When Worlds Collide (1/2)

[savvyfan.livejournal.com]

Title: When Worlds Collide (part 1 of 2)
Characters: Boston Bruins: Marc Savard, Vladimir Sobotka, Phil Kessel, Milan Lucic, David Krejci, Andrew Alberts; Boston Red Sox: Clay Buchholz, Jacoby Ellsbury, Jon Lester, Josh Beckett 
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Time: September 2008
Summary: The Bruins are invited to take batting practice at Fenway Park. Marc Savard gets an offer he finds difficult to refuse; Phil Kessel gets one that he doesn't.
Author's note: I write both Bruins and Red Sox slash, and this is a combining of my two universes. Based on a NESN story that aired last fall (unfortunately I can't find it now) about several Bruins (including Savard) taking BP at Fenway. Cross-posted to theboysofsummer  
Disclaimer: Obviously fictional. 

"Hey, who's up for the Sox game?" Marc Savard shouted in the Bruins locker room after practice. "Albie? You wanna take some hacks?" Andrew Alberts nodded, grinning. "Looch?" Milan Lucic laughed. "I'll go to the game, but no batting practice for me. I suck at baseball."  Of course, if Marc was going, Vladimir Sobotka was going, but he also laughed and shook his head at the idea of trying to hit a baseball. David Krejci did the same. "But I'll go to the game with you guys. We went last year at rookie camp. It was fun."   In the end, Savard, Alberts and Phil Kessel took advantage of the Red Sox's offer to take batting practice before the game, and two days later, Marc found himself standing at home plate in Fenway, swinging away, on the sort of glorious early fall evening that you only get in New England. The cool breeze off the ocean bathed his face as he swung, knocking line drives into the outfield.  "Come on, Savvy, put one in the bullpen," Alberts said, leaning on his bat on the other side of the cage.  "Are you kidding?" Savard grunted. "It's a fuckin' mile away!" He stepped out, shaking his head, and surrendered his spot to the Bruins defenseman, who immediately started swinging for the fences. "Wooohooo!" he shouted as a fly ball sliced off his bat and eked over the Green Monster.  Savard stood next to Kessel, who was leaning on the outside of the cage, his baseball cap turned backwards. "You did pretty good," he said to the young forward. Kessel shrugged. "I was an OK ballplayer. Hell of a lot better at hockey, though."  Finally Alberts stepped out and thanked the batting practice pitcher, grinning like a kid. "That was fun!"  "Hey, you guys are welcome to stay on the field for a while and watch BP, if you want," came the reply. The three players nodded and grinned. "Hey, Albie!" came a shout from the Sox dugout, and Andrew looked up and jogged over to shake hands with Manny Delcarmen. Kessel and Savard remained at the cage, watching, as the Sox players stepped in to take their cuts.  Kessel's eyes wandered over the field until he felt a sharp elbow in the ribs from Savard. "Ow! What?" He turned to look in the cage again. "Holy shit."  "Fuck yeah," Savard said, staring.    "Is that Ellsbury?" Phil stared too. "Shit, I'd hit it." "Who the fuck wouldn't?" Savvy murmured, filling his eyes with the rookie outfielder, dark-haired and high-cheekboned, with a slim but muscular build. "Jesus, a fuckin' straight guy would hit that."   --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jon Lester and Clay Buchholz were jogging in from the outfield, on the way to the dugout to retrieve their gloves. Suddenly Lester threw on the brakes and elbowed Buchholz. "Ow! What?" Clay asked, then followed Jon's look. Two of the Bruins (Kessel, was it? Savard?) were leaning on the batting cage support, staring unabashedly at Jacoby. Clay's gaydar went off with a loud clang. Jon was chuckling. The two young pitchers meandered over to the cage, stood on the opposite side, and watched the two Bruins ogle Ellsbury.  "Wanna go introduce yourself?" Buchholz finally asked Lester.The lefty shook his head. "Naw, you go ahead."  "Don't mind if I do," the rookie pitcher said, walking around the cage. "Hi, I'm Clay Buchholz," he said, sticking out his hand to the older player. Short for a hockey player. I thought they were all supposed to be monstrous.  "Marc Savard," came the reply. "This is Phil Kessel." The younger player leaned forward and shook hands.  "Congrats on making the playoffs," Buchholz said politely, turning toward the cage as Jacoby stepped out and Jed Lowrie stepped in. Savard made a face. "Thanks. Wish we coulda gotten further. You guys won it all. Congratulations."  Buchholz made a face of his own. "Yeah, but I wasn't here. That was frustrating." "What happened?" "Shoulder fatigue. They shut me down for the postseason." "That sucks." "Yeah. Good motivation, though." Buchholz smiled as he watched Savard's eyes follow Jacoby. "Not bad, is he?" "Huh?" Savard asked.  "Ellsbury," Buchholz nodded towards the rookie. "You got your eye on him." Savvy blushed crimson. "I... uh..." He looked around for Kessel, but Phil had disappeared. The tall pitcher laughed, then leaned toward the hockey player and whispered. "Don't worry about it." Then he winked.  Savard was stunned. "You... er... uh..." Buchholz looked directly into his eyes. "Yup," he said.  "Oh," Marc said, dumbly.  Bingo, Clay thought. He looked across at Lester, surprised to see him now deep in conversation with Kessel. Josh Beckett came out of the dugout and Lester waved him over; as Clay watched, the ace pitcher shook hands with the hockey player and then leaned in to listen to Lester. Beckett then straightened up, laughed, clapped Kessel across the back, and jogged off. Clay's eyes narrowed. What are they up to?  Savard's stomach was churning as he glanced at the tall young pitcher standing at his side. He was definitely attractive, a bit more lanky than what he was used to, long-legged, with a skinny behind. But he had an intriguing face, with well-defined bones and large eyes. His Texas twang was fascinating, even in a whisper. And he was whispering now, something about did Marc want to join him and Ellsbury (and Ellsbury?!) after the game and...  "Fuck!" Savvy said. Buchholz jerked his head up and blinked. Savard shook his head.  "Sorry! No, it's not you!" he whispered back, agitated. "It's just... I.... I can't. I... I've got.... a... a... "  Comprehension dawned. "You're committed," Buchholz said quietly. Marc relaxed and nodded. "Yeah. And right now I almost wish I wasn't."  The pitcher was just looking at him. "He here?" Savard nodded and pointed up to the luxury boxes. Buchholz glanced up: "A teammate?" Marc nodded. Buchholz bit his lip.  "You're lucky," he said. He clapped Savvy across the shoulders; it looked like a companionable thump, but he very briefly squeezed the Bruin's shoulder. "Enjoy the game." And he was off, walking quickly back to the dugout.  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  Marc still felt some inner turmoil (damn, a night with Buchholz AND Ellsbury? Damn!) when he entered the luxury box, but it quickly dissipated as he caught sight of Vladdie. The young center was straddling a chair, laughing, as Krejci threw popcorn across the room in an attempt to plunk the kernels into Lucic's open mouth. He wore a Red Sox cap backwards on his long blond locks. His blue eyes sparkled as he lifted them to Savard. "Savvy!" he shouted happily. "You were great!"  Savard smiled, his heart, as usual, overflowing as he looked at Vladimir. "You're lucky." Damn, you got that right. "Let's take a walk," he said, catching a flying kernel of popcorn and popping it into his mouth. "We can watch the rest of batting practice from the Monster." "Cool!" Lucic shouted, springing to his feet. "Let's go!"  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "This is an amazing place," Milan said as the hockey players stood at the top of the left-field wall, taking in the panorama of Fenway Park. "I bet the old Garden was like this - full of history. Too bad it's gone."  "I dunno - the rats were pretty bad," Alberts said. "And no AC. And horrible showers. And the dinkiest locker room in the NHL. And..."  "OK, OK, point made," Lucic said, laughing.  "HEADS UP!" a voice shouted from below. The players ducked as a line drive screamed over their heads, slammed into the wall, and ricocheted onto the field. Buchholz trotted over, picked it up, and threw it up to the seats, where Lucic snagged it cleanly and tossed it to Krejci. David looked at the ball curiously, his fingers digging at the stitching. "Wow, it's hard," he said.  "Do some real damage if it hit you," Alberts said, as another liner rocketed at the wall, whacking off the scoreboard below them with a loud bonging noise. "Maybe we'd better head back." Kessel was in the luxury box when they returned, his feet up on the windowsill, drinking a beer. "Where did you get that, young man?" Savard said, mock-sternly. "You're not old enough to be drinking!"  "Just another month," the forward said, grinning his usual Cheshire cat grin. Savvy thought he looked even more smug than usual. "OK, Kes, what's up?" he asked.  Kessel looked behind Savard. "Is Albie here? No? Good." He took another large swallow. "Gettin' together with Beckett and Lester after the game," he said.  Savard shook his head. "Both of them? Jesus, Kes."  Kessel looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary. "Don't worry, Savvy, I'll be careful. You know me." "Yeah, I do, unfortunately. I know you're crazy. What's Chara going to say about this?"  "Zee doesn't own me," Kessel pouted.  "I know, but you know what he says..." Savard replied.  "I know, I KNOW," Phil said. "I told you, I'll be careful."  "OK, Kes, OK," Savvy held up his hands. He shook his head, then grinned. "Just be sure to tell us all about it." Kessel grinned back. "Oh, count on it."     Sobotka spoke to Krejci in Czech as Alberts entered the box. David shook his head and replied rapidly in the same language. Vladimir snorted and took a seat next to Marc as the game got under way. Savvy surreptitiously slipped a hand over his leg and squeezed his thigh; Vladdie sighed happily and smiled, then propped his chin on his hands, leaned forward, and tried to understand the game of baseball.  [to be continued...]

