Like a Fairytale

Bleacher Buddies

The moment John left his sights though his smile faded, of course he had every reason to smile, but his sunshine had just left, so he had nothing to do but frown slightly. He doubted John knew how much he honestly meant to him, how much he wanted to be held protectively in his strong arms, how the very sight of his cheerful smile would make Sherlock's days glow with admiration. And then of course there was Mary Morstan, like a big rain cloud on Sherlock's silent parade, please don't take his sunshine away... Sherlock made his way into the stadium for the second time in three weeks, frowning slightly at the student section, which mostly consisted of crazy kids painted green and black for this 'special' occasion. Honestly they were unbearable. Sherlock ducked out of their eyes of course, blending in and going to the very far back of the stadium near the cow bell clad old ladies, some of which he recognized to be Yoga prunes. Small world huh? He slunk back in the corner of the rusty chain-link fence, the only thing separating him and a skull cracking fall, but that was the least of his worries now. He pulled his trench coat around himself, shielding him from the small breeze that was cutting through the lines of spectators. The announcer started talking, introducing the teams as they ran onto the field in a big parade, John's beautiful head leading the pack. Sherlock's heart swelled, beautiful John, perfect John, maybe could be his John. The crowd cheered like mad, but when the kick off began they were silent, watching in anticipation as the two teams paused at the line, waiting for the whistle to blow. And finally the shrill sound erupted, breaking the silence and starting the game, it was like a bomb had dropped. Fans screamed, horns blew, yoga prunes were ringing their bells, and the players were running around the field, passing the ball as if it were magnetically attached to them. The vipers were in position most of the time, John demonstrated how gifted he was at the sport by twisting it between his feet, at one point kicking it through his own two legs and faking out a defender, the goalie had lunged the other way, back right corner, SCORE! The crowd shrieked, rising to its feet and going crazy, while Sherlock just smiled proudly. John really was an amazing player, not to mention he was an amazing person, not to mention that his looks would make even a Hollister Model go looking for a good plastic surgeon. John did a victory lap around the field, making Sherlock smile to himself to see John just so happy, this was how an angel should feel. Soon the celebrations died down and the playing was resumed, more passing, kicking, blocking, trapping, intercepting, and even Sherlock had to admit there was a pretty good save from Anderson. The score was going up though, and soon it was two to two, with only five or so minutes left in the game. The crowd was tense on both sides, no one had been expecting this, and even Sherlock was left wondering what was going to happen. The bears looked confident, the vipers looked uneasy, if the other team scored it would be over, if they scored they would've won, but if they tied it was no good for either side. There must be one team to score, and who it would be was a mystery. The bears were in possession, one guy throwing it from the sidelines to the feet of another player, down the field, down the field... John swooped in from nowhere, three minutes left, pulling the ball out from the boy's feet with ease, moving with grace and agility down the field, past one defender, past another, past a group of three, out streaking even the fastest brown clad player. It was getting tense, two minutes thirty seconds, the crowd was holding its breath, John was getting closer and closer, the goal keeper looked determined, ready to pounce, it was one on one, John kicked the ball slightly in the air, at first making Sherlock wonder what on earth kind of goal was that, but in a flash of motion and green colors he flipped backwards, kicking the ball with a bicycle kick so fiercely it tore through the back of the net and hit the fence behind it, the buzzer sounded, the game was over. Sherlock joined the crowd in excited cheers; he had risen to his feet, not caring what anyone thought in a blind move of ambition. John had won the game with a move Sherlock had never even seen before. Even the yoga prunes, no doubt with enough back and hip problems to last a life time, were waddling around on their feet and cheering, ringing their cow bells as fast as they could. Sherlock's hair was flying in his face, his smile could make even a dentist jealous, John was sprinting through the field, getting tackled by his teammates in the bright electric lights, and