Challenge # 73: Rimming Title: Rimshot, 22-29 (Part 1 starts here and is linked after that) Author: Rebel Condoms: Eight for Justin Author's Notes: This is the end of this story. Thank you for reading, and to xie_xie_xie (not her real name as you know) for typing
22.
Justin paced up and down in front of the bench, chewing on his thumbnail.
They'd been up by 22, down by 4, back, up by 8, and down by 1 after the bouncer fouled one of the lesbians, back up by 5 after the lesbians took their revenge, and now the score was tied. Every time a hospice player scored, someone from Angels scored, too.
The crowd was screaming, some of them rooting happily for both teams.
Gus was bouncing excitedly in Lindsay's lap, screaming "Daddy! Daddy!" every time Brian's ball so much as brushed the rim of the basket.
23.
Ben called a timeout with two minutes remaining in the fourth quarter. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and Michael ran to him with a bottle of water and a towel.
"That last shot was beautiful, big guy," he said, wiping Ben's face tenderly. "Nothing but net."
Ben finished swallowing the water, and shook his head. "Michael, it was a textbook example of rimming the basket. I think it went around six times before it went in."
Michael grinned. "In my world, rimming is the gold standard."
Ben laughed, kissed him, and turned to his team. "OK, here's the plan…"
24.
Ben's shot hit the rim and bounced to the court.
"FOUL!" shouted the ref.
"FUCK" shouted Ben.
Michael ran out and helped him to the bench. "What happened?"
"That fucking bitch kicked me in the knee…" he winced as he sat down.
Brian stood there, frowning. "Fuck."
Ben glanced at his bench. He looked at Ted, who shrank back against the fence. He looked at Blake, who was examining the sky. He looked at Michael, who started to shake his head, at Emmett, whose eyes got huge, and then at Justin, whose cheeks were flushed, lip caught in his teeth.
25.
Ben glanced at Brian. "What do you think?"
Brian nodded. "Let's see what the lad can do."
"Substitution," he called to the scorer, who nodded and noted the change.
There were 48 seconds left on the clock. The score was 75-75. Brian got the ball and went to the free throw line. He shot, and the ball spun around the rim once, and fell to the court floor. He shot again, and this time it dropped in cleanly.
Eighteen seconds later, the player who kneecapped Ben scored a perfect bank shot.
Justin, coming in low, got the ball.
26.
Justin was about to throw it to Brian when he got slammed from behind. The whistle shrilled, and the ref again called, "FOUL!"
Justin hesitated and Brian hissed, "Take the fucking ball."
Justin gave his head a shake, took the ball from the ref, and walked to the free throw line.
Brian stood there, both lips folded tightly in. He heard Gus shriek, "JUSTIN!" from the stands.
Justin stood there, the ball held lightly, effortlessly, in his hands.
Brian held his breath as the shot flew towards the basket, touched the rim, rolled around it, slowly… and dropped through.
77-77.
27.
Justin took the ball for his second throw.
Debbie squeezed Michael's hand painfully. Michael hid his face in Ben's shoulder. Ben murmured, "Come on, Justin. You can do it."
Brian caught Justin's eye, smiling his sweetest, proudest smile. Justin grinned back. And then he looked at the basket, took a deep breath, and threw.
Unbelievably, just like the time before, it hit the rim and started its crazy orbit. It went around once, twice, three times. A fourth.
Brian watched it, using all his powers of mind control to nudge its center of gravity inward. "Come on, motherfucker," he thought.
28.
And it did.
The ball fell into the net, the clock started up again, and the Angels went crazy trying to get the ball. Brian fucked that plan up, throwing the ball to Drew, who shot it to Brian's former trick, who sent it flying towards the basket just after the final buzzer rang.
78-77, and the Vic Grassi House won.
Brian got to him first, grabbing him close and saying roughly in his ear, "Now you really know what rimming is" before Debbie, sobbing "Sunshine!" at the top of her lungs, got him into her arms for a hug.
29.
That night, Justin was standing in the shower, face still aching from smiling so much. Brian was washing his hair, the shampoo running down his shoulders as the hot water rinsed it away.
Justin leaned back, and sighed happily. "We won."
Brian kissed his head. "We did." He looked down at Justin. "You were great."
Justin turned around, and grinned up at him. "I was, wasn't I?"
Brian laughed. "You learned from the master, after all."
Justin wrinkled his nose. "Ben taught me to play basketball."
Brian nodded, and turned off the water. "But I taught you what rimming is."