Favourite Game
Summary: Captain Sy x Reader. One Shot. Y/N tries to explain the rules of Rugby to Sy.
597 words Notes: 18+ Swearing. Fluff, Soft!Sy, Domesticated!Sy, Married Life. Hint of Smut, slight Dom!Sy
A/N: Not Beta’d I don’t own anything. Feedback appreciated. Enjoy BBZ 🥰
“Stop collapsing the fucking scrum!” you shout at the TV, waving your beer in disappointment. “For God's sake, get up man!”
“Y’all ok in here?” Sy pops his head around the doorframe, suds foaming over his forearms. He’s making good on your agreement. You cook, he washes.
“Yeah, sorry babe.” You look over and chuckle at the sight of your beefy husband, manhandling the tiniest of porcelain tea cups in the pads of his giant hands. “It’s just annoying they’re playing like it doesn’t even matter…knock on?! For fucks sake!”
“It’s like American Football, right?” Sy flops onto the sofa next to you, tea towel in hand, drying a casserole dish.
“Yeah I suppose the fundamentals are the same, it’s more violent though. Why? You wanna watch with me?”
“Sure doll” he smiles at you putting the dish down and taking a swig from your bottle. “We used to see some of the British guys playing this on base” He takes in the sight of you, sat on the edge of your seat enthralled in the passion of the match. “Come on, It’s the big burly men, right?”
“Nice! Lets go lads!” you clap, passing a toothy grin his way. “Now that’s a try!”
“Hey?!” He pulls you back to his wide chest and wraps his arms across your front, breathing in the scent of your freshly washed hair. “Baby you sniff so good” he grumbles, pressing soft kisses on top of your head.
“Stop trying to distract me Sy, this is important stuff” you jibe. Excited that he’s actually paying attention to something other than your ass for once. “Look, you’ll find this interesting.” You point to the scene on screen. “So that’s called a scrum, you put the biggest most strong guys up on the front line, look babe” You reaffirm, “That’s the bind, they hold onto the men on the opposite side as hard as they can and in a second they’ll push up against each other”. You look back to see Sy tickled by your dedication to the match. “The huge one up front, he’s a prop. It’s kind of a reverse tug of war. It’s about possession.” You shrug, taking Sy’s warm hand to your face and snuggling into it.
“Oh possession, I understand that” he growls, pulling you tight into his grip and rocking you side to side.
“Sy!” you laugh out. “you’re making me spill my beer”.
Easing his grip and snuggling into the crook of your neck, he gently tickles your neck with his beard. “So if I played rugby, I’d be at the front right?” he insists arrogantly.
“Um babe, there’s no denying you’re a strong guy, but look at them, that tighthead is what…300lbs?” You squeeze his thick forearm. “No, you’d be 2nd row for sure.”
“Oh..” he hums, a little noise escaping from his throat, rejected.
“Hey!” you sit up and turn back to match his gaze. “that’s where the big ‘athletic’ guys are.” Making a point of running your hand over his taught middle you continue, “strong, tall, definitely tough enough, but they can run the length of the field without passing out and spitting up blood” punctuating your words you poke him in the chest. “That’s the difference, stamina”
Sy covers your hand with his bear like grip, pulling you into a deep beer scented kiss. “Stamina, strength and possession” he breathes into your kiss swollen lips. Slapping his palm against your thigh he grips into the softness leaving fingerprints that will likely bruise “Oh baby, I wish you’d said before, that’s my favourite game”.
