why did I send it?"
There is a pause, he knows some serious thinking and considering is processed. Oh he just loves how his mind comes up with such phrases.
He really should use this ability someday at work.
A slight cough and he is back to the conversation.
"Why did you send it?"
"Because I saw it and thought of you. I just had to. Well and I was going to send you something anyway. Publicity you know.”
"Sure, but yeah... It’s like...I mean, hell... Everybody could have found it."
"But nobody but you did or?"
"Uh.. No?"
"No?"
"Okay. NO. But it could have happened okay? Don’t tell me you did not think of it. I mean, come on, if someone would have found it,
then I would be busted and you, too."
"You think I did not thought of it?"
Another pause again. Thoughts how to avoid a fight and embarrassment. He smiles, he knows the other one so well. "Why do you think I
put it under the CDs, the Mickey Mouse and the fan shirt?"
First a snort and then full blown laughter. He knows he is forgiven and that the real fun can begin now.
"Uh.. You knew nobody would touch it but me?"
"Smart boy."
"It was dangerous."
"I know. I like it this way."
"You should be careful."
He smiles. Maybe that’s what everybody calls caring for each other.
"Okay, no such stunts anymore. Okay?"
"Alrighty..."
Now he has to laugh, holds onto the bed post and tries to wipe his eyes at the same time. The almost whisper shuts him up.
"Marsh? Can I use it now?"
He gulps, sits down and holds the phone a little tighter.
"Can I listen?"

Michael grins, looks down at the black toy in his hand. The batteries are fresh, his door is locked and he has Marshall on the phone.
"Okay."