2minsforslashing | (no subject)

A/N: this is my first try at writing a fic, so please be nice! I really am quite new to this...perhaps I'll actually write some slash soon. But this is my start, so sorry if it's not enough lovin'.

Pairing: Nicklas Backstrom/Alexander Ovechkin/Alexander Semin

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: This is not true, but based on this article http://www.aftonbladet.se/nyheter/article2947197.ab. For those who can't read Swedish, Nicklas and some friends were caught in a terrible storm while at sea on jet skis, and one of his buddies was lost for a while. Nicklas took the initiative to find him again, in the storm. His friend was rescued. Everyone is okay, thank God.

Summary: After a long summer, Nicklas is back with his teammates, but one event still haunts him.

Nicklas squirmed in an attempt to escape from Alex’s grasp, but he knew that it was a hopeless situation. The Russian had a grip of steel, and, as Sasha had joined in, he was now blockaded in their arms. Both pairs of blue eyes were locked on his, staring as though he’d disappear if they took their eyes off of him. He fidgeted around, twisting and turning, trying to pry their arms off of him. In return for his struggling, they squeezed tighter, fingers tightening on his body.

“Don’t you even think about it,” Alex said forcefully, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and nearly suffocating him with a hug. “Stop trying to get away.”

Sasha nodded in agreement and ruffled his blond hair, a sweet smile appearing on his face. Nicklas sighed and relaxed a bit, now quite certain that his wriggling was going to get him nowhere.

And so had gone the first hour of the Capitals’ first practice of the season.

The Russians had always been possessive of him. He was their “baby Swede”, their rookie, and they adored him. Especially Alex. And he loved them both back. Today, though, Alex and Sasha had raced into practice, scooped their friend up into their arms, and that had been that. No skating, no shooting pucks, no bopping along to techno music. All they had wanted was their Nicky in their arms, safe and sound.

Nicklas knew why they clung to him with such fervour. It had been a long summer, and a long time that he had missed their familiar faces every day, but it was not the long absence causing such possessive embraces from the two Russians. He would have received such a welcome even if nothing else had happened in the three months they were apart, sure thing, but this greeting was different. They were relieved—ecstatic to see him. Their body language showed it. They were telling him, wordlessly, that they had worried about him, and that they were thankful that God had been watching over him.

Nicklas remembered all too well that beautiful day at the end of July. That bright, Swedish heaven, the sun shining like there was never any darkness to fear, the ocean, gently lapping against him, the cool wind tearing through his hair as he streaked across the waves, freedom exhaled with every breath he took. Oh, how such a glorious day became such terrifying hell!

Memories flooded back to him. It had been him and his friends, a simple daytime getaway off the coast of Gävle. He had missed those friends that he loved so dearly, and was so happy to see them after the long season. Their time together was so rare, and so greatly welcomed come the summertime, Sweden’s most beautiful season. It had been a lovely outing, a perfect outing, until the storm. He had never seen the heavens come down with that much anger. He hardly remembered anything about those moments. He remembered the waves rolling about violently, cutting his skin and lashing his face as the mist swallowed him. The sky was ominously black, flaring up piercing white, settling down for only a moment before it would flare up again, the fire in the sky terrifying and intense. The rain was sharp, and it was painful against his bare skin, and the earth was loud, the thunder rattling every bone in his body. He remembered so clearly that awful thought that shot through his mind as he collapsed, sputtering, onto the shore: “Oh god, where is he? He isn’t here!”

He had gone out to find his missing friend, even as his other friends wildly held him back, begging him not to go out again.

“You’ll die in this storm, Nicke!”

“You’ll be lost too!”

He had learned the meaning of fear. He had fought through the hail and the pelting rain, the flashing lightning giving him no alarm, his heart beating in agony, his vision blurred with fear and disbelief, rain—or tears—streaming down his face. The hurt was so strong—his heart shattered, broke completely when churning water was all he found, and nothing else. He remembered how cold it was, how suddenly ice cold his spirit felt, and how suddenly warm it was when, trembling, soaking wet, coughing, his friend had rushed into his arms, sobbing his name. He hadn’t even remembered ever arriving at the bathhouse where they were reunited. That part was lost in delirium. But he remembered the warmth in his body and his heart as he had stood and cried his apprehension away, shaking fingers digging in to the trembling body beneath him, the angry rain still howling outside.

“Backie?”

He started from his thoughts, shivering, as Alex patted his cheek gently.

“Are you alright? You’re shaking. Are you cold?”

Nicklas nodded, remembering where he was. Sasha wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

“What are you thinking about, Nicky?” he asked, concern in his eyes at his friend’s sudden silence. Nicklas shook his head, sighing.

“Nothing.”

Alex caught Sasha’s eye, giving him a knowing, worried glance. He rubbed Nicklas’s back tenderly.

“Nicky, you know I would never let anything bad happen to you. You know I would swim across the whole ocean to rescue you. Even in a storm, because I’m crazy. You know that.”

He was always amazed that Alex seemed to be able to read his thoughts.

“Yes.”

A long silence followed. He pressed himself closely to his friends, suddenly no longer wishing to escape their arms. Their warmth, their friendship, was cheering him.

“We should probably start to warm up,” Sasha whispered quietly, seeing the coach at last notice their little huddle in the corner of the arena. Alex looked up.

“You’re probably right.”

They finally let go of Nicklas, watching him smile at them.

“You ever make us worry again, you get an even longer hug,” Sasha laughed, grabbing his stick and hitting Nicklas with it playfully before jumping out onto the ice. For some reason, Nicklas felt that an hour long hug wasn’t nearly long enough. But he wasn’t prepared to make them worry again. God no.

“Come on, baby Swede,” Alex teased, tugging at his arm. Nicklas smiled. After practice.

They were so relieved to see him. And heaven knows, he was happy to see them as well.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Awww, I love it.

Thank you:) I am glad you like it!

I love possessive Russians, especially if it's Sasha and Alex, being possessive over someone. ♥ I loved it! Especially the fact that yes, you could tell the not-so-subtle possessiveness in them, but it's not overbearing for the reader to read. :D Very enjoyable.

Possessive Russians are wonderful:)
I'm happy you liked it! I really have never written this sort of story before and wasn't sure how it would come out. Thanks!

That was so very sweet! I think being smothered to death by Russians wouldn't be a bad way to go =D

Thank you!
And I totally agree. Being smothered to death by Russians isn't a bad way to go at all! Especially when their names are Sasha and Alex, haha.