Celebration
Sep. 3rd, 2008 10:05 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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2minsforslashingTitle: Celebration
Author: Hockey_AU
Warnings: RPS,
Rating: Adult
Team: Red Wings
Pairings: Hank Zetterberg/ Pavel Datsyuk, Nick Lidstrom/Chris Osgood
Summary: What actually happened after winning the cup
Comments: Not mine, I don’t own them and I’m not casting any aspersions on their characters. Totally imagined in my warped mind.
This is literally my first ever attempt at writing fic. Be kind. ;-)
Special thanks to beta's Poss and Suz for not laughing too much, providing encouragement and alcohol.
*~*~*~*
In the middle of the cold, dark airfield sat a lone white DC-9 plane with red and blue logos and name boldly emblazoned on its side. Debris of red streamers, balloons and champagne corks littered the tarmac nearby.
The pounding music from the plane’s hangar could be heard far into the otherwise quiet night. Chants of “Let’s Go Wings!” mingled with victory roars and the off-key unsynchronised singing of “just one Cup is all we ever wanted - and we’ve won it - just one time we’ve won the Stanley Cup! From now on we’ve won the Stanley Cup, yeah yeah yeah, just two! Just threeeeeee!”
Nick Lidstrom slipped out of the hanger to get some fresh air and clear his head. It was 4am and his life seemed a complete blur from the moment the Penguins had scored their second goal in the dying minutes, through the chaotic last seconds of Game 6 as the puck slid between Ozzie and their goal, the rowdy celebrations, to now. He needed time to put things into perspective, some space to reflect on the events of the past few crazy hours.
He’d put his exhausted family into a car an hour ago, as had everyone else. The team needed some time to just be together. Without relatives, friends, the extended Red Wings organizational family and the constant stream of well wishers and media they all knew would inundate them over the next week or so. Now it was simply time for them to relax in each other’s company, enjoy themselves without having to worry about being politically correct or being seen to be the idiots they could always be among themselves. Time enough for being on their best behavior starting tomorrow with interviews, followed by dinner at the owner’s home, interviews, civic receptions and more interviews. Sleep would be a scarce commodity for the next week or so. They were all running on adrenaline now, and it would continue for the foreseeable future. But it was a problem Nick and the team were thrilled to have.
The tall Swede walked slowly through the still night towards the stairs of the plane, intent on spending a quiet 15 minutes inside the relative warmth by himself. He heard Drapes in the distance start to warble the opening lyrics to “We are the Champions” by Queen, only to have D-Mac scream over the top of him “Are you ready for the best damn ride of your life? Give me a hell, give me a yell!!!” from the regular season entrance song. The so-called Red Wings’ team “choir” immediately split in two as they each started to shout out their preferred song lyrics.
Nick grinned and shook his head as he ducked inside the DC-9. The “singing” would be going for another half hour or so until one side became bored or they accidentally stumbled onto a song they all agreed on.
He fell rather than sat in one of the double seats at the back of the plane. Light from the tarmac and hangar filtered inside allowing Nick to see relatively easily. Even so, he closed his eyes and let images from the past few hours flicker across his brain.
He remembered the dying seconds of the game with Hossa shooting the puck at the goal from a sharp angle as he and Rafi watched helplessly; Ozzie and Hank throwing their arms in the air in celebration when the referee signaled time; Dan Cleary looking at both men in disbelief as he struggled to take in the fact that they had won not only the game but the Cup; being mobbed by the entire team with back slaps, hugs, deafening shouts and screams even from the normally more reserved trainers drowning out other noise; Hank looking around in surprise as his name was announced as the winner of the Conn Smythe and how proud Nick had felt for his young friend and team mate as the whole team gathered around to congratulate him with his trophy; he remembered how cold the silver of the Cup felt in his sweaty hands as he raised it above his head; the delight on Dallas’ face as he handed the Cup to the elder forward first; the awe and pleasure on the faces of each of his team as one by one they got their turn with the Cup; the buzz in his heart and head as he sat at the press conference answering questions to the best of his ability while simply wanting to be back in the locker room with his team, his wife and children; the cold feeling of the first sip of champagne from the Cup as it bubbled down his throat; the warmth of his wife, sons and his team hugging him time and again; being on the plane and everyone grinning and slapping each other on the back or hugging each other unable to express what they felt any other way but by these simple gestures; proudly following Hank down the stairs onto the tarmac holding the Stanley Cup above his head as the assembled crowd cheered; pounding music; lots of cold beer; Downey attempting to show Homer how to dance; Pavel draped over Hank and both of them laughing; Drapes and Malts’ first attempt at karaoke for the night without enough alcohol fueling their systems to make it truly awful just yet; Ozzie laughing at him fondly as he tried to start a conga line; D-Mac and Cheli hugging … wait, he’d tried to start a conga line? A flush shot across his face as he groaned in embarrassment.
“I’d like to think that you’re moaning as you imagine what I’m about to do to you, but I suspect from the look on your face it’s more likely to be from remembering your truly awful attempt at starting a conga line,” Ozzie’s voice breathed softly into his ear.
Nick groaned again and kept his eyes shut. “Thanks for letting me make a fool of myself.”
“I didn’t need to help you at all, Nick,” Ozzie laughed. “You managed that perfectly well without my assistance.” He nudged the taller man in the shoulder and climbed over him to sit with his back to the window, leaving his feet draped across Nick’s lap.
“So, you had time to put it all into perspective, my Captain?” Ozzie asked. Nick opened his eyes to see his goalie smiling at him.
“Sometimes I don’t think I’ve come close to putting the my first Stanley Cup into perspective,” Nick smiled in return. He reached over and brushed a lock of blond hair from Chris’s forehead.
“1997. First for both of us. We beat the Blues 4-2, the Ducks 4-0, Avs 4-2 and the Flyers 4-0 with the final game on the night of June 7. You and D-Mac scored the goals,” Chris said promptly. “Also the first time you kissed me. Even if I had to chase you afterwards to convince you it was a good thing.”
“There was a lot happening at the time, then the car crash and the injuries to Vlad and Sergi. It was total chaos even without me facing up to how I felt about you,” Nick said quietly. Chris leaned over and gave him a soft kiss.
“You got here in the end,” he said.
Nick grinned and pulled the smaller man onto his lap and then into a kiss. Chris groaned and ran his hands through Nick’s hair, cradling his lover’s head carefully as he deepened the kiss. He felt Nick tug his shirt from out of his pants and gasped as he felt the warm callused hands clutch his waist. Need curled deep in Chris’s gut as Nick pulled the shirt over his head, not bothering with buttons. The older man pulled Chris closer, pressing the seat recline button at the same time until they were almost horizontal.
“Off,” Chris grunted, fumbling with buttons of Nick’s white shirt. He ground his erection into Nick, feeling the other man’s excitement pressing back against him in return. Nick tried to assist in removing his own shirt while still touching as much of his goalie’s hot skin as he could. They still hadn’t broken their kiss as they struggled to remove the now sweaty shirt, anchored at Nick’s wrists by silver puck cufflinks. Chris abandoned the struggle to remove Nick’s shirt, and slid backwards off Nick’s lap until he was kneeling on the floor straddling long legs. He rapidly undid both the belt buckle and zipper of Nick’s pants, reaching greedily for the hot erection within. His mouth was watering as he savored the smell of Nick’s arousal and opened his lips to swallow his lover’s hard cock.
A giggle followed by bumping noises from the front of the plane made both men freeze. Nick looked down into Chris’s panicked deep blue eyes, taking in the disheveled half undressed state they were both in. He could see exactly what Chris was thinking: How the hell were they going to explain this? Nick almost laughed aloud. At least their inconvenient erections had disappeared quickly.
*~*~*~*
Pavel was feeling very mellow and very horny. He surveyed the party in the hangar which was in full swing, with Drapes leading a very off-key version of “We are the Champions” while D-Mac was shouting the words to the team’s entrance song. Cheli, Mule, Malts, Homer, Kronner, Huds and Brett Lebda tried to join the singing. Although Pavel wasn’t really sure if Homer was singing words so much as just making a lot of meaningless noise that was vaguely in tune.
He spied Hank walking towards the bathroom, running both his hands through his hair while stretching his back and inadvertently pulling up his blue shirt in the process, revealing his smooth flat stomach.
