Mini Series, "Scottie Cares" Stories Four and Five

[kjameson.livejournal.com]

TITLE: “Dream”
BY: K.Jameson
FANDOM: NHL
TEAM(S): Philadelphia Flyers
PAIRING(S): Scottie Upshall/Mike Richards Friendship ONLY
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Pure fiction. Don’t sue.
WARNINGS: Some language; this might make you cringe a little
SUMMARY: Story FOUR of my “Scottie Cares” mini series
CREDIT: I actually had this same exact dream, only it was with Simon Gagne and I think it’s because I’m afraid of him getting hurt again when he’s doing so well this season.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: These stories are random; don't take place in order. They are all pretty much drabbles, with a few a little longer than what would be usual. I was inspired by the lack of emotion that Scottie held in some other fics I read, so I wanted to show his other side (not quite like what my first fic was). This one is pretty long LOL.

 

A game against the Pittsburgh Penguins always left the Flyers breathless, sore, and pissed off if they couldn’t overcome their division rivals.  Tonight, however, with a four to one lead, the Flyers glided on the ice with confidence as they continued to play the rest of the second period.

 The third period started with the first line, a power line that Stevens refused to break up.  Richards won the face-off and the Flyers brought the puck into the Penguins’ zone. They were able to set up, passing the puck back and forth to each other. Shot! Missed, rebound caught by a Flyers’ stick and shot again. Puck caught in the goalie’s glove and the whistle was blown.

 Another face-off, second line on the ice. Won by a Penguins’ center, the puck went flying into dangerous territory for the Flyers. Twenty seconds pass, line changes again. Puck in Penguins’ zone, two shots both blocked.  Glen Metropolit, who took both shots, was pissed.  He shook his head at Joffrey Lupul as they skated off the ice.

 Fourth line is up and off within seconds. Puck goes flying out of play, and then a fight erupted. The crowd went wild and the Flyers’ shouted for the teammate. Two punches in and the Penguin hit the ice hard.

 Fucker.

 Someone was pissed. Being behind 3 goals didn’t help, and suddenly a change in the Penguins’ attitudes.

 Clock continues to countdown as the third period ran. First line on the ice again and Richards won the face-off. He got checked; he fell to the ground.  He got up, brushed the ice off his face and skated off.  A Penguin, furry in his eyes, checked Richards again. Up against the boards, he fell and landed with a grunt. Soon there’s trouble up against the boards. Richards closes his eyes as the Penguin pushes off of him. The puck was next to his foot and players scrambled to be the first to it. Richards wanted to kick it away, he wanted to stand up and get on his feet. A Penguin stopped in front of him, ice hit his face. His head falls forward and then it happened.

 A Flyer came in for the save but was checked by a Penguin. The puck was slapped away by a Penguin who was tripped by a stick shot from the pervious Flyers’ hand. The Penguins feet leave the ice; a skate flew past Richards.

 A scream gushed from the Flyers’ center and he collapsed. No one noticed. Players skated at the other end of the ice.  A goalie made a save and the whistle was blown.

 Red liquid dripped through Richards’ fingers, which were clinging to his throat. Face was turning blue, gasping for air, his eyes fell shut and his head hit the ice.

 Lifeless.

 Scottie Upshall screamed, scrambled over the bench but he couldn’t move. He was stuck. His left skate was stuck to the flooring and he couldn’t move.

 “Somebody help him!” he shouted, but no one still hadn’t noticed.  Scottie yanked his foot, trying to get his skate off.  The laces were tired too tight and knots were forming.  He started to cry out, throat aching.

 “Richie’s on the ice! He’s down! Would somebody please fuckin’ help him!”

 Ignored, trapped, sweating with fear.  Scottie couldn’t help.  He screamed, loud, and closed his eyes.

 * *

 The sweat dripped down his forehead as he sat up in bed, his scream echoing through out the room.  Darkness surrounded him, and as he tried to catch his breath he had to remind himself he was at home, in his bedroom, and it had all been a dream.

 A dream. A dream that Richie got hurt and nobody cared.

 Scottie stumbled for the light and turned it on.  His phone, plugged in and charging, sat still on his nightstand.  He grabbed the phone and sat up.  Dialing his captain’s home phone number, he prayed he would wake up.

 “…ello?”  A sleep, groggy voice answered the phone.

 “Richie?” A deep sigh of relief. “Oh-my-god you are okay.”
”Um, Scottie?”

 “Yeah, it’s me.” Scottie could hear bed sheets ruffling and the sound of a light turned on through the phone.

 “Jeez, it’s three o’clock, Scottie.  Why are you calling me? Is everything okay?”

 “Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just…” He trailed off, not sure how to go about with what he wanted to say.

