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[frosty-fics.livejournal.com]

Title: You Are My Signal Fire (Part 34)
Characters: Andrew Raycroft / Ian White, appearances by Justin Pogge, Vesa Toskala and Dustin Boyd (random...maybe...)
Word Count: 1861
Rating: PG-13ish, swearing
Setting: Toronto, Ontario (Andy's POV), Steinbach, Manitoba (Ian's POV)
Disclaimer: I don’t own these players, nor do I know their sexual preferences. The whole thing is a work of my imagination. The title is part of the lyrics from snow patrol’s song ‘Signal Fire’.

Andy’s POV

I walked into the locker room and was immediately greeted by a gleeful voice, “ANDY! What’s going on dude?”

“Hey Justin,” I muttered, a small smile on my lips for the youngster as I took my seat in front of my locker. “Not too much little buddy…you?”

“I’m fucking excited! So glad to be practicing with you guys! Scotty’s already out there and I haven’t seen Vesa yet.”

“Oh?” I started buckling my pads, “Late is he?”

“I guess so…” he stood up, taking his stick and helmet under his arm and grinning widely at me, “Well see you out there!” He waddled out towards the ice, tripping over his own feet in his excitement. I suppressed a giggle and finished buckling up my pads.

So eager to play, I used to be like that too. You couldn’t keep me off the ice, one of the main reasons I won the Calder. I worked so hard that year, out to prove myself to everyone that I was going to be the next Marty Brodeur of the NHL. Unfortunately I did too good of a job and all that left was a set-up for a disappointing follow-up next season. Now, I was just tired of the expectations. It was too much. The pressure made me feel sick some days.

I was jerked from my train of thought as the door to the locker room flung open and Vesa came charging in with a massive hockey bag hanging off his shoulder which he dumped on the floor opposite me. He was out of breath like he had run all the way from the parking garage and he sat catching his breath for a minute, staring at the floor before he seemed to realize I was staring at him.

A pair of clear blue eyes looked up at me from across the room, a grin (or was that a smirk) crossed his face and he stood up from the bench striding across the room as though with a purpose, extending his hand for me to accept. I maintained eye contact, refusing to back down to this guy and taking his hand in mine I shook it firmly…okay firmly was an understatement. Hey, I did tell Ian I wanted to break his hand.

He grinned, pumping my arm a few times before releasing my hand, the pair of us flexing our fingers gingerly now that circulation was returning to our finger tips.

“I’m Vesa Toskala.”

“I know.”

“Well…it’s good to finally meet you Andrew.”

“Mmhmm.” I grunted, focusing my attention back on my equipment again not overly thrilled to meet him. Meeting him made this sick little competition all the more real. A competition within the usual competitions. Fucking fantastic.

“Look…this isn’t really ideal for me either,” he admitted, sitting down and unzipping his bag to retrieve his own equipment. “I want to be a number one too.”

“That’s kind of the problem isn’t it?” I said through gritted teeth, unable to hide my annoyance. I hadn’t expected to reveal how pissed off I was about the situation so quickly, but I was frustrated about whether or not my spot was still on the roster and I missed Ian. The combined package had me prepped for detonation at any given time, the question was when I would lose my temper.

“Look, I think if we work together during these practices we could really improve our game. I like your style, I could use some pointers in some areas as I’m sure you do too. Maybe we can work something out, where we can both play as much as possible.”

I laughed, “Don’t patronize me. You want my spot. You fucking admitted it to the press, so own up and admit it to me.” I threw a jersey over my shoulder pads and stood up. “Well guess what? Fuck you, you can’t have it.”

With that I grabbed my helmet and stick and stomped out towards the rink, leaving him to reconsider his game plan. I didn’t like these little head games. Trying to be friends…what bullshit is this? He’s up to something. I don’t trust him at all. I wish Ian were here to tell me what to do.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ian’s POV

“Where are you going without finishing your breakfast?”

I groaned, “Mum. This plate of pancakes is huge…I can’t eat all this. It’s like a fucking mountain of dough and syrup.”

“Watch your language. And fine…go…I don’t know how you’re going to train without a full stomach though,” she muttered as she scrubbed away at the pots in the sink.

“It is full! I ate like 10 pancakes! If anything you fed me the worst possible thing before training. I’m going to skate around the ice once and collapse with a stitch in my side.” I patted my stomach which felt like it was ready to explode.

“It did you good to eat those. You’re too thin.”

I rolled my eyes at her back, “No one wants a pudgy hockey player on their team mum.”

“I’m not saying I want you to be fat. I just think your ribs stick out a little too much. It’s unhealthy.”