Pavel licked his lips in anticipation. He’d made sure he had stayed away from his line mate for most of the night because he knew that, between the combination of alcohol, overwhelming emotion and adrenalin, they needed to be careful. While he’d had a few beers to be social and blend in, he’d been trying to stick to vodka most of the night. He knew his limits with vodka, when to ease off before he had too much. Beer, especially American beer, just made him silly in the head and then sleepy before he realized it. He wanted to enjoy the feeling of both the team winning the Cup and Hank’s achievement being awarded the Conn Smythe Trophy.
Wandering casually over towards the bathrooms, which were luckily near to one of the hangar’s fire exits, Pavel glanced around to make sure he wasn’t being watched. Satisfied he was safe, he grabbed Henrik around the waist as the other man emerged from the bathroom and whisked him through the exit door before he’d had a chance to utter a word.
Pavel pushed Hank quickly up against the cold metal wall of the hangar and fitted their lips together. He raked the fingers of his left hand through long brown hair and wrapped his right arm around Hank’s waist to pull him tightly towards him.
Hank returned the kiss with fervor, locking his arms around Pavel’s neck. The Swede moaned into Pavel’s mouth hungrily.
“Come,” Pavel tugged Hank’s shirt fully out of his pants and pulled him forward by his belt. “I need you now.”
“Demanding Russian,” Hank complained as he willingly moved with his best friend and lover.
“Stubborn Swede,” Pavel replied automatically. He pulled them quickly towards the team plane, intent on getting into the privacy of the cabin as quickly as possible.
“What if I’ve got a headache?” Hank continued his mock complaint as Pavel shoved him up the plane stairs.
“You no girl with headache, you horny Swede. You younger than me, you need lots of sex,” Pavel slapped Hank’s ass as they moved up the stairs. “You need lots of me.” He grabbed Hank’s waist and tickled the other man playfully as they reached the top of the stairs causing Hank to giggle and then try to squirm away from the onslaught, bumping into the first row of seats as he tried to escape.
“Ow ow ow.” Hank stumbled down the aisle. “Bully! You just like it rough. That’s why you’ve been making all those hits in the play offs, you’re getting yourself turned on for post match sex.”
“You turn me on, sexy Swede,” Pavel growled. He grabbed hold of Hank’s waist, spun him around and pulled him in close in one fluid motion.
“I thought I was stubmmmurrm ...” Whatever Hank was about to say was muffled by Pavel capturing his mouth in a passionate kiss. The Russian pushed at him until they stumbled into a seat half way down the aisle. Pavel tugged frantically at Hank’s pants and shirt, revealing smooth taut skin as quickly as possible. His mouth latched onto a strong shoulder as he sucked hard on the skin, not bothering about leaving marks.
“Pasha,” Hank moaned as he pulled away to draw a quick breath. He moaned more loudly as his lover began to stretch his tight entrance. Hank had no idea where the lube had come from, but knowing how horny Pavel was constantly, he was never surprised that the man always had some on him.
Hank’s head rolled backwards against the seat as Pavel continued to stretch him, licking and biting his neck and mouth roughly. The Russian moved down his body as he pushed three fingers inside, working them to brush against Hank’s prostate repeatedly. He took the younger man’s erection in his mouth, breathing in the scent of Hank’s arousal, the taste of pre cum on his tongue driving him crazy. He sucked and licked frantically on the wonderful cock in his mouth as he finished stretching Hank.
“Oh god, Pasha,” Hank breathed. “Yes. Yes please.”
Pavel let the hard cock slip from his mouth, smiling at Hank’s moan of disappointment. He stood and undid his pants quickly, rubbing lube over his steely erection, enjoying watching Hank spread wantonly beneath him. Pulling Hank towards him, he twisted them until he was seated and the other man was easing slowly down onto his hard dick. Pavel closed his eyes in ecstasy as he slid easily into his lover.
“Henrik,” he breathed, grabbing the Swede’s hips and beginning a fast rhythm. The fingers of Hank’s left hand were wound in Pavel’s short hair to balance him, his right hand reaching down to grab his own hard dick.
“Henrik, Henrik,” Pavel breathed again as he licked and kissed over Hank’s lightly haired chest, the rhythm between them speeding up as Pavel’s grip tightened on Hank’s hips.
“Pasha, yes. Yes oh Pasha,” Hank’s head rolled backwards, revealing his long neck. He squirmed in Pavel’s lap, trying to get closer to the man below him. Pavel watched him possessively as a fine sheen of sweet coated his chest and neck.
“My Henrik, you beautiful, you sexy.” Pavel released Hank’s hips to run his hands over the chest in front of him, up the long neck to tangle into soft brown hair. One hand reached down to knock Henrik’s hand away from his cock so Pavel could bring him to orgasm. “Come for me. Come for me now.”
Hank’s breath hitched as Pavel licked a long line up his chest, skilful fingers bringing him to the brink of orgasm quickly.
“Вы - мое сердце и душа. Приедьте для меня и меня только (You are my heart and soul. Come for me and me only),” Pavel whispered in Russian.
“Pasha, oh - oh god!”
Pavel felt the clenching of his lover’s muscles as release overwhelmed Hank. Warm fluid coated his hand as Hank fell forward, resting his forehead against Pavel’s and breathing heavily. Pavel brought his cum covered hand to his watering mouth and licked it clean.
“Ahhhhhh Henrik,” Pavel ground out as he was overwhelmed by the salty taste of his lover’s cum. His hips snapped upwards instinctively and he came deep inside Hank.
“You know what speaking Russian does to me when we are making love.” Hank laughed softly once they had regained their breath.
“It get you every time,” Pavel smiled. He pulled Hank into a gentle kiss then rested their foreheads together. “I proud of you, Mr Conn Smythe.”
Hank shook his head. “It should have gone to Chris or even Johan. We wouldn’t have made it past the first round without Chris, not to mention his shut outs and…”
Pavel placed a finger to Hank’s lips. “This your first playoff. I tell you secret of Conn Smythe selection,” he said solemnly. Hank looked at him expectantly with large brown eyes.
“It given to most sexy player on ice not most valuable. Otherwise I win.”
Henrik snorted. “If that’s the criteria it should have gone to Nick or even Crosby.”
“Nick Captain, Captain not sexy, Captain like parent, no sex. Nick get Stanley Cup instead.” Pavel shook his head. “Crosby not sexy, Crosby little boy, curls and bum fluff on chin.”
Henrik laughed as he stood up and then leaned over to grab his shirt. “Right. About half a million young girls don’t agree with you on Crosby, and about two million women think Nick is hot.”
Pavel smacked Hank’s bare ass. “How you know this rubbish?” He grabbed his pants and produced a small packet of moist hand towels for them to clean themselves up.
“Tomas was reading some magazine in the hotel foyer this morning. He thought it would be good to chat to Crosby about it on the ice tonight during the game,” Hank smirked.
“They not ask expert in hotness,” Pavel snorted as he finished getting dressed. “Nick sexy yes, but Crosby little boy. Not sexy.”
“Let me see, expert in hotness… that would be you?” Hank asked his lover.
“Yes,” Pavel agreed. He straightened Hank’s jacket, tutting over his refusal to do up his shirt cuffs. “I know hotness. We have lot of hotness on team: Nick, Chris, Val, Lils. You most hottest.”
Hank stopped and stared at Pavel with his mouth open. Pavel tapped his finger under the younger man’s jaw to get him to shut it.
“Drapes and Mac hot if you like rough boy, Kronner, Cleary and Stuart if you like bear. Tomas and Rafi cute like Lebda and Huds.”
“I can’t believe you’ve considered the hotness of the entire team!”
Pavel shrugged. “It something to pass time on plane ride. Come, Sexy Swede,” he turned Hank by his shoulders towards the front of the plane. “I teach you drink proper vodka.”
“I can’t believe you spend plane rides thinking about how hot the entire team is,” Hank said as he exited the plane.
“It not that bad. Coaching staff not hot.” Pavel said as he threw the used wipes in the galley bin and walked off the plane.
*~*~*~*
Nick looked anywhere but at Chris as he listened to Pavel explain the “hotness” scale of the team. He knew if he looked at his goalie, he’d burst out laughing and give them away. Chris had his face buried in Nick’s thighs, and Nick thought he was biting his lips as a desperate attempt not to make a comment in response to the discussion at the front of the plane.
Chris waited until he was sure that the other pair was well away from the plane before letting out an explosive breath.
“Oh my god, that was…” Chris struggled for words for a moment. “Fuck that was hot!” He latched onto Nick’s dick and sucked hungrily. Both men had grown hard again listening to their team mates making love and Chris wasn’t about to waste the impromptu show.
