2minsforslashing | Phenom Phantasy 3 (Reply)

Title: Phenom Phantasy
Chapter: 3
Characters: Alexander Ovechkin (Alex), Sidney Crosby
Rating: G
Disclaimer: This is a fictional account; I own no one and no one owns me
Setting: Summer 2006 / December 2006 - First Caps-Pens game of the year, Penguins came back from 4-0 to win 5-4 in the shootout (booooo).

It was as though he had put a spell on me. For the first time in my life I found my mind drifting away from hockey, away from winning the Cup if only for a second to focus on the brash Russian whose embrace had infiltrated my mind.

It was only a moment in time but that moment permeated my offseason routine, distracting me from the weightlifting and skating drills, drawing my mind away from the strangers who approached me daily. I tried to lose myself in the workouts and when that didn’t work I’d go to a bar, find a local girl and bring her home to lose myself in a fantasy world. Their bodies were never exactly what I wanted but lacking better alternatives in such a small town I somehow made it work.

Almost.

When the NHL announced the schedule for the 2006-07 season I scanned it eagerly, my eyes searching for the first time I would get to see him again. The realization that it wouldn’t be until December made me ache just a little. From a hockey standpoint it was a blessing to not face Alex right away – if the media attention on our games was half of what we experienced last year it would still be overwhelming and distractions like that were better left for later in the season.

Still, I circled the date in red on my calendar and counted the days until our first game. I knew he would be gunning for me, thrusting his body into mine with extra fervor and maybe a word or too, but I was willing to put up with the bruises this time if it meant being close to him again, feeling his touch once more.

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The bench erupted as Marc-Andre made the final save in the shootout, completing the comeback and handing us the win. As I leapt over the boards with my team, rushing to congratulate our goalie, my eyes wandered over to the Caps bench. Heads lowered, shoulders slumped, they looked like a team that had been beaten, and amid the throng was Alex, his usually glowing expression dulled with the loss. I could see him walking down the hallway, slamming his stick down in frustration and for just a moment I felt my heart go out to him, wished I could make it better.

I hurriedly congratulated the rest of the team and made my way back to the locker room. Maybe if I showered quickly and waited in the hall I’d bump into him “accidentally”. I could be his shoulder to lean on, a friendly ear to listen to him as he aired his frustrations...maybe I could comfort him in other ways, too, feel his lingering touch somewhere other than just my arms. Giddily I rinsed myself off and dressed faster than I’d dressed in years, shaking all over with excitement at what I was planning to do.

I wandered into the hallway and leaned against the cool brick wall, trying to look nonchalant as my teammates walked by, some of them raising their eyebrows or giving me curious stares. I shrugged off their questioning glances and kept my eyes glued to the end of the hall. As I stood I could hear shouts, angry exchanges, and I cringed as reality set in. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to be offering anything to the man whose team had just lost to my own.

I was about to turn on my heel and head for the bus when I heard Alex’s voice above the yells. “Sid!” He bounded down the hallway and again I had an image of a puppy-like figure, his limbs almost too long and lanky for his growing form. His usual grin was plastered on his face but it wasn’t as bright as usual, the aftershock of blowing a 4-goal lead obviously taking its toll. “So we lose. Once. Don’t get used to it, okay?” As he spoke the light returned to his smile and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“I don’t know, it feels pretty good,” I retorted. “I think I’ll do it again in a few months.” I laughed as he pretended to frown, the light in his eyes betraying his angry expression. He punched my arm good-naturedly and jogged back to the locker room, leaving me alone in the hall to watch his muscular figure fade into the bowels of the arena.

Slapping my hand on my forehead, I sighed and walked out, knowing I was a goner.