Comments

[kelles.livejournal.com]

I already told you how much I loved this but I'll tell you again since this is the "offical" version. I ♥ it. I can't wait to read the next chapter. It had just the right balance of hotness and sweetness. Sorry, I can't say something more coherent but it is much too late for me :(

[savvyfan.livejournal.com]

Coherence isn't nescessary. ;-) I'm glad you like it. Next chapter will turn up the heat.

[cpexplosion.livejournal.com]

Sigh.. they're so in love *dreamy look* That last line was perfect, too - pure love <3

Can't wait til the next part! ^^

[savvyfan.livejournal.com]

Thanks, I'm glad that came over - I don't want to make Marc/Vladdie too horribly schmoopy, just happy with each other. They deserve it, poor guys.

Thank you so much for commenting. :-)

[jennyagain.livejournal.com]

ok, so re-reading this now (for the 1,931st time) everything i loved about it before is multiplied about a hundred-fold. now that i know the b's - or am at least getting to know them - this is even more richly layered. savvy clearly makes the right choice, not straying from sobotka, and kes, man - that little slut.

NOTHING BUT LOVE.

[savvyfan.livejournal.com]

Gee, only 1,931? ;-)

Thanks again, so much. After what Savvy's been through, and poor Vladdie, I think he'd rather run the Boston Marathon naked than ever hurt Vladimir again. As for Kes, yeah, he's the ultimate slut. Always thinking with his dick, that one. Hee.