“Chris,” Nick moaned in surprise. He was incredibly turned on by what they had overheard, but he had expected his goalie to make a joke about the conversation, not continue straight on with what he had been doing before they were interrupted. He ran his hands through the other man’s short blond hair roughly, resisting the temptation to just grab hold and fuck his partner’s mouth.
Chris ran his fingers lightly over Nick’s balls, causing the other man to buck in the seat and come hard. Swallowing as quickly as he could, Chris grabbed his own cock firmly around its base to make sure he didn’t come as well. Before he could catch his breath, Nick had hauled him to his feet and pulled his groin to his lips to repay the effort. Chris grabbed the overhead locker for balance as he was expertly sucked off.
Given the earlier show and the taste of Nick on his tongue, he didn’t last long. Moaning loudly, he came as quickly as Nick had and then sank to his knees, his face resting on Nick’s warm thighs as he tried to catch his breath.
“I don’t think I’ve ever come that quickly before,” Nick mumbled as he struggled to regain his breath. “Not even the first time we made love.”
“Wow,” was all Chris could manage. He didn’t have the energy for anything else. Nick simply nodded, his hand resting on Chris’s soft hair.
Eventually Chris raised his head to look at Nick, his eyes glinting with mischief. “We have to watch Hank and Pav do it again sometime,” he grinned up at his lover.
*~*~*~*
The following night a tired but happy bunch of hockey players, coaches, staff, and partners were hosted to a sit-down dinner at the team-owner’s mansion. A large marquee had been erected in the back garden for the purpose, decked out with Red Wings and Stanley Cup banners, red and white balloons, streamers, flowers and candles.
The band crooned a jazzy ballad in the corner while the guests mingled happily between courses. Champagne, beer and vodka for Pavel flowed freely, everyone content that there were drivers and cars to take them home when the time came. While no one wanted a repeat of the dreadful car accident ten or so years ago which destroyed the careers of their team mates, they wanted to be able to relax and enjoy themselves without worrying about driving.
Nick had been watching Pavel and Hank out of the corner of his eye all night. He wanted to see if he noticed anything different between the two of them now he knew their secret. However, to his eyes they were both as close and as individual as they had always been. One of them playing a joke on the other with a shaken up beer bottle, both of them spending a lot of time talking and joking with other team mates and staff, being attentive to their partners, then the two of them sharing a soft conversation in the corner laughing at some joke only they got, before they both drifted off to spend time with others again.
Pavel and Hank had always been close, right from the first day the young Swedish centre had arrived for his first training camp. Nick and Tomas had spent a lot of time with Henrik and Nik Kronwall when they arrived in 2003, helping them set up bases in Detroit. However Pavel had taken both, especially Hank, under his wing to show them the ropes of the organization. It had quickly become obvious to everyone on the team and staff that despite the language barrier there was a magical chemistry between Pavel and Henrik both on and off the ice. It had also become obvious that Pavel’s English wasn’t as bad as he liked to make out with reporters.
He knew that the prankster in his goalie was desperate to find the right moment to drop a teasing comment to Pavel or Hank about last night. Even if that moment might not come for months, maybe even half way through next season, Chris would be alert for the opportunity. Nick both wanted to be there for it, but also to be as far away as possible. He knew if he were present, he’d laugh and that would give the game away about him and Chris. He felt a slight twinge of guilt that he knew about the other two men, but they didn’t know about him and Chris; however, he dismissed that quickly. It wasn’t his fault if Pavel and Hank had not been cautious enough to check out the plane before making love.
Nick paused briefly. He had never actually checked the rear of the plane himself when he’d sat down. It was entirely possible there had been someone or even another couple hiding in the rear galley or even the toilets when he and Chris had reacted so quickly to Hank and Pavel making out. He glanced surreptitiously around the marquee trying to see if anyone was looking at him differently, then told himself firmly he was being silly and that he and Chris were safe.
However, he couldn’t stop the small voice in his brain which kept whispering, “Yes, but you didn’t check the plane thoroughly.”
“Nick! First Euro captain to win the Cup!” Ken Kal the radio play by play announcer slapped Nick hard on the back, breaking his train of thought. “Bet you’ll be sick of hearing that by this time next week!”
*~*~*~*
Chris stood with Drapes, Hank, Homer, D-Mac, Pavel, Malts and Kronner over by the bar. The wives and girlfriends were all cooing over Drapes’ and Brad Stuart’s newest additions to their families. The rest of the team were sitting about relaxing in small groups, too tired and pleasantly buzzed with alcohol to move.
Malts and Drapes had been keeping the small group in stitches with their version of the team’s reaction on the bench as Hossa’s shot flew past Ozzie in the final seconds of the game last night.
“Babs was shouting for Hank to get off his ass and go after the puck as he’d obviously decided to sit down for the last 30 seconds or so. I think his exact words were ‘This ain’t no Swedish sauna experience Zetterberg!’.” Drapes laughed, referring to Hank getting knocked over by Gonchar in the dying seconds of the game.
“Yeah. Scotty was bawling his eyes out because Nick, Rafi and Clears were standing there like stunned elephants as the puck went towards the net. He kept sobbing that he couldn’t believe he was relying on all these old men to save the goal and win the Cup,” Malts chortled.
Kronner poked Malts in the ribs. “Look who’s talking. Aren’t you over 50 now?” Malts took a playful swipe at him.
“For sure he is,” Homer chimed in.
“Scotty was shouting for Pavel to check the ladder in his hose so it didn’t run and Pav of course thought he meant check Hossa, so he ran him into the boards,” Malts resumed. “Hose is women’s stockings or pantyhose,” he explained at Pavel’s confused look.
The group laughed as Pavel finally worked out he’d been made fun of. The Russian’s response was simple and perfect. He waited until Malts had turned around to continue with his funny retelling of the bench in the dying seconds of the game, then grabbed a handful of ice out of the bucket on the bar and dropped it down the back of Malts’ shirt. As the Canadian howled in dismay, the rest of the group doubled over with laughter.
“That Russian sauna experience, Malts,” Pavel grinned. He grabbed his glass of vodka and sauntered off with a satisfied smirk.
Malts ripped his shirt out from his pants to let the ice drop on the floor. Drapes was still laughing hard so Malts grabbed some ice and stuffed it down the back of his shirt.
“Aaaghh!!!” Drapes cried out. The rest of the group prudently backed away from the bar and the ice bucket as both men stripped off their cold, wet shirts.
“Hey guys, put them back on. There are children present. We don’t want them having nightmares!” D-Mac laughed.
Chris was standing next to Hank, laughing hard as the results of one of his surprise sharpie attacks from last night was exposed to the rest of the team. Hank suddenly saw what Chris had done to Malts when the other man had been snoozing on one of the chairs with his feet propped up on the table at the hangar party, and had to grab the goalie to stop himself collapsing on the floor with laughter.
The image of a “naughty” French maid apron complete with cleavage was drawn over Malts’ chest and stomach. It was now clearly on display to the rest of the team, staff and families to see.
Loud laughter rippled around the marquee as Malts looked around for Chris. The goalie had prudently hidden himself behind Hank who was crying with laughter and almost doubled over.
“You are dead meat, Osgood!” Malts threatened.
“You only just realised he’d done it, Kirk?” Nick called out from across the room.
“Nah, I found it this morning. Damn sharpies are impossible to get off with one shower without removing five layers of skin. I’d just forgotten about it, is all.”
Malts looked at Chris with narrowed eyes and lips, however the small twinkle in his eyes let Chris know he might be forgiven, but it wouldn’t be forgotten in a hurry.
“Oh god, that’s priceless,” Hank wiped his eyes and stood up straight. He looked at Ozzie and chuckled. “You know he is going to get you good.”
“Do I look scared?” Chris bluffed.
“Given you bravely hid behind me just then, I’d say you were petrified.” Hank retorted with a grin. The two men stood by the bar waiting for refills of their drinks.
“Nah, just making sure Malts didn’t give himself a hernia trying to wrestle me and shove ice down my back,” Chris grinned.
“Chicken,” Hank murmured, accepting his beer. He turned around and surveyed the room. People were still laughing at Malts who, now the embarrassment had worn off, was enjoying being the centre of attention. Especially from the ladies present.
Chris looked at Hank standing next to him, watching Malts flirt harmlessly with Annika, Emma and Jenna.
“Just as well the Conn Smythe wasn’t judged by a bunch of women or even a Russian,” he said to Hank casually.
“Huh?” Hank looked around at him in confusion.