 “It’s just what?”

 “I think you are really good captain and that you lead our team well.  And if anything were to happen to you I would be there to help.”

 A pause, silence, confusion and yet a sigh of defeat.

 “Thanks, but this couldn’t wait until practice?”

 “No.”

 “Okay, Ups.  Okay well I’m gonna go back to bed.  I’ll see you later.” 

 “Okay, Richie.  Good night.”

 “Good night, Scottie.” 

 Scottie heard the soft click and then the dead dial tone.  A satisfied look on his face, he set the phone back on the nightstand and eased himself to fall asleep.

 No lies, the disturbing dream pushed him to admit to Richards what he always felt inside.

 Mission accomplished.

 END!

TITLE: “Stuck”
BY: K.Jameson
FANDOM: NHL
TEAM(S): Philadelphia Flyers, Pittsburgh Penguins
PAIRING(S): Scottie Upshall/Jordan Staal Friendship, Scottie Upshall/Joffrey Lupul
RATING: R
DISCLAIMER: Pure fiction. Don’t sue.
WARNINGS: Language, slash
SUMMARY: Story FIVE of my “Scottie Cares” mini series
CREDIT: I always amuse myself.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: These stories are random; don't take place in order. They are all pretty much drabbles, with a few a little longer than what would be usual. I was inspired by the lack of emotion that Scottie held in some other fics I read, so I wanted to show his other side (not quite like what my first fic was).

 

The first call came about eight-thirty that night. Scottie Upshall was doing what he did best. No, not playing hockey, but fucking the brains out of his best friend. Grunting and groaning, he ignored the first call that came through. A sound played indicating a new voicemail message.

 The second call came about five minutes later.  In a different position, Scottie held Joffrey Lupul’s face into the pillow as he thrusted into him from behind. Moans were muffled and Scottie ignored that phone call too.  Another sound, another new voicemail message.

 He was just about to come with the third call came in. Anger hit his face and he screamed.  Mixed with the feelings of pleasure and frustration, Scottie fucked Lupul as he came inside of him. A couple more thrusts, a couple more moans, and then he pulled out and collapsed on the bed.

 Three voicemail messages and his phone was flashing low battery.

 Lupul jumped on the bed and sat next to Scottie, watching him catch his breath as he cleaned his own stomach and thighs.  Semen dripped down Scottie’s thighs and Lupul wiped it away. Once down, he tossed the towel onto the floor and lay down next to Scottie, head nestled on a shoulder.

 “You gonna check to see who called you? It must be important.”

 Scottie shook his head and sat up.  He tackled Lupul with a fierce kiss and pulled their groins together, fingers digging into his hips.

 “Mmm no, I wanna fuck you again.”  They kissed; tongues battling, teeth clashing, and moans being swallowed by the other.

 The phone ran again, the fourth call coming about twenty minutes later after the first.

 “What the FUCK?!”  Scottie pushed himself away from his horny friend and grabbed the phone. After considering throwing it against the wall, he looked at the caller ID.

 It was Jordan Staal.

 “Hello?” Scottie answered it immediately, cutting off the third ring.

 “Hey, Scottie. It’s Jordan.”

 “Hey, what’s up?”  He maneuvered himself to sit on the edge of the bed.  He could feel Lupul’s warm hands on his back as the massaged him, easing him into calmness.

 “Um, you busy right now?”

 “A little, why?”

 Sigh, slight pause. “I uh, kinda need a ride back to my motel.”

 “Can’t you call a cab?”

 “No money.”

”Where the fuck are you?  Did you go out by yourself?”

 “No, I went out with some teammates but they all seemed to abandon me.”

 Scottie’s head sunk and he sighed.  “Gimme like five minutes and then I’ll head out.”

 “Okay, thanks.”

 **

 Seated outside on a step, Jordan waited patiently for Scottie’s arrival.  He had called both Crosby and Talbot but both were too drunk to come back for him.  Malkin, who had been his ride here, left early due to a bad headache.  Jordan didn’t want to call his coach.  And like he said over the phone, he didn’t have any money to call a cab.  

 Scottie pulled up about fifteens minutes later after getting off the phone.  He pulled the car up to the curb and unlocked it for Jordan to get.  Shutting the door, Jordan smiled at Scottie and put his seatbelt on.

 “Thanks, Ups. I really owe you one.”

 “Don’t mention it.”
”No, seriously. I didn’t mean to call you so many times but I really needed a ride.  I hope I didn’t ruin your night.”

 Scottie smiled.  “It’s okay, Jordie. You know I’m always here for you.”

 Jordan’s smile grew bigger and he pulled his coat tighter. 

 “Yeah,” he began, “I do know.”

 END!