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likeshipsonthesea · 6 years

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It’s Not Gay

Here’s the third in the bi trifecta, Holster! Warning for homophobia and homophobic language. Also slightly NSFW but only for a second.

“It’s not gay,” Quad said, pressing Holster back into the sheets. He was smaller than Holster-- most people were-- and he could’ve easily pushed Quad off him, but Holster liked the weight of Quad’s muscled body over his. “All the guys do it,” Quad said, going for Holster’s shirt, pushing it up his stomach. Holster shivered as Quad’s hand brushed his abs. “It’s just a way to blow off steam,” Quad said, and Holster felt how hard he was against his hip.

“So... it’s okay?” Holster had been around high school aged boys enough to know that gay was synonymous with uncool, annoying, wrong. He’d only been with the Hawks for a month and a half, and though he didn’t exactly get all of the intricacies and hierarchies of the team, he knew that the connotations that went with the word “gay” were familiar enough.

“Yeah,” Quad said, as he fumbled with his own pants. He was two years older than Holster and knew more about the world. So Holster believed him when he said, “As long as we don’t kiss, it’s fine.”

So that was the rule.

A lot of the time, Holster roomed with Quad, as d-partners were more likely to get along in the manager’s mind. They didn’t mess around every time, but they did more often than not. Holster didn’t bring it up to any of the other guys-- “Don’t talk about it, that’s just weird,” was another piece of wisdom imparted to him by Quad-- and none of the other guys he roomed with suggested it. Holster assumed that they had their own buddies to mess around with.

Not that it was exclusive. No, Holster learned that one night after a hard game when he’d stopped by Quad’s single room to see if he was up for “letting off some steam” only to find one of the second-line forwards already there. Holster went back to his room with a hollow spot in his chest that he filled with reiterations that it wasn’t a relationship, they weren’t together, it wasn’t love.

Still, Holster found himself fascinated with kissing. During the rare times they had a chance to party, he would always talk up a girl until she giggled sweetly into his mouth. He liked it, liked kissing girls, a lot. Their lipgloss always tasted nice and their hips fit in his hands so soft and curvy and the way he had to tilt his head down towards them, them lifting their faces to his, felt like solid footing, equal ground, something more than muffled moans into borrowed pillowcases.

Sometimes he hooked up with them. He was still young, insecure, but the older guys would guffaw and toss him a little metallic packet and he’d bluster with it but tuck it away in his pocket and swear to himself he’d use it. It got empty after a while, though, sleeping with girls when they were on the road, getting their numbers but never really talking to them after the bus had left.

When the season ended and he went back to Buffalo, he spent most of his days at the movies or the library, catching up on the media he’d missed during the season. At the library one day he met a girl with a tinkle of a laugh and the dirtiest mouth he’d ever heard and he asked her out for a movie, and things progressed from there. Stephanie was bold, loud, and beat Holster in burping contests without even trying. She was perfect.

Well, almost. “I can’t believe you like those girl movies,” she’d say, whenever Holster was in a rom-com mood. When Holster cried, at a book or a film or a really pretty flower he saw on the side of the road, she told him, “Stop being such a wimp.” One day when she was doing her nails, he teased her to do his too and she frowned deeply at him. “Don’t be gay, Adam.”

The word wrinkled. He wasn’t gay but.

(He didn’t like to finish that sentence. Quad said messing around wasn’t gay as long as they didn’t kiss, but sometimes Holster would stare up at his lips and wonder how different it would feel to kissing a girl, how similar it might feel, too. He wanted to know so much that he daydreamed about it sometimes, drifting off during practice and conversations, wanting it to the point of aching. That broke the rule, right? Wanting to kiss a guy was gay, right?

So Holster didn’t finish the sentence, because he was terrified that it ended with but I’m something.)

Still, Stephanie was great. When Holster went back to Waterloo for training camp, he cried as he said goodbye to her. She rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek and said, “We can pick it up when you come back, if we’re both still single.” He liked her, but he didn’t think they’d get back together. She was a person to him and he enjoyed her company, but the biggest thing he got from their relationship was the assurance that he wasn’t gay, which, at the time, meant everything.

Things were different when Holster got back to Waterloo. Quad had transferred over the summer to another team. Holster’s new d-man was a quiet guy named Sean with dark eyes and a wide smile. He didn’t propose any kind of similar arrangement to what Holster’d had with Quad, but Holster liked him too much to risk asking about it. They hung out whenever they could, snuck into each other’s rooms to watch 30 Rock together, had all these crazy inside jokes.

By December, Holster realized that he liked Sean. Like, gay and shit.