“You know, if the Conn Smythe was judged by women or even a Russian, then given Malts is parading his semi naked body around I doubt they would have awarded it to you for being the hottest player on the ice.” Chris grabbed his drink and wandered casually off, leaving Hank staring at him in confusion.
Confusion suddenly gave way to horror as Hank realized just want Chris was saying and what it implied.
“Hej,” Nick walked up to the bar and stood next to him waiting for a drink. He looked at his fellow countryman, whose face was turning bright red. “Henrik, you okay?”
Hank could only continue to stare at Ozzie’s retreating back in shock. Nick took in the look on Henrik’s face and who he was staring at. He realized immediately just what had happened. His guilt returned, but with an impish desire to have some fun at his goalie’s expense.
“It isn’t that bad,” he told Hank quietly. “It turned Ozzie on like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”
Hank choked on the mouthful of beer he had just swallowed and started coughing loudly. Nick reached over to pat his back soothingly. He noticed Pavel looking over at them in concern, and grinned cheekily at the Russian in return.
*~*~*~*
The night was winding down, with most of the staff and families having left. Nick had put his wife and boys into a car to go home already, but as captain wanted to ensure the rest of the team got away safely and that the Ilitch’s didn’t have any problems before the end of the party.
Some of the younger players had decided to party on in town, however the more experienced members of the team knew they had a full agenda over the next week or so with little sleep, so they had elected to call it a night relatively early.
Drapes, Malts and D-Mac were talking to Cheli and his two sons as they quietly carried small sleeping children out to the waiting cars. Chris and Dom were having a quiet drink with Babs at the table in the centre of the room. Kenny and the rest of the front office staff were talking to the owner, slapping each other on the back as they celebrated yet another Stanley Cup win.
Babs suddenly turned around, and catching sight of Nick he gestured urgently for him to come over to their table. As Nick started to walk towards them, Babs caught Ken Holland’s eye and repeated the motion. Ken excused himself and joined Nick in making his way through the jumble of chairs, tables and debris to the centre of the marquee.
Dom and Babs were both looking at the table as Nick and Ken sat down. Chris had his impassive goalie face on. This was enough for Nick to know this was a serious conversation that would affect his team.
He knew in his gut what it was going to be, but part of him wasn’t prepared to hear this tonight. He wanted to wait until after the parade and the interviews and appearances were over, enjoy a few carefree weeks where he didn’t have to be the captain of the Detroit Red Wings, where he could just be Nick the husband, father, lover and individual who could enjoy the rewards of his team’s hard work this season and spend some time with his family and friends.
“Dom?” Babs indicated that the goalie should speak once the two men had settled and placed orders for coffee or soft drinks.
“I made a decision,” Dom announced after the waiter finished pouring each man a drink and departed.
Ken took some creamer from the centre of the table and made a production of stirring it into his coffee. Nick looked quickly toward Chris, but couldn’t read what was on his lover’s mind.
“Yes?” Nick prompted when Dom didn’t continue. Chris took a deep breath and lifted his cup to take a sip. Babs looked on seriously.
“I no longer have same passion for game,” Dom started. “I no longer as hungry to be Dominator of game.” He looked at each man in turn, catching and holding their eyes to ensure they realised this was it, not just some whim he’d get over when the team turned up for training camp in two months.
“Dom,” Chris started.
Dom held his hand up to silence the younger goalie.
“I announce I retire after parade and awards,” he said. “I not want to upset team or distract them from parties but my time over. I not want to go out as loser but as winner with Cup. This perfect time for me to hang up skates as they say. I have Cup even if Ozzie’s cup really, I have Jennings trophy with Ozzie too. Perfect timing,” Dom finished decisively.
“Dom, are you sure about this?” Nick asked softly. “You aren’t just -“
“Nick,” Dom interrupted. “My time over, this year blessing. But as Babs know in first round of play off, my heart not in it. Time for younger blood for Red Wings.”
Dom turned to Ken. “I wait until after Awards night and parades so team can enjoy but I want to announce soon. It give you longer time to look for someone or get Jimmy ready.” The older goalie looked down before seriously facing the three men in front of him. “Jimmy need more time I think. Need more confidence and more regularity.”
Nick immediately knew how upset Chris was when the goalie didn’t pick up on Dom’s misused word and make a joke about prunes or castor oil.
Ken and Babs looked at each other quickly before Ken spoke.
“Dom, it is your decision but we will respect whatever you want to do. The Red Wings will be sorry to lose you, you know that. You’ve been a wonderful team mate for all.”
“I agree with Ken, Dom.” Babs spoke quietly. “We will miss you and be sorry to see you go, and frankly can’t thank you and Ozzie enough for all you’ve done for the team this year.”
“Talk the timing over with your wife and family, Dom. Call me when you know when you’d like to announce,” Ken continued.
“I like to tell the team myself, maybe after party at Cheli’s in a few days,” Dom said. “But I want to officially announce by end of week.” The coach and GM nodded in agreement. They both stood and, shaking Dom’s hand, excused themselves to rejoin the front office staff who were still gathered over in the corner.
“I appreciate you letting the team enjoy the Cup for a few days before you tell them, Dom,” Nick said quietly.
“It best for team. Let them enjoy the fun,” Dom looked over to his wife and children, then stood up. He shook Nick’s hand and clasped Ozzie’s shoulder silently before walking out of the marquee with his family.
Chris looked up to his lover, sorrow clear in his eyes. Nick took his hand briefly and squeezed it. It was going to be a short summer filled with many phone calls between Detroit, Sweden and Canada as they tried to figure out how to replace Dom.
*~*~*~*
“Stop fussing!” Hank hissed as he walked to the waiting line of limousines with Pavel. “I simply swallowed a mouthful of beer the wrong way.”
Pavel tutted his disagreement.
“Hej Hank, Pav.” Nick called from behind them. “You two okay to get home?”
Hank spun around quickly, his face turning pink.
“Yes,” Pavel smiled at their captain. “We get limo together as we live close. Better on environment they say.”
Chris bent down slightly to glance into the nearest limousine.
“It’s the same inside as all the other Chris,” Nick grinned.
“I was just seeing if it had darkened windows and glass between the driver and passengers.” Chris looked up innocently.
Hank’s face turned from pink to red. He looked around everywhere but at his team mates.
“I think they are,” Pavel replied. “Most these cars do.”
“Not everyone is into exhibitionism.” Nick added.
Hank coughed uncomfortably, causing Pavel glanced at him in concern. Hank’s face was bright red. Pavel rubbed his hand across Hank’s back in quick comfort.
“But then, some people also enjoy wearing goalie pads so they don’t bruise their knees when they top.” Nick gave Hank and Pavel a warm hug before turning and getting into the nearest car. “See you tomorrow at the Café before the parade!” He waved the three other men goodbye.
“We go, need sleep.” Pavel turned to say goodbye to Chris, only to find the goalie as red as Hank. The Russian raised his eyebrows as he looked between the two men standing side by side, both looking uncomfortable.
Pavel shook his head and gave Ozzie a quick hug, pushed Hank to do the same and then pulled him by the arm into a waiting limousine.
As the car accelerated down the drive, Ozzie shook his head. Nick hadn’t just said what he thought he’d said, had he? He grinned slowly as he sat in the back of the waiting car. Just because Nick was team captain didn’t mean he was immune to a sharpie attack.
*~*~*~*
Ken and Babs watched Nick and a subdued Ozzie hug Hank and Pavel goodbye and get into the waiting cars.
“It’s going to be an interesting summer,” Ken said quietly.
Babs could only nod in agreement as the band started packing away their instruments.
The two men quietly made their way over to join the rest of the front office staff bidding the Iltichs good night, thanking them for their hospitality and support over the season.
One thing was for certain, in just over 24 hours since the team had won the Stanley Cup, the 2008 -2009 season had already begun for the management team.
Author: Hockey_AU
Warnings: RPS,
Rating: Adult
Team: Red Wings
Pairings: Hank Zetterberg/ Pavel Datsyuk, Nick Lidstrom/Chris Osgood
Summary: What actually happened after winning the cup
Comments: Not mine, I don’t own them and I’m not casting any aspersions on their characters. Totally imagined in my warped mind.
This is literally my first ever attempt at writing fic. Be kind. ;-)
Special thanks to beta's Poss and Suz for not laughing too much, providing encouragement and alcohol.
*~*~*~*
In the middle of the cold, dark airfield sat a lone white DC-9 plane with red and blue logos and name boldly emblazoned on its side. Debris of red streamers, balloons and champagne corks littered the tarmac nearby.
