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Feb. 21st, 2006 07:15 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kirei_dakaraTitle: Angels, Devils, and the Bad Fashion in Between
Rating: PG
Players: Vinny Lecavalier, Nikolai Khabibulin, Martin St. Louis, and cameo by Sergei Fedorov.
Summary: Don't you ever wish you had a voice in your head that would tell you what was right and wrong? Vinny doesn't.
--
Morning came bright and early in Tampa Bay, and the first rays of sunlight managed to strike Vincent Lecavalier right in the face. Vinny blinked into the light for a few minutes before groaning and turning onto his side. Why, oh why did Brad have to wake up earlier than him and open the curtains? Why couldn’t Brad be nice and leave the curtains closed?
*poof* Three inches of haloed Nikolai Khabibulin dressed in a white shirt and jeans with tiny angel wings suddenly appeared in front of Vinny’s face. Nik was frowning.
“You know, you can’t blame Brad for everything. He might have just forgotten you were still asleep,” Nik said grumpily. “Which, by the way, wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t slept in so late. It’s almost noon.”
Vinny groaned again and tried to bat Nik away. “Tired. Five more minutes.”
Nik stomped across the pillow while pulling his halo over one eye rakishly. He stopped at Vinny’s closed eye, grabbed two handfuls of eyelashes, and pulled.
“Sloth is bad. Up. Now!”
“Yeeeeowch!” Vinny screeched, bolting upright in bed. Nik fell back and tumbled into the nice soft comforter (which of course, Brad had picked out), and grinned smugly. Vinny glared at him as well as he could with one good eye and rubbed at his other eye. “Fuck Nik, that hurt!”
Nik only rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a baby. And don’t rub at it. You’ll hurt it more.”
Vinny grumbled something about having an evil conscience, reluctantly sliding out of bed. He shivered, his skin adjusting to the air temperature not warmed by blankets, and stumbled over to the closet. Nik hopped off the bed and fluttered along next to Vinny on his tiny wings.
“Don’t you think you should take a shower first?” Nik suggested, making a show of sniffing the air. Vinny scowled and willfully opened his closet door.
“First off, I don’t smell. Second, I’m going to practice soon. It’d be a waste to shower now.”
“Brad always showers in the morning,” Nik pointed out, flying over to the dresser and sitting down on top of the mirror. When Vinny didn’t reply, Nik went on. “And right after that, he makes coffee.”
Vinny started unbuttoning his pajama shirt. “You, are not supposed to drink coffee.”
“I don’t drink it,” Nik shot back. “I just like how it smells. Brad’s been making French vanilla lately-“
“You know, I don’t get it,” Vinny cut in, tossing his pajama shirt carelessly onto the floor, making Nik frown again. “If you like Brad so much, how come you aren’t his conscience?”
“Pick that up.”
Vinny sighed and did as he was told. The shirt went into the hamper.
“I wish,” Nik snorted. “Life would be so much easier. But I got you because I used to smoke. They don’t like that up there.”
“Wait,” Vinny left off choosing a new shirt, “so I am a punishment?”
“So to speak.”
“That’s so not fair!”
*poof* Sergei Fedorov, three and a quarter inches tall with bat wings and bad taste, popped onto Vinny’s shoulder. “No man, what’s not fair is that he made you throw away that paisley shirt.”
“That shirt was an abomination!” Nik declared, getting up and flying over to face Sergei. Vinny had to crane his neck back to see the two tiny men argue on his shoulder.
“That shirt was gold.”
“Gold isn’t always good, you’re whole house is gold, and it looks like shit.”
“You have a house of gold?” Vinny asked, interested.
“I-“
“Get dressed!” Nik snapped, interrupting Sergei. “You’re going to be late for practice if you don’t hurry it up. You,” he pointed to Sergei, “don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
Vinny pouted and went back to picking out clothes. Sergei laughed.
“Not really. Hey Vinny, why don’t you wear that striped shirt—“
*poof* Barely reaching two and a half inches on his tiptoes, Martin St. Louis in a very red dress materialized out of thin air. His devil horns sharpened to perfection and his pointed tail twitching, Marty was ready for his first task of the day. He lifted the hem of his dress and kicked Sergei off Vinny’s shoulder. Sergei yelped and vanished.
Vinny smiled. “Oh hey Marty, you’re late today.”
“I overslept.” Marty grinned at Nik, who had scowled ferociously, and settled himself comfortably on Vinny’s head. “Got here just in time though. If anyone’s going to be giving bad fashion advice, it’s gonna be me.”
Nik darted up to Vinny’s head and shoved Marty over a bit, making a spot for himself in the hair. “Not if I can help it.”