When he went home for Hanukkah, he was mopey. Mom tried to ply him with food and Dad wouldn’t stop talking hockey stats and Esther and Sarah were only interested in him for as long as it took to give them their presents and then went back to whatever it was middle schoolers were interested in. Ruth, Holster’s twin, didn’t say anything, but when night fell and the house was quiet, she snuck into his room and sat at the foot of his bed. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice a whispered demand.

He sat up and sighed. “I think I like my d-man.”

He watched her frown at him through the hazy light of the moon. “Like, like-like?” He shot her a look and she held up her hands. “Okay, okay.” She dropped her hands and one curled around his ankle over the blankets. “So you’re... gay?”

“No, no. I.” He swallowed and stared at his hands. “Maybe? I don’t know.”

Ruth was quiet for a while. Then she said, “You know, if you were gay, it wouldn’t be, like, a bad thing.” Holster glanced up at her, frowning. She had that same look on her face she did before cutting her own hair when she was six, and that time they made brownies and ruined the kitchen when they were eight, and when she told off those guys in middle school who said Holster was a wussy ‘cause he cried at the “Ohana means family” scene in Lilo & Stitch. She said, “It’s not, really. I know people are dicks about it but it’s perfectly okay. Love isn’t bad.”

“But--”

“No buts, dickwad. I’m right and you can’t argue.” Ruth was frowning at him so hard that Holster couldn’t help but laugh. It bubbled out of his chest like relief and Ruth had never been able to stay calm when he laughed so they both started giggling uncontrollably, falling into one another, and Holster was just so happy he couldn’t stop. The light suddenly turned on and Mom was in the doorway yelling, “Just what on Earth do you two think you’re doing up this late?” and still they couldn’t stop.

Holster went back to Waterloo feeling much better. He still didn’t think he was gay-- he liked girls wholeheartedly which he was pretty sure was a big No in the gay handbook-- but the idea that even if he was, it wasn’t a bad thing, settled on his shoulders like armor.

One night soon after that, there was a knock on his door late at night. The game they’d played was a good one, and Holster’d been awarded the single for the night. Still, he was sore when he got up to answer the door and was slow getting there. When he did eventually pull it open, Sean was there, with a blanket, a pillow, and a scowl.

He barged in muttering something about his roommate. “What’s wrong?” Holster asked, closing the door behind Sean.

“Ewing is fucking Hays in our room,” he said, nearly spiting the words. He set up his blanket on the floor next to Holster’s bed. Holster watched, his whole body tense.

“Oh.”

Sean huffed. “Yeah, fucking inconsiderate. He knows we have an early depart time and he doesn’t know that I have a place to sleep.” He shook his head, setting his pillow at the top of his blanket.

Holster coughed. “I don’t know, he probably needed it if he kicked you out and everything.” Sean darted a look at him, so he continued, “You know, blowing off steam and shit.”

Sean squinted at him. “What?”

Holster felt his face warm as he blustered. “It’s not-- it’s like stress relief, you know. A lot of the guys do it.” Nervous, he added, “It’s not gay unless they kiss.”

Sean stood and came closer, not incredibly but more than Holster felt comfortable with at that moment. He had a strange look on his face. “That’s not how it works, dude.”

Holster stared back. He’d had a suspicion that maybe Quad’s take on everything wasn’t exactly kosher but to hear it from Sean was shocking. They’d never talked about it-- Holster being too terrified to ever try and bring it up-- but Sean didn’t seem grossed out or whatever right now. If anything, he seemed kind of... flirty?

Sean’s lips quirked into something like a smile. “Have you... “blown off steam” with anybody?”

“Um, what, no-- I--” Holster coughed and Sean took half a step closer. Holster watched him, frozen. “I-- yeah.” He swallowed. “Yeah.”

Sean’s smile widened and Holster couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. “But you’ve never kissed a guy, then.”

“Um.”

“Do you want to?” What the fuck. Holster was hyperventilating so he couldn’t manage to say yes what the fuck holy fuck yes please, but he did manage a fairly panicky nod. Sean laughed, soft and breathy, and took one step closer until he was right there and he lifted a hand to Holster’s cheek to bring him down to Sean’s mouth and--

And they were kissing. At first, Holster tried to catalog the differences from kissing a girl-- lips aren’t as wet, stubble is a bit rough, hand is firmer on his cheek-- but within moments he was melting into it and too distracted to think of anything except Sean’s mouth.

It was late, and they did have an early wake-up call in the morning, so they made out for a little while and then went to bed. Sean slept in the bed with Holster didn’t even say “No homo” when he threw his leg over Holster’s hip under the blankets. Holster still ended up tired in the morning because he spent so long staring at the ceiling with a stupid grin on his face.

When they got back to Waterloo, Holster was forced to go back to his host family’s house without a chance to be alone with Sean. He couldn’t get the grin off his face, though, and his host family was a little confused but they didn’t ask, which Holster was thankful for.