The pounding music from the plane’s hangar could be heard far into the otherwise quiet night. Chants of “Let’s Go Wings!” mingled with victory roars and the off-key unsynchronised singing of “just one Cup is all we ever wanted - and we’ve won it - just one time we’ve won the Stanley Cup! From now on we’ve won the Stanley Cup, yeah yeah yeah, just two! Just threeeeeee!”
Nick Lidstrom slipped out of the hanger to get some fresh air and clear his head. It was 4am and his life seemed a complete blur from the moment the Penguins had scored their second goal in the dying minutes, through the chaotic last seconds of Game 6 as the puck slid between Ozzie and their goal, the rowdy celebrations, to now. He needed time to put things into perspective, some space to reflect on the events of the past few crazy hours.
He’d put his exhausted family into a car an hour ago, as had everyone else. The team needed some time to just be together. Without relatives, friends, the extended Red Wings organizational family and the constant stream of well wishers and media they all knew would inundate them over the next week or so. Now it was simply time for them to relax in each other’s company, enjoy themselves without having to worry about being politically correct or being seen to be the idiots they could always be among themselves. Time enough for being on their best behavior starting tomorrow with interviews, followed by dinner at the owner’s home, interviews, civic receptions and more interviews. Sleep would be a scarce commodity for the next week or so. They were all running on adrenaline now, and it would continue for the foreseeable future. But it was a problem Nick and the team were thrilled to have.
The tall Swede walked slowly through the still night towards the stairs of the plane, intent on spending a quiet 15 minutes inside the relative warmth by himself. He heard Drapes in the distance start to warble the opening lyrics to “We are the Champions” by Queen, only to have D-Mac scream over the top of him “Are you ready for the best damn ride of your life? Give me a hell, give me a yell!!!” from the regular season entrance song. The so-called Red Wings’ team “choir” immediately split in two as they each started to shout out their preferred song lyrics.
Nick grinned and shook his head as he ducked inside the DC-9. The “singing” would be going for another half hour or so until one side became bored or they accidentally stumbled onto a song they all agreed on.
He fell rather than sat in one of the double seats at the back of the plane. Light from the tarmac and hangar filtered inside allowing Nick to see relatively easily. Even so, he closed his eyes and let images from the past few hours flicker across his brain.
He remembered the dying seconds of the game with Hossa shooting the puck at the goal from a sharp angle as he and Rafi watched helplessly; Ozzie and Hank throwing their arms in the air in celebration when the referee signaled time; Dan Cleary looking at both men in disbelief as he struggled to take in the fact that they had won not only the game but the Cup; being mobbed by the entire team with back slaps, hugs, deafening shouts and screams even from the normally more reserved trainers drowning out other noise; Hank looking around in surprise as his name was announced as the winner of the Conn Smythe and how proud Nick had felt for his young friend and team mate as the whole team gathered around to congratulate him with his trophy; he remembered how cold the silver of the Cup felt in his sweaty hands as he raised it above his head; the delight on Dallas’ face as he handed the Cup to the elder forward first; the awe and pleasure on the faces of each of his team as one by one they got their turn with the Cup; the buzz in his heart and head as he sat at the press conference answering questions to the best of his ability while simply wanting to be back in the locker room with his team, his wife and children; the cold feeling of the first sip of champagne from the Cup as it bubbled down his throat; the warmth of his wife, sons and his team hugging him time and again; being on the plane and everyone grinning and slapping each other on the back or hugging each other unable to express what they felt any other way but by these simple gestures; proudly following Hank down the stairs onto the tarmac holding the Stanley Cup above his head as the assembled crowd cheered; pounding music; lots of cold beer; Downey attempting to show Homer how to dance; Pavel draped over Hank and both of them laughing; Drapes and Malts’ first attempt at karaoke for the night without enough alcohol fueling their systems to make it truly awful just yet; Ozzie laughing at him fondly as he tried to start a conga line; D-Mac and Cheli hugging … wait, he’d tried to start a conga line? A flush shot across his face as he groaned in embarrassment.
“I’d like to think that you’re moaning as you imagine what I’m about to do to you, but I suspect from the look on your face it’s more likely to be from remembering your truly awful attempt at starting a conga line,” Ozzie’s voice breathed softly into his ear.
Nick groaned again and kept his eyes shut. “Thanks for letting me make a fool of myself.”
“I didn’t need to help you at all, Nick,” Ozzie laughed. “You managed that perfectly well without my assistance.” He nudged the taller man in the shoulder and climbed over him to sit with his back to the window, leaving his feet draped across Nick’s lap.
“So, you had time to put it all into perspective, my Captain?” Ozzie asked. Nick opened his eyes to see his goalie smiling at him.
“Sometimes I don’t think I’ve come close to putting the my first Stanley Cup into perspective,” Nick smiled in return. He reached over and brushed a lock of blond hair from Chris’s forehead.
“1997. First for both of us. We beat the Blues 4-2, the Ducks 4-0, Avs 4-2 and the Flyers 4-0 with the final game on the night of June 7. You and D-Mac scored the goals,” Chris said promptly. “Also the first time you kissed me. Even if I had to chase you afterwards to convince you it was a good thing.”
“There was a lot happening at the time, then the car crash and the injuries to Vlad and Sergi. It was total chaos even without me facing up to how I felt about you,” Nick said quietly. Chris leaned over and gave him a soft kiss.
“You got here in the end,” he said.
Nick grinned and pulled the smaller man onto his lap and then into a kiss. Chris groaned and ran his hands through Nick’s hair, cradling his lover’s head carefully as he deepened the kiss. He felt Nick tug his shirt from out of his pants and gasped as he felt the warm callused hands clutch his waist. Need curled deep in Chris’s gut as Nick pulled the shirt over his head, not bothering with buttons. The older man pulled Chris closer, pressing the seat recline button at the same time until they were almost horizontal.
“Off,” Chris grunted, fumbling with buttons of Nick’s white shirt. He ground his erection into Nick, feeling the other man’s excitement pressing back against him in return. Nick tried to assist in removing his own shirt while still touching as much of his goalie’s hot skin as he could. They still hadn’t broken their kiss as they struggled to remove the now sweaty shirt, anchored at Nick’s wrists by silver puck cufflinks. Chris abandoned the struggle to remove Nick’s shirt, and slid backwards off Nick’s lap until he was kneeling on the floor straddling long legs. He rapidly undid both the belt buckle and zipper of Nick’s pants, reaching greedily for the hot erection within. His mouth was watering as he savored the smell of Nick’s arousal and opened his lips to swallow his lover’s hard cock.
A giggle followed by bumping noises from the front of the plane made both men freeze. Nick looked down into Chris’s panicked deep blue eyes, taking in the disheveled half undressed state they were both in. He could see exactly what Chris was thinking: How the hell were they going to explain this? Nick almost laughed aloud. At least their inconvenient erections had disappeared quickly.
*~*~*~*
Pavel was feeling very mellow and very horny. He surveyed the party in the hangar which was in full swing, with Drapes leading a very off-key version of “We are the Champions” while D-Mac was shouting the words to the team’s entrance song. Cheli, Mule, Malts, Homer, Kronner, Huds and Brett Lebda tried to join the singing. Although Pavel wasn’t really sure if Homer was singing words so much as just making a lot of meaningless noise that was vaguely in tune.
He spied Hank walking towards the bathroom, running both his hands through his hair while stretching his back and inadvertently pulling up his blue shirt in the process, revealing his smooth flat stomach.
Pavel licked his lips in anticipation. He’d made sure he had stayed away from his line mate for most of the night because he knew that, between the combination of alcohol, overwhelming emotion and adrenalin, they needed to be careful. While he’d had a few beers to be social and blend in, he’d been trying to stick to vodka most of the night. He knew his limits with vodka, when to ease off before he had too much. Beer, especially American beer, just made him silly in the head and then sleepy before he realized it. He wanted to enjoy the feeling of both the team winning the Cup and Hank’s achievement being awarded the Conn Smythe Trophy.
Wandering casually over towards the bathrooms, which were luckily near to one of the hangar’s fire exits, Pavel glanced around to make sure he wasn’t being watched. Satisfied he was safe, he grabbed Henrik around the waist as the other man emerged from the bathroom and whisked him through the exit door before he’d had a chance to utter a word.
Pavel pushed Hank quickly up against the cold metal wall of the hangar and fitted their lips together. He raked the fingers of his left hand through long brown hair and wrapped his right arm around Hank’s waist to pull him tightly towards him.
Hank returned the kiss with fervor, locking his arms around Pavel’s neck. The Swede moaned into Pavel’s mouth hungrily.
