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The Idiot's Guide to Football
Prompt: How I Met Your Mother - "Monday Night Football"
David Rossi loved Dr. Spencer Reid. Truly he did. Every maddening, frazzle inducing inch of him.
But despite that love, he was fairly certain that by the end of the evening, his lover was going to end his night, bound and gagged, in the broom closet.
And what unpardonable sin had his lover of just over a year committed?
The answer to that question was simple.
Spencer Reid had violated the sanctity of his favorite night of the week during his favorite season of the year.
Football season. Or, to be more specific, the shy young doctor was doing his dead level best to ruin Monday Night Football.
Biting the inside of his cheek as he reached inside the bag of Lay's Potato Chips, he heard the emphasized sound of Spencer clearing his throat.
"Are you aware how many grams of saturated fats are in that single chip, Dave?" Spencer commented sternly, frowning at the salty treat between Dave's fingers. "Because I am and..."
Dropping the chip back into the foil bag, Dave thrust the snack toward Spence. "Take it," he growled.
Gingerly accepting the greasy bag from Rossi's outstretched hand, Reid smiled as he threw the offending snack on the side table. "I'm just trying to follow your cardiologist's instructions. You heard what he said about your cholesterol," he reminded the elder man. Thrusting a tray beneath Rossi's nose, he offered helpfully, "How about a nice celery stick...or a carrot?"
Glaring at the plate beneath his nose, Rossi muttered, "I'd rather eat sand than rabbit food."
"Suit yourself," Reid sighed, moving the tray back to the coffee table in front of them as he stared at the plasma television. "What's happening now?" he asked.
Closing his eyes, Dave mentally counted to ten. You can not kill the man you love...not after waiting so many years to find a person you could entirely devote your heart to...
"Dave?" Reid prodded, elbowing him.
...but you COULD maim him a little...or perhaps use a gag? Decision, decisions.
"For the fourth time, Spence, they're running a play, babe," Dave replied with a long-suffering sigh, studiously attempting to ignore the voices in his mind.
"It all seems so pointless," Spence remarked, shaking his shaggy blonde head at the screen. "Up the field...down the field...back UP the field..."
"It's a game, Spence," Dave grumbled with a highly impatient sigh. "That's what they're supposed to do."
"But it just seems so counter-productive...all that impacting and tackling...and all the stop and start...stop and start," Reid rambled, his lips pursing as the Colts linebacker plowed into yet another Steelers player. "Who are we cheering for again?"
"The Colts," Dave ground out, wondering again how the man could have an eidetic memory if he couldn't even remember the name of a sports team.
"But I thought you were a Giants fan?" Reid frowned, glancing at his lover's tense face as he leaned forward, his laser like eyes focused on the game.
"The Giants aren't playing today, Spencer," Dave replied, his patience waning rapidly.
"Then why are you watching?" Reid asked curiously.
"Because it's Monday Night Football," Rossi almost whimpered. "Everybody watches Monday Night Football," he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face in frustration as the Steelers intercepted the ball. "Damn it!" he yelled at the television. "Way to go, Butterfingers!"
"I don't," Reid denied, shaking his head as he grimaced at Dave's display of anger regarding the events unfolding on screen. Such misplaced emotion couldn't be good for the older man's heart, could it?
"You don't what?" Dave asked, never taking his eyes off the screen as the two teams lined up to run another play.
"I don't watch Monday Night Football," Reid clarified. "Until now, at any rate."
"Good to know," Dave mumbled, blindly reaching for a celery skip and biting it violently. "Oh, you've GOT to be kidding me," he shouted as the Steelers made a first down. "Get in the game, Colts!"
"Why exactly do you do that?" Reid asked cocking his head to the side as he studied his handsome lover.
"What?" Dave barked over his shoulder.
"Yell at the television as though the players can hear you," Reid said reasonably. "You know, they can't, right?"
"It makes me feel better, Spence," Dave answered through tightly compressed lips. "Yelling at the game is acceptable behavior...it's part of the ambiance."
"Again, it simply seems like wasted energy to me. The players can't hear you, Dave," Spencer stressed.
Burying his head in his hands as the whistle sounded signifying the end of the second quarter, Dave breathed deeply, desperately trying to control the urge to throttle his lover.
"And that!" Spencer said, pointing wildly to the screen. "Why do they insist on doing THAT!"
Lifting his head to peer blearily at the screen, Dave's eyebrows furrowed as he watched the players jog toward the sideline. "What, Spencer?" he asked without much interest.
"The feeling of each other's gluts? They can't seem to keep their hands off their teammates butts," he said, gesturing toward the screen. "That appears to be a huge invasion of personal space. And a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen," he intoned seriously, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the sofa.
"You're joking, right?" Dave asked, leveling the younger man with an incredulous look.
"No," Reid shook his head.
"Babe, have you ever watched a football game before?" Dave asked, somewhat positive that he already knew the answer. No one but someone that loved Dr. Spencer Reid would have allowed him to live through the experience.
"No, I haven't," Reid replied with a shrug of his thin shoulders.
Sighing heavily, Dave draped an arm around the slim man sitting beside him, "Smacking your teammates ass is a sign of solidarity. An unspoken "Attaboy!"," he explained. The urge to laugh was high as he watched Reid's nose scrunch distastefully, his gaze horrified.
"That's barbaric," Reid muttered. "What did the whistle mean?" he asked curiously, nodding toward the TV as the game went to commercial break.
"Half-time. It's a break half way through the game," Dave clarified as he saw the young genius's eyes narrow in confusion. "A chance for the players on both teams to catch their breath."
"Thank God," Reid mumbled gratefully, stretching out his legs. "How long does it last?" he asked, the wheels in his mind turning.
"About fifteen minutes," Dave shrugged, eyes widening as Reid gently pushed him back against the pillows. "Why?" he asked suspiciously, shifting against the sofa.
"Because that sounds like just enough time for each of us to score our own touchdown," Reid grinned with twinkling eyes as his lips hovered above Dave's.
And it was. And surprise of surprises...each managed to make that extra point, too.
Author's Note 2 - Also guys, please don't forget that if you'd like to advertise the awards on your own profile pages or stories, there's a short blurb on my (ilovetvalot) and Tonnie's (tonnie2001969) profile page for you to copy and paste if you choose!
Again, thanks to everyone reading, reviewing, alerting and favoriting this story!