Before bed, Holster called Ruth and told her what had happened. “You probably froze like an idiot,” she said through the phone, and he could just see the shitty grin she was probably wearing

“Screw you,” Holster grumbled, though even his sister’s teasing couldn’t dampen his mood. He grabbed his toothbrush and squeezed some toothpaste onto it.

“You’re lack of game aside, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Wha’s’tha?” Holster asked, shoving the toothbrush in his mouth.

“I’ve been doing some research on your situation.” That sounded ominous but Holster made a noise urging her to continue. “So you like guys right?” Holster made an affirmative noise. “But you also like girls?” Holster repeated the noise. “Okay, so I don’t know how you feel about it specifically, but there are two words I think that would describe you.”

“Wha’ are d’ey?” Holster swallowed a bit of toothpaste and coughed.

“Well, they both basically mean the same thing, but you can look them up for yourself. There’s pansexual-”

“Like a pan?” Holster asked, spitting into the sink.

“No,” Ruth said, sighing deeply. “God, you’re ridiculous. No, it’s a root word meaning “all”. So all genders.”

“All? Aren’t there just, like, two?”

“No, there’s more. It’s really not that complicated, I advise you to search it for yourself.” Holster made a note to do exactly that. Ruth was usually right about these things. He tested the word pansexual, saying it to his reflection. He shrugged. Felt as right as gay ever had.

“What’s the other word?” he asked, grabbing a towel to wipe his mouth.

“Bisexual.”

It was silly. It wasn’t like he knew the minute differences between the two words, or what bisexuality exactly entailed, but when he heard the word, and then repeated it to himself, it felt like it fit. Like, some kind of no-look pass that ended in a goal, like instinct, like understanding. Bisexual.

“Huh,” he said, and Ruth huffed a laugh over the line.

(Years later, Holster found himself laughing ridiculously in the middle of one of Shitty’s rants about how bi people in het relationships were still queer and belonged in LGBT+ circles just as much as anyone else. Shitty was initially offended, thinking Holster a bigot or something, but in reality he couldn’t stop laughing because Quad had been right when when he said that it wasn’t gay. It was bi, because Holster was bi, and therefore everything else he did was bi.)

(While the team was proud of him for being so content with himself, when Holster began to put the word “bi” before all of his actions-- “I bi-passed the puck” “I bi-stayed up all night bingeing Brooklyn Nine-Nine” “I bi-wrote the fuck out of that essay”-- it very quickly got old.)

#holster #adam birkholtz #check please #bisexuality #pride month #my writing #sort of fic #ficlet #actual fic #?#idk this one's kinda long #homophobia #mostly internal and ignorance #here's the third in the bi trifecta!#probs won't be doing jack #he's just So Much #maybe i'll do others too #if y'all wanna send in pride month related prompts i'd be down with that

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emblem-333 · 7 years

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Boston Is Alive

I’ve learned a lot these past four games.

1. Winning Fixes Everything

Twice we made a bunch of hoopla about the Bulls, their dysfunction in the front office and on the court. Entering this series I thought back to my first belief of what the Bulls were once the season began: a team who’s three best players all desperately need/want the ball. Neither of them willing to sacrifice. Even if they all were, they’re doing it to enable inconsistent, below-average role-players. Arguably, the ball-stopping of Rondo, Wade and Butler was the only asset to this team had.

Fred Hoiberg is asked to do so much, and nobody else did so little. Hoiberg is very likely the least effectual coach in the NBA. I wholeheartedly expected a full-scale mutiny led by Rondo. If the first two games proved anything it’s Rajon Rondo is still the smartest dummy ever. Well ahead of noted smart idiot Neil DeGrass Tyson.

Four days ago Basketball Twitter was on fire talking about the demise of the Boston Celtics. Marcus Smart lost $25,000 for flipping off…someone. Isaiah Thomas looked obviously somewhere else mentally, as did the entire team. And when they were in the moment, they barked at each other. The Bulls bench looked alive, Rondo boasted to his teammates that the boys in green were ready to quit. On the other end Boston looked just about that.

Ninety-six hours later, Boston players are smiling and happy again - especially Isaiah. Role-players are contributing. Even Terry Rozier earned himself a few highlights in Game 3.

Teams that win are happier than teams who lose. Go figure.

2. Robin Lopez Is Human After All

In Games 1 & 2 Chicago came out springy. Rondo ran the offense like it was 2010, putting on a great show for the cameras, an obvious lust to deliver good on his three-year quest on get revenge on the man who he blamed for his decline: Daniel Ainge.

But as great as the now injured point guard had been, Robin Lopez crashed the boards. Brad Stevens didn’t run him off the floor with Pick ‘n Rolls, like I expected him too. Lopez transformed to Wilt Chamberlain. Averaging 16 points, on 66.7% shooting, and 9.5 rebounds in the first two games.