“Come,” Pavel tugged Hank’s shirt fully out of his pants and pulled him forward by his belt. “I need you now.”
“Demanding Russian,” Hank complained as he willingly moved with his best friend and lover.
“Stubborn Swede,” Pavel replied automatically. He pulled them quickly towards the team plane, intent on getting into the privacy of the cabin as quickly as possible.
“What if I’ve got a headache?” Hank continued his mock complaint as Pavel shoved him up the plane stairs.
“You no girl with headache, you horny Swede. You younger than me, you need lots of sex,” Pavel slapped Hank’s ass as they moved up the stairs. “You need lots of me.” He grabbed Hank’s waist and tickled the other man playfully as they reached the top of the stairs causing Hank to giggle and then try to squirm away from the onslaught, bumping into the first row of seats as he tried to escape.
“Ow ow ow.” Hank stumbled down the aisle. “Bully! You just like it rough. That’s why you’ve been making all those hits in the play offs, you’re getting yourself turned on for post match sex.”
“You turn me on, sexy Swede,” Pavel growled. He grabbed hold of Hank’s waist, spun him around and pulled him in close in one fluid motion.
“I thought I was stubmmmurrm ...” Whatever Hank was about to say was muffled by Pavel capturing his mouth in a passionate kiss. The Russian pushed at him until they stumbled into a seat half way down the aisle. Pavel tugged frantically at Hank’s pants and shirt, revealing smooth taut skin as quickly as possible. His mouth latched onto a strong shoulder as he sucked hard on the skin, not bothering about leaving marks.
“Pasha,” Hank moaned as he pulled away to draw a quick breath. He moaned more loudly as his lover began to stretch his tight entrance. Hank had no idea where the lube had come from, but knowing how horny Pavel was constantly, he was never surprised that the man always had some on him.
Hank’s head rolled backwards against the seat as Pavel continued to stretch him, licking and biting his neck and mouth roughly. The Russian moved down his body as he pushed three fingers inside, working them to brush against Hank’s prostate repeatedly. He took the younger man’s erection in his mouth, breathing in the scent of Hank’s arousal, the taste of pre cum on his tongue driving him crazy. He sucked and licked frantically on the wonderful cock in his mouth as he finished stretching Hank.
“Oh god, Pasha,” Hank breathed. “Yes. Yes please.”
Pavel let the hard cock slip from his mouth, smiling at Hank’s moan of disappointment. He stood and undid his pants quickly, rubbing lube over his steely erection, enjoying watching Hank spread wantonly beneath him. Pulling Hank towards him, he twisted them until he was seated and the other man was easing slowly down onto his hard dick. Pavel closed his eyes in ecstasy as he slid easily into his lover.
“Henrik,” he breathed, grabbing the Swede’s hips and beginning a fast rhythm. The fingers of Hank’s left hand were wound in Pavel’s short hair to balance him, his right hand reaching down to grab his own hard dick.
“Henrik, Henrik,” Pavel breathed again as he licked and kissed over Hank’s lightly haired chest, the rhythm between them speeding up as Pavel’s grip tightened on Hank’s hips.
“Pasha, yes. Yes oh Pasha,” Hank’s head rolled backwards, revealing his long neck. He squirmed in Pavel’s lap, trying to get closer to the man below him. Pavel watched him possessively as a fine sheen of sweet coated his chest and neck.
“My Henrik, you beautiful, you sexy.” Pavel released Hank’s hips to run his hands over the chest in front of him, up the long neck to tangle into soft brown hair. One hand reached down to knock Henrik’s hand away from his cock so Pavel could bring him to orgasm. “Come for me. Come for me now.”
Hank’s breath hitched as Pavel licked a long line up his chest, skilful fingers bringing him to the brink of orgasm quickly.
“Вы - мое сердце и душа. Приедьте для меня и меня только (You are my heart and soul. Come for me and me only),” Pavel whispered in Russian.
“Pasha, oh - oh god!”
Pavel felt the clenching of his lover’s muscles as release overwhelmed Hank. Warm fluid coated his hand as Hank fell forward, resting his forehead against Pavel’s and breathing heavily. Pavel brought his cum covered hand to his watering mouth and licked it clean.
“Ahhhhhh Henrik,” Pavel ground out as he was overwhelmed by the salty taste of his lover’s cum. His hips snapped upwards instinctively and he came deep inside Hank.
“You know what speaking Russian does to me when we are making love.” Hank laughed softly once they had regained their breath.
“It get you every time,” Pavel smiled. He pulled Hank into a gentle kiss then rested their foreheads together. “I proud of you, Mr Conn Smythe.”
Hank shook his head. “It should have gone to Chris or even Johan. We wouldn’t have made it past the first round without Chris, not to mention his shut outs and…”
Pavel placed a finger to Hank’s lips. “This your first playoff. I tell you secret of Conn Smythe selection,” he said solemnly. Hank looked at him expectantly with large brown eyes.
“It given to most sexy player on ice not most valuable. Otherwise I win.”
Henrik snorted. “If that’s the criteria it should have gone to Nick or even Crosby.”
“Nick Captain, Captain not sexy, Captain like parent, no sex. Nick get Stanley Cup instead.” Pavel shook his head. “Crosby not sexy, Crosby little boy, curls and bum fluff on chin.”
Henrik laughed as he stood up and then leaned over to grab his shirt. “Right. About half a million young girls don’t agree with you on Crosby, and about two million women think Nick is hot.”
Pavel smacked Hank’s bare ass. “How you know this rubbish?” He grabbed his pants and produced a small packet of moist hand towels for them to clean themselves up.
“Tomas was reading some magazine in the hotel foyer this morning. He thought it would be good to chat to Crosby about it on the ice tonight during the game,” Hank smirked.
“They not ask expert in hotness,” Pavel snorted as he finished getting dressed. “Nick sexy yes, but Crosby little boy. Not sexy.”
“Let me see, expert in hotness… that would be you?” Hank asked his lover.
“Yes,” Pavel agreed. He straightened Hank’s jacket, tutting over his refusal to do up his shirt cuffs. “I know hotness. We have lot of hotness on team: Nick, Chris, Val, Lils. You most hottest.”
Hank stopped and stared at Pavel with his mouth open. Pavel tapped his finger under the younger man’s jaw to get him to shut it.
“Drapes and Mac hot if you like rough boy, Kronner, Cleary and Stuart if you like bear. Tomas and Rafi cute like Lebda and Huds.”
“I can’t believe you’ve considered the hotness of the entire team!”
Pavel shrugged. “It something to pass time on plane ride. Come, Sexy Swede,” he turned Hank by his shoulders towards the front of the plane. “I teach you drink proper vodka.”
“I can’t believe you spend plane rides thinking about how hot the entire team is,” Hank said as he exited the plane.
“It not that bad. Coaching staff not hot.” Pavel said as he threw the used wipes in the galley bin and walked off the plane.
*~*~*~*
Nick looked anywhere but at Chris as he listened to Pavel explain the “hotness” scale of the team. He knew if he looked at his goalie, he’d burst out laughing and give them away. Chris had his face buried in Nick’s thighs, and Nick thought he was biting his lips as a desperate attempt not to make a comment in response to the discussion at the front of the plane.
Chris waited until he was sure that the other pair was well away from the plane before letting out an explosive breath.
“Oh my god, that was…” Chris struggled for words for a moment. “Fuck that was hot!” He latched onto Nick’s dick and sucked hungrily. Both men had grown hard again listening to their team mates making love and Chris wasn’t about to waste the impromptu show.
“Chris,” Nick moaned in surprise. He was incredibly turned on by what they had overheard, but he had expected his goalie to make a joke about the conversation, not continue straight on with what he had been doing before they were interrupted. He ran his hands through the other man’s short blond hair roughly, resisting the temptation to just grab hold and fuck his partner’s mouth.
Chris ran his fingers lightly over Nick’s balls, causing the other man to buck in the seat and come hard. Swallowing as quickly as he could, Chris grabbed his own cock firmly around its base to make sure he didn’t come as well. Before he could catch his breath, Nick had hauled him to his feet and pulled his groin to his lips to repay the effort. Chris grabbed the overhead locker for balance as he was expertly sucked off.
Given the earlier show and the taste of Nick on his tongue, he didn’t last long. Moaning loudly, he came as quickly as Nick had and then sank to his knees, his face resting on Nick’s warm thighs as he tried to catch his breath.
“I don’t think I’ve ever come that quickly before,” Nick mumbled as he struggled to regain his breath. “Not even the first time we made love.”