then something happened. John looked out through the mess of fans, his smile evident from even up here, and his hazel eyes searched the crowd until they met with the startled green. Sherlock's smile faded ever so slightly as he saw John staring at him, but it wasn't upset or anything, it was realization. What he realized he didn't know, it might have been on the other end of things, but they had shared a moment, even if it was half way across the football field, something had clicked that they hadn't noticed before. But then John was overtaken with fans, mobbed and taken down in a torrent of his teammates. The bears sulked off of the field, muttering and cursing, their fans just as upset. But Sherlock's heart was beating in his throat, what could it mean, what might it mean, what did it mean? Was there something that had worked in John's mind, did he finally understand? Sherlock buttoned his coat a little bit nervously, his hands shaking on the buttons, and started making his way down onto the field, taking deep breaths as he walked nervously to the ground. The fans were already on the field, for some reason they were allowed on, but the mosh pit had broken up. Sherlock made it past the cheering fans and was searching the field for John anxiously. He knew they weren't supposed to be seen together, he knew a mere word in this judgmental environment would make him suffer, but at the moment it didn't seem like that mattered right now. He moved through the crowd, the student section trying to get people to start chanting the viper's theme song, one Sherlock had never bothered to learn anyway. He was about to lose hope, his heart sinking a little bit as he realized that John might not be available, that he would be trapped around Anderson, Mary, Greg, and a whole lot of other people that would make Sherlock's life miserable. Then there was a hand on his shoulder, and at first he had thought someone had found him or was just over excited until it spoke with the voice that made up his entire world.
"Hey Sherlock!" John said happily. Sherlock wheeled around, unsure what to do to congratulate him.
"John, you did amazing, what on Earth, it was brilliant!" Sherlock exclaimed. It might have been the lighting, or the excitement of the crowd, but Sherlock thought he saw a slight blush on John's cheeks.
"Thanks, I don't even know what got into me, one minute I'm going down the field, the next I'm doing a backflip, but I guess it worked did it not?" John laughed, standing awfully close to Sherlock. But this was not going to end like last time; Sherlock would keep himself under control, no more kissing.
"Where are, you know, them?" Sherlock asked.
"That's kind of what I was worried about, follow me." John decided with a strange look of determination on his face as he shifted through the crowd. People patted him on the back, they congratulated him, some even hugged him, but no one noticed he was headed somewhere, and no one noticed the freak of a shadow that was trailing close behind. John headed out behind the stadium, where the lights didn't really reach, and the cold grass rose up above Sherlock's ankles. It was a bit suspicious; Sherlock couldn't help admitting that as they passed through a gap in the fence, but he wasn't complaining, not one bit. John sighed, wobbling back and forth on the balls of his feet, his smile replaced with a softer one, more compassionate. It was empty down here in the shadows, but the sounds of hundreds of voices and feet above their heads could be clearly made out. Sherlock's stomach felt weightless, he was so nervous yet so excited, why were they down here, why not talk near the bleachers, not under them? Sherlock didn't know what to do, John didn't know what to say, they both stood in shadowy awkwardness, their minds racing for something cleaver to say.
"So did you like the game then?" John asked, his voice not sounding near as confident as before. He didn't sound like someone who had just back flipped their way to winning a game.
"Ya, it was, it was good. You did well." Sherlock agreed, feeling like his tongue was being tied up in knots.
"Thanks." John muttered. "I just thought, you know, it might be fun to watch." Sherlock mentally raised his eyebrows in suspicion, not daring to actually show any kind of unsure emotion on the outside though. He had never asked a question, why was John getting defensive when there was nothing to defend? This was getting more and more suspicious, what was going to happen? Find out after the break. Or not, of course, thankfully Sherlock was still very much able to function, his mind and eyes weren't going on commercial break, he was able to process what John looked like with the lights of the stadium shining in lines across his chiseled face.