Four days later, he cannot be on the floor in crunch time. Limited on the glass, though still making his presence felt, Lopez reverted back to…well….Robin Lopez on Friday night.

3. The Redemption of Rajon Rondo

One of the most annoying aspects of the sudden - but deserved praised of Rajon Rondo, is we all conveniently forgotten all the baggage he had complied since 2015.

He quit on Dirk and the Mavs. Spit on Rick Carlisle’s mercy in Game 1 when he reinserted Rondo in a playoff game where he had done nothing but pout and produce absolutely nothing.

A year later, he caused the NBA’s ugliest story since Tim Donaghy, in hurling a gay slur at referee Bill Kennedy.

And yet, I still have sympathy for him. A part of me still believed in him. Only against the Celtics in the postseason could have he been successful in redemption. A certain fire lit under him that wouldn’t burn so bright if the opponent was the Toronto Raptors.

Revenge is a seductive performance enhancer.

You expect me to believe Fred Hoiberg made the necessary adjustments in Game 1? Nothing could make me think that. Rondo dissected the Celtics defense as if it hadn’t changed since his departure.

His teammates looked happy playing with him. Rondo acted as a savvy veteran, and people like Butler listened to him! To their benefit.

4. Never Challenge Brad Stevens To A Duel of Adjustments if You’re Fred Hoiberg

Yeah. This one is pretty self-explanatory.

After Game 2’s debacle, Brad floated the idea of starting Jerebko at the four. A lineup change that served him well in last year’s first round series against Atlanta. I shrugged. Figured there wasn’t many adjustments you could make with this roster. Kelly Olynyk gets burnt on defense on every single possession. Isaiah can’t defend Rondo for a lick. Course, Brad could’ve told him Rondo hadn’t made a jump shot since 2008 and Isaiah will defend by sagging off him.

Turns out Stevens was just throwing us off the scent. Starting Gerald Green is the basketball equivalent of “Then everything changed when The Fire Nation Attacked.” His production has been a revelation. Let’s not downplay how big of a gamble it was to start Green. Playing in place of quality defensive stalwart Amir Johnson, Green isn’t exactly talented on that end of the floor. So if in any of the past two games his jump shot just wasn’t falling, you’re giving up points on the other end.

But his shots did fall. 10-21. 6-12 from three-point land for 26 points in Games 3 & 4. Provided Boston with a much-needed boost on offense and garnered seven rebounds in 22:59 of play tonight.

So how did Hoiberg respond? He didn’t. The loss of Rondo should’ve inspired him to get creative. Run the offensive through Butler and Wade, trot out Denzel Valentine, because you cannot play Michael Carter-Williams. MCW just isn’t good.

Instead Valentine never saw the court. Opting to play Isaiah Canaan, to his credit had a solid performance. 4-10 from the field, 3-7 from three, 13 points and three assists. If I were Hoiberg I’d start Canaan. Give up on Jerian Grant and send MCW to Siberia.

In Game 4 Hoiberg ran Butler (33 pts, 9 ast, 5 reb) into the ground and not surprisingly got little in return in terms of output from other players. Isaiah ran Butler ragged. Jimmy saw the court for 45 minutes and 47 seconds. Boston’s best player only had to play 35:48. Because Brad Stevens is smart and knows how to manage lineups and rest crucial players for crunch time. Hoiberg doesn’t.

In the last two games, Chicago’s trifecta of below-average to poor point guards complied 33 assists. In Games 1 & 2 Rondo alone posted 20. As a team: fifty.

Jimmy Butler dropped nine dimes tonight. He’s ready to play point-forward.

5. Isaiah Is Boston

I don’t know how long this love fest will last. With a critical summer of decisions for Danny Ainge on the horizon, it isn’t a stretch to suggest the two-time All Star is competing for his Celtics career to extended well beyond 2018. Down 0-2, I believed it was a referendum on the Isaiah Thomas era, his limitations due to his size were so great no amount of trickery could get him out of round one as your best player.

Heck. Those two games may still be a referendum. It’s just the Basketball God’s took pity on us and threw a lifeline.

Game 4 wasn’t just when Isaiah went supernova, driving to the rim without a care in the world and converting on crazy lay-up after crazy lay-up. It was also when he started to smile again.

Regardless of the outcome of this series, all of New England has been behind their point guard, as have his teammates. The court is his safe haven from despair.

An underrated distraction from pain: winning.

You can reach me on Twitter @Sailboatstudios

#Celtics #Bulls #Isaiah Thomas #Jimmy butler #Rajon Rondo #NBA playoffs #Brad Stevens #Gerald Green #Fred Hoiberg #horrible coaching #Robin Lopez #rebounding #assists #scoring #Terry rosier

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