“I’m leaving now…” I stood up and picked up my bag, making my way out to the front yard and grabbing the keys to my dad’s truck on the way. The door closed on her continued ranting and yelled nags, the yard instantly silent with the door as a barrier. The crisp morning air was still a little damp with dew and I stretched, tossing my bag in the back of the truck. Nothing like an early morning practice. I bet Andy isn’t even out of bed yet. He’d probably sleep in until 3 without me there to get him up at a decent hour, in more ways than one. I wonder what he’s up to…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I arrived at my home town arena, the arena I’d spent a great deal of my childhood in. It felt somehow strange to be here, it hadn’t changed at all. I knocked on the back door and was greeted by a smiling old man, who’d been around for as long as I could remember, “Your father mentioned you might be by Ian. Come to practice?”

“If that’s alright with you Mr. Thompson. Don’t want to get out of shape in the off season now do I?”

He chuckled, ushering me into the arena, “No we wouldn’t want that. For once you’re not the first one at the rink Ian.”

I raised an eyebrow in confusion, “Someone else is here?”

“Oh yes…you’ll see.” He hobbled off towards his office, “Just make sure you close the door on your way out.”

I nodded going and getting changed in the locker room and noticing that there was another bag in the corner of the room. Hm…I wonder who it is. No matter. I got dressed and made my way out to the ice. As I stepped onto the ice, I saw another man on the far end doing wind sprints. Who does those voluntarily anyways?

He looked up and stopped as my skates made soft hissing sounds, carving lines in its delicate surface. I made my way over to him, still not quite able to see who it was and my curiosity taking hold of me. I stopped a couple of feet from him, recognizing him but not quite remembering his name. I played against him in the WHL that much I remember. Where was it though? His soft blonde curls were damp with sweat, his helmet obviously discarded. He was taller than me, bigger but leaner. He had a prominent nose and a dimpled chin and I searched my brain to figure out where I knew that face from. Hm….oh! Moose Jaw. That’s right. I remember now.

“How’s it going Ian?”

He knows my name? This makes things awkward. “Hey. Good. What are you doing here?” That was kind of rude…should have asked how he was.

“Practicing. Like you. Mandatory parental visit.” He grinned at me, which I returned sheepishly still struggling to find his name. His grin widened further, “You have no idea who I am do you?”

“Course I do!” I said stubbornly, “Played for Moose Jaw. You’re…uh…”

“It’s Dustin. Dustin Boyd.” He rolled his eyes at me, taking off his glove and holding out a sweaty palm for me to shake, “Nice to meet you….again. Its okay, I’m not offended. It’s been a long time.”

My cheeks flushed a little red, “Yeah sorry…I’m kind of bad with names.” I grasped his hand and shook it firmly but not hard enough to do any damage, just confidently. “So er…” I grasped around for a change of subject, “Where did you end up anyway?”

“Calgary. You’re with Toronto right?”

“Yeah. Love it.” He nodded and we both shuffled our feet. “So why is this so awkward?”

He laughed, “I don’t know. Let’s just go about practicing. We can talk later maybe?”

“Yeah sure.” I skated off towards the bench to retrieve a puck before doing some skating and stick handling around the ice.

We practiced for a good hour and a half before the local peewee team showed up and we were forced off the ice, if only for our own safety as they fell all over the place. Little faces looked up at us through the protective cages of their helmets and we smiled and waved and helped them warm-up before leaving them with their coaches to work on their drills.

I showered and got changed, stealing a glance in Dustin’s direction as I shoved my equipment back into my bag. He was younger and his muscles were tight and toned, a fine athletic form just visible over that towel which was hanging dangerously low on his hips. I shook my head, clearing my thoughts…No. Andrew’s at home. Just cause you’re in a different province doesn’t mean you’re now available.

I jumped, as his voice drifted over his shoulder, “So…hungry at all? I always work up an appetite after a practice.”

“Um yeah…I think my mum said she was making something.” I flushed as soon as the words came out of my mouth, “That just sounded really pathetic didn’t it…?”

He laughed, “Yeah it did. I wasn’t going to say anything but…uh…you took the words right out of my mouth. So…do you think she’d make extra? My mum can’t cook….at all.”

“Probably did. If not you can have half of mine…which would be like a regular portion for any other human being. She thinks I need to eat more…” I rolled my eyes.

“Mine too! I don’t understand them. Don’t they get the fact that we’re professional athletes? The trainers don’t want us to be fat and happy.”

“Exactly!” I laughed, hauling my bag up onto my shoulder, “So did you drive here?”

“No, my dad dropped me off cause he needed the car. I hope you brought a car.”

“No worries. I did. Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he said cheerily, hoisting his own bag up onto his broad shoulders as I guided him out to my truck.

Comments

[ovielove.livejournal.com]

Two new updates for me to read upon my return and right away you start messing with my boys! Evil...but so good. Loved it, very cute - but it makes me nervous!! :P