“Wow,” was all Chris could manage. He didn’t have the energy for anything else. Nick simply nodded, his hand resting on Chris’s soft hair.
Eventually Chris raised his head to look at Nick, his eyes glinting with mischief. “We have to watch Hank and Pav do it again sometime,” he grinned up at his lover.
*~*~*~*
The following night a tired but happy bunch of hockey players, coaches, staff, and partners were hosted to a sit-down dinner at the team-owner’s mansion. A large marquee had been erected in the back garden for the purpose, decked out with Red Wings and Stanley Cup banners, red and white balloons, streamers, flowers and candles.
The band crooned a jazzy ballad in the corner while the guests mingled happily between courses. Champagne, beer and vodka for Pavel flowed freely, everyone content that there were drivers and cars to take them home when the time came. While no one wanted a repeat of the dreadful car accident ten or so years ago which destroyed the careers of their team mates, they wanted to be able to relax and enjoy themselves without worrying about driving.
Nick had been watching Pavel and Hank out of the corner of his eye all night. He wanted to see if he noticed anything different between the two of them now he knew their secret. However, to his eyes they were both as close and as individual as they had always been. One of them playing a joke on the other with a shaken up beer bottle, both of them spending a lot of time talking and joking with other team mates and staff, being attentive to their partners, then the two of them sharing a soft conversation in the corner laughing at some joke only they got, before they both drifted off to spend time with others again.
Pavel and Hank had always been close, right from the first day the young Swedish centre had arrived for his first training camp. Nick and Tomas had spent a lot of time with Henrik and Nik Kronwall when they arrived in 2003, helping them set up bases in Detroit. However Pavel had taken both, especially Hank, under his wing to show them the ropes of the organization. It had quickly become obvious to everyone on the team and staff that despite the language barrier there was a magical chemistry between Pavel and Henrik both on and off the ice. It had also become obvious that Pavel’s English wasn’t as bad as he liked to make out with reporters.
He knew that the prankster in his goalie was desperate to find the right moment to drop a teasing comment to Pavel or Hank about last night. Even if that moment might not come for months, maybe even half way through next season, Chris would be alert for the opportunity. Nick both wanted to be there for it, but also to be as far away as possible. He knew if he were present, he’d laugh and that would give the game away about him and Chris. He felt a slight twinge of guilt that he knew about the other two men, but they didn’t know about him and Chris; however, he dismissed that quickly. It wasn’t his fault if Pavel and Hank had not been cautious enough to check out the plane before making love.
Nick paused briefly. He had never actually checked the rear of the plane himself when he’d sat down. It was entirely possible there had been someone or even another couple hiding in the rear galley or even the toilets when he and Chris had reacted so quickly to Hank and Pavel making out. He glanced surreptitiously around the marquee trying to see if anyone was looking at him differently, then told himself firmly he was being silly and that he and Chris were safe.
However, he couldn’t stop the small voice in his brain which kept whispering, “Yes, but you didn’t check the plane thoroughly.”
“Nick! First Euro captain to win the Cup!” Ken Kal the radio play by play announcer slapped Nick hard on the back, breaking his train of thought. “Bet you’ll be sick of hearing that by this time next week!”
*~*~*~*
Chris stood with Drapes, Hank, Homer, D-Mac, Pavel, Malts and Kronner over by the bar. The wives and girlfriends were all cooing over Drapes’ and Brad Stuart’s newest additions to their families. The rest of the team were sitting about relaxing in small groups, too tired and pleasantly buzzed with alcohol to move.
Malts and Drapes had been keeping the small group in stitches with their version of the team’s reaction on the bench as Hossa’s shot flew past Ozzie in the final seconds of the game last night.
“Babs was shouting for Hank to get off his ass and go after the puck as he’d obviously decided to sit down for the last 30 seconds or so. I think his exact words were ‘This ain’t no Swedish sauna experience Zetterberg!’.” Drapes laughed, referring to Hank getting knocked over by Gonchar in the dying seconds of the game.
“Yeah. Scotty was bawling his eyes out because Nick, Rafi and Clears were standing there like stunned elephants as the puck went towards the net. He kept sobbing that he couldn’t believe he was relying on all these old men to save the goal and win the Cup,” Malts chortled.
Kronner poked Malts in the ribs. “Look who’s talking. Aren’t you over 50 now?” Malts took a playful swipe at him.
“For sure he is,” Homer chimed in.
“Scotty was shouting for Pavel to check the ladder in his hose so it didn’t run and Pav of course thought he meant check Hossa, so he ran him into the boards,” Malts resumed. “Hose is women’s stockings or pantyhose,” he explained at Pavel’s confused look.
The group laughed as Pavel finally worked out he’d been made fun of. The Russian’s response was simple and perfect. He waited until Malts had turned around to continue with his funny retelling of the bench in the dying seconds of the game, then grabbed a handful of ice out of the bucket on the bar and dropped it down the back of Malts’ shirt. As the Canadian howled in dismay, the rest of the group doubled over with laughter.
“That Russian sauna experience, Malts,” Pavel grinned. He grabbed his glass of vodka and sauntered off with a satisfied smirk.
Malts ripped his shirt out from his pants to let the ice drop on the floor. Drapes was still laughing hard so Malts grabbed some ice and stuffed it down the back of his shirt.
“Aaaghh!!!” Drapes cried out. The rest of the group prudently backed away from the bar and the ice bucket as both men stripped off their cold, wet shirts.
“Hey guys, put them back on. There are children present. We don’t want them having nightmares!” D-Mac laughed.
Chris was standing next to Hank, laughing hard as the results of one of his surprise sharpie attacks from last night was exposed to the rest of the team. Hank suddenly saw what Chris had done to Malts when the other man had been snoozing on one of the chairs with his feet propped up on the table at the hangar party, and had to grab the goalie to stop himself collapsing on the floor with laughter.
The image of a “naughty” French maid apron complete with cleavage was drawn over Malts’ chest and stomach. It was now clearly on display to the rest of the team, staff and families to see.
Loud laughter rippled around the marquee as Malts looked around for Chris. The goalie had prudently hidden himself behind Hank who was crying with laughter and almost doubled over.
“You are dead meat, Osgood!” Malts threatened.
“You only just realised he’d done it, Kirk?” Nick called out from across the room.
“Nah, I found it this morning. Damn sharpies are impossible to get off with one shower without removing five layers of skin. I’d just forgotten about it, is all.”
Malts looked at Chris with narrowed eyes and lips, however the small twinkle in his eyes let Chris know he might be forgiven, but it wouldn’t be forgotten in a hurry.
“Oh god, that’s priceless,” Hank wiped his eyes and stood up straight. He looked at Ozzie and chuckled. “You know he is going to get you good.”
“Do I look scared?” Chris bluffed.
“Given you bravely hid behind me just then, I’d say you were petrified.” Hank retorted with a grin. The two men stood by the bar waiting for refills of their drinks.
“Nah, just making sure Malts didn’t give himself a hernia trying to wrestle me and shove ice down my back,” Chris grinned.
“Chicken,” Hank murmured, accepting his beer. He turned around and surveyed the room. People were still laughing at Malts who, now the embarrassment had worn off, was enjoying being the centre of attention. Especially from the ladies present.
Chris looked at Hank standing next to him, watching Malts flirt harmlessly with Annika, Emma and Jenna.
“Just as well the Conn Smythe wasn’t judged by a bunch of women or even a Russian,” he said to Hank casually.
“Huh?” Hank looked around at him in confusion.
“You know, if the Conn Smythe was judged by women or even a Russian, then given Malts is parading his semi naked body around I doubt they would have awarded it to you for being the hottest player on the ice.” Chris grabbed his drink and wandered casually off, leaving Hank staring at him in confusion.
Confusion suddenly gave way to horror as Hank realized just want Chris was saying and what it implied.
“Hej,” Nick walked up to the bar and stood next to him waiting for a drink. He looked at his fellow countryman, whose face was turning bright red. “Henrik, you okay?”
Hank could only continue to stare at Ozzie’s retreating back in shock. Nick took in the look on Henrik’s face and who he was staring at. He realized immediately just what had happened. His guilt returned, but with an impish desire to have some fun at his goalie’s expense.
“It isn’t that bad,” he told Hank quietly. “It turned Ozzie on like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”
Hank choked on the mouthful of beer he had just swallowed and started coughing loudly. Nick reached over to pat his back soothingly. He noticed Pavel looking over at them in concern, and grinned cheekily at the Russian in return.