Vinny sighed, sliding his pajama bottoms off his hips. This was already looking like a really long day.
Rating: PG
Players: Vinny Lecavalier, Nikolai Khabibulin, Martin St. Louis, and cameo by Sergei Fedorov.
Summary: Don't you ever wish you had a voice in your head that would tell you what was right and wrong? Vinny doesn't.
--
Morning came bright and early in Tampa Bay, and the first rays of sunlight managed to strike Vincent Lecavalier right in the face. Vinny blinked into the light for a few minutes before groaning and turning onto his side. Why, oh why did Brad have to wake up earlier than him and open the curtains? Why couldn’t Brad be nice and leave the curtains closed?
*poof* Three inches of haloed Nikolai Khabibulin dressed in a white shirt and jeans with tiny angel wings suddenly appeared in front of Vinny’s face. Nik was frowning.
“You know, you can’t blame Brad for everything. He might have just forgotten you were still asleep,” Nik said grumpily. “Which, by the way, wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t slept in so late. It’s almost noon.”
Vinny groaned again and tried to bat Nik away. “Tired. Five more minutes.”
Nik stomped across the pillow while pulling his halo over one eye rakishly. He stopped at Vinny’s closed eye, grabbed two handfuls of eyelashes, and pulled.
“Sloth is bad. Up. Now!”
“Yeeeeowch!” Vinny screeched, bolting upright in bed. Nik fell back and tumbled into the nice soft comforter (which of course, Brad had picked out), and grinned smugly. Vinny glared at him as well as he could with one good eye and rubbed at his other eye. “Fuck Nik, that hurt!”
Nik only rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a baby. And don’t rub at it. You’ll hurt it more.”
Vinny grumbled something about having an evil conscience, reluctantly sliding out of bed. He shivered, his skin adjusting to the air temperature not warmed by blankets, and stumbled over to the closet. Nik hopped off the bed and fluttered along next to Vinny on his tiny wings.
“Don’t you think you should take a shower first?” Nik suggested, making a show of sniffing the air. Vinny scowled and willfully opened his closet door.
“First off, I don’t smell. Second, I’m going to practice soon. It’d be a waste to shower now.”
“Brad always showers in the morning,” Nik pointed out, flying over to the dresser and sitting down on top of the mirror. When Vinny didn’t reply, Nik went on. “And right after that, he makes coffee.”
Vinny started unbuttoning his pajama shirt. “You, are not supposed to drink coffee.”
“I don’t drink it,” Nik shot back. “I just like how it smells. Brad’s been making French vanilla lately-“
“You know, I don’t get it,” Vinny cut in, tossing his pajama shirt carelessly onto the floor, making Nik frown again. “If you like Brad so much, how come you aren’t his conscience?”
“Pick that up.”
Vinny sighed and did as he was told. The shirt went into the hamper.
“I wish,” Nik snorted. “Life would be so much easier. But I got you because I used to smoke. They don’t like that up there.”
“Wait,” Vinny left off choosing a new shirt, “so I am a punishment?”
“So to speak.”
“That’s so not fair!”
*poof* Sergei Fedorov, three and a quarter inches tall with bat wings and bad taste, popped onto Vinny’s shoulder. “No man, what’s not fair is that he made you throw away that paisley shirt.”
“That shirt was an abomination!” Nik declared, getting up and flying over to face Sergei. Vinny had to crane his neck back to see the two tiny men argue on his shoulder.
“That shirt was gold.”
“Gold isn’t always good, you’re whole house is gold, and it looks like shit.”
“You have a house of gold?” Vinny asked, interested.
“I-“
“Get dressed!” Nik snapped, interrupting Sergei. “You’re going to be late for practice if you don’t hurry it up. You,” he pointed to Sergei, “don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
Vinny pouted and went back to picking out clothes. Sergei laughed.
“Not really. Hey Vinny, why don’t you wear that striped shirt—“
*poof* Barely reaching two and a half inches on his tiptoes, Martin St. Louis in a very red dress materialized out of thin air. His devil horns sharpened to perfection and his pointed tail twitching, Marty was ready for his first task of the day. He lifted the hem of his dress and kicked Sergei off Vinny’s shoulder. Sergei yelped and vanished.
Vinny smiled. “Oh hey Marty, you’re late today.”
“I overslept.” Marty grinned at Nik, who had scowled ferociously, and settled himself comfortably on Vinny’s head. “Got here just in time though. If anyone’s going to be giving bad fashion advice, it’s gonna be me.”
Nik darted up to Vinny’s head and shoved Marty over a bit, making a spot for himself in the hair. “Not if I can help it.”
Vinny sighed, sliding his pajama bottoms off his hips. This was already looking like a really long day.
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