"I don't want to sound mean, or unappreciative, but um, why have you been so nice to me? It's the last thing I deserve after, after everything I've done, I don't know why you risk your status and your friends just to talk to me. I am the freak after all, and you're the football captain." Sherlock pointed out, a question that had been burning in his mind for a while. But now was not the time to blurt it out, why did he, and why did he make it into a speech? Oh God Sherlock, why sacrifice such a perfect moment with such a risky question. But John's face softened even more, if anything he looked upset, as if he knew Sherlock couldn't see something he could.
"Sherlock no, that's where you're wrong." At first Sherlock thought he was saying that he wasn't being nice, and his heart plummeted. "You're not a freak, you never have been and you never will. You're amazing, and I can't believe it took so long to realize how human you truly are." Sherlock's mind was on overtime translating this, but his brain was so fogged up with emotion it might as well be German enigma without the machine.
"I'm, no but, I don't want to..." Sherlock couldn't find the right words, and the search was lost as John started moving closer, with every breath he took a step was lost between the two. Sherlock's eyes widened, this was definitely not an expression he had practiced, he was now terrified for what John was about to do, what they both knew was coming...
"I know you're a bit jumpy, well," John laughed for a moment, looking at the grass and blushing as if he were embarrassed, "a lot jumpy, so I'm going to make it very clear." He decided. Sherlock's heart stopped right there, what was he making clear, what was this important, why did being jumpy have to did with it? His entire body seemed to be at a standstill. "Sherlock Holmes, can I kiss you?" John asked. And that was when his entire mind snapped, like a dead tree in a lightning storm, everything shut off, John's question spiraling in his head, can he, can he, can he kiss him? Oh god yes, yes, YES, YES!
"Yes..." Sherlock sighed, but it came out in an inhale of breath, he was dying inside, he knew this was it, this was the moment he was waiting for, forever, since he had first laid eyes on this beauty god, this was it. John stepped closer, taking Sherlock gently by the waist and steering him against one of the steel beams, but the sound and the commotion of the outside world had long since faded. Static and shivers raced through Sherlock's body, he stumbled over himself as he fell backwards, what on Earth was he to do? But, as it turns out, the anticipation was so much worse than the actual thing, the moment he saw John's face coming closer and closer, Sherlock's eyelids dropping for he knew what was next, and then, ever so softly, John's lips pressed gently against his and the world melted. There was some electric shock, he wouldn't be surprised if the electricity had died or something, for something between them radiated so brightly the sun was put to shame. John's lips, soft, gentle, the definition of perfect, against his, Sherlock's head fell back onto the beam, but John's followed, Sherlock was almost grabbing at the beam to keep his legs from falling out from under him. It was like he was unable to stand, like the gravitational pull was thirty times stronger, this wasn't life, this was Heaven. And then John pulled away, slightly, so that Sherlock was able to know what was happening, and took a shy step back, muttering something that Sherlock couldn't make out. But his ears weren't working properly, John could've screamed and he wouldn't be able to comprehend, he felt like the world was spinning under his feet, everything except this angel in front of him was a blur of shapes and colors and white noise.
"I, huh, um, should be going." John muttered, the words sounding louder and softer and then full of static. Sherlock nodded, he didn't know what to do after a kiss, especially a first kiss, were they supposed to laugh it off as if nothing had happened, run for their lives, or just kiss some more? These were many questions Sherlock might have been able to think of if his brain wasn't emitting smoke from his ears. He should say something; he had to say something so that he didn't look like such a bumbling idiot.
"Thank you." He said quickly, lunging out so that John didn't leave before he was able to hear. Thank you? The best he could do was thank you? Oh well that's great, how not creepy is someone thanking someone else for kissing them? This was hopeless, it was a wonder Sherlock got this far when he was this socially awkward. But John only smiled at him, something that made Sherlock's eyes widen even more, probably looking like a bulging eyed guinea pig.
"You're welcome." John mumbled, and with that he creeped back through the gap in the fence and went out to join the dying down crowd.