*~*~*~*
The night was winding down, with most of the staff and families having left. Nick had put his wife and boys into a car to go home already, but as captain wanted to ensure the rest of the team got away safely and that the Ilitch’s didn’t have any problems before the end of the party.
Some of the younger players had decided to party on in town, however the more experienced members of the team knew they had a full agenda over the next week or so with little sleep, so they had elected to call it a night relatively early.
Drapes, Malts and D-Mac were talking to Cheli and his two sons as they quietly carried small sleeping children out to the waiting cars. Chris and Dom were having a quiet drink with Babs at the table in the centre of the room. Kenny and the rest of the front office staff were talking to the owner, slapping each other on the back as they celebrated yet another Stanley Cup win.
Babs suddenly turned around, and catching sight of Nick he gestured urgently for him to come over to their table. As Nick started to walk towards them, Babs caught Ken Holland’s eye and repeated the motion. Ken excused himself and joined Nick in making his way through the jumble of chairs, tables and debris to the centre of the marquee.
Dom and Babs were both looking at the table as Nick and Ken sat down. Chris had his impassive goalie face on. This was enough for Nick to know this was a serious conversation that would affect his team.
He knew in his gut what it was going to be, but part of him wasn’t prepared to hear this tonight. He wanted to wait until after the parade and the interviews and appearances were over, enjoy a few carefree weeks where he didn’t have to be the captain of the Detroit Red Wings, where he could just be Nick the husband, father, lover and individual who could enjoy the rewards of his team’s hard work this season and spend some time with his family and friends.
“Dom?” Babs indicated that the goalie should speak once the two men had settled and placed orders for coffee or soft drinks.
“I made a decision,” Dom announced after the waiter finished pouring each man a drink and departed.
Ken took some creamer from the centre of the table and made a production of stirring it into his coffee. Nick looked quickly toward Chris, but couldn’t read what was on his lover’s mind.
“Yes?” Nick prompted when Dom didn’t continue. Chris took a deep breath and lifted his cup to take a sip. Babs looked on seriously.
“I no longer have same passion for game,” Dom started. “I no longer as hungry to be Dominator of game.” He looked at each man in turn, catching and holding their eyes to ensure they realised this was it, not just some whim he’d get over when the team turned up for training camp in two months.
“Dom,” Chris started.
Dom held his hand up to silence the younger goalie.
“I announce I retire after parade and awards,” he said. “I not want to upset team or distract them from parties but my time over. I not want to go out as loser but as winner with Cup. This perfect time for me to hang up skates as they say. I have Cup even if Ozzie’s cup really, I have Jennings trophy with Ozzie too. Perfect timing,” Dom finished decisively.
“Dom, are you sure about this?” Nick asked softly. “You aren’t just -“
“Nick,” Dom interrupted. “My time over, this year blessing. But as Babs know in first round of play off, my heart not in it. Time for younger blood for Red Wings.”
Dom turned to Ken. “I wait until after Awards night and parades so team can enjoy but I want to announce soon. It give you longer time to look for someone or get Jimmy ready.” The older goalie looked down before seriously facing the three men in front of him. “Jimmy need more time I think. Need more confidence and more regularity.”
Nick immediately knew how upset Chris was when the goalie didn’t pick up on Dom’s misused word and make a joke about prunes or castor oil.
Ken and Babs looked at each other quickly before Ken spoke.
“Dom, it is your decision but we will respect whatever you want to do. The Red Wings will be sorry to lose you, you know that. You’ve been a wonderful team mate for all.”
“I agree with Ken, Dom.” Babs spoke quietly. “We will miss you and be sorry to see you go, and frankly can’t thank you and Ozzie enough for all you’ve done for the team this year.”
“Talk the timing over with your wife and family, Dom. Call me when you know when you’d like to announce,” Ken continued.
“I like to tell the team myself, maybe after party at Cheli’s in a few days,” Dom said. “But I want to officially announce by end of week.” The coach and GM nodded in agreement. They both stood and, shaking Dom’s hand, excused themselves to rejoin the front office staff who were still gathered over in the corner.
“I appreciate you letting the team enjoy the Cup for a few days before you tell them, Dom,” Nick said quietly.
“It best for team. Let them enjoy the fun,” Dom looked over to his wife and children, then stood up. He shook Nick’s hand and clasped Ozzie’s shoulder silently before walking out of the marquee with his family.
Chris looked up to his lover, sorrow clear in his eyes. Nick took his hand briefly and squeezed it. It was going to be a short summer filled with many phone calls between Detroit, Sweden and Canada as they tried to figure out how to replace Dom.
*~*~*~*
“Stop fussing!” Hank hissed as he walked to the waiting line of limousines with Pavel. “I simply swallowed a mouthful of beer the wrong way.”
Pavel tutted his disagreement.
“Hej Hank, Pav.” Nick called from behind them. “You two okay to get home?”
Hank spun around quickly, his face turning pink.
“Yes,” Pavel smiled at their captain. “We get limo together as we live close. Better on environment they say.”
Chris bent down slightly to glance into the nearest limousine.
“It’s the same inside as all the other Chris,” Nick grinned.
“I was just seeing if it had darkened windows and glass between the driver and passengers.” Chris looked up innocently.
Hank’s face turned from pink to red. He looked around everywhere but at his team mates.
“I think they are,” Pavel replied. “Most these cars do.”
“Not everyone is into exhibitionism.” Nick added.
Hank coughed uncomfortably, causing Pavel glanced at him in concern. Hank’s face was bright red. Pavel rubbed his hand across Hank’s back in quick comfort.
“But then, some people also enjoy wearing goalie pads so they don’t bruise their knees when they top.” Nick gave Hank and Pavel a warm hug before turning and getting into the nearest car. “See you tomorrow at the Café before the parade!” He waved the three other men goodbye.
“We go, need sleep.” Pavel turned to say goodbye to Chris, only to find the goalie as red as Hank. The Russian raised his eyebrows as he looked between the two men standing side by side, both looking uncomfortable.
Pavel shook his head and gave Ozzie a quick hug, pushed Hank to do the same and then pulled him by the arm into a waiting limousine.
As the car accelerated down the drive, Ozzie shook his head. Nick hadn’t just said what he thought he’d said, had he? He grinned slowly as he sat in the back of the waiting car. Just because Nick was team captain didn’t mean he was immune to a sharpie attack.
*~*~*~*
Ken and Babs watched Nick and a subdued Ozzie hug Hank and Pavel goodbye and get into the waiting cars.
“It’s going to be an interesting summer,” Ken said quietly.
Babs could only nod in agreement as the band started packing away their instruments.
The two men quietly made their way over to join the rest of the front office staff bidding the Iltichs good night, thanking them for their hospitality and support over the season.
One thing was for certain, in just over 24 hours since the team had won the Stanley Cup, the 2008 -2009 season had already begun for the management team.
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Date: 2008-09-03 01:32 pm (UTC)One tiny thing though... It's Ozzie, not Ossie. Just thought I'd point that out.
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Date: 2008-09-03 08:42 pm (UTC)I wasn't sure about Ozzie/Ossie as I've seen it both ways. Plus given his name is Osgood, not Ozgood...Fixed now anyway.
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Date: 2008-09-03 08:55 pm (UTC)Still love it.
sneakily admits to having read it two/three times alreadyno subject
Date: 2008-09-04 12:40 am (UTC)I've got the best part of a season plotted out. Dom's retirement had given me a lovely plot bunnie arc that I think you might like (they will need another goalie won't they?).
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Date: 2008-09-03 04:20 pm (UTC)She's right though, about it being Ozzie. That distracted me the whole way through.
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Date: 2008-09-03 08:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-03 06:11 pm (UTC)Ozzie misspell was slightly distracting but other then that it was all good.
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Date: 2008-09-03 08:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-03 09:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-04 12:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-04 12:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-04 12:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-03 10:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-04 12:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-04 12:35 am (UTC)Sorry, I thought I had put it behind lj-cut. Should be fixed now. Let me know if it's not.
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Date: 2008-09-04 12:22 am (UTC)And I loved Pav rating the 'hotness' of everybody.
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Date: 2008-09-04 12:37 am (UTC)Pav is so cheeky, I can just see him rating the hotness of his team mates.
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Date: 2008-09-04 09:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-04 04:39 am (UTC)Cute fic - love the little Dom part, too. Perfection! ^.^
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Date: 2008-09-04 09:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-07 05:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-07 07:16 am (UTC)I'm so glad you enjoyed it and found it sexy ;-P
More in a few weeks (Just trying to figure